Kellen felt his face heat, and loosened his grip, but Gillian pushed tight into his embrace. She didn’t seem to care about the dirt or the smell as she clutched his arms.
Marissa gave him a pointed stare and Kellen hesitated. He didn’t want to distress his stepmother.
But he did not care to turn Gillian away. He liked that she clung to him and would not wish her to feel rejected.
And, of course, he was the one who’d invited Marissa, after all. He’d asked for her help and knew he should bow to her dictates.
But the way Gillian pressed herself against him like a second skin was heady and exciting. He wanted to be with her.
Marissa sighed. “You will see each other at supper in a few hours.”
Kellen bent his head to Gillian. “I am happy you are learning the running of the keep. Marissa is a good teacher. There is none better to ease your way.”
Gillian looked as if he’d betrayed her. ’Twas like a dirk in his chest. He straightened and faced Marissa. “But Gillian can’t be expected to learn everything at once.”
Gillian expression relaxed and she gazed at Kellen as if he were her champion. He liked it.
“I disagree,” said Marissa. “There is not much time and she has much to learn.”
“I . . . ” Ruefully he accepted that he cared more about what Gillian thought than Marissa. “I understand, but no more today. Ready yourself, Gillian. I will return for you shortly. I came in to tell you that I am riding into Thropworth this day.” He knew he was contradicting what he’d said earlier about training this day, and that everyone would know he was lying, but he didn’t care. He turned to a tight-lipped Marissa. “Gillian should watch as I mete out judgement. As my lady, ’tis important for all to see her.”
He was finding he would do about anything for her.
“Can I ride with you on your horse again?”
Marissa let out a harsh breath.
Kellen cupped Gillian’s cheek as he looked down at her. He couldn’t believe she was his. He didn’t want to part with her for as long as it would take to get everything ready. “Of course.”
The thought of facing his men . . . well . . . they would think him crazed when he changed course for the day. At his command his men were already gathering in the north field, and he’d not even sent word ahead to announce his intent in going to the village this day. The teasing would be merciless.
’Twas worth it to be with her.
“How fare you with Marissa?”
Snuggled in Kellen’s arms, Gillian enjoyed the warmth seeping from his chest into her back, the possessive way his arms surrounded her, and the rocking motion of the horse. She was exactly where she wanted to be. “Fine.”
“Truly?”
“No.” Gillian bit her lip as Kellen laughed. She didn’t want to come off as a complainer but didn’t want to lie, either.
“She means well.”
Gillian snorted and craned her neck to look up at him. “I think she means to drive me crazy. Do you suppose she’ll make things worse because I went off with you today?”
Kellen shrugged. “She is not vindictive. Do not concern yourself.”
“Easy for you to say.” Amused by his lordly proclamation, Gillian huffed out a breath before relaxing against Kellen once more. “You’re not the one who has to sleep with her tonight.”
Kellen laughed. “If you are truly concerned, I’ll speak on your behalf. Or better yet, you can sleep in my bed. I promise not to snore or steal the bedcovers. And I vow to keep you warm.”
Gillian smiled. “I suspect staying warm would be the least of my concerns.”
Kellen leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “I can hardly wait until we are wed.” His whispered words, low and full of meaning, had Gillian shivering. She glanced around quickly to see if any of his men had heard. They hadn’t, but Gillian ducked her head and searched for a change of subject, positive her flaming face would give her thoughts away if anyone cared to glance in their direction.
Her gaze fell to her ring and she gave it a tug. It didn’t budge. “Um. I think I’ve gained weight since I’ve been here. You’re feeding me too much.”
Kellen chuckled, ran a hand down her arm, then back up to cup her shoulder. He squeezed. “I admire every single curve and cannot wait—”
“Kellen, hush!”
His laughter had Gillian blushing all over again as she searched frantically for another subject. “So, where are we going, anyway?”
Kellen chuckled. “Perhaps we are simply enjoying the seeing of the sights. Would that not please you?”
She smiled up at him. “Actually, it would.”
They soon rounded a hill and Gillian saw a village nestled below filled with cottages, huts and assorted buildings, but it was the church, big, with an imposing steeple and light-colored stone, that immediately caught her eye. She straightened. “Hey. I know this place.” Surely this was Marshall, the town she’d been staying in before heading out to draw the castle.
“You have been here? When?”
“Uh . . . ” Oops. She couldn’t tell him she’d stayed here in the twenty-first century, that she’d bought chocolate in a shop that wouldn’t exist for hundreds of years, and gotten directions to the ruin of Marshall Keep from the plump woman behind the counter. Directions to Kellen’s castle.
Kellen suddenly stiffened. “Is this where you were robbed of your possessions?”
Gillian breath caught. “Um . . . ” She was going to have to plead the fifth on that one. “I have no memory of that event.”
Kellen’s arms tightened, pulling her back against his chest. “If someone has made you fearful, have no worries on that score, my lady. I will find the miscreants and they will be duly punished.”
Gillian thought it unlikely, but nodded as if she believed him. Said miscreants were safely in another century and most likely continuing their reign of terror against unwary travelers.
When she didn’t say anything, Kellen sighed, then pointed. “I own all this land and the manor house yonder and have placed in its charge one of my most trusted knights. I believe you will like his wife. She is friendly and would make you a good companion.”
“Oh yeah?”
It didn’t take them long to get to the outskirts. As they rode through the town, everyone stared at Gillian. Well, almost everyone. A pretty young woman waved, then placed a hand on her hip, her smile beckoning as if she silently offered her services to Kellen.
Gillian glared at the woman and laid a hand on Kellen’s shoulder, staking her claim, before turning her glare on Kellen. “A friend of yours?”
Kellen lips curved. “Not at all.” He didn’t even bother trying to hide his grin. “Is this your way of letting me know you wish me to be faithful?”
Gillian smiled sweetly. “Only if you wish to keep all your bodily parts intact.”
Kellen laughed, causing his men and nearby villagers to stare. “Do not concern yourself, Gillian. I will ever be true and will want no other.”
Gillian turned to look at him and the heated, possessive way he gazed at her made her want to melt into a puddle. She reached up to cup his jaw and he captured her hand and pressed a heated kiss to the center. She gasped, held his gaze for a moment longer, then looked around self-consciously. People were definitely staring. “I’ll hold you to that.”
After they’d dismounted, Gillian watched curiously as Kellen and another man formally greeted one another. The knight bowed. “Do you desire to pass judgement this day?”
“I do.”
“We are honored and look forward to your discernment.” The knight gestured and chairs were brought forward as Kellen introduced Gillian to the knight, Sir John Teasdale, and his wife Lady Teasdale, who looked to be about Gillian’s age. Lady Teasdale curtsied and quickly introduced her four young children, three girls and a boy, all blonde like their mother, and all probably under eight years old.
Gillian tried out a curtsy and didn’t think she did too badly. “It’s so nice to meet you all.”
Lady Teasdale beamed. “The pleasure is ours. I’d not thought to meet you until your wedding day, so this is most pleasing.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to be here.”
As Kellen led Gillian to her seat, he leaned down. “I do not normally deal with such small matters,” he said in a low voice. “My man does this. I am only called in to deal with murder, arson, robbery, and assault, but make an exception this day.”
“To spend time with me?”
Kellen’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Verily you are a lot of trouble.”
“I know.”
Gillian was joined by Lady Teasdale and Kellen took his seat at the front, beside Sir Teasdale.
“You look nothing like your sister,” said Lady Teasdale.
“No?”
Lady Teasdale studied her. “The same coloring, ’tis true, but your features are much finer.” She hesitated. “None here believe he killed Lady Marshall.”
“Is that what some people think?”
Lady Teasdale looked suddenly worried. “Some say so.”
“Kellen would never hurt a woman in a million years. There’s just no way.”
Lady Teasdale studied her. “You defend him so vehemently. ’Tis nice to hear.”
“Of course I do. Anyone can see he’s innocent.”
Lady Teasdale nodded. “You are not who I was expecting.”
Yes, well, that was pretty much a given. Gillian lifted a shoulder, glanced at Kellen, and made sure her voice stayed low. “I don’t mean to sound so defensive, but not only does he have to deal with being almost murdered, but then he’s the one who gets the bad reputation out of it? It’s not fair.”
“You do have the truth of it.” Lady Teasdale agreed then turned her head as the noise escalated in the gathering crowd.
Gillian glanced from Kellen to the crowd, wondering what was happening. One of Kellen’s men stepped forward. “Lord Marshall will now hear any grievances brought before him.”
Gillian leaned closer to Lady Teasdale. “So, he’s like a judge or something?”
Lady Teasdale nodded, but there wasn’t time for a longer response as an indignant man pushed his way toward the front, pointed at another man and loudly proclaimed, “I would accuse Gilbert the Baker of stealing the affections of my wife.”
An audible gasp went up from the crowd as everyone turned to look at a man who gaped unbecomingly, yellowed teeth on full display. He glanced around for a quick exit, but his peers relentlessly pushed him forward.
Kellen motioned with one hand. “Both men advance and give me the details.”
The first man moved toward the front, bowed quickly and pointed at the other man, who closed his mouth and straightened skinny shoulders. “He has been gazing upon my wife, praising her, and he touched her hand. My wife smiled at him and I caught her eating a pastry that I had not given her.”
Kellen motioned to the other man. “What say you?”
The man flushed an unbecoming shade of red but stood his ground. “’Tis all innocence, my lord. Naught has occurred. I swear to it.”
Kellen turned toward the first man. “He says naught has happened between them and has sworn it. If he agrees not to talk to your wife further, will you forgive this man?”
“Aye.” The man straightened. “For a chicken.”
“What?” Incredulity colored the other man’s tone. “A whole chicken?” Mouth slack he looked to Kellen. “’Tis unthinkable.”
Kellen glanced between both men, then leaned forward. “Perhaps half a chicken?”
A laugh escaped Gillian before she even knew it was bubbling up. She quickly turned it into a cough as everyone, including Kellen, turned to stare at her.
A moment later the argument continued, capturing the crowd’s attention once again and Gillian couldn’t resist, she got out her sketchpad pad and started to draw.
After a few more minutes of haggling, the half chicken was finally accepted.
Stifling another giggle, Gillian drew faster as Kellen nodded toward the husband. “By forgiving this man you show great strength of character and are to be commended.”
He turned his gaze upon the other man. “And you, sir, need to find a woman of your own and stop trying to lure the wives of other men. ’Tis unacceptable.”
Gillian’s sketch started to take shape. Two men tugged on a pretty chicken, each pulling a wing as the long-lashed hen struggled between them, panicked. Drawing all those caricatures at fairs during college stood her in good stead as she over exaggerated the determined features of the men, making them sinister yet silly at the same time.
Lady Teasdale glanced over and muffled a laugh. Kellen turned, his brows raised, and Gillian pulled her pad against her chest, smiling innocently.
Another man caught Kellen’s attention as, soft-spoken but upset, he claimed some of his grain had been stolen but didn’t have any proof against the accused other than he’d witnessed the man leaving his hut and had less grain upon checking.
Kellen considered the situation as the accused shifted in place, looking down. “Did you take the grain?”
The man took a breath, but before he could respond, Kellen held up a hand. “Keep in mind,” he said sternly, “that you not only answer to me but must stand before God and his judgement for what you say this day.”
The man visibly wilted, his shoulders and head dropping. “I did take the grain, my lord.”
“Is it gone?”
“Aye, my lord, ’tis gone.”
“Then you must pay your debt by helping this man work for seven days time, doing whatever he needs of you.”
“Yes, my lord.” Both moved away, seeming satisfied by Kellen’s judgement.
Another man came forward, bowed, and pulled on his forelock. “My lord, the blacksmith,” he pointed into the crowd, “‘e killed me goat.”
A burly man, thick with muscle, pushed his way to the front. “You lie!”
Kellen looked between the two men. “Let me hear the details.”
The accuser crossed his arms over his puffed-out, bony chest. “’E gave me goat the evil eye one morning as ‘e walked past. The goat died the next day.”
The blacksmith, jaw clenching, shook his head in disgust. “I never did such a thing.”
“Have you any witnesses?” Kellen asked the accuser.
At first no one came forward, but the claimant smacked an adolescent boy on the back of the head and, cap in hand, the kid moved forward. “I witnessed it, my lord.” The boy didn’t look up from the ground or sound very convincing.
“And you are?”
The blacksmith shook his head in disgust. “‘E’s his son.”
Gillian stifled another giggle as Kellen sighed. “Any other witnesses?”
No one came forward. “As there is no real proof that the blacksmith did indeed harm your animal, I will have to deny your claim.”
“But, my lord—”
“The matter is closed.”
Good call, in her opinion. Gillian glanced around at the crowd to see that more people had gathered. It looked as if the entire town had turned out. The scandal sheets, apparently, had nothing on medieval England.
A tall, well-dressed man came forward next. Stern-faced and confident, he dragged a shorter man by the arm who pulled and tugged and tried to escape.
Lady Teasdale leaned forward. “’Tis the reeve bringing a man to justice. He supervises work on Lord Marshall’s property and reports to my husband.”
“Ah.” That might account for the air of self-righteous indignation. He was doing his job. The reeve dropped the man’s arm and the guy danced away, then glanced around and finally settled in front of Kellen, bowing his head and wringing his hands.