Page 24 of In Bed with her Highland Foe

Harper stood in the large room, shifting constantly with one of the turpentine-scented rags in her hand.

“Me lady,” Harper whispered hurriedly as the door behind Kyven swung shut.

“Aye?” Kyven moved toward her.

“I fear ye have been told something wrong about what has taken place today.”

“What dae ye mean?”

Harper took Kyven’s arm and steered her further away from the adjoining chambers, so neither man could hear their discussion.

“The men that brought Captain Gilchrist and Laird Shay tae me were going over the event in great detail. Captain Gilchrist wasnae the one who instigated it.”

Kyven blinked.

This didn’t make sense. Gilchrist was the one who had caused arguments over dinner, who had plainly not wanted Laird Shay around.

“The captain was training the men when Laird Shay insisted on a battle. The Captain refused several times, so Laird Shay pulled a blade as the captain’s back was turned.”

Kyven raised her hand and held it over her face, the guilt suddenly swaying in her gut.

“Thank ye, Harper. Thank ye fer telling me.” Kyven turned back and looked at the closed door between her and Gilchrist. She wondered why the captain hadn’t told her at once that it wasn’t his doing, then she thought of that cold glare and the guilt and sadness grew worse inside of her.

He had nay need tae explain himself tae me, and plainly, he had nay wish tae either.

Rather than returning to him, she left the room, feeling tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

CHAPTER NINE

Gilchrist stretched out his arm as he sat back in the library. The fire was roaring beside him, the wood clicking loudly as it disintegrated in the heat. He couldn’t bring himself to turn to a book tonight, could not lose himself in a fictional world when so much was happening in the real one.

He closed his eyes on the heavily paneled room in the castle, blocking out all the mahogany shelves and stacks of books. For so long, this chamber had been a source of peace, a chance to escape the noise of the barracks and the soldiers. Tonight, it wasn’t for he feared what would happen when Kyven appeared.

Then the door opened and he lifted his head to see her standing in the doorway.

She no longer bore the same glower she had that afternoon in the healing chamber. Her expression was softer instead, the kind of wateriness in her eyes he had rarely seen, and that she only ever revealed when they had been in this library for a number of hours together, talking of their innermost secrets.

“Ye all right?” he asked, his voice gruff as he leaned forward with concern. He moved to stand as she closed the door and hurried toward him. She took his good arm, her touch making him flinch in surprise. Her fingers were gentle upon him as she urged him to sit down again.

“Ye ask me if I am well and ye are the one with yer arm cut open?”

“Worried fer me now?” he teased her.

“I was always worried fer ye.” Her voice was deep, though she avoided his gaze this time.

“Kyven –”

“Please, let me speak first.”

He expected her to back up. She would have done by now, releasing him, for she rarely held onto him for this long, but not tonight. Her hands rested upon his good arm, not moving, though he was all too aware of the softness of those fingers against his skin. He had to shift his hips a little, praying that his body would not stir at her touch.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “For this afternoon, I leapt tae conclusions. Harper told me just how mistaken I was, and then I couldnae rest until I kenned everything. I went tae find Aaden, and he explained that ye hadnae wanted tae fight Laird Shay in the first place. He said the laird pulled a gun, is that true?”

“Aye.” Gilchrist looked at the fire beside them. He was wary of badmouthing Laird Shay after her reaction that afternoon. “He wanted a fight. In the end, I had nay choice. Believe me, Kyven, I wouldnae have fought if I could have helped it.”

She nodded and released him. A breath escaped him he had not realized he was holding. Rather than her retreating to one of her usual places, either the armchair on the other side of the fire or the hearth rug where she would kneel before the flames, she sat on the footstool close to him.

He froze, his eyes dancing over her. She had worn another fine gown this evening, much finer than her usual choice, with a deep neckline embroidered in silk flowers, the lace drawing tight around her waist to compliment the line of her corset.