Cecily had to smile. There was a touch of self-mockery in his deep voice that charmed her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Sir Fergus glaring at her, but ignored him. Although some of the stricter rules of conduct had eased because there were so many people staying at Dunburn, it was usually considered poor manners to talk across the table. Sir Fergus had made no attempt to breach that barrier and she saw no reason why she should do so. There was also the simple fact that if Sir Fergus had wished to sit with her and speak to her, he should not have so quickly relinquished his seat.
“Aye, if I recall, Glascreag provides a suitable wild, mayhap e’en dangerous place for a lad to prove himself.”
“It does, indeed.”
Although a small voice in her head warned her that she would suffer for almost completely ignoring her betrothed and Anabel, Cecily kept her attention fixed upon Sir Artan. He was such a change from her usual companion at a meal that she could not help but revel in it. The way he spoke of Glascreag and Angus MacReith revealed a deep affection for both, and she wondered what it would be like to feel such a bond to the place where one lived and the people there. Once upon a time she had felt such a thing for Dunburn and its people, but that had died along with her family. No matter how hard she had tried, she had failed to regain that deep, comforting sense of belonging.
As soon as the meal was done, Cecily decided it would be best if she made her escape. She did not want to confront either Anabel or Sir Fergus. For once she was confident she had done no wrong and she did not want to listen to any lectures. If nothing else, she did not want to be made to feel shehaderred. The sense of confidence she now felt was a rare thing and she wanted to savor it.
It did not really surprise Cecily to find herself escorted to her bedchamber by Sir Artan. She did not even attempt to figure out how the man had managed to be at her side. He had undoubtedly used the same methods he had used to usurp Sir Fergus’s place at the table. The fact that she did not have to endure a lecture from Sir Fergus or a kiss was reason enough for her to be heartily grateful for Sir Artan’s guile.
At the door to her bedchamber, she turned to wish Sir Artan a good sleep, only to catch him staring at her in a very intense manner. Cecily clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides to resist the urge to check the state of her hair and gown. “I thank ye for your escort, Sir Artan. ’Twas nay necessary, but it was most appreciated.”
Artan looked into her lovely eyes, saw her uncertainty, and decided he needed to do one more thing before he was absolutely sure of his next step. Placing his hands on the door on either side of her, he took a step closer until their bodies almost touched. He took the sound of a slight hitch in her breathing and the widening of her eyes as a good sign. As he slowly lowered his head, he watched her face, her rapidly changing expressions telling him that she knew what he was about to do. The fact that she made no move to halt him or flee encouraged him.
The moment Sir Artan’s lips brushed over hers, Cecily felt a warmth flood through her body with such speed and fury she felt dizzy. Sir Fergus’s lips had never felt so warm or soft, or so gentle. The only feeling her betrothed had ever stirred within her was one of disinterest touched with revulsion and fear. At first, the gentle prodding of his tongue against her lips puzzled her. Then he sucked on her bottom lip and she gasped over the flurry of feelings that raced through her. The moment her lips parted, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, and in but a heartbeat, she felt herself shudder beneath the strength of what his stroking tongue was making her feel.
When he started to pull away, she grasped him by the front of his shirt and tried to pull him back. His soft chuckle brought her to her senses and she quickly released him. Even as she stared at him in astonishment, he opened the door to her bedchamber and gently nudged her into her room. Dazed, she watched as he slowly smiled.
“Good sleep, Sile,” he said before closing the door.
Cecily touched her lips with her shaking fingers. Her heart beat so fast and hard she was surprised she could not see it beneath her bodice, could not see the material moving to that erratic rhythm. Kissing one man when she was betrothed to another had to be a grave sin. At that moment, with her blood afire from a riot of feelings, she simply did not care. Cecily just hoped she would not have to pay too great a penance.
Whistling softly beneath his breath, Artan headed toward the bedchamber allotted to him. The kiss he had just shared with Cecily had marked the path he would now walk and marked it very clearly. There was a fire beneath that shy beauty of hers and it had flared up quickly, stirred to bright life by his kiss. That she had stirred a similar fire within him was even better. She would be his.
When he saw Sir Fergus Ogilvey standing outside his bedchamber door, Artan almost told the man about his decision. Only the instinctive knowledge that there were secrets at Dunburn that needed uncovering held him silent. He did not think it was just his dislike of Sir Fergus that made him believe the man was part of those secrets. Artan stood in front of the man, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared down at him. The way the man’s upper lip beaded with sweat gave Artan some satisfaction. The fact that Sir Fergus stood firm despite his obvious fear would have earned the man some respect if Artan had not seen two very large men lurking in the shadows just a few steps away.
“Step aside, lad,” he told Sir Fergus. “I seek my bed and ye block the route to it.”
“I think it would be wise if ye left Dunburn in the morning, Sir Artan,” said Sir Fergus.
“Och, do ye now. And why do ye think I should do that?”
“Because Lady Cecily Donaldson is to marry me and I will tolerate no interference.”
It was the very firmness of that statement that warned Artan, that and the slight sound of a booted foot sliding stealthily over the stone floor. He was ready for the men when they attacked, and it was a short fight. The men obviously had not been ready for him to anticipate the attack. Artan looked at a pale, wide-eyed Sir Fergus, who stared at his fallen men in dismay and then looked at Artan.
“Move,” Artan said, and nodded in satisfaction when the men fled.
Once inside his bedchamber, Artan securely latched the door. If it had been jealousy that had stirred Sir Fergus’s anger, Artan might have shrugged it aside, but he sensed that it was not. That also meant that this would not be the man’s only attempt to force him to leave. Artan smiled as he got ready for bed. A woman to woo and a threat to avert. This visit to Dunburn had definitely just improved.
Chapter 5
“Do ye nay join the hunt?” Cecily asked Artan as she sat down opposite him and began to help herself to what remained of a lavish morning feast.
She was surprised to find the man in the great hall. After waiting so carefully before coming to break her fast, wanting to be sure all the guests had ridden out on the hunt, Cecily had anticipated a few moments of peace. She thought it rather contrary of her not to be annoyed that he was there. She had to forcibly quell a blush when she began to wonder if he would give her another kiss, perhaps one that lasted a great deal longer than the one he had given her last night.
“Nay,” replied Artan. “I have seen such hunts before. ’Tis nay more than a wasteful slaughter. Too many of the fools cannae e’en make a clean kill. Aye, and they are often so noisy, most of the game they seek has had ample time to flee them. Better a few skilled men be sent out to bring home some meat for the table. These courtiers wouldst probably starve if they truly had to hunt for their supper.”
Cecily blinked in surprise. He had delivered that harsh denunciation of the hunters in such an amiable tone of voice, it had taken her a moment to realize just how harsh it was. It was all quite true, of course, and she had often thought the same, but she never would have expected a man to share her opinion.
“There are a few skilled hunters going along.”
“Aye, to give whate’er poor beastie the fools maim the mercy blow.”
She winced and nearly nodded her agreement. Only a fleeting sense that she would be insulting her guests, her kinsmen, and her betrothed with one small gesture caused her to hold back her words. A quick glance into Artan’s silvery blue eyes told her that he would not be surprised to learn that this particular group of people were worse than others.
“Weel, since we are both here and dinnae wish to go hunting, mayhap ye would like to ride with me?” Artan asked her. “I have ne’er visited the Lowlands, and I doubt I shall return. I wouldnae mind being shown the lands around Dunburn by one who kens them weel.”
