“You’re not going to do it now?”
He paused. “Nay.”
“Why not?”
“Because I gave my word, and I can’t expect you to keep yours, if I don’t keep mine.”
“I see.” He wanted her loyalty. Especially when her brother came.Ifhe came.
Angus drew himself away and sat back on his heels at the foot of the bed, looking at her.
She leaned up on her elbows. “You should know,” she said, “that I understand why it’s important to you that I am willing. I know about your sister.”
He sat for a long time with his eyes downcast, then ran a hand through his hair. He climbed off the bed and fingered the brooch at his shoulder to straighten his tartan.
Gwendolen crawled across the mattress and hugged the corner bedpost. “I’m very sorry that such a thing happened to her.”
He twisted slightly to arrange the belted section at the back. “I don’t talk about it.”
“Not ever?”
He shook his head. “Nay. I have to go now.”
The candle flickered as he picked it up and carried it to the door. “Good night, Gwendolen.”
“Good night,” she replied, feeling rather bewildered by his swift, yet strangely polite exit.
There had been something very different about him tonight. He had treated her with a certain degree of courtesy, for one, and his hands had been surprisingly gentle. She was still reeling from the pleasure she had never expected to feel with him.
She watched the door close behind him, then flopped back onto the bed and strove to recover from her astonishment.
Chapter Nine
Construction of the new gate began the following day in the open bailey, the clansmen pounding away with their hammers, and groaning as they raised heavy planks under the warm sun. Gwendolen worked hard from the kitchen, supervising the luncheon preparations, for the men required their sustenance.
Late in the afternoon, she ventured through the Great Hall with a group of servants to deliver a cart of ale. She crossed the sunny bailey, her feet tapping lightly over the packed earth while the servants followed with the wheeled cart. When she reached the gate, she breathed in the sweet-smelling scent of freshly cut timber. Wood shavings from the lathe littered the ground, and the crack of hammers echoed off the castle walls.
Then Gwendolen caught sight of Angus. She had not known he’d joined the laborers, and her thoughts clogged her brain as she watched him drag a long wooden plank across the bailey. The heavy length of wood rested on one broad shoulder, and he leaned forward into the task, the muscles of his thighs straining as he took one heavy step, paused, then took another. His shirt clung wetly to his back. Perspiration dampened his hair. He had rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, and she could see the muscles in his forearms, flexing and contracting with each strenuous step.
She stood watching him until the clansmen recognized what was in the cart and began to crowd around it. She helped serve the ale to the thirsty workers, while Angus reached the bridge beyond the gate tower, stopped, and twisted his body to set the plank down. It bounced heavily as it landed, and sent a cloud of sawdust swirling into the air.
He straightened and tipped his head back, closed his eyes as if to drink in the sun’s warmth. A drop of perspiration trickled down the side of his sun-bronzed face, and he wiped it away with the heel of his hand.
Gwendolen stood transfixed, holding a tankard of ale, waiting for him to notice her. At last their eyes met, and she held out the drink.
Striding toward her, he accepted the ale and tipped it back. His throat, shiny with sweat, pulsed as he guzzled. The liquid cascaded over the sides of his mouth and down his damp, muscular chest, disappearing under his shirt. Gwendolen followed the path of the ale with rapt eyes, as he wiped an arm across his mouth and handed the tankard back.
She grew flustered by the intensity of his stare as he waited for her to take the empty container. When she reached out, their fingers brushed lightly together, and the brief contact created a lingering havoc in her brain.
“Thank you,” he said.
“My pleasure. How is the new gate coming?”
“It’s coming.” He gazed at her briefly with those ice blue eyes, then turned to resume his work.
She set about collecting the empty drinking vessels from the other clansmen, realizing with some unease that she was beginning to look forward to her wedding night, and was thinking about it far more than she should.
But what did that say about her loyalties to the MacEwen clan? she wondered uncomfortably, then quickly swept the question from her mind.
