Page 19 of A Knight To Call My Own
“Aye, I know.” Ian lifted a bottle of spirits to his lips and took a long drink.
“Well…why did you not halt the combat?” She probed deeper into the wound and heard him cuss. “Sorry,” she muttered softly.
“You know the reason I continued on with the games, Lynet. ’Tis foolish of you to think I would allow myself to be beaten by some sniveling coward who thought to win the match by deceit.”
“And did you?”
Ian shook his head, as if he was clearing his thoughts from the fiery liquid he drank. “Did I what, my dear?”
Lynet sighed and stopped momentarily to look up into his visage. “Did you win the match?”
His brow rose, as if he was surprised she would even ask such of him. “How could you doubt I would not become victorious in the end?”
She remained mute, for truly, what was there to say when the man had fought relentlessly just to win her hand, despite the injury he had incurred. She began making a paste to pack the wound and draw out the infection, but she could feel the heat of his stare. The look he cast her sent a small thrill through her, even though he was just so exasperating at times. She kept to her task and tried to force from her mind the view of him sitting so nigh with a smirk plastered on his handsome face.
Pulling out linen for bandages, she told Ian to raise his arms. Naturally, this brought her into closer proximity of the man she was determined to hate for rejecting her all these years. Her fingers brushed across his bronzed chest, lightly furred with a hint of red, as she began to wind the cloth around his torso. She could actually smell the spirits on his breath. She was so near, she almost forgot her mission ’til she reached the end of the bindings. After she tied the knot, he put his arms down. Lynet sat back on her heels and collected the medicinal ointment, herbs, and linens to pack away in Kenna’s satchel.
Ian offered her his hand as she rose, sending currents of heat flowing through her veins at his touch.
“You should stay abed to ensure no fever sets in,” Lynet said as his thumb caressed the back of her hand he still held.
He gave a brief laugh. “And miss the chance to sup with you this eve and claim my dance? Not a chance, little one.”
She smiled at the endearment as he raised her hand to his lips. Their eyes met yet again whilst her heart once more leapt up into her throat. She cleared it, trying to find her voice. When she finally spoke, the sound came out as more of a croak, causing his own smile to broaden, knowing he had affected her so.
“Then if I cannot steer you from your course, I shall see you this eve, my laird.” She noticed his eyes took on an almost wicked gleam. “What amuses you so?” she asked, trying her best to control her breathing.
“I but enjoyed the sound of you calling memy laird,” Ian chuckled, still holding on to her quivering hand.
Her brow rose at his nerve to bring her error to her attention. “Did you now?”
“Aye, I did, my dearest Lynet.”
She attempted to hide the smirk lighting her face, but knew she had failed when his laughter rumbled inside his chest once more. “Well…do not get used to it. I said your title in a lapse of good judgment on my part, I assure you.”
“If you say so, but…” He let his words drop off, as though he knew she had once again spoken a falsehood. The look he tossed her told her he was completely amused with how uncomfortable she was feeling for her slip. “Sure sounded like an endearment to me.”
He finally let her hand go, but Lynet could tell ’twas done with reluctance. “Since the morrow is the Sabbath, I will check on you after mass and stich your wound if no further infection is present.”
Lynet did not wait for any form of reply. She practically ran from the tent whilst her heart continued its rapid flight. He was winning her slowly, but surely, and he knew it. Mayhap, ’twas time to admit defeat and give in to the love she had always harbored for the insufferable man!
~***~
Calum unfolded his arms from his chest and watched Lynet with interest as she left the MacGillivray tent and made her way to the keep. He was not pleased with the events that were fast becoming clear to him. His estates failing, he needed the girl’s dowry to replenish his coffers, by any means necessary.
She cared for the man…that much was becoming abundantly clear. He had noticed her pleased expression, when she thought no one was looking, whenever Ian of Urquhart had been named victorious from the relentless matches he won. If he did not do something about it, MacGillivray would attain her hand, despite Calum’s best interests to do the same. Aye, the MacGillivray laird was the biggest threat to his own plans to have the lass. Perchance, Calum needed to take a different tactic in order to see his own desires were fulfilled.
Chapter Eleven
“Once upon a time, there liveda beautiful princess,” Lynet began ’til her nephew Royce started squirming in her lap. She gazed down at the boy, who did not appear pleased with the tale she was about to weave. “What is amiss?”
The boy crossed his arms over his chest in a way so reminiscent of his sire, Lynet did everything in her power not to break out in laughter and shame the lad. “Cannot you tell me the tale of the knight, and how he slays the dragon, Aunt Lynet? ’Tis one of my favorites.”
“But, I told you that one just yester eve. Do you not want to know how the fair princess falls in love with her knight from his show of bravery?”
The boy shrugged. “Tell such a tale to my sister when she is grown. I am most sure she would enjoy such flowery words!”
Royce scurried off her lap to find something else to hold his attention in the solar. She was not surprised when he picked up his wooden sword and began making jabbing motions, as if he, in truth, were slaying a dragon of lore.
