Page 34 of A Knight for Gwenllian

He reddened. Alasdair reddened. Gwenllian knew she’d reddened as well, but she stood her ground. This awkwardness was her fault, as she was the one who had gone to him. She should have left him alone. But she was here now, she could not just leave without a word.

“Good morning, William. I thought it was you. I was out on a walk when I saw you in the distance and wondered what you were doing here in Scotland, so I…followed you.”

It now sounded ridiculous and intrusive. Fortunately, reassured by her lack of reaction despite having seen him kiss a man, William seemed to have recovered his composure.

“I arrived here weeks ago,” he explained. “I came to see Bethan and my new godson.”

Yes. And apparently, he’d found the love of his life. Or at least, a fiery lover with whom to pass the time. One might even say an adventure. The irony was not lost on Gwenllian. She gave a small smile.

She had often wondered why the personable, handsome, honorable Sir William, who was the perfect knight and an enviable party, was not yet married. Surely he could not be short of potential brides? Now she thought she understood. Just like her, he was destined never to marry, even if it was for very different reasons. His unmarried state was not to be attributed to fate, but to personal preferences.

“Well, I’ll see you at dinner tonight, I suppose,” she said, at a loss as to how to bring this conversation to an end.

“Of course.”

William seemed relieved to see that she was not making an issue of his relationship with the squire. But Gwenllian didn’t think it was her place to say or even think anything. That very morning, she herself had behaved in ways many people would disapprove of. Who was she to judge someone else? The men could do what they liked, just like her, they were old enough to know what they wanted.

Exhausted by all the emotions of the morning and the strenuous walk, Gwenllian decided to go back to bed for a while and dream of Alexander’s caresses.

When she exited the east tower sometime later, she found everyone enjoying a rare moment of sunshine in the bailey.

Alexander was in the middle of the group, laughing with Cameron, with whom he seemed to have formed a strong bond despite their short acquaintance. She took a deep breath in an effort to erase all traces of emotion from her face, because the sight of him had taken her breath away. Had this man really been in bed with her that morning? Inside her? It seemed incredible.

Not wanting to be seen spying on them, she walked forward before someone could see her.

Bethan was sitting on a bench, with her son in her arms and William by her side. Alasdair, careful to keep his gaze away from his lover, was cleaning his master’s chainmail with a wet mixture of sand and oil. Cameron and Alexander had gone to talk to a man called Angus. In the corner, Murdo was grumbling to himself. Gwenllian had heard all about the gruff Scot who had a soft spot for her friend and for his laird’s newborn son. So far, he had lived up to Bethan’s description and more.

“What is the matter, Murdo?” Cameron asked, when it became obvious the man was not going to be satisfied until someone paid attention to him. “Why are you grumbling so?”

“I finally managed to bed the miller’s niece last night,” was the somewhat unexpected answer. “It’s taken me months to get her to agree, if you’ll believe it. I was starting to fear I had lost my touch with the lasses. I usually only have to appear, and they open their⁠—”

“Well, isn’t it good news that she agreed to have you at last? But, in all honesty, you could have refrained from discussing such matters in front of the ladies,” Cameron chastised. “It is hardly suitable conversation.”

“You asked me a question, my laird!” The man looked affronted. “I could not refuse to answer, could I?”

“I suppose not, but considering the nature of the answer, you could at least have addressed me in Gaelic.”

“You told me to stick to English while our guests were here.” Murdo was getting more and more agitated. “Besides, your lady wife understands Gaelic well enough now, doesn’t she? It would have made no difference.”

Cameron rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Evidently, there would be no winning this argument. The man was as stubborn as a goat. Gwenllian could not help but exchange an amused glance with Bethan.

“I understand why you like the man,” she whispered in Welsh.

“Yes. And you’ve seen nothing yet. Wait until he starts talking about Callum. I often fear that visitors leave Nead an Diabhail with the impression that he’s fathered him himself.”

Gwenllian laughed. “I doubt they do. The love Cameron bears you is too obvious.”

Her friend gave a smile and stroked her son’s head.

“Well, as I was saying,” Murdo continued, oblivious to the fact that his laird considered the matter closed. “I did bed her, but the trouble is⁠—”

“You mean that there’s more to that story?” Cameron exploded. “We don’t want to hear what happened, thank you very much.”

“But I could not tell you what happened even if I wanted to! That is precisely the issue; that is precisely why I’m grumbling!”

There was no avoiding any explanation now. Everyone was staring at Murdo expectantly, so Cameron had no choice but to relent and ask him to tell his story.

“Out with it, man. But no crude language. I’m warning you.”