Circle Of Honor Part 11

His ambivalence toward her was driving him crazy. He wanted her to go. But he wanted her to stay.

"What do you see in her, Adam?" Nathara repeated.

" 'Tis not your concern. The woman is my wife, and I'll not dishonor my vows." No matter if they were for a year and a day, a lifetime, or only until he found her cousin. The depth of his commitment surprised him. He might not be sure what he felt or what he should feel about Gwenyth, but one thing he knew for certain. He would never betray his vow to protect her.

"You are a fool," Nathara spit out.

"That may be so. But I am also your laird, and you'll not speak to me in that manner again."

They glared at one another, and finally she backed down.

"As you wish, my laird."

She walked away, and the provocative swing of her hips told him this battle wasn't over. He didn't believe for a minute that Nathara would cease her campaign to seduce him. He shook his head. It had been a long day, and he craved the peace he'd found fleetingly before Nathara's interruption.

Adam looked out over the loch, allowing the sights and sounds to color his world once more. As his spirit calmed, he bowed his head and prayed, seeking comfort and guidance.

When he finished and opened his eyes, a full moon rose over the water and with it the promise of the circles and seasons of life and love.

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.

Adam smiled as moonlight, peace, forgiveness, and hope washed over him.

TEN.

A FULL MOON bathed the landscape with silvery radiance on a rare clear night, beckoning Gwenyth to leave the confines of her room. Grateful for the guard who accompanied her, she walked the parapet, wrestling with her chaotic thoughts.

Generally, when she made up her mind, she was not easily swayed to alter her course. But as a result of her stay in Leod's hall, she no longer trusted her feelings or her judgment. The only thing she knew for certain was that she wanted to leave Moy.

But even that thought was a lie. For despite her fear of intimacy with Adam or any man, a part of her wanted to stay, to know this gentle yet fierce man better. To see if her fascination with him was substantive or only fleeting.

Perhaps it was nothing more than grat.i.tude for his kindness, his willingness to help her heal. Yes, that must be it. She mustn't confuse grat.i.tude with affection. She knew little enough of that emotion, for only Daron's devotion had been a constant in her life. Too many others had feigned friendship and love when all they were interested in was her royal blood and how it might further their ambitions.

She could depend on no one, not even Daron. Even as her frustration rose at his inability to protect her, she prayed for his good health. For without him she couldn't hope to end this marriage to Adam, and end it she must.

Adam seemed to have forgiven her for accusing him of the a.s.sault, but even if so, what kind of marriage could they contrive? Once he learned of her parentage, any possibility of a lasting union would be dashed.

Marriage. How could she bear to suffer a man's touch? She could never allow it. Ever. Unless . . . Perhaps . . . Adam's touch was gentle, and his kind heart gave promise. But it could not be.

Marriage to Edward and the royal house of Balliol awaited. Her children would be the future wives and husbands of the rulers of Europe. Perhaps even king of Scotland.

Children.

The conception of children required certain duties. Eventually, she supposed she would have to endure those duties in order to conceive these royal heirs.

For a moment she wished she hadn't sent the message to Daron. Scotland and Adam appealed far more than England and a man whose caress might not be as tender, who wouldn't croon words of comfort in the Gaelic of her childhood as her father had.

Papa. His death had shaken her world.

As had Adam, in a different way, with his warm smile and gentle soul. In any other time and place she could have easily loved him.

Gwenyth gave herself a mental shake. Foolish fantasies. It must be the moonlight playing with her, agitating her with such senseless notions. Gwenyth glanced to where her escort stood at the far end of the narrow walkway. As she was about to wave him toward her, the murmur of voices told her others had taken advantage of the beautiful evening. Wishing to avoid interrupting a tryst, she turned the corner, away from the guard.

Within moments, she heard footsteps behind her. The man couldn't have reached her so quickly. She ducked into a crenelation, hiding in the shadows as Nathara whisked past, anger and frustration clear in each step. Gwenyth breathed a sigh of relief at avoiding a confrontation with the woman. To be safe, Gwenyth remained hidden to ensure she wouldn't encounter her.

From her hiding place, she watched the moon play tag with the mist rising from the loch. The sight captivated her, and it was several minutes before she stepped back into the moonlight. She collided with a huge, male body.

Slow-witted guard.

The collision nearly sent her crashing into the wall, but strong hands set her upright and a familiar voice said, "What are you doing here at this time of night?"

Adam and Nathara. Had he sent her away because of Gwenyth? Or was there truly something between them? He stood just inches away, hands resting lightly on her shoulders, while she stared and struggled to speak. Words wouldn't come.

Moonlight silvered his hair, and his skin shimmered as if lovingly caressed by individual moonbeams. The planes of his face acquired stronger definition from the shadows, and his eyes captured the very color of the moon's luminescence. Long-limbed and well-muscled, he was altogether too handsome.

Out of nowhere came the unshakable conviction that the G.o.d she thought had abandoned her had brought them together for a reason, that theirs was no chance meeting. Had she, through an act of self-preservation, unwittingly bound herself to the one man whom heaven had chosen for her?

Nay. That can't be.

Perhaps she was to help him in some way, as he had helped her. She had saved his life and he had given her refuge. Surely their purpose was accomplished and she was free to pursue her plans for the future.

He removed his hands and waved her guard away. Turning back to her he asked, "Lady Gwenyth, are you all right?"

She shivered, pulling her arasaid closer about her shoulders. "Aye, my laird. I . . . you frightened me." And indeed it was true, but not because they'd b.u.mped unexpectedly. "I could not sleep and came out for some air."

He stared at her, as if he thought she might reveal a secret.

Then she remembered Nathara and knew he had been with her. Why were you with Nathara at all? And why do I care? "I should go in; it grows late."

"You must be glad to leave your room."

"Aye," she agreed, all the while wishing she could escape his presence by returning to that very sanctuary. She raised her gaze to meet his and found him regarding her closely.

"I sent word to Daron."

"Thank you, my laird."

He continued to study her as they faced each other on the narrow pa.s.sage. He blocked her way to her room, and she grew increasingly uncomfortable in his presence. She wished he would have his say and let her retire. But apparently he was not one to rush into anything.

Finally he spoke. "Why do I believe that your grat.i.tude will exact further price?"

She looked into his eyes and immediately regretted it. There was no mistaking the warmth that resided there.

Gwenyth broke eye contact. "What price?"

He looked out over the castle wall, and she studied his profile, watching in fascination as he masked his emotions. "You will leave as soon as arrangements can be made?"

"Aye."

He faced her, his expression unreadable. "I could hold you to the full term of our agreementa"a year and a day."

"That would not be wise," she whispered, wondering why he would want to keep her, and fearing that he would do just that.

"Nay, it would not."

She could swear she heard regret in his speech. "Then we must hope Daron arrives quickly."

ADAM COULDN'T EXPLAIN WHY her offer to leave didn't cause his spirits to lift. One less obstacle to his tenure as the Chattan chief. One less problem with which he must deal.

She seemed so calm and controlled; her face betrayed no emotions. But her gaze penetrated his very soul. She was at once frightening and intriguing. He appreciated her offer to leave, to sever this unwanted relationship. But he was drawn to her, to her fire and intensity, to her deep, mysterious beauty. To the fragile vulnerability she tried to hide.

A time to embrace. This was not such a time. But could that time come? Had G.o.d brought her here, not just to be healed, but to heal?

He feared he was staring and shook off this feeling of being spellbound. "You are free to roam the castle grounds, Lady Gwenyth."

She tilted her head. "Why do you call me lady?"

"You are Lady Mackintosh, wife of the laird of clans Mackintosh and Chattan. I would hope you'd take pride in the t.i.tle, for however long you have it."

"I do, Adam." For his sake, not because she honored his clan.

"Good. When you feel up to it, you have my leave to use my horses as well, as long as you take your guard or the man Morogh with you for protection."

"You trust me?"

"Where would you go?"

"Aye, where would I go?" Her voice trailed off, and he fought the urge to wrap her in his arms and offer comfort. But she drew her own arms about her. Which was just as well, he reminded himself.

Head bowed, she murmured, "My laird, I fear I have wronged you in more ways than I thought possible."

"What ways, other than lying?"

Her head shot up, and she truly feared him. He didn't like that at all.

Why do you need to find this cousin? Dare you tell me? Does he own your heart? Part of him wanted to demand she tell him it wasn't so. But part of him didn't want to know, didn't want to give her reason to tell another lie. Didn't want an end, even though it was inevitable.

"You and Nathara."

Her answer caught him unaware, and for a moment, he couldn't form a coherent thought.

Recovering he answered, "You have spoken with her?"

"She visited me and made it clear I am not welcome."

"I'll talk with her." He swallowed hard. "Nathara would like to return to my good graces."

"She said you care for her, that you are close, and yet you have turned her away. Because of me."

"Nathara overstates our friendship. 'Tis a matter of honor. Of vows taken and promises made."

"But you made them unwillingly."

"So I did." He rubbed his injured shoulder. "My word is all I have."

Her face lost its calm composure as she touched the damaged arm. "Does it pain you?"

"Only when moved a certain way. But it lacks strength as well as motion."

She withdrew her hand, seeming uncomfortable with the contact. "How long since the injury?"

Relieved to be rid of the subject of Nathara, he replied, "More than a year and a half."

"Dalry?"

He nodded. He told her how he was wounded, even admitting his drunken stupor. What he didn't mention was that he'd been wounded by her kinsman's warriors, although she surely must suspect it.

"So, that is why you drink nothing stronger than watered wine."

"Aye. I may make my share of mistakes as I live out my life, but I won't make that particular one again." Despite these confessions, the silence that followed felt companionable.

Gwenyth broke it. "The wound has had time to knit sufficiently."

"Are you a healer?"

"I have some skill. May I feel the wound, my laird? Perhaps I can help."

What harm could such a slight girl do? "Aye, but let me sit so you can reach."

He made his way to the stairs and sat down on the top one, giving her access to stand below him and thus reach his shoulder more easily. After a moment's hesitation, her hands gently but efficiently probed.

"The bone was broken?"

"Aye. My arm was a mess."

There was no fear in her touch. She grasped the arm and with surprising strength, moved it about to test it. He yelped when she pushed it beyond its limit.

"I'm sorry, Adam. I just wanted to see how well it moved."

"Now you know," he said through gritted teeth.