When she could not keep her eyes open anymore, Ilysa got up and lit a candle in the hearth fire to light her way to her chamber. As she left the kitchen, she heard something and paused before starting up the stairs.
Was that a light under the door to one of the storage rooms? She went to investigate. The last door did have a sliver of light under it. Leaving a candle or torch unattended overnight was dangerous. Tomorrow, she would find out who was responsible and speak to them. In the meantime, she would put it out.
She pushed the door open with her hip and then sucked in her breath. She was too stunned to move. In the warm glow of the torch in the wall bracket, she saw a pair coupling on the narrow wooden table.
“Aye! Aye!” the woman moaned as the table rocked with the rhythmic thrusts of the man standing between her legs.
The woman’s bodice was pushed down to reveal ample, rosy-tipped breasts, and her golden hair spilled over the sides of the table. Rich, wine-colored skirts fell from the long, slender legs she had wrapped around her partner’s waist.
O shluagh!The woman on the table was Deirdre.
The couple’s obvious enjoyment brought a flood of unwelcome memories of Ilysa’s brief marriage—the humiliation of her husband’s awkward attempts, his limp member pressing against her.
So this was what it was supposed to be like. Ilysa’s breathing went shallow as she watched how the man gripped Deirdre’s hips while he thrust deep inside her. Slowly, she moved her gaze up the man’s bare chest. When she reached his face, she started. His gaze was on her, and he had a wicked grin on his face.
He was laughing at her. Heat drenched her as she backed out and quietly closed the door.
When Ilysa reached her bedchamber, she undressed in the dark. Her care was unnecessary. There was no one else in the bed, confirming that the lass she had seen in the storeroom was, indeed, Deirdre.
Ilysa would be relieved when their guests departed. It was not that she begrudged Deirdre her lover or the attention of all the men in the hall. No, there was only one man whose regard she envied. When she recalled how Connor had looked at Deirdre, she wanted to weep.
Exhausted as she was, Ilysa stared up into the darkness. She had been so busy in the hours since she had gone to Connor’s chamber to dress his wounds that she had succeeded in pushing the image of him naked from her mind. But now, as she lay alone in the dark, it would not leave her. It merged in her mind with the couple in the storeroom.
What would it be like to have Connor touch her like that? To have him look at her with smoldering passion in his eyes as he ran his hands over her skin?
CHAPTER 5
Are ye any closer to choosing a new captain?” Ilysa ventured to ask.
Even after a week of dressing Connor’s wound, Ilysa could not claim she was unaffected by being so close to him when he was bare-chested. But she was able to maintain at least an outward calm, and they usually fell into easy conversation. Today, however, Connor seemed distracted.
“Tait is a good fighter and loyal,” he said. “But I fear he’s no leader.”
“That’s for certain,” Ilysa said, which earned her a smile.
“Ian’s brother Niall will make an outstanding captain in a few years, but I need one now,” Connor said. “The others are fine warriors, or will be with some training, but none is as good as a captain ought to be.”
“Hmm,” she murmured as she unwound the linen strips from around his chest.
“I’ve been watching the men every day, and I haven’t seen one who has what it takes.”
“What qualities are ye looking for?” she asked.
“He should be the strongest warrior, the most loyal man, and a leader the others respect enough to follow without question,” Connor said.
“Ye can’t expect to find someone who can replace my brother or your cousins,” she said in a soft voice. “The four of ye trained and fought together all your lives.”
“Aye.” Connor’s chest rose and fell under her fingers as he took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’d settle for one man who stands above the others.”
Ilysa had raised the subject purposefully. Still, she hesitated, unsure of how Connor would take a suggestion from her on a subject so far from her knowledge.
“I may have to choose Sorely, for lack of someone better,” Connor said, his gaze fixed on the sea out the window. “He’s a strong warrior, and I know he’s loyal.”
“I’ve heard of someone who may be worthy of your consideration.”
“Who?” Connor said, turning to fix steely-blue eyes on her.
Sometimes the shift in his manner from disarming friendliness to chieftain was startling. Ilysa forced her breathing to remain steady as she told him what she knew about the man Cook had described.
