Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (9 page)

boots of hand-tooled leather?

The armoire was empty except for a few filthy patched cambric shirts and rough-spun breeches. All the

socks—what few there were—had been darned numerous times; each had at least one new hole in them

and stunk to the heavens. The one pair of boots looked as though they had come from a trash heap. The

solitary jacket was torn at one sleeve, missing its buttons, frayed at the collar; it, too, looked like a

refugee from someone's castoff bin.

And where was the food?

Surely the village did not hate him so much they refused to sell him food! Or was there even

money to buy food?
she wondered. Looking about the room at all the faint outlines where portraits had

obviously hung, she had to entertain the notion that he had sold what he could in order to survive.

But why? Surely in five years time he had not gone through his wife's entire estate! The Lady Marie

Sinclair had come from a filthy rich family. Was it not her sumptuous dowry that had purchased Kaelan

Hesar's hand in marriage in the first place?

The mere thought of Marie Sinclair drove a stake of brutal jealousy through Gillian's heart. It still hurt

after all these years. After all the tears she had shed that June night five years ago....

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Chapter Eleven: Five and a half years earlier: Tempest Keep

“When are you going to speak to Papa?"

Kaelan swiveled his head toward her. “Speak to him about what?"

“Our marriage, silly."

The Viragonian prince shrugged. “When you're old enough."

“I am seventeen years old, now!"

“Sixteen and a half,” Kaelan corrected. He reached up to tug on her braid. “Going on twelve."

Gillian batted his hand away. “Be serious, milord. Adair's been married a full year; Adele, two. And

Ruan will be wed before the end of the month."

“And you can't wait to walk down that aisle, can you, brat?” he chuckled.

“No, I can not!” She tossed him a cunning look. “And neither can you."

Kaelan shrugged. “I suppose not now that you've caught me, child."

“Me? Caught you?” she gasped, her young womanhood offended.

“Aye!” he laughed, propping his head up on the palm of his hand. He looked up at her where she sat

beside him on the grass. “You chased me like a hound to stag and look where I am.” He jerked his

thumb toward the grass. “Run to ground as you would have me."

“I did nothing of the sort,” she said, ignoring his snort. She looked out over the stream, smiling as a fish

jumped in the deeper water. “Although I must admit you were like that fish in yon stream: you jumped

around, poking your head up until the right fisherwoman came along to reel you in.” She heard him

chuckle and turned to glare down at him. “You wanted to be reeled in, milord; admit it."

“I'll admit nothing to you, brat,” he guffawed. “'Tis dangerous to do so."

“Not even your affection for me?"

Kaelan sobered. “That I will gladly admit.” He tweaked her nose with his free hand.

“Yet for the life of me I don't know how you managed to get me to the point of contemplating marriage

to a harridan such as you."

“Come to think of it,” she said, putting a finger to her chin, “you've yet to kiss me to seal the betrothal."

“There is no betrothal until your father agrees to it, brat,” he reminded her, although deep in his heart he

knew he'd challenge Dakin Cree to a to-the-death duel rather than allow the man to forbid the betrothal.

“Why,” she went on, pointedly disregarding his words, “you have not even asked me if I care to be

shackled to a man such as yourself for the rest of my life!” She gasped, looking down at him with mock

horror. “An old man such as yourself, at that!"

Kaelan wagged his brows evilly at her. “Old man, is it?"

“Aye,” she lamented. “Thirty, isn't it?” She shivered delicately. “My god, but that's practically middle

age!"

“Thirty, my ass,” he snarled. “I'm twenty-six and well you know it, brat."

“Still,” she said with a long, drawn out sigh, “Rolf de Viennes is only...."

He had came up off the ground and over her in one lithe bound, pushing her down amongst the heather

and covering her with his powerful body.

“No man,” he said from between clenched teeth, “will have you save me, Milady Gillian!"

“Is that so?” she teased, her eyes sparking fire for the mere weight of him was a joy she had long wanted

and dreamed of.

“Aye, that's so!” He clasped her wrists in one strong hand and brought them up over her head, shifting

his body so that he lay between her slightly parted legs. “Swear it, Gillian,” he growled, gripping her chin

with his free hand. “Swear it!"

Her lips had parted from the hunger that had suddenly coursed through her belly. “I swear it,” she

whispered.

Naive in the ways of love, ignorant of the passions racing through the grown man poised above her, she

ran her tongue over her upper lip. Her eyes flared wide as a fierce groan rumbled from Kaelan's chest

only a fraction of a second before his mouth slashed across her in a kiss so savage, so possessive, it took

her breath away.

Kaelan was as mindless to what he was doing to the young, untried body lying beneath his as he was of

the storm clouds that had gathered overhead and were, even then, racing pell-mell across a

suddenly-dark sky. His only thought was of the pulsing need in his shaft and the soft curves upon which

he rested.

Driving his tongue deep into Gillian's mouth—his eyes squeezed tight in concentration—he did not see

her own eyes fly open with stunned surprise, nor cloud with intense desire as she instinctively thrust her

hips up toward him. But he felt that submissive action to the very depths of him and his hand slid from her

chin to her breast: cupping, caressing, molding her flesh through the fabric of her gown.

A loud crack overhead startled them both and Kaelan jumped as though he'd been prodded by an

electrical current.

Or his conscience.

His eyes snapped open and he looked-really looked-into Gillian's eyes and saw the mistake he'd almost

made. “Oh, god!” he gasped, rolling off her and into the safety of the grass. He pressed his rigid member

against the ground, causing himself acute pain. “God!” he repeated.

“W ... what's wrong?” she asked, reaching out to touch him.

“DON'T!” he ordered.

Gillian stared at him where he lay plastered to the grass. “Did I hurt you?” Adele had told her all about

where to aim a kick at a man who might be pestering her; she thought perhaps she'd somehow injured

Kaelan in that most vulnerable of male places. “Is it your cock, Kaelan? Did I...?"

“Gillian, hush!” he breathed. He turned horrified eyes to her. “Where did you learn language like that?"

“Adele says..."

“I should have known!” he bit out, cutting her off. “Don't ever use that word again, do you hear?"

“Aye,” she said, somewhat hurt. What was so wrong about a mere word?

“Gunter should know what his wife has been discussing with her innocent sister,” Kaelan grumbled. How

dare the woman tell Gillian about the effects of arousing a man!

“Would you have me defenseless, then, against men like Rolf de Viennes?” she snapped.

Nothing else the young woman said could have caused the intense reaction that de Viennes’ name did in

Kaelan. He reached out and snagged her hand, jerking her toward him. “Defenseless, how, Milady

Gillian?” he bellowed.

Gillian flinched, for his fingers were biting into her flesh. She tried to pried his hand away, but he

tightened his grip. “You're hurting me, Kaelan,” she told him.

“How, Gillian?"

“He's always pestering me!” she shouted back, trying to twist her hand from his hold. “Adele said if I

kneed him in the c...” she stopped at his look of warning, “It wasn't important!” She jerked on his hold.

“Damn it, Hesar, let go!"

The steel of the erection that had pained him so greatly had fled. He let go of her hand, glancing down to

see if he had, indeed, bruised her, and winced: her flesh was a mottled blue color, the sight of which filled

him with shame. But the overall emotion he was feeling at that moment was absolute fury. Getting to his

feet, he held out his hand to her.

“Did you tell your brothers about this?” he demanded as she allowed him to draw her up.

“No,” she grumbled, dusting the grass from her gown. “I saw no need to do so. They'd only call him out

and...” she stopped, seeing the thunderclouds that had not only formed on the horizon but on Kaelan

Hesar's brow. She ignored the ones overhead and put out a restraining hand to the man she loved and

whose life she dearly cherished. “You won't call him out!"

“Aye, I will!” Kaelan growled. He bent down and snagged his jacket.

“Kaelan, no!” she protested. “It's not worth it."

“It's worth it to me!” he shot back. He took her hand and started walking to where he had tethered their

horses.

“But it's not important!"

“The hell it isn't!” Before she could mutter another word of protest, he gripped her waist and propelled

her upward, onto her mount.

“Kaelan, please..."

She might as well have saved her words, for nothing standing between heaven or hell could have kept

Kaelan Hesar from going after Rolf de Viennes.

And paying dearly for it.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twelve: Holy Dale Manor

Kaelan could not sleep. Nick's snores were bad enough-they matched Brownie's snorts and snuffs in

almost perfect harmony; but Gillian's tossing and turning left no doubt in his mind that she could not sleep,

either. Finally, after two hours of battling his conscience and the pain in his heart, he tossed aside the

covers.

The room was cool; not yet, cold. The fire had died down to a deep red glow. If they weren't to freeze

during the long night, more wood would have to be brought in from the pile Nick had stocked just inside

the kitchen door. He didn't know if he was up to the long climb up the stairs, but he hated to wake Nick

and ask him to perform the menial chore; the man had done more than his share already.

Heaving a long, tired breath, Kaelan got up, drew on his rough shirt-now almost dry from the soaking

he'd taken in the pond-and looked for his breeches.

“What are you doing?"

He glanced around and found Gillian propped up on her elbows watching him. “We need wood for the

fire,” he answered.

“Nick!” she called out.

“Don't wake him!” Kaelan ordered in a voice more harsh than he had intended or had used in a long,

long time. “I can get the gods-be-damned wood, woman!"

“Can you, indeed?” she snorted. She was watching him standing there, wavering, his shirt barely

covering his naked ass. “And are you going out dressed like that?"

“Where are my breeches?” he hissed.

“I washed them,” she said.

Kaelan turned an astonished face to her. “You did what?"

“They were dirty; I washed them,” she said. “The other clothes, as well."

“When?” he gasped.

“While you slept this afternoon.” She lifted her chin. “I have no compunction about doing physical labor

if the need arises."

“I'll not have you washing my dirty clothes!” he spat at her, surprised by the venom in his words.
Where

had the anger come from?
he wondered.

“Who else was going to do it, Milord Hesar?” she shot back.

Who, indeed? He had not been able to for quite some time but there was no need for her to know that.

He shook his head. “Don't do it again, Gillian,” he said.

“Don't worry, Your Grace, I won't!” she threw at him.

“What are the two of you arguing about, now?” Nick grumbled. He sat up in the bed and rubbed the

sleep from his eyes with his knuckles, much as a little boy would have.

“We need wood, Nick,” Gillian grumbled.

“And I told you I could get the gods-be-damned wood!” Kaelan spat.

“You told me a lot of things but most of what you said proved to be untrue!” Gillian shouted.

“None of it was untrue!” Kaelan retaliated.

“No?"

“NO!"

“What of your love for me, Kaelan Hesar?” she said, coming to her knees. “What of that?"

“That was true!” he thundered. “By the gods, that was true!"

“And our betrothal?” she asked, missing Nick's look of stunned surprise.

“I had every intention of Joining with you, Gillian. I told you...” There was physical pain in the voice that

spoke. “I said..."

“You told me not to worry,” she accused, interrupting him. “You told me everything would work out!"

“I swear to you, Gillian, I did not lie to you.” He was holding out his hand to her, heedless of her brother

staring at him with mouth agape.

“You made me swear I'd never have another save you, Kaelan Hesar.” Tears were running down

Gillian's cheeks. “But did you swear such to me, milord?” She flung her head wildly from side to side.

“You made no such vow to me, did you?"

He moved around the bed, reaching out to grab the foot post to keep from falling. “You have to listen."

“I waited all evening, Kaelan Hesar!” she sobbed, throwing a loose branch of mountain laurel at him.

“All eve and you never came for me!"

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirteen: Five years and eight months earlier: Tempest Keep

Kaelan Hesar was livid. The black eye Rolf de Viennes had given him during their fight hurt like hell and

only served to underscore the growing hatred between the two men.

“Look at you!” Duncan shouted at him. “Brawling in the street like a common thrall! I'll not have it,