Still dressed in her armor, the lady turned from staring out the window and shooed away the maid’s concerns with a flip of a hand. “Ye worry too much, Dullis. Seek yer bed. The hour grows late.”
“And leave ye here? Unguarded? With him?” Dullis resettled her footing and shot him a fierce glower, making him bite his lip to keep from laughing.
He bowed and thumped a fist to his chest plate. “Rest assured, I would do nothing to cause yer lady harm. Do ye truly think my liege’s wife would allow me near her cousin if I were a danger?”
Dullis’s scowl didn’t lessen. If anything, it grew fiercer. With a curt nod to her mistress, she motioned toward a small bronze dish suspended inside a wooden frame. A delicate metal hammer lay on the table in front of it. “Strike the bell when ye be ready to retire.” Her eyes narrowed as her focus sidled back to him. “I shall await yer call in the next room, ye ken? I shall be just inside the door, mind ye.”
“Thank ye, Dullis.” Lady Elspet waved her away again and waited until the door firmly clicked shut before turning back to him. She had loosed her dark hair from its braid and brushed it until it shone. The long tresses tumbled across her shoulders, making Valan yearn to run his fingers through its silkiness. “If ye will seat yerself here on the bench, I shall help ye with yer armor and mail so I can examine yer wound.”
“’Tis quite heavy, m’lady. What say ye we merely share a drink and a conversation? As I said earlier, ’tis naught but a scratch that isna worthy of yer time. My knaves can see to both my armor and my healing.”
“But that would negate our agreement, good sir, and no longer warrant the payment of yer boon.” The candlelight made her golden eyes dance like fine whisky swirling in a glass.
He had thought her beautiful in the dim light of the village torches. He had been sorely wrong. The lady was beyond breathtaking. There was not a power in Heaven or earth that would prevent him from collecting that boon. He seated himself on the bench and rested his hands on his knees. “I await ye, m’lady.”
Chapter Two
Of all thethings she needed right now, the distraction of this man was not one of them. Somehow, his presence and cocksure wit sharpened the talons of her loneliness. The loneliness and isolation that had plagued her for years.
Elspet shoved away the unsettled feeling and assumed a mantle of playfulness, shoring her defenses against all she read in Valan’s eyes. She had resisted the temptation of taking lovers before. She would do so again. Beitris and her people came first. Their safety and happiness mattered most.
“Whisky, wine, or ale, sir?” She rested a hand on the whisky decanter, instinctively knowing that would be his choice.
One of his fair brows arched to a sly angle. “Sir?”
“Valan.” She liked the feel of his name on her tongue. Somehow, it brought them closer. “Whisky?”
“Aye, m’lady.” He shifted on the bench and leaned back against the long, heavy oak table at the center of the laird’s personal hall. Her hall now. Where she and Beitris took most of their meals.
His lopsided smile deepened the dimple in his right cheek, making his fierce handsomeness even more enticing. Dangerous weaponry indeed. “We should toast tonight’s victory,” he said, interrupting her observation.
“We should at that.” She poured a generous amount of Clan Maxwell’s bestuisge beathainto a pair of glasses. “We should celebrate every victory even though we have yet to win the war.” She put the stopper back in the decanter, set it on a wooden tray with the glasses, and carried the refreshments to the table.
Tonight called for more than one wee dram. This siege had lasted far too long, wearing her nerves raw and draining her emotional strength. And now she also had to contend with a man so tempting the possibility of finding comfort in his embrace threatened to weaken her resolve. In a show of stubbornness, she seated herself beside him and lifted her glass. “Slàinte mhath.”
“Do dheagh shlainte,” he said, touching his glass to hers. He downed the drink with a quick toss and set the glass on the table. “Ye’re far gone weary, m’lady. I see it in yer lovely eyes. Dinna fash yerself about me, aye? Truly.” He leaned close enough to make her catch her breath. The rumble of his voice, with its sultry richness, quickened her heartbeat. He smiled and lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “We can settle the matter of the kiss at another time, ye ken?”
“Elspet,” she corrected, forcing a lighthearted tone. She downed her drink and rose from the bench. “If I am to call ye Valan, then ye must call me Elspet. At least, in private.” She could do this. Play this game so the exciting warrior god would understand she stood strong against his seductive arsenal. An arsenal she knew had probably conquered many a woman. She was no fool. “Lift yer arm so I might undo the fastenings of yer armor.”
His lopsided grin returned along with a knowing glint in those eyes that mirrored the color of a pale blue horizon right before dawn. “Elspet,” he murmured softly as he lifted his right arm. “How is it ye ken so much about armor?”
She lifted both hands and turned in a slow circle. “Have ye failed to notice my apparel, kind sir?”
“I assure ye, lass, I have noticed everything about ye.” His tone said so much more than his words.
She tensed to prevent an excited shiver from escaping but failed miserably at controlling the heat simmering at her core. “Turn a bit. I canna undo the laces with ye leaning as ye are.”
He complied.
Teeth clenched, she silently cursed her fumbling as she struggled with the snug leather ties. The heat of him stroked the backs of her fingers even through the layers of chainmail and quilted gambeson. “They have ye cinched in here tighter than Herbert ever wore his plating.”
“Yer husband?”
“Of course, my husband.” Heaven grant her the power of composure. She hadn’t meant to snap like a hound guarding a bone. With a forced calmness, she moved to his other side. “Now, this arm?”
Valan lifted his left arm, his intense stare burning into her like a blazing arrow. “I am sorry for yer loss, m’lady.”
“Elspet. Remember?”
