“Is it only ye using that soap, lass, or does yer sister use it too?”
Emer was too aroused by the feeling of his mouth on her skin so close to be astounded by the question.
“It’s mine...the fragrance irritates me sister’s skin.”
Caillen pressed his mouth so close to the side of her face, she could feel her stomach contract and flutter when she felt the tickle of his beard.
“That’s very good to hear, lass,” he said, and then was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
Emer did not see much of Caillen after his visit to her bedchamber. He had tasked her with tidying up after the builders and making the rooms inhabitable again in the shortest time. Now her work no longer consisted of sweeping and polishing; once the builders had removed the rubble, walls had to be wiped, wainscoting oiled, sconces dusted, and carpets laid out straight and neat.
She was too busy to even think about the strange things that had happened to her in the last two weeks. If vague memories of Gawain’s secret hiding hole with letters from the Sutherlands or Caillen’s stimulating whispers in her ear ever crossed her mind, they were soon chased out again by the immediacy of cleaning and scrubbing.
Gawain had returned to the keep when all danger of infection had passed. He made a point of finding Emer when he had settled himself back into his rooms, finding her busy directing two footmen to carry a new ornately carved display cabinet and put it into the formal dining room.
“What’s this?” Gawain asked her, gesturing at the cabinet.
Emer gave him a beaming smile, still aware he had saved her from a real tongue-lashing from Mistress Burroughs when she was angry about being short-staffed.
“It’s a case used to display chinaware, sir,” she replied, “yer brither is phasing out the tradition of feasts and banquets and bringing in the more formal practice of inviting individual guests and having them sit down around the one table together. See here, the host sits at the top, his lady at the other end, and all the guests are equal in consequence as a result.”
Gawain was outraged, “What! Nay more dais, trestle tables, and longboards! Whatever will he decide to do next? And who’s paying for all this?”
Emer demurred answering, simply saying, “I’m sure I dinnae ken, sir.”
Could it be her imagination, or was the gallant Gawain she had met in his bedchambers gone? He seemed short-tempered and rude. She looked more closely at him from under her long lashes and detected the smallest sign of a pout around his mouth, the edges of which were downturned in a petulant pucker.
Gawain seemed to remember what it was he wanted to say to Emer.
“Listen, ye ken that broken drawer in me room?” he waited for Emer to nod, then continued, “Well, there’s nae need for ye to tell anything to anyone about breaking it. I’ve forgiven ye, and that’s all there is to say about it.”
A perplexed frown came to Emer’s face, “But, I dinnae break it, sir, like I told ye...it snicked out when I was polishing.”
Gawain tried to stop the exasperation from showing on his face, but Emer was able to discern it quite clearly.
“Am I to tell Mistress Burroughs about yer carelessness? After last time, I’m sure she would be more than happy to see ye pack yer bags!”
Seeing the sudden shock on Emer’s face, Gawain’s bad mood collapsed into sadness.
“Forgive me, lass, I should nae have shouted at ye...ye see, I fear for me life...and have reason to believe someone is tryin’ to kill me.”
Emer could not help herself from taking Gawain by the hand and leading him to sit down on one of the newly carved beechwood armchairs. He looked shattered and worried. Whoever was making the attempts on his life must be seriously dangerous.
“Gawain, sir, I am so sorry to hear of yer woes. Is there anything I can do to help?” she knelt down beside him and patted his knee. He gripped her hand in a spasmodic hold and then seemed to pull himself together.
“It’s me who’s sorry for allowing ye to see me so unmanned, dear girl,” Gawain sighed, “promise ye will carry news of me suspicions to the authorities if anything were to happen to me. Dinnae bother me brither with this yet-he has enough things to do,” and here Gawain gestured around the freshly decorated room, “without me adding me own problems to it.”
Gawain stood up and rushed out of the door. Emer could only stare at the empty doorway and wonder what on earth she had just been a witness to.
* * *
“Make way! Make way! The litter must nae be knocked or bumped!”
Emer was in the stables with Bessie, chatting to one of the younger grooms about how much exercise the plump little palfrey required every day, when a loud entourage of men, riders, and horses charged into the old courtyard.
“Make way, there,” a groom commanded, “we must find stabling for all the hunters,”
