Chapter 3

"She did no' say what this boon was?" Graeme asked, concern drawing his eyebrows together.

Payton's mug of ale made a sharp sound as he slammed it onto the tabletop with exasperation. "As I've already told ye half a dozen times , nay, Graeme, she did no' tell me what the boon is."

Graeme grunted at the impatient words and took a drink of his own ale as he worried over what the boon might be. This boon

business was completely unexpected. Graeme did not like the unexpected. He didn't like surprises of any sort.

"Doona fash yerself so, Graeme," Symon said, nudging him with one arm. "She's a lass. Most like she just wants a new gown

or two fer the journey home."

"Aye," Teague agreed, leaning forward to look at him around Symon. "Or mayhap some bauble or other. Ye ken how women are."

Grunting, Graeme shifted impatiently at the table and glanced toward the stairs to the upper level. "Where the devil is she? She is coming down to eat, is she no'?"

"O' course she is," Payton said irritably.

"Ye needn't act like 'tis a foregone conclusion. She has no' been at table since we arrived yester morn."

"Nay, she hasna," Symon agreed with a frown. "That was full on rude o' her."

"Mayhap she doesna ken we've bathed and thinks we still smell o' the road and sweat," Teague said judiciously.

"She was sleeping," Payton said a little irritably.

"From yester morn to this morn?" Graeme asked with concern. "Is she ill?"

Payton smiled wryly. "Aye. That was my concern as well when she slept so long. Which, I think, is the only reason this was

explained to me, but apparently, she had no' spent more than an hour abed o'er the last two or three nights ere our arrival

thanks to the need fer her healing skills, yet would no' take to her bed during the day to make up fer it because o' her other

responsibilities. Yer people were beginning to worry, so a tonic was slipped into her drink to make her sleep."

"What people?" Graeme growled, his hand tightening on his mug. It was bad enough that every time he'd given an order today

someone had felt the need to tell him that Lady Annella did it differently, but he'd be damned if he'd have anyone dosing

his or his wife's drinks. Well, future wife's drinks, he corrected himself, and then added a "hopefully" to the thought as

well.

"I'm no' sure—oh, there's Annella," Payton said, and Graeme glanced up sharply to see the lass and another woman walking toward them, heads together and chattering. Graeme was just wondering who the other lass was when a man he didn't recognize rushed up to the two women. He seemed a little overexcited, Graeme noted as he watched the man speak quickly, his hands gesticulating about. The fellow hadn't even finished talking when Annella grabbed his arm and started to urge him quickly toward the keep doors as his mouth continued to move.

"I wonder what..." Payton began, but that's all Graeme heard; he was already hurrying away from the table, after the pair.

Annella had to bite her lip to keep from groaning at the pain that shot through her back when she straightened. It was becoming

a common ailment for her. She'd spent entirely too many nights bending over the ill or injured, and her body was not happy

with her for it.

"How is he, m'lady? Will he be well?" Mary, the blacksmith's wife, asked anxiously. The petite brunette stood on the other

side of the bed, wringing her hands and eyeing her husband with worry.

Annella peered at the man she'd been working on. As tall and burly as his wife was short and slender, the man was out cold,

his long dark hair falling away from his face. His cheeks were flushed, but not as badly as they had been when she'd first

arrived that night, thank goodness.

Leaning down, she felt his forehead and was sure he felt a little cooler than earlier as well. Perhaps she'd managed to remove

all of the infection. Annella hoped so, and also hoped that it didn't return.

"If all goes well, he should recover," she said cautiously as she straightened again. Turning, Annella began gathering the items she'd used to work on the blacksmith as she warned, "But 'twill be a long recovery, Mary, and ye must watch him closely. His fever appears to be goin' down now, but if it starts to rise again, come fetch me right away."

"Aye. Right away." The woman nodded to add to the promise.

"Good." Annella finished putting everything away, then picked up her bag with one hand and patted Mary on the shoulder with

the other, before heading out of the small cottage the blacksmith and his wife lived in. She slipped into the cool, dark night

and took a deep breath, then stiffened when a figure moved toward her out of the shadows along the walls.

"I thought I'd wait and see ye back to the castle."

Annella stared silently at the black blob before her. She didn't recognize the voice. All it told her was that it was a man.

Not a lot of help.

"Will the blacksmith recover?"

Annella blinked as she finally recognized the man before her. Not because of the question, but because he'd stepped closer,

and the light coming from the window, a combination of the candles and the glow from the fire inside, revealed his face to

her. It was Graeme Gunn.

Relaxing a bit, she turned and started along the path leading through the cottages and back to the keep, before saying, "I'm

hopeful he will, but we shall have to wait and see."

"Hmm." Graeme fell into step beside her. "Do ye often ha'e to spend the better part o' the night tendin' to someone who's been injured or ailin'?"

"Often enough," Annella said, trying not to sound as weary as she felt just then. She'd missed dinner and been in the blacksmith's

cottage for hours.

When an apple appeared in front of her face, her thoughts scattered and she stopped walking to stare at the sweet fruit lying

on Graeme Gunn's large open hand.

"Ye missed the sup, and I thought ye may be hungry, so stopped a passing lad and sent him to the castle to fetch us food,"

Graeme said solemnly.

"Oh. Aye. Thank you." Annella smiled weakly and accepted the apple, then glanced to the side to see him lifting one to his

own mouth.

They walked in silence as they ate. Annella had barely finished her apple when a peach was produced for her pleasure.

"I was no' sure if ye liked apples or peaches better, so brought one o' each," he explained when she glanced from the fruit

to him.

"Oh." Her smile was more natural this time as she took the peach. "I like both actually. In fact, the only fruit I do no'

care for are pears."

Graeme grunted as he swallowed a bite of peach, and then said, "Too gritty."

"Aye," she agreed with a smile, glad he understood and appeared to agree. Pears were a favorite of her husband's mother. At

least, Lady Eschina had insisted cook serve them at almost every damned meal when in season after learning Annella didn't

like them. Old bitch , she thought grimly, and then shrugged the mat ter aside. It was no longer an issue. Once she'd gained confidence and taken over as chatelaine of the castle, Annella was sure she would have handled the matter, but in the end it hadn't been necessary. God had handled it. The pear trees had been hit with a blight the first fall after her arrival, killing off most of them.

Lady Eschina had demanded that fresh pear trees be found and planted to replace the old. But Annella had claimed a concern

that these new pear trees might suffer the same fate as the old, and had instead had apple and peach trees planted next to

the few pear trees that had survived. She'd also immediately doubled the number of strawberry plants, raspberry bushes and

grapevines to fill in until the trees grew large enough to produce, which was only now happening.

"We have meat, cheese and bread too," Graeme announced as they finished their peaches. "Shall we sit here to finish our sup?"

Annella glanced up from taking her last bite of peach to see that they'd reached the keep stairs. He was suggesting they sit on the stone steps to enjoy the meal he was offering. She hesitated, but supposed it was a good idea. By now, the trestle tables would have been disassembled and put aside to make room for people to sleep on the great hall floor as was done every night. She wouldn't intrude and insist on a table being set up again just for them to eat. She still felt bad about displacing several people to have one of the trestle tables set up in the middle of the hall the other night to deal with Raynard's injury. Not that anyone had complained. It had been a cool night but not cold, and most had just moved out to the courtyard to sleep. More had followed when Raynard had started in bellowing and cussing so that few remained inside at the end but the men helping to hold him down.

Eating out here was really their only option, so she nodded and murmured, "That would be fine, m'laird."

It wasn't until they were seated and he was digging through the bag of food he'd brought that she said, "Thank you for coming

to the cottage to walk me back, and supplying the food. 'Tis appreciated."

"As are yer efforts to heal the blacksmith," Graeme countered as he pulled out a chicken leg and offered it to her. Turning

back to the bag once she'd taken the meat, he added, "Though, it does sound as though yer kept quite busy with the task o'

healin', and I do wonder that ye ne'er trained someone who could help relieve ye o' the burden on occasion."

Annella frowned at the words, feeling the sting of criticism whether he meant his words that way or not. But now that he'd

said it, she was also wondering about the matter herself. The truth was, it had never occurred to her. She had at one point

tried to teach Florie so that she could help her on trickier occasions. Unfortunately, Florie had fainted the first time she'd

accompanied her. When it happened again the next time as well, Annella had realized the lass had an aversion to blood that

was so bad that the sight and smell of it had her swooning. It had made her give up on training the maid, although the girl

still accompanied Annella on less bloody occasions. That being the case, it hadn't occurred to her to try to train someone

else, or if it had, it had only been a fleeting thought, quickly pushed aside by the need to do this or that.

In truth, between her duties as healer, as well as her duties as chatelaine at Castle Gunn, and her having her absent husband's duties as laird foisted upon her too... well, she felt she could be forgiven for overlooking something like that.

Unfortunately, forgiven or not, Annella suddenly felt terribly guilty... because her lack of forethought in not training

someone in healing meant that when she left, there would be no healer at Gunn at all. Bett, the old woman who had originally

been healer here, had died in the first year after Annella's arrival. Busy as she already was, Annella had simply added that

task to her already long list of duties and rushed about trying to accomplish everything she could in each day. It had resulted

in many things being neglected.

Sighing, she lowered the hand holding the chicken leg and said, "My apologies. I've just realized that my departure will leave

Gunn without a healer. I should have trained someone in the skill these last years since old Bett's passing."

"Old Bett," he said softly, affection in his voice. "She tended many an illness and injury fer me and me brothers growing

up."

"I can imagine," Annella said with a faint smile. Her mother had been the healer at MacKay and she had done the same for Annella,

her brother and sister.

"When did she pass?" Graeme asked, his smile fading.

"Oh..." Annella had to think for a minute, and then said, "It was just days or near a week after your father's fall down the keep stairs." Nodding as her recollection returned, she added, "Aye. She tended him at first, and then I took over when she passed. Although, by then there was nothing to do but check on him every day." Glancing, at him she explained, "To make sure he's not getting bedsores, or that no other issues have cropped up."

Graeme grunted at that around a mouthful of meat, and Annella turned her own attention to the chicken leg she held. They ate

in a companionable silence until the meat, cheese and bread were gone, and then Graeme packed the leavings back into the sac

he'd had the food in, set it on the step above them and stood to offer her a hand. "Shall we take a short walk to let our

stomachs settle ere finding our beds?"

Annella hesitated. The food had gone a long way to restoring her energy. A short walk might help to expel some of it so that

she could sleep, she thought and took the offered hand so that he could help her rise. She was a little surprised though,

when he then drew it through the crook of his arm as he led her along the front of the keep. They were turning the corner

to start along the side of the keep when he said, "Yer brother told me ye wanted a boon."

Annella glanced quickly to and away from the man beside her. "In exchange for helping you settle in, aye."

"And what would that boon be?"

Annella bit her lip, but then said quietly, "You ken I want to return home to me family at MacKay."

"I ken."

Annella frowned slightly. She would have been happier had he said, "Aye, and o' course ye will," or something else to indicate that it was fine with him, and once she'd helped him, he wouldn't prevent it. But she left that concern for now, and said instead, "Florie—she's my lady's maid—I'd like to take her with me when I return home to MacKay. If she's willing, of course," Annella added quickly, because she hadn't had the chance to ask the girl yet.

"Hmmm."

Annella peered at him with one eyebrow raised. "Is that an aye, a nay, or a ye-wish-time-to-think-on-it?"

Surprisingly, her dry question brought a chuckle from the man.

"An aye," he assured her. "If ye're happy with her, I've no wish to stop Florie from bein' yer lady's maid."

Annella felt her body relax at his words. She was glad to stop worrying about losing Florie when she finally left. "Then I'd

be happy to take a couple o' days to help ye sort things here ere I go."

Graeme nodded, but was frowning to himself. He was pretty sure it would take more than a day or two to woo her into agreeing

to marry him. Especially since he had no idea how to go about it. Another woman, one who wasn't a lady, he might lure into

the gardens and seduce. But he would never treat her thusly. Tossing up a lady's skirts in the gardens was just not done.

He knew that much at least.

"The gardens."

Graeme blinked and glanced to Annella with surprise, thinking it was almost as if she'd read his mind. But then he saw that

their walk had somehow taken them to the very place he'd been thinking about. Apparently, his feet had brought him here despite

the fact that seducing her was off the table.

Glancing around the gardens, still beautiful even in moonlight, he sought for something to say and then blurted, "I always liked them when I was growing up. I used to climb the trees and hide in them when me mother was sufferin' from bad humors."

"Hmmm." Annella's voice sounded grim. "She seems to suffer those quite a bit. Every time she sees me, in fact."

Her words surprised a chuckle out of Graeme, but he assured her, "'Tis no' only you. 'Tis pretty much everyone she encounters.

Except perhaps William," he added. "She liked him well enough. He was the first born and heir, after all."

Annella nodded, but asked, "What about you? As her son, surely she favored you too?"

"Oh, nay," he assured her with a dry laugh. "William was no' just the heir and future laird, he also took his looks from her.

Unfortunately, I meself look more like me father, who she always loathed and felt was beneath her."

"Really?" she asked with surprise. "Then why does she spend most o' her time up in their bedchamber with him?"

"Does she?" he asked with interest.

"Aye. When she's not following me around, trying to make me miserable, she's above stairs in their bedchamber with yer father."

"Probably makin' him miserable," he muttered, and then said "I did no' wish to trouble ye with such a question while we were eating, but what

happened to me father? Me mither said he fell down the stairs..."

Annella sighed and turned to continue walking through the gardens before saying, "That's what I was told, though I was not here to see it. Angus—me husband's first, then me first and now, I suppose, yours," she said with a wry twist to her lips before continuing, "He was showing me around the castle, courtyard and Gunn land that day, explaining how things ran. When I returned, I was told that Gaufrid had slept late, which is apparently unusual, then woke up dizzy and shaky, tried to make his way down to the great hall, lost his footing or fainted and fell."

Plucking a leaf from a bush they were passing, she began to absently tear it into pieces and said, "It was a terrible fall.

He was lucky to survive, but did not come out of it unscathed. He broke his back and has no feeling or movement from the waist

down. I think he also must have knocked his head hard several times on the way down the stairs, because he has some issues

there as well."

"I know his speech is impeded," Graeme murmured.

"Aye. He also remembers nothing from the wedding night on, up to and including his fall a week or so later. 'Tis like those

memories were knocked out o' him," she said solemnly. "But his arms and hands work fine and he remembers his letters and can

write, so we keep scrolls and ink by him so at least he's able to communicate what he wants or needs."

She saw Graeme's eyebrows rise, and then he murmured, "There were no scrolls or ink by him when I went to tell me parents

about William the day I arrived."

Annella's eyes narrowed at this. "'Tis always there when I check on him, which I do every other day."

"Do ye check him at the same time e'ery other day?" Graeme asked.

"Aye."

"Then Mother probably puts it beside him when she kens ye're comin'," he said grimly. "She was no' expectin' me when I went

above stairs. Other than you and the men holdin' down yer patient, most o' the castle was sleepin' when we arrived and I did

no' trouble to make our presence widely known. And, while I knocked when I went above to speak to them, I also did no' wait

after, but opened the door at once because I'd seen one o' the maids enter with a tray o' food as I went up the hall so knew

they'd be awake."

"But she would no' have had the chance to put scrolls and ink near him if she normally kept it from him," Annella reasoned.

"Aye."

"Do ye really think she would keep ink and scrolls from him and leave him unable to communicate?" she asked. Annella was pretty

sure the woman would. Eschina Gunn really was a bitter, miserable old woman. But Annella was curious to know how Graeme saw

his mother. She was not disappointed.

"Oh, aye, she would," he assured her. "In fact, she'd no doubt enjoy doin' it too. I wid be more surprised were she no' torturing

him in other small and petty ways as well." Pausing, he met her gaze and said solemnly, "Me mither is no' a good woman."

"Hmm," Annella murmured, opening her hand and letting the pieces of torn leaf flutter to the ground. "You would think he would

write that to me on one of my checks on him, rather than suffer in silence."

"Nay. He's too proud," Graeme said with certainty. "He'd no' wish anyone to ken if he's sufferin' under her hand. He'd fear lookin' less a man."

Annella nodded in understanding. Her father was a proud man, so she wasn't surprised to hear that the old laird might be as

well. He'd seemed a lot like her father before his accident. Pushing the thought aside, she said, "I've suggested more than

once that we could have a couple men carry him outside and set him on a blanket to enjoy some sunlight and fresh air of an

afternoon, but yer mother keeps saying no, that he might catch a chill and die."

Graeme snorted. "I doubt she cares fer his health. 'Tis more like she fears he might enjoy himself by escapin' her fer a bit."

"Aye," Annella agreed with amusement. She couldn't stand the woman.

"I think on the morrow I'll go speak to him again," Graeme decided. "This time I'll make sure he has scrolls and ink to communicate,

and will ask if he'd like to be outside fer a bit. Then I'll ask if he'd like me mother moved from his room to her own."

"What if he says aye, and yer mother is upset or offended?" Annella asked with interest.

"Too bad," Graeme said dryly.

"Ye've no problem banishing yer mother to another bedchamber?"

"Nay, no' if she's been passin' her days doing naught but makin' me father miserable," he assured her. "Hell, I'd happily

banish her to a cottage outside the walls if she's been doin' that. Me da deserves better."

When Annella didn't comment, he asked, "Is she the reason ye're so eager to flee Gunn fer MacKay?"

"Aye," Annella said without even needing to think about it. Eschina Gunn had done her very best to make her miserable since her wedding. Or actually, really since the morning after her wedding when it was discovered William had left in the night like a thief. Rather than say that, Annella found herself admitting, "But also because I should like a proper marriage. One with a handful o' bairns, and a husband who is actually there."

"Ah. Aye, I'd like that meself."

"Ye'd like a husband?" she asked innocently.

Graeme looked startled, and said quickly, "Nay. I meant a wife and bairns, no'—" He paused, and shook his head when a soft

laugh slipped from her. "Ye're teasin' me."

"Aye," Annella admitted, and they fell into a companionable silence for a minute before Graeme spoke again.

"Do ye think yer father will be able to arrange another marriage fer ye?"

Annella glanced at him sharply. "Aye, of course. Why would he no'?"

Graeme shrugged and caught her arm to steer her around a branch hanging in her path before saying gently, "Well, 'tis most

like no' an issue, but I ken that yer dower was generous when ye married me brother."

"Aye," she agreed. Both her and Kenna's dowers were generous.

Graeme nodded. "But yer older now, lass. An even larger dower might be needed to lure a husband."

Annella stiffened and stopped walking at those words. That simply wasn't something she'd even con templated. She'd passed twenty and two years. Nearly twenty and three. Many would consider her overripe and too old to marry. She was also a widow. They might worry over whether she could produce children for them since she'd been married six years without having a bairn. Not everyone knew of the humiliating circumstances of her marriage, and that her husband had fled almost as soon as the "I dos" were done. And those who didn't, would assume her husband had been plowing her fields these six years with no crop to show for it.

"And," Graeme continued, regaining her attention, "I would wonder that yer father would be willing to take from yer brother's

inheritance to arrange another marriage fer ye."

Annella frowned at these words. Take from her brother's inheritance to get her another husband? She hadn't thought about it

like that, but that was exactly what would have to happen. Even to her that didn't seem fair. She'd had her chance. It wasn't

Payton's fault that she'd been so unappealing her husband had fled the marriage bed and run off on a "pilgrimage" with the

village lightskirts. Besides, it wasn't only Payton who would be affected if her father did that. Having ruled Gunn these

last six years, Annella knew what it took to run a castle and its clan. How having enough coin in the coffers could mean the

difference between a clan surviving or not surviving either a drought or too much rain that affected the crops. Her desire

to marry again and expecting her father to pay for it could leave the MacKay clan in a perilous position if he agreed.

"I'm sorry, did I upset ye, lass?" Graeme asked with sudden concern, drawing her to a halt. "Either ye've gone suddenly pale, or the light here's queer, cause right now yer face looks white as the moon this clear night. Here, sit yersel' down."

Annella found herself urged backward a step or two until she felt something against the back of her legs and then plopped

down to sit on what she suspected was the stone half wall that separated the fruit trees from the garden where chestnut and

hazel trees grew along with various flowers.

Graeme sat beside her, retrieved a skin from his belt, and uncapped and handed it to her. "Have a sip o' this. Ye'll feel

better."

Annella accepted the skin, raised it to her lips and tipped it up to pour some liquid into her mouth. But she tipped it too

far, and had to gulp quickly to keep from spilling it all over herself. She'd barely swallowed the last of what she'd taken

in of the potent brew before she was gasping for air, sputtering and coughing.

"I said sip, lass. 'Tis uisge beatha." Graeme's voice was alarmed as he took the skin away with one hand, even as he began

to pound on her back with the other. "Breathe, lass. 'Twill pass, jest breathe."

Easier said than done, Annella thought as she alternated gasping in long draughts of air and coughing. Good Lord, Gunn whiskey

was strong. It took a few minutes for the coughing to stop and her breathing to ease, and then Annella shuddered and sagged

where she sat. It took her another moment to realize that she was leaning up against Graeme's side while he now rubbed her

back soothingly.

"There, that's better," he murmured. "All right now?"

Annella raised her head from his chest to answer him and then stilled. Their faces were now inches apart, so close she could

feel his breath on her lips. She stared at him silently, taking in the lines of his face with interest, realizing only then

that this was the first time she'd really looked at the man since the morning he'd arrived.

That first morning he'd been filthy from his travels, and his hair had been long and shaggy, as had the full facial hair he'd

been sporting. Now his clean dark hair seemed a little shorter, though it still fell past his shoulders. He was also clean-shaven.

Annella wasn't sure when he'd cleaned up. Had he still had the shaggy hair and beard when she'd approached her brother and

him out in the courtyard that morning? She hadn't really got that close before her brother had left Graeme and come to greet

her, and honestly, she hadn't paid the other man much notice. The same was true of that night at dinner. She'd been headed

for the trestle tables, noted the presence of her brother and the other men, but then the blacksmith Silas's brother had arrived,

babbling frantically that Silas was burning up and his wife, Mary, had sent him to beg her to come check on him and she'd

rushed away.

Other than her examination of him on first meeting, Annella hadn't paid the man any more attention than she would a gnat. And now here they were out in the garden at night and she was paying attention. Fortunately, the moon was full with little in the way of clouds to obscure its light and she could make out all of his features pretty well. Not as well as she would have in daylight, but enough to verify that he was indeed a handsome man as she'd first thought. He looked absolutely nothing like her recollections of his brother William. Her husband had been twenty to her sixteen when they'd married. In her memory he'd been all long limbs and lean muscle, with sharp features and blond hair. She'd thought him handsome and felt lucky to marry him.

This man had dark hair, his features were blunter, and his body... Her gaze slid down to his shoulders and across what

she could see of his wide, muscular chest. Unlike her husband, this man was more than twice as wide as her. It made her feel

positively tiny... and safe.

She lifted her head to peer at his face again and decided that while her husband had been attractive in a youthful way, Graeme

had a different appeal. He was all man, his features hardened by experience and the passage of years. His mouth didn't look

hard though. It was lovely, with a full lower lip to balance out the thinner upper one, she thought and wondered what it would

feel like if she ran her finger over that lower lip.

Annella drew in a surprised breath at her own thoughts, and noted that Graeme not only looked good, he smelled positively

amazing. Why did he smell so good? she wondered a little fuzzily as she inhaled his scent again. She didn't remember thinking

that about her husband. Although, to be fair, she might have been too terrified to smell anything on her wedding night.

"Lass?"

His voice was a deep rumble, and she almost felt the sound under her fingers where they'd somehow spread out over his chest. Annella lifted eyelids she hadn't realized she'd let drift to half-mast and met his gaze as she whispered, "Ye smell nice."

Graeme looked a little stunned at the words. Something she could completely understand, because Annella hadn't meant to say

them, they'd just somehow slipped out. But she didn't take them back. She was feeling too relaxed at the moment. The whiskey

seemed to have warmed her all the way to her toes, and eased the tension she usually carried around in her body to the point

of languor.

"Ye smell good too," Graeme finally responded.

Annella smiled at the words and didn't resist when the hand rubbing her back urged her closer. She didn't even react when

his lips brushed across hers. At least, not at first. She just enjoyed the way his warm lips moved over her mouth. It seemed

natural and felt good and Annella didn't protest.

A little moan slid from her when he caught her lower lip between both of his and drew on it gently. She couldn't really say

how that suddenly turned into a full-on devouring, with her lips parting under his and his tongue delving in to explore as

his mouth ravished hers.

God in heaven, it was the most exquisite thing she'd ever experienced. Pleasure was suddenly filling her from every direction, flowing from her toes to the top of her head and back, rioting throughout her body. She found herself grasping at the front of his shirt and plaid, pressing herself more firmly against him, her body almost writhing in its desire to get closer as his hands moved over her back, molding her to him.

When his mouth left hers to travel down her throat, a small mewl of protest slipped from her lips and then her head fell back

at the delirium his exploring mouth caused. One of his hands left her back and slid around to find and close over a breast

through her gown. Annella gasped and cried out, her back instinctively arching to thrust herself into the caress as he kneaded

and plucked at her through the cloth separating them.

Graeme immediately returned his mouth to hers, capturing the excited sounds she was eliciting as he toyed with her breast

and the nipple that was quickly pebbling under his attention. So distracted was she by the passion he was drawing from her,

that she didn't at first notice when he shifted her to sit across his lap. It wasn't until his mouth left hers to replace

his hand at her breast that she noted their position and how improper it was. But when he then began to suckle and nip at

her tender flesh through the quickly dampening material of her gown, she let the awareness slip away. At least she did until

his now free hand began to glide under her skirts.

Some small part of her brain went quiet as his fingers slid up her calf and past her knee, but her body was still responding, shifting restlessly in his lap, her hands clutching at his shoulders now. And then his hand went still, and he lifted his head to claim her lips once more. This time though, his kiss was more soothing than exciting. There was still passion, but a gentler one, almost apologetic. His hand then retreated. Once it was out from under her skirt, he broke the kiss, wrapped her in his arms, and pressed her head to his chest to simply hold her while she caught her breath.

It took several moments for her body and her breathing to calm. Once both had, Annella remained still in his embrace, unsure

what to do. Should she apologize? Slap him? Beg him to continue what he'd been doing? In truth she was torn between begging

him to continue, and rushing away to the safety of her room to sort out what the hell had just happened. But Annella suspected

she should probably be apologizing for being so wanton, and maybe giving him hell for being so free with her.

Except that he was the one who had ended it.

He released a sigh so deep she felt it through her body as if it had been her own, and then Graeme eased her away and brushed

the hair gently back from her face. "I'm sorry, lass. That was no' well done o' me. I fear ye're just so lovely and sweet

I could no' help meself, and once I tasted ye..." He simply shook his head, not finishing the thought. Instead, he urged

her to her feet, promising, "I'll try to behave better around ye in future."

Annella again had no idea how to respond. She had no idea why he'd stopped what he was doing, and supposed she should say thank you, or something of that ilk. But really, she just wanted to stamp her feet in protest at his promise to behave better. She had enjoyed his kisses very much and, as shameful as it was to admit it, would have liked an opportunity to enjoy more of them.

In the end, she simply ducked her head and brushed imaginary wrinkles out of her gown until he took her arm and turned her

to walk her back toward the castle, saying, "I'll see ye to yer chamber."