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Reaching down, Annabel touched him tentatively through his plaid, surprised to find him hard and huge against her hand. It was the first time she'd touched him, and she was caught up in the moment until she realized Ross had gone suddenly still. Opening her eyes, she peered at his face uncertainly. His eyes were closed, his expression frozen in a rictus of what might have been pain.
"Should I not--?" Annabel began uncertainly.
"Aye, ye should," he assured her, opening his eyes. Then Ross kissed her again even as his free hand dropped to tug his plaid out of the way, leaving her free to touch him without the obstruction. Annabel hesitated, but then closed her fingers around the hard flesh, marveling at how silky it felt: hard but soft all at once.
"Damn," Ross muttered, breaking their kiss again.
Annabel glanced to him with concern when he brushed her fingers away, afraid she'd done something wrong, but then he moved closer and glanced down to frown. She glanced down as well, just in time to see that the window ledge was too high for what he'd intended, and then he was scooping her up into his arms and carrying her toward the bed. They were halfway there when a knock sounded at the door.
"Go away Seonag," Ross called out, continuing forward.
" 'Tis no' Seonag, brother."
Ross cursed and paused with indecision.
"I cornered Seonag in the kitchens and she told me of Annabel's wardrobe problems," Giorsal said through the door. "I've come to help. That way you and Bean can discuss how best to keep her safe in future."
Ross bowed his head with a defeated sigh and set Annabel on her feet, muttering apologetically, "I know me sister. She'll no' go away."
Annabel merely nodded and quickly tucked her breasts back in the gown as far as they would go. When she finished and glanced up, he was peering with regret at the orbs swelling over the neckline.
"Are ye going to open the door or shall I just walk in?" Giorsal called out with exasperation.
"I'll get it," Ross said, catching her arm when Annabel started around him. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then used his hold on her arm to urge her in the direction of the chair she'd been seated in when he entered, before heading for the door.
Annabel was seated in her chair, the mending back in hand and held high to hide her neckline by the time Ross opened the door.
"Well, and sure ye took yer time letting me in," Giorsal said dryly to her brother as she breezed into the room.
"Count yerself lucky I opened it at all," Ross muttered with irritation, stepping out into the hall in her place.
"Ah, but then ye had no choice, did ye?" Giorsal asked with a grin. "Ye ken I'd just ha'e come in anyway."
"Aye, I ken," Ross said dryly, glanced past her to nod at Annabel. He then pulled the door closed, leaving them alone.
"Well," Giorsal said gaily, crossing the room to Annabel. "Let us see this wardrobe tragedy that has ye stuck up here."
Annabel hesitated, but then lowered the mending in her hand.
Giorsal's eyes widened and she nodded. "Aye. I can see the problem." She grinned suddenly and added, "Though I somehow do no' think the men would think it so much a tragedy as good fortune sent their way."
Annabel blushed at the words and felt her mouth crack into a smile.
"And it explains me brother's misshapened plaid when he opened the door," Giorsal teased as she dropped into the chair across from her. "I gather I interrupted his efforts to soothe ye? No doubt yer grateful I saved ye from the big brute."
Annabel's eyes widened at the suggestion and she said earnestly, "Nay, he is a kind and gentle husband. I--"
"Whist, Annie, I'm teasin' ye," Giorsal interrupted with amusement. "Ye ha'e to laugh at life's trials. It makes them lighter to carry."
"I suppose," Annabel said, relaxing, but then thought that might be true. Life's trials had weighed heavily at the abbey, where laughter had been frowned on. The abbess had seemed to disapprove of anything enjoyable, as if she thought that serving God meant you should be miserable. Annabel didn't think that was the case. Surely God had not made man to suffer and be miserable? Surely, he would want his children happy, just as mortal parents wanted happiness for their own offspring?
Well, most mortal parents, she corrected herself, thinking of her own. Her mother had seemed more concerned with avoiding scandal than Annabel's happiness. She had certainly been more resentful of what Kate's choice had meant to her and father than whether Kate was all right.
"So, what are we doing?" Giorsal said, interrupting her thoughts. "Are we making panels for the gown so it better covers yer breasts?"
"Aye," Annabel said dragging her thoughts back to the matter at hand. "The gown was too long, so Seonag and I cut the hem off. We are making panels with that and then must insert them and rehem the gown at the new length."
"Well, with the three of us working we can have it done in no time," Giorsal said brightly, picking up the other half of the removed hem that was to be used to make the second panel. "Which reminds me, Seonag was going to put together a tray with drinks and pastries for us and then she will join us." Pausing, she wrinkled her nose and admitted, "I do miss Cook's pastries. Honestly, much as I love me husband, does he no' find us a better cook, I think I may have to love him from here."
Annabel chuckled at the claim. She knew the woman didn't mean it, but assured her, "You are welcome here anytime."
"Thank ye. I like ye too," Giorsal said with a grin, and then admitted, "I was no' sure I would, yer being English and all. But I do. Me brother got lucky when our fathers contracted this
marriage."
Annabel's smile faded a little at that, and she turned her head down to her work, muttering, "I fear he may not agree with that in time."
"Why?" Giorsal asked with surprise. "Yer pretty and smart and funny."
Annabel smiled wryly and, thinking of the incident where she'd run about blindly in the clearing with her gown tangled around her head, said, "Even when I do not mean to be."
Giorsal smiled faintly, but then said seriously, "Ye seem to lack a wee bit o' confidence though." She tilted her head. "Were yer parents no' encouraging when ye were growing up? Mine were, but I ken Bean's were no' and while he seems to have weathered it well, his little sister suffers some want in the area of confidence."
"Well, since my parents did not raise me after seven, I fear the lack must be my own," Annabel said wryly.
"What do ye mean?" Giorsal asked with surprise. "Who raised ye from seven on?"
Annabel stilled with alarm as she realized what she'd unthinkingly revealed.
"Annie?" Giorsal asked insistently. When Annabel continued to stare blindly at the cloth in her hand, she murmured thoughtfully, "Ross did no' mention yer parents no' raisin' ye. From what he said, they're still living. Though he did no' seem to like them. Did they neglect ye and leave it to the servants to raise ye?"
Annabel frowned at the suggestion and reluctantly raised her head. She didn't want to vilify her parents to save her secret, but . . .
"What is it?" Giorsal asked, noting her expression. "Ye can tell me. I promise I'll no' tell Ross if ye do no' want me to." When Annabel still hesitated, she added, "Ross said there were welts and scars on yer back from whippings. I ken they beat ye."
"Oh, nay," Annabel said with dismay. She had forgotten all about the marks on her back. She was used to the discomfort they caused and hadn't considered that he might have seen them and jumped to the conclusion that her parents had caused them.
"Nay, what?" Giorsal asked.
Annabel sighed and then said, "Those were not from my parents. They never beat or whipped me." She paused briefly, but didn't see any way around telling the truth. "Giorsal, I was sent to the abbey at seven as an oblate and lived there right up until the day I married Ross."
