But now he dreamed of her. This morn, when he’d sneaked into his chamber for a change of clothing, he’d heard the splash of her bath. He’d paced from hearth to window and back again, convinced she was splashing far more than necessary just to force him to think of rosy breasts and thighs and silken gold hair, misted with glistening beads of water.
Drustan stared out the window, scowling. She was driving him mad. How could so wee a wench create such havoc with his senses?
Last night, after he’d fallen out his own window, he’d tried to catch a short nap in the hall. A short time later, she’d wandered down. There he’d been sitting, feet propped up, staring with heavy-lidded eyes into the fire, seeing golden tresses in the flames, when he’d caught a whiff of her unique scent and turned to see her standing on the stairs.
Clad only in a diaphanous night rail.
Drustan, you can’t keep avoiding me, she’d said.
Without a word, he’d leaped to his feet and fled the castle. He’d gone to sleep in the stables.
The laird of the castle, catching winks in the stables, by Amergin!
But had he stayed within the walls, he would have made short work of her sheer rail, kissed and suckled and devoured every inch of her body.
His traitorous father and Nell weren’t making things any easier. They’d welcomed her into their lives with the enthusiasm of parents who’d finally gotten the daughter they’d longed for. Nell sewed for her, dressing her in luscious creations, Silvan played chess with her on the terrace, and Drustan had no doubt that once Dageus returned he’d like as not set to trying to seduce the lovely witch.
And Drustan would have no right to complain.
He was getting married. If Dageus wanted to seduce the lass, what right had he to argue?
He crashed his fist down on the stone window ledge. A sennight. He had only to avoid her until then. The moment Dageus returned, confirming there’d been no battle, he would pack the lass off to Edinburgh, aye—mayhap England. He’d send her with a flank of guards, finding some excuse to keep his flirtatious brother at home.
Thrumming with frustrated energy, he stomped from his chamber. He would go for another long ride and try to while away yet another eternal day, ticking them off on a calendar in his head: one day nearer salvation.
As he loped down the hall toward the servants’ stairs, he stiffened and spun about. By God, he would not skulk out the back entrance again.
If she was fool enough to try something when he was in such a mood, she would suffer for it.
Drustan rounded the corner at a full charge and crashed abruptly into Nevin.
“Milord!” Nevin gasped, flying backward.
“Sorry.” He grabbed the priest by the elbows and steadied him on his feet.
Nevin smoothed his robes, blinking. “Nay, ’twas my fault. I fear I was lost in thought and didn’t hear your approach. But ’tis grateful I am for our encounter. I was coming to seek you out, if you have a moment. There’s a wee matter I wished to discuss with you.”
Drustan tamped down a flash of impatience, then got angry that he was feeling impatient to begin with. It was her fault. He’d whiled away many a fine hour talking with Nevin and not once suffered impatience; he liked the young priest. He took a deep, calming breath and forced a smile. “Is aught amiss with the chapel?” he asked, the cameo of patient interest.
“Nay. It goes well, milord. We have but to replace the altar stones and seal the new planking. It will be finished in ample time.” Nevin paused. “ ‘Twas a different matter I wished to speak with you about.”
“You needn’t hesitate to speak your mind with me,” Drustan assured him. Nevin seemed reluctant to broach whatever topic was worrying him. Had he seen the bam-pot chasing him about? Was the priest concerned about his upcoming betrothal? God knows, I am, he thought darkly.
“ ‘Tis my mother again….” Nevin trailed off, sighing.
Drustan released a pent breath and relaxed. It was only Besseta.
“She’s been agitated lately, muttering about some danger she thinks I’m in.”
“More of her fortune-telling?” Drustan asked dryly. Was the estate to be overrun with addled women spouting dire predictions?
“Aye,” Nevin said glumly.
“Well, at least now ’tis you she’s worried about. A fortnight past, she was telling Silvan that my brother and I were ‘cloaked in darkness,’ or something of the like. What does she fear will happen to you?”
“ ‘Tis the oddest thing. She seems to think your betrothed will harm me in some fashion.”