“What’s your name, kiddo?”
“Amelia, my lady.”
The tutor lifted his head to glare at them and Gillian put a finger to her lips, tilted her head toward the group of boys, then, as the child watched, carefully folded the paper.
Amelia, chubby-cheeked and wide-eyed, observed as Gillian made a production of each fold, raising her brows, smiling and nodding. Gillian made the last crease, pinched the bottom between forefinger and thumb, aimed away from the boys, and threw the airplane across the hall.
Amelia shrieked with joy and raced across the room, following the flight and eventually retrieving the plane from its landing spot among the straw.
The boys jumped up and raced after the girl, the knitter laboriously rose and yelled sharply for Amelia, the tutor clapped his hands and chastised the boys, and both adults glared at Gillian.
“Sorry,” she said weakly.
The boys snatched the plane from Amelia, who let out an unholy screech, balled both fists and started hitting the boy holding the paper airplane.
“Boys,” the tutor clapped sharply.
“Boys!”
Peter pushed Amelia away with one hand, palming her forehead, and she changed her strategy and tried to kick him. The adults looked livid.
Oh dear. Not good. She should have thought this out first.
Peter held up the plane to show Gillian. “’Tis the most wondrous toy!”
Shaking his head, the tutor stomped off.
“Amelia,” Gillian addressed the howling child. “I’ll make you another one.”
“And me, as well?” asked Francis.
“And me?” asked Ulrick.
“Yes. One for each of you.”
The boys took turns throwing the airplane, and Amelia was soon laughing and running after it as Gillian quickly made more.
The boys gathered around as she folded the last one. “Where did you learn such?” asked Francis. “From a wizard?”
Gillian grinned. “What do you know about wizards?”
“The stories say they’ll snatch you away from your home and force the devil into you,” said Francis.
“They will not!” said Peter. “They’ll apprentice you and teach you magic.” He turned to Gillian and raised the airplane. “How does it travel across the hall?”
“Well, its wings cut through the air to generate lift. And if you change the shape of the wings, it affects the travel time and . . . ” Gillian, struck by the phrase, fell silent.
“And?”
“And with a larger wingspan the plane will stay in the air longer.” She paused. “Boys, have you ever heard any stories about time travelers?”
They looked at each other. “No, my lady,” said Peter.
“You’ve never heard of a traveler from a distant time?”
“A man from Spain once came to sell his wares and he had a pointed beard,” said Francis.
“Do you know of such a story, my lady?” asked Ulrick.
All eyes turned expectantly toward Gillian. “Tell us a story!”
“My lady.” The knitter, her face pinched and disapproving, interrupted. “Thy daughter is overexcited. ’Tis time for her nap.”
“My daughter? Is she fostering, too?”
The older lady gave her a strange look. “She is Lord Marshall’s daughter, thy niece, and now thy daughter.”
“What?” Gillian quickly looked at the girl, taking in her blonde hair and familiar amber eyes. “Why didn’t anyone tell me Kellen had a daughter?”
The woman looked suddenly suspicious. “Why would you not know such?”
Oh. Right. As Amelia’s supposed aunt, everyone probably thought she did. “Ah. I guess I forgot.” Amelia, clutching the paper airplane, reluctantly allowed herself to be tugged away and Gillian watched until they were out of sight.
“Tell us a story with dragons!”
Gillian, curious, looked at the boys. “Do you believe in dragons?”
“Of course, my lady,” said Ulrick. “My father saw one once.”
Gillian’s brows rose. “Really?”
“Well, dragon bones, anyway. Sticking out of the ground, with fierce teeth, black from fire. But as more dragons were surely about, most likely the one that killed it, he left quickly. Otherwise, ’twould likely have killed him for sure.”
“Is that so?”
All the boys nodded and Gillian wondered if Ulrick’s father had stumbled across dinosaur bones. Ulrick’s brows drew together, his face pinched in sudden anger. “Aren’t you afraid?”
Peter elbowed him. “Girls aren’t wise enough to be afraid. Come on, let’s go. She probably cannot tell good stories, anyway.”
Ulrick laughed. “’Twould tax her wits were she to try.”
“Oh, really?” Gillian straightened and smiled slowly. “I might know of a dragon tale or two.” Jurassic Park routinely scared her out of her wits when she watched the DVD once a year or so. She thought she could probably do the story justice. “I do know a good dragon story actually, but it’s so scary you kids might not be able to handle it.”
The boys looked at each other uncertainly.
“Well? Can you handle it? If not, there’s the door.”
Eyes wide, the three boys sank down and Gillian sent out a silent apology to Michael Crichton and Stephen Spielberg for pilfering their story. She took a deep breath and began the tale as three little boys, huddling ever closer together, listened intently.
Later that night, Kellen walked toward the keep with Owen and Tristan, noted the glow coming from the edges of Gillian’s shutters, picked up his pace, and tried to outdistance his friends. “I bid you both a good night,” he said.
Sir Owen followed Kellen’s gaze. “A good night, is it? Why? Do you have something more entertaining in mind than spending time with the likes of us? Is Lady Gillian the reason you used soap down by the river? ’Tis truly hurt I am. I thought you wanted to smell sweet for us on the morrow and save us the reek when you raised your sword arm.”
Kellen tensed when Tristan clapped him on the back. “Don’t tease him, Sir Owen. He’s not seen the fair Lady Gillian since dinner. ’Tis been an hour at the very least. Perhaps more.”
Sir Owen laughed, then ducked when Kellen aimed a fist at his mouth. “But I do not understand.” Sir Owen skipped backward a few steps and lifted his hands in mock confusion. “’Tis late now and time to be abed. What is he hoping to see of her?”
Both his friends laughed and Kellen ignored the impulse to slam a fist into two faces. He didn’t want to get dirty, sweaty, or bled on in a scuffle, else he’d teach the two imbeciles a lesson.
“Only a simpleton would be surprised at my desire to behold Lady Gillian’s beauty over the ill-favored countenances before me.” Kellen lengthened his stride in the vain hope of outdistancing additional comments.
His so-called friends laughed and jeered after him. “Be sure and keep the sheets!” said Tristan. “All will want proof she’s taken your virginity.”
“Shall we follow and stand you both up?” called Sir Owen.
“Aye, ’tis a good idea,” yelled Tristan. “’Twill give her the chance to run when she sees what you want of her.”
“Nay, she’ll not run. She’ll simply slip back into her chastity belt and await a call to the nunnery.”
Their laughter followed Kellen and he turned, walking backward. “Quiet, fools! Else she’ll hear you and leave me no choice but to kill the pair of ye.”
With his back to them once more, Kellen allowed himself to smile in anticipation as he headed inside and up the stairs. He only wanted to see her, only wanted to wish her a good night. He could not hope for more.
He was surprised to find himself in front of her door so quickly and paused, suddenly hesitant, glad his friends weren’t nearby to witness his indecision. That would set the idiots to howling. He listened, but heard nothing inside and wondered if she were already abed.
Out in the hall there were the normal sounds of the keep settling, servants doing last minute chores, their murmurings, and pallets being laid about. Kellen raised a fist, paused again, then knocked softly on Gillian’s door.
A moment later Beatrice answered, smiled when she saw him, and dipped into a curtsy. “Pardon, my lord. I was just leaving.”
Kellen stepped back and watched the maid go. He noted the way she glanced over her shoulder and smiled before disappearing from sight and felt his face warm. Was he obvious in his eagerness? Would Gillian think him so? He turned back to the door and took a breath.
Give him a dozen men to fight against and he’d not have any difficulty, but Gillian, a tiny slip of a girl, made his palms damp and his mouth dry. Kellen forced himself to enter the room before others spotted him loitering about and spread the tale.
Gillian, her hair brushed and hanging down her back, stared into the fire, her nightgown a long, flowing concoction of white that covered from neck to toe. It ought to hide her curves, but instead molded in a most provocative manner, offering him a glimpse of rounded chest and hip.
Or perhaps he just imagined such in the flickering firelight. “Gillian?”
She turned and offered a slight smile. “Hi.” She didn’t seem embarrassed or shy and didn’t shriek or throw him out. A good sign, surely.
Feeling like an overwrought maiden, Kellen closed the door behind him and glanced at her feet, hoping to glimpse the colored toenails he’d heard tale of, but slippers thwarted his view.
“Where’d you go after dinner?” she asked.
“Ah . . . ” Had she’d missed him? “Down to the river to bathe.”
He was very aware of the bed off to the side, of the intimacy of the darkened room, of the fact that he’d like to lay her down, kiss her, and so much more. His heart started to pound and he cursed his men for the crude jests that placed thoughts of loveplay in his mind.
“Burr. That sounds cold.”
He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck and, unable to help himself, glanced quickly at the bed. “Ye might think such, but somehow I feel over warm.”
Gillian met his gaze for a long moment before glancing at the bed herself, ducking her head, and turning away to fiddle with a brush on a nearby table. “Uh . . . I’m not really all that tired yet. Do you want to play a game or something?”
Or something? Kellen swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet of the room. “Aye. A game is a fine idea.”
Gillian looked up again. “The kids taught me how to play knucklebones earlier. It was fun. Or we could play chess?”
Children’s games didn’t interest him, and it seemed as if they already played a game of strategy. Kellen’s eyes burned with the effort to not look at the bed again so he almost missed the fact that Gillian was smiling at him.
At the acceptance on her face, something inside him, deep in his chest, seemed to unclench and Kellen was suddenly hopeful she would let him stay this night. Taking a breath, he smiled in return. “I know of a game I could teach ye.” He moved forward, determined to get a kiss, to feel her soft lips yield to his, to taste her, and see where it might lead. But at the very least, to get a kiss.
She looked at him, and his thoughts must have shown in his face because her eyes widened and her lips parted. She darted another glance at the bed, lifted a fluttering hand to her chest, and swallowed. “I like new games.” Her voice was breathy, feminine.
Encouraged, Kellen swallowed, then stopped in front of her. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek and its softness amazed him. In contrast his own body hardened, his muscles clenched, and he found his hand shook slightly.
She didn’t pull away, but looked up at him, her eyes dark and mysterious in the firelight. Taking in a shuddering breath, he leaned down and, amazingly, she lifted her lips to his. His heart pounded and he hoped to perform the task correctly. To kiss her gently, please her, and make her glad she’d yielded. He leaned down a bit further, breathed in the light scent that was Gillian, moved to press his lips to hers—and a child screamed in terror.
In disbelief Kellen jerked upright and moved away in an instant. “Stay here and bar the door.”
Slipping a dirk into his hand, Kellen eased cautiously out of the room, pulled the door shut behind him, and took off running, searching for enemies and finding none.
He burst into the boys’ room, and glanced about but saw nothing amiss. Just three boys, each sitting up in bed, looking fearful. Kellen looked to the window, but it was firmly latched, the wooden shutters secured with iron bars. “What is it?”
Ulrick’s breath came hard.
“The dragon t-rex is coming to get me.”
“And me, also!”
wailed Francis.
“And me!”
Peter sounded aggrieved, as if the words were forced from him.
While Kellen tried to make sense of their blather, Gillian, moved up behind him.
“Oh, dear.”
***
“Is everyone comfy cozy?”
Kellen glared at Gillian as she tugged and smoothed the blanket over four sets of legs and feet. He moved his shoulders to try and get more comfortable, and as Francis dug an elbow into his ribs, Kellen winced.
His bed had never been so crowded and he would no doubt be pushed to the floor before dawn. He’d hoped to share his bed with Gillian, not three hysterical faint hearts. “You do understand I am exceedingly unhappy with you?” asked Kellen.
Gillian bent her head. Was that a giggle? “Yes, I know.” She rounded the side of the bed and tucked the blanket about Peter’s shoulders. When she finally met Kellen’s gaze, she didn’t quite smile but looked impish in the candlelight. “I plan to feel guilty all night long. I doubt I’ll sleep much at all.”
Kellen watched her expression closely, questioning her sincerity. Was she trying to bite back a smile? “I would hope not since I doubt I’ll sleep myself. I’d not planned to share my bed this night with three whimpering boys.”
Gillian nodded. “This is all my fault.”
Kellen shifted again, unable to get comfortable on the very edge of the bed. “Indeed. I am gratified you realize such.”
Gillian was obviously trying not to laugh and Kellen’s frown deepened. “This amuses you?”
Gillian ducked her head. “No. Not at all. I’m sorry. Really. I was thinking of something else.”
He snorted, and as Gillian leaned over Peter and Ulrick to tuck the blanket around Francis, Kellen reached out and grasped her soft hand, forcing Gillian to meet his gaze.
She pressed her lips together, then nodded. “Truly.”
Kellen’s lips twisted. “These dragons you told them of. Perhaps you should keep such tales to yourself in future?”
Gillian tugged her hand free and, with finger and thumb, made a motion across her lips. “Never again. I promise, no more scary stories.”
The boys protested and Gillian shushed them.
Kellen sighed loudly so she’d understand how put out he was with her. “I’d not guessed you’d be such a troublemaker.”
Gillian laughed and tucked the blanket around Ulrick. “You were hoping for sweet, demure, and silent?”
“As if the gods would thus smile upon me.”
Gillian laughed softly once more as she knelt on the bed and leaned over Peter and Ulrick to kiss Francis on the forehead. “To chase away the bad dreams,” she told him.
She kissed Ulrick next. “To guard against dragons.”
She kissed Peter. “To ensure a good night’s sleep.”
Kellen quickly leaned up on one elbow. “What of me? Perhaps I will need a kiss to keep my dreams sweet.”
Gillian rounded the bed and looked down at him. “I thought you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight.”
Kellen lay back. “Mayhap a kiss will soothe me.”
Gillian raised a brow. “If my kisses soothe you then perhaps we should rethink our engagement.”
Kellen growled, grabbed her shoulders, and gently drew her toward him, giving her the chance to pull away.
Chuckling, Gillian leaned down to kiss his cheek and he turned his head at the last second, hoping to capture her mouth with his. She chuckled again, shakily this time, turned his head, and kissed his cheek with soft lips as her sweetly scented hair fell across his face.
When she pulled away, he quickly grabbed her hand, kissed the backside, and then, turning her hand over, pressed her palm to his mouth, groaning slightly at the contact. Staring into his eyes, Gillian shivered, drew a quick breath, and pulled her hand away.
“You are correct.” Kellen’s voice was low. “’Twas not soothing in the least.”
Gillian swallowed. “I’m glad.”
“As am I. I could walk you back to your room. I will slay any dragons that show themselves.”
Gillian laughed. “I’ll take my chances with the dragons.” She pushed Kellen back and tucked the blanket around him. “Besides, the boys need you here with them.”
As if unable to help herself, she gave him one more quick kiss on the cheek, straightened and moved away, leaving Kellen to breathe in the last of her scent. “You should stay, also,” he insisted.
“There’s no room.” She picked up the candle from the bedside table and, as Kellen considered settling the boys on the floor, she looked back one last time. “Good night.”
He sighed heavily. “If these sheets are wet on the morrow, I’ll hold you responsible.”
Gillian’s laugh was cut off as she shut the door and Kellen lay in the dark, wondering why he smiled over such obvious insolence.
The boys, completely quiet, lay tense rather than relaxed.
“Go to sleep. But know this, I am indeed serious when I say that if any of you wets the bed, they will sleep in the moat.”
Three boys giggled and Kellen couldn’t help it. He laughed.
***
The next afternoon Kellen trained with his men when Christopher, one of the guards, rushed toward him. “My lord. You bade me inform you of any new arrivals.” Breathless from his run, his red face crumpled in distress, the guard came to a halt. “Sir Royce is inside with a few of his men, asking for Lady Corbett.”
Kellen’s chest tightened, his jaw clenched, and without a word to anyone, he sheathed his sword and left the training field. After what felt an eternity, he strode into the hall to see Gillian speaking with Royce. She turned at Kellen’s approach, a smile lighting her face. For him? Or that puss-bucket Royce?
Kellen hurried forward, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her against his chest, feeling an absurd need to assert his claim. Absurd because she was already his. “Sir Royce. How fortuitous of you to stop by exactly at the dinner hour.”
Kellen picked up Gillian’s hand and rubbed her palm with his thumb, exactly where he’d kissed it the night before. She looked at their hands, at him, then glanced between Royce and Kellen, her brows knit.