Never had she seen a more handsome sight than the earl's tawny eyes twinkling with humor. His lips curved, revealing even white teeth. Even from her position across the hall, the faintest hint of dimples in his now clean-shaven cheeks caught her eye. Until now, he'd only scowled, his eyes flashing with anger. Seeing his smile tempered her wariness.
As if sensing her gaze upon him, he turned. Her awareness of the cacophony around her faded. 'Twas as if he held her captive with his golden gaze, which seemed to delve into her soul. A curious look replaced the humor in his face.
A hand on her arm startled her. She turned, realizing she had been holding her breath. Simon scowled, and drew her into the corner.
"What happened?"
"Nothing." She glanced toward the earl. His smile had vanished. Her gut knotted.
"Then what's wrong?" he asked.
She gazed sadly at him for a moment. "Everything is... changing. I'm worried for you. He says he will set you on another detail."
"Don't fret. 'Tis not a problem, and I understand. You'll be his wife."
"I'm afraid he might send you away. Or me. I... want to tell him who you really are. You're more than just a knight in the garrison. You're –"
His fingers on her mouth silenced her.
"Tell no one. We will be fine Gilly, both of us. You'll see."
"Tell no one what?"
At the sound of the earl's voice, Gillian stiffened. She turned. The hard lines of his face revealed no emotion, yet she sensed his tightly leashed fury. He glared momentarily at their clasped hands before turning to Simon.
"I've already explained to Lady Gillian you are no longer needed as her guard. Did she not inform you?"
"Forgive me, my lord, if I still harbor the need to ensure her safety. I've done so for a very long time."
Gillian held her breath at the hint of resentment in Simon's voice.
"Yes, well, no longer. Seat yourself at the lower table with the other men at arms. See my captain in the morn for your new duties."
Gillian opened her mouth, but her brother nudged her toe, signaling her silence.
"Yes, sir. My lady, if you will excuse me." Simon bowed again and turned on his heel. "Who is he to you?"
Her eyes widened at his question. Though his tone was bland, his eyes held a glimmer of mistrust. Was the fierce Panther jealous of Simon? Were he not scowling openly at her now, she might laugh.
"He is my guard, my lord." She would say nothing more as long as Simon wished it so. For now. She would not keep this secret forever.
One dark brow arched and she knew he did not believe the half-truth. But he remained silent, merely offered her his arm to escort her to the head of the table.
***
The still night air offered welcome relief after the oppressive heat and noise of the great hall. The men of Lyndon and Montchester had devoured every morsel offood laid out before them, leaving Gillian to wonder whether anything would be left in the stores for the wedding feast. Tonight, the earl sat in the lord's chair, Gillian beside him. It proclaimed so much that at this point, the wedding was little more than a formality. Royce's presence had encompassed the hall, leaving no doubt who was in possession of the land.
Throughout the long meal, she had answered his questions about Lyndon, but those had been few. The worst part was sharing a trencher. Their hands had brushed several times, and by the time the meal ended, Gillian's nervousness had reached a level she'd not known before. He'd watched her intently all evening, adding to the unbalanced sensations. Keeping her hands steady had been a monumental task.
All her life, she'd been surrounded by her father's men. Never had any affected her this way. His very nearness made her heart race, her palms sweat, her stomach flutter. She attributed the reactions to fear, but the underlying thread of dark pleasure lured her. How would she survive a marriage to him if she could barely control these unfamiliar feelings whenever he was close?
What kind of man was he, truly? When he had held Anne in his iron grip, fury had emanated from him as though Gillian might be able to reach out and touch it. She'd never witnessed such intense rage before. She prayed he never directed his anger at her.
A footfall in the bailey drew her from her musings and she turned. As if she had conjured him with her thoughts, the Panther stood behind her, silhouetted in the moon's glow. The light glinted off his dark hair. His position obscured his face but she felt his gaze upon her. Again. She pressed her damp palms against her gown.
"You should not be alone out here." He stepped closer. "'Tis not safe."
"This is my home. No one would dare to try to enter with the sentinels on duty."
