She again skimmed her thumb along the goblet’s rim, a habit he’d noted when she was in deep thought.
Flames wavered in the hearth, casting a wash of gold over her face, highlighting her cheekbones, the softness of her skin, and the lush curve of her mouth. However beautiful, and a lass that would intrigue any man, with his soon rejoining the Bruce, she wasn’t a woman he could ever have as his own.
Her breath exhaled in a soft rush as she watched him, and satisfaction filled Aiden that Lord Balfour would never touch her with crueltyor disrespect.
Although she’d drawn her blade against him, fear had driven the act. She wasn’t a simpering lass, but a woman who held her own, one he could admire and,more, respect.
“Though we are strangers, I swear you have nay reason to fear me.”
At her silence, deciding ’twas a strategic place to end their discussion, he turned and stripped off his forest-green tunic with its band of Celtic designs woven at the end of each sleeve. He folded the top over the chair, settled on the pallet, and then tugged the other blanket up to his waist. “Sleep.” Too aware of her, Aiden stared at the flames, doubtful he’d rest this night.
* * * *
Gwendolyn studied Bróccín’s prone form, unsure whether she was more embarrassed by the ease with which he’d disarmed her or her husband’s decision to leaveher untouched.
A simple man, no. With his quickness, the way he made decisions without hesitation, and his attention to detail, he was a warrior who lived and died by his blade. Though he dismissed some of the stories told about him as myth, after the memory of his swift but painless retrieval of her weapon, she wasn’t convinced.
Neither was she swayed by the fine cut of his jaw, the green eyes stunning in their brilliance, or his muscled body as if carved by the gods. Though handsome, to her, a man’s loyaltymeant the most.
His claim that he wouldn’t harm her echoed through her mind. Keeping a close watch on him, Gwendolyn walked to the other side of the bed, opposite from where he’d stoodmoments before.
Firelight shimmered over his broad shoulders as they rose and fell with his every breath, the inherent power of this fierce warrior one he’d sworn never to use against her.
Her gaze shifted to his muscled arms, relaxed at his sides. Arms that had swept her up without hesitation and carried her away from the inebriated knights celebrating their wedding, arms that had held her as he’d twisted to protect her from falling and taking his weight on the hard floor. As well, ’twas concern for her safety that had him hauling her from the mare’s stall during the birthing.
Gwendolyn lay her hand upon the comforter, traced a gold embroidered flower. Her life ahead had been simpler when she had believed Bróccín to be acold, hard man.
Hard, aye. A necessity as a warrior, but he wasn’t cold, more a man who evaluated his thoughts before he spoke. Fair came to mind, intelligent and thoughtful as well. What else had she missed, and how had she misjudged him so completely? Known for her ability to discern the worth in a person, ’twould seem in regard to her new husband,she had erred.
Or had she?
For the first time in her life, she found herself floundering in her assessment of a man. Did it matter? With their vows given, he now owned everything she loved.
She glanced at the slash of red on the opposite side of the bed, an action to appease those who sought proof ofher innocence.
Guilt rose within her. Odd Lord Comyn hadna informed him that she’d been married before. Perhaps embroiled in war against King Robert, her liege lord had forgotten or found the detail irrelevant. Nor, with his short time here, had he gleaned word from her people of her previous husband. As if a man focused on war would find interest in scraps of gossip.
Gwendolyn scraped her teeth across her lower lip. Should she admit the truth? If she did, would her admission bringhim to her bed?
Unease ripped through her. No, she’d tell him in the morning, before he departed the chamber. She refused to allow him to be humiliated before those who served him by permitting him to display supposed proofof her bedding.
Was one night too much to ask to regain her much-needed composure? She wasn’t a coward, but she needed time. With an unsteady sigh, Gwendolyn tugged up the sheets, closed her eyes, and prayed that by some miracle she would sleep.
Chapter 5
At the soft scrape of the door, Gwendolyn stirred from sleep and rolled over in her bed, struggling to identify an insistent warning in her head.
Failed.
She forcedher eyes open.
A shaft of torchlight streaming through the entry outlined Bróccín.
Like fog lifting, memories rushed in. Their marriage. Bróccín leaving her untouched. How she’d withheld the fact of her widowed state, that she wasn’t an innocent.
Bróccín’s body blocked the light as he shifted to step into the hallway.
Mary’s will, he couldn’t leave without knowing the truth! Frantic, Gwendolyn half-climbed, half-fell out of bed, tugging the covers around her as she scrambled to her feet. “Wait! Close the door!”
