Kiss of the Highlander

“All right, m’dear,” Silvan said. “You win. No more questions until you speak with Drustan. But if I know my son, he’ll not cooperate.”

“He must, Silvan,” Gwen said desperately. “We don’t have all that much time.”

“Is he truly in danger?”

Gwen closed her eyes and sighed. “You all are.”

“Then we will make him listen to you.”

Gwen opened her eyes and scowled. “And how do you plan to make him do that? Lock him in a room with me?”

Silvan smiled faintly, deepening the lines about his mouth. Elderly though he was, he was a handsome man with no small amount of charisma. She wondered why he’d never married again. Surely not for lack of women being interested.

“Not a bad idea, m’dear. Will you do as I say?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

And he bent his head close to hers and began whispering.

15

Hours later, an anxious Gwen paced before the fire in the Silver Chamber. The day had dragged endlessly on with no sign of Drustan. If he’d only return, she’d clear things up and they could set about figuring out who the enemy was.

After a scrumptious breakfast of poached eggs, potatoes, and dried, salted fish in the hall with Silvan, Nell had given her a brief tour, pointing out garderobes and the like. She’d spent a few hours in the library, then had retired to her chamber to await Drustan.

Dageus had ridden in a few hours ago, without him. He said they’d parted ways at the tavern. Silvan had drawn his younger son—younger by a mere three minutes—into their plan, and Dageus, grinning and casting Gwen steamy glances—did he have to drip as much raw sex appeal as Drustan?—now held the door to the corridor ajar a crack, watching for Drustan’s approach. He’d been spotted riding into the stable a quarter hour past.

“I can’t believe you placed her in the chamber that adjoins Drustan’s,” Dageus said over his shoulder.

Silvan shrugged defensively. “She said his name last night, and besides, ’tis the third nicest in the castle. Yours and Drustan’s are the only two more lavishly furnished.”

“I’m not certain she should be sleeping so close to him.”

“Where should I move her? Nearer to your chamber?” Silvan countered. “Drustan denies knowing her. You kissed her. Who poses more of a threat to her?”

Gwen flushed, grateful that Dageus didn’t point out that she’d demanded he kiss her. He glanced at her sidewise and flashed her a seductive look. God, he was gorgeous, she thought, watching his glossy waist-length hair slide silkily as he angled his head to argue over his shoulder with Silvan. How could two such devastating men exist in one castle? Not that she was attracted to him, but she’d have to be dead not to appreciate his raw male virility.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked Silvan, nudging the conversation in a less disconcerting direction.

He smiled faintly. “Doona fash yourself over my motives, m’dear.”

“You would be wise to fash yourself over his motives, lass,” Dageus cautioned dryly. “When Da bothers to involve himself, he always has ulterior motives. Schemes within schemes. And inevitably, he knows more than he lets on.”

“Do you?” She peered at the charming, grandfatherly man.

“Innocent as a little lamb ambling the hillside, m’dear,” Silvan said mildly.

Dageus shook his head at her. “Doona believe a word of it. But nor should you waste your breath trying to get more out of him. He’s quiet as the grave with his little secrets.”

“I’m not the only one who keeps secrets around here, lad,” Silvan said with a sharp glance. Father and son battled with their gazes a few moments, then Dageus dropped his eyes and looked back out into the corridor.

An awkward silence reigned, and Gwen wondered what she was missing, what secrets a man like Dageus kept. Feeling like the perpetual outsider-looking-in, she changed the subject again. “Are you sure he won’t listen? Are you certain we need to go to such extremes?” A pile of wood planks and bolts lay near the adjoining door, and the longer Gwen looked at it, the more nervous she became.

“M’dear, you accused him of taking your maidenhead. Nay, he’ll not speak to you if he can avoid it.”

Dageus nodded agreement. “He’s coming,” he warned them.

“Into the boudoir with you, m’dear,” Silvan urged. “When you hear him enter his chamber, count to ten, then join him. I’ll block this door and Dageus will take the other. We won’t permit him to leave until you’ve had your say.”