“Aye, sir, I will,” she said in a voice choked with tears as she fled the room.
Artan walked over to Sir Fergus. There was blood on the wall and he could see a small stream of it running down the man’s neck. He checked for a pulse and was relieved to find a strong one. The man sorely deserved killing, but now was neither the time nor the place. Artan was sure, however, that there would be one less guard on Cecily tonight, for Sir Fergus would be a long time waking and would be feeling poorly when he did. He would have to be satisfied with that, Artan mused as he left the room.
Cecily found that she was actually enjoying herself. Dining in the great hall was much more pleasant without Anabel and Sir Fergus glaring at her and critically watching her every move. Both were indisposed according to Sir Edmund. Although Cecily felt a little guilty about being so pleased that neither one was at the table, for she would never wish anyone to fall ill, she could not deny what she felt. Sir Edmund was still at hand, but he mostly ignored her as was his habit. At the evening meal most of Sir Edmund’s time was spent in deciding which woman he would drag to his bed for the night.
When Sir Artan placed some venison on her plate, she smiled her thanks. Cecily found it hard to believe that such a handsome man sought her company and her kisses. It was a heady thing to hold the attention of such a man, and she appeared to be the only one who did. Many of the women at Dunburn, guest and maid alike, had tried their best to catch his eye, but he showed no interest. Although Cecily found that odd, she also found it exciting.
Once the meal was done, she allowed Sir Artan to walk her to her bedchamber. Several of Sir Fergus’s kinsmen scowled at her, but Sir Edmund was too busy trying to charm the plump Lady Helen to notice what his ward was doing. Cecily suspected the unusual freedom of movement she had been allowed for the past few days would shortly come to an end. She could still hear Anabel’s furious lecture on the day she had taken Sir Artan on a tour of Dunburn lands. Anabel had even made it sound as if it was all Cecily’s fault that some fool had nearly killed them.
“Do ye ken that no one claims to have been near the burn the day we had those arrows shot at us?” she asked Sir Artan as they halted before her bedchamber door. She hastily smothered the shocking urge to ask him to step inside with her.
“Aye,” he replied, placing his hands on the door on either side of her and slowly moving his body closer to hers. “No huntsmon would e’er admit to being so poor at hunting. Since neither of us was harmed, he doesnae see any need for confession and no one else sees any need to ask too many questions.”
She nodded absently, her attention fixed upon his mouth despite all her efforts to raise her gaze to his eyes. She actually ached for his kiss. She clenched her hands against the urge to grab him and pull him into her arms. When he brushed a kiss over her forehead, she shivered with longing.
“Lass, come meet with me tonight. Midnight. At the bower near the burn.”
“Creep away ye mean?”
“Aye, slip away from this crowded place, from all these curious eyes.” He kissed the hollow by her ear and heard her breathing quicken. She was so responsive, so soft and warm, he had to fight the urge to pull her into her bedchamber and ease the ache she so effortlessly stirred inside of him. “We havenae been alone since the day we went riding together.”
“And were verra nearly killed.” She was almost panting and found it difficult to catch her breath.
“’Twill be safe this time. Come meet with me. ’Tis a warm night and the moon is full.”
She was so tempted it almost frightened her. “But I am a betrothed woman.”
Artan kissed her and all hesitation fled her heart and mind. She wrapped her arms around his neck and readily opened her mouth for the hot invasion of his tongue. He made her feel almost wild in so many ways. Her blood raced through her veins and her breathing grew heavy and fast. He tasted like sin, and she knew he was tempting her to commit a very big one. Then she thought of the man she would have to marry soon and no longer cared.
“Meet me, lass,” he said in a husky voice as he kissed her throat.
“Aye, I will. Midnight. At the burn.”
He gave her a quick kiss, opened her door, and gently nudged her inside her bedchamber. “If ye can bring some food and wine, we can share a wee meal beneath the stars.”
As if he could not help himself, Artan gave her another kiss and shut the door. Cecily stared at the door and wondered why he would want her to bring food. The only meal she wished to share had nothing to do with food.Unless I could lick it off his body,she thought, then gasped in shock at her own thoughts.
For just a moment she considered running after him and telling him she could not do it, could not share a tryst with him by the burn, but she hastily pushed aside that burst of cowardice. It was wrong, but for once, she intended to do whatshewanted to do. She would meet Sir Artan at the burn and take whatever he had to give her, for all too soon she would be married to Sir Fergus.
“Did ye convince her?” asked Old Meg as Artan entered his bedchamber.
Seeing the woman sitting comfortably in his bedchamber, Artan shook his head in a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Do ye ne’er enter a room through the proper door?”
“Anabel might discover I am here if I did that. Why? Are ye afraid I might catch ye with one of the maids? Davida, perhaps?”
“Davida is fair, fulsome, and verra friendly, but she is nay for me. Ye ken weel that one of the reasons I came here was to decide if I wanted Cecily for my wife. ’Tisnae a time to be shaking the linen with any willing maid in reach. And, aye, I have convinced Cecily to meet me at the burn, at midnight. Neither Fergus nor Anabel attended the meal tonight and Sir Edmund was ogling Lady Helen, so Sile was verra lightly guarded. Now, I ken what happened to Sir Fergus, but I am curious about what happened to Lady Anabel.”
“I put a purgative in her wine.”
“Cruel woman.” He laughed softly but quickly grew serious again. “Do ye think ye can gather any of Cecily’s clothes?”
“I already have.” She pointed to a sack set near his bed. “I long ago showed her the easiest and safest way to slip out of the keep.”
“Good. I will take her clothes with me when I leave.” He gently grasped the woman by the hand and tugged her out of her seat. “Now, I mean to have me a wee rest, for ’tis certain I will be riding for near all the night.”
Old Meg went to the hidden door she had used to slip into his bedchamber unseen, then looked back at him. “Be good to my lass, Sir Artan, or I will make ye regret ye e’er touched her.”
“I will be verra good to her.”
