Trulie wantedto move so badly she could barely stand it. Her nose itched. Her feet were cold and if she had to lie on top of that lump in the mattress much longer her tailbone would be sore for days. But the whooshing sound of rustling skirts and the occasional thump of moving furniture told her she best keep her eyes shut and remain motionless. Maidservant Beala was still in the room.
Karma grumbled a low warning from his post at the head of the bed. Trulie could tell from the closeness of his rumble that the dog was standing as close to her as he could get, with his head even with hers.Thank you, Karma.She would be lost without him. Actually, she would be dead.
“Dinna worry, my braw beastie. I mean the mistress no harm.”
Beala’s high-pitched voice sounded a few feet from the bed. Her accent was thicker than most of those in the keep. Trulie figured Beala must have come to the MacKenna clan from another region of Scotland. She visualized Beala rambling around the room with her odd rolling gait. For some strange reason, the spindly girl moved like a chimpanzee. It wouldn’t have surprised Trulie if the girl took to dropping to all fours just so she could move faster. But whatever the reason she walked the way she did, Beala didn’t let the infirmity slow her. Trulie had seen the girl on several occasions outdistance the other maids even with her arms filled with linens.
Trulie wished the maid would hurry and finish. An uncomfortable urge to pee had taken hold and she struggled to control it.She concentrated on breathing in slow, shallow breaths and opened her senses to the room. Maybe she could pick up a vision off the girl. Beala had the run of the keep. Maybe she had some residual energy clinging to her.
Resentment. Frustration. Anger.Trulie held the next shallow inhale and focused harder.Excitement. Revenge. Worry.Her lungs burned for want of more air. She pulled in the slightest breath and eased it out again. The emotions bouncing off Beala were not what she expected. This was no residual energy. Emotions projecting with such vibrancy could only come from Beala’s core.
The soft click of the chamber door interrupted her study. Trulie held her breath again and listened hard. A weight sank the mattress down beside her, nearly rolling her off the bed. A large furry foot pawed repeatedly at her arm. She cracked an eyelid to a black wet nose just inches from her face.
“She’s gone?”
Karma agreed with a softwoofand slathered his long tongue from Trulie’s jawline all the way to her eyebrows.
“I love you too, Karma,” she said while dodging more doggie kisses. She shoved him down off the edge of the bed.
“Yer scheme willna work if yer giggling is heard down the hallway.”
Trulie pointed at the door as she scrambled out of the bed. “Watch the door. I need to pee.”
Grinning, Gray folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the now bolted entrance. “Do ye now? Pray what would ye have done if I had not come to sit with ye?”
She hurried to retrieve the chamber pot out from under the bed. “I would have improvised.” She patted the floor and stretched for the handle. “Who shoved the thing so far back? I don’t know if I can reach it or not.” If she didn’t get that bowl soon, there was going to be a puddle on the floor.
She peeped under the bed, gauged the exact distance of the curved handle, and stretched to reach it again. Finally. Her fingers curled around the smooth, glazed handle and she pulled the pot out from under the bed.
As she straightened, she noticed Gray’s impish expression. “Turn around,” she said while twirling a finger in the air. “I can’t pee if you’re watching.”
He didn’t move—his smile reached his eyes.
“Gray!” She stomped her foot. Big mistake. She clamped her thighs tighter together. “Turn. Around. Now,” she ordered through clenched teeth.
“What will ye give me?” he asked with a pointed look up and down her body.
She knew exactly where this was going and it was not going to happen. Since her self-imposed comatose state had begun, all love play had stopped. She didn’t like it either, but they couldn’t risk it. All they needed was a wayward servant to pass by and overhear them shouting hallelujah to the orgasm gods.
“We could be quiet,” he suggested in a seductive tone.
“We have never been quiet,” she said as she short-stepped over to a massive oak wardrobe and yanked open the door. “If you’re not going to turn around, I’ll climb in here to pee.”
“Fine.” He faced the wall. “Do what ye must, but ’tis a truly sorry day when a man’s betrothed willna grant him the divine pleasure only she can give.”
She rolled her eyes as she hiked up her shift and squatted over the pot. Finally. Blessed relief. She propped her chin in her hands as she waited to finish. “You just need to think about how great it will be when all this is over.”
“Och, I have,” he said in a strained voice. “Trust me,mo chridhe,I have.”
Poor Gray. She clamped her mouth shut against the urge to giggle. Her frustrated love stood facing the door, hands propped over his head and feet slightly spread, looking as though he was waiting to be patted down and searched for weapons.
The hang of his plaid temptingly outlined the muscular curve of his hip. The way he leaned forward gave her quite a nice view. The corded muscles of his arms flexed as he lightly drummed his fingers on the wood.
Damn.It had been a long few days of self-imposed celibacy. She wet her lips and squirmed in place. Mercy, she ached for him too.
“Are ye done yet, lass?” He shifted in place but remained spread-eagled She tiptoed across the room. A delicious shiver stole through her as she smoothed her hands up his back. “Do you swear on your favorite horse’s life you will be quiet?”
Gray didn’t turn, but she immediately felt his body tense and heat up beneath her hands. “Och, aye, lass. I swear on Cythraul’s life. I shall be quiet as a tomb.”
