as she strove to remain calm. There was nothing she could do to change what had happened or to escape what would happen now. To tie herself up in emotional knots over it was foolish. That would only make what was to come all the harder to endure.
What she really feared was neither dishonor nor pain but enjoyment. He moved his hand up and down her arm, and occasionally stroked her neck. At times he rested his long, slim fingers on the increasingly fierce pulse in her throat. He roused such a heat in her she feared she would be scorched from the inside out.
In a desperate attempt to turn her thoughts from Gamel’s nearness and from his effect upon her, she tried to concentrate on what was going on around her. Her gaze settled on the fair young Ligulf. He blushed in response to the overtures of a buxom brunette. It took her only a moment to know why he should feel so discomforted by what any other man would respond lustily to.
“Your brother’s first time afairing?” she asked Gamel.
He slowly nodded, wondering if she meant what they all did when they spoke of afairing. He was not overly concerned with Ligulf’s troubles at the moment. Hoping she could adjust to her situation, he was allowing her to finish her drink. Then he fully intended to drag her to his chambers, something he was painfully impatient to do. The night was going to be far too short.
“Then he doesnae want Mary,” she said, waving another maid over. “She is too coarse and none too clean.”
“Do you ken these women weel?” Gamel loathed the thought that she might have something in common with the tavern maids.
“We often stay here. Most of the women have been here a long time. Janet.” She smiled at the raven-haired woman who stepped up to the table. “A lamb for the shearing.”
Janet smiled slowly, her gaze settling on Ligulf even as she asked, “Where is Farthing?”
“In our room most like. Sir Gamel keeps me company for now.”
Briefly Janet’s gaze met Gamel’s, her eyes widening slightly in a gesture of understanding. “I see.”
“I thought ye would,” Sine Catriona murmured. “I believe Mary lacks the touch needed here.”
“Bah, she is a slattern. Here, Mary, MacAdam calls for ye.”
Mary scowled but moved away from Ligulf. Gamel guessed that the woman dared not try to prove that Janet lied. He almost smiled as Janet quickly sat beside Ligulf, causing the departing Mary to curse.
After watching his brother and Janet for a moment, Gamel murmured, “It does go better.”
Sine Catriona nodded. “Aye, Janet has a gentler manner. ’Twill cost him, though.”
“We have the funds. After all, what can one throw cost?”
“One throw? Nay, sir. Time must be taken to shear the lamb weel. None takes such care as Janet. If your brother goes to her bed, he willnae be seen again until the morning.”
“Careful indeed.”
She shrugged. “Ye seek to make him a mon.”
“And how is it that ye ken so much about such things?”
“I am no soft, gentlebred maid kept ignorant and secured in her boudoir until her wedding day.”
“And yet methinks ye possess a certain innocence.”
She hastily took a drink. Sir Gamel would all too soon know just how innocent she was. How she would explain that when she was supposed to be Farthing’s wife she did not know. A little desperately she prayed Gamel might not notice that the woman Farthing Magnus claimed as his wife was a virgin.
“Hurry with your drink, Catriona,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her neck.
“I drink as fast as I can.” She winced at the telltale huskiness that had invaded her voice.
“Not fast enough.” He moved his lips toward her ear. “God’s teeth, I am sore pressed to take ye now—right here.”
“There would be a fine sight for MacAdam’s patrons.”
“That other eyes would be able to look upon ye is all that holds me back. Drink.”
“Ye willnae change your mind on this?” she asked, knowing it for a foolish question even as she spoke it.
“Nay. ’Tis not my mind that rules me now.”
As she raised the gourd to her lips, he traced the shape of her ear with his tongue. Her drink nearly ended up on the floor. She trembled as desire gripped her so tightly she nearly cried out. The deep swallow of mead she took did nothing to dampen that raging fire. The moment she emptied her cup Gamel stood up, yanked her to her feet, and dragged her toward his quarters. She glanced only once at his companions. They still looked displeased, but no one moved to interfere.
Ligulf watched his brother leave and grumbled, “She has bewitched him.”
Janet laughed softly. “Aye. She bewitches many. Her spell is all the stronger for she doesnae ken that she casts it.”
“I cannae understand why he couldnae just leave her be.”
Running her hand along his slim, strong arm, Janet murmured, “Come the morning, ye will.” She laughed again. “Aye, and come the morning your brother will be sorely confused, for Sine Catriona shall leave his rooms as changed as ye will leave mine.”
“Nay!”
“Nay ye or nay Catriona?”
“Nay Catriona,” he muttered, blushing as he admitted his own innocence, and Janet simply smiled.
Farthing stared up at Sir Gamel’s chamber window. He still ached to bury a dagger in the man—bury it deeply. After raging over his helplessness for a time he had sought peace in drink. That had failed him. His blood ran too hot to be cooled, his mind too full to be emptied.
The twins had finally fallen asleep, wearied from watching him rail and storm, so he had left them in the room. It had not been hard to discover where Sir Gamel’s window was. He stared at it, trying to think of some way to help Sine Catriona, but all his plans were rash, flawed. His hands were tied by the bitter knowledge that Sine Catriona was right, there was no other choice. He had trained her to be a thief and now she was paying the price. His helplessness was heavily weighted with guilt.
Although he knew he could not help or protect her this time, he settled himself below Gamel’s window. He would spend the night right here. If but one cry of pain or fear reached his ears, he would cut Sir Gamel’s throat and defy the consequences.
Chapter 3
“Undress.”
Sine Catriona tried not to flinch at the raspy order. She slowly turned to look at Gamel. He was leaning against the thick wooden door he had just shut and barred. Even as she met his gaze he moved to sit on the bed and remove his well-fitted boots. Her hard-won calm and resignation were not holding up very well at all.
“Catriona,” he said, “I dare not do it myself, though I dearly want to. I fear I shall tear your garments.”
A tremor rippled through her at this further indication of his eagerness. Her hands were unsteady as she began to remove her cowl. With no brush at hand she had to use her fingers to comb out her hair. She tried not to look at how he watched her, nor consider how quickly he undressed.
Failing in her attempt to subdue her blushes, she took off her gown. Sitting on a stool, she removed her rough boots and worn hose. Standing up again, she reached beneath her chemise to tug off the braies Farthing had insisted she wear to further hinder any attacker. Just as she began to unlace her chemise, a naked Gamel moved to stand in front of her. She tried to look anywhere but at him as he pulled her into his arms.
He buried his hand in her hair, gently tugging her head back and turning her face up to his. There was a