Chapter Twenty-One
It must be midnight by now. Giselle paced up and down her chamber, ears straining to hear any sound. All was quiet, Beharra was sleeping, and she had a choice before her. All through supper, she had felt Lyall’s eyes on her, and all night it had thrilled her. Now she had a perfect opportunity to get him on her side, to make him care for her a little, while keeping him at arm’s length. To what end?
Even if she got him to care for her, sooner or later, he would find out that she was penniless. Lyall would discover that she had no prospects, no money and no ransom coming. Marriage to Edric had been her last hope, and now it was gone. If she ran away, and, by some miracle, made it back home, what then? Her half-sister would extend her charity with a resentful hand. No doubt she would force her into marriage, a low, hurried match to a man she did not want any more than she had wanted Edric.
She could not be a witless fool, and run, with no plan. Lyall was her best hope. She had to be clever now.
The only problem with Giselle’s plan was that she did not want to keep Lyall at arm’s length. How could any woman do that? His manly beauty affected her so that it made her knees weak just to look at him. He had cleaned himself up since his return, and with his beard cropped, and his hair pulled back, she could truly appreciate his strong jawline, fine eyes and wide, sensuous mouth. She so wanted that mouth on her again. What Lyall had done in the loch had been disgraceful, and on that bed too, but it had made her feel so alive and so desired. And Lyall had kindness in him, she was sure of it. Already, he had been a thousand times kinder than Edric, her own countryman. His family were not monsters, they had been decent in their own way. In truth, she had felt more trapped at Wulversmeade than she did here.
Giselle took a deep breath and slipped out of the chamber and down the stairs. As she tip-toed through the great hall, several dogs, dozing before the hearth, raised their heads, but they did not bark, thank goodness.
Outside, the air was a little chill, and a full moon cast the yard into shadows. To her right Giselle spied two watchmen at the gates, sitting before a brazier, but no one else was around. It was pitch black apart from a low glow, coming from one of the buildings. That must be the stable over there.
Giselle picked her way carefully across the yard, starting at the hoot of an owl nearby. When she opened the stable door, all was quiet apart from the shuffling of horses in their stalls. Lyall stepped out of the shadows, huge and frightening in the semi-darkness, and then took hold of her and pulled the door shut behind her. He leant her back against it. She was trapped now.
‘You came.’ There was joy in his voice.
‘I should not have.’
‘I knew you would.’
‘Are you so sure of my obedience then?
‘Don’t snarl at me, Giselle. Let me say my piece.’
‘Alright, why have you brought me here?’
‘Rhoslyn. Her child is not mine, I swear it, and, though I may have used her in the past, she was also using me. She never truly cared for me, and deep down, I knew that.’
‘I am sorry I didn’t believe you. Your past is your own, and I have no right to pry into it. It’s just that I pitied her.’
‘She cursed you to the devil.’
‘Only because she was jealous and wounded.’ She looked up at him from under her lashes. ‘I know how that feels.’
He took a step closer to her. Their chests were almost touching.
‘Lyall, I want to believe you are an honourable man,’ she said.
‘Then I must disappoint you, for that is the last thing I am.’ Lyall took a step closer. ‘Will you forsake me now?’ he said softly.
Giselle regarded him for the longest time. ‘I can’t.’
He sighed in relief and smiled. ‘I had to speak to you, Giselle. I should not have brought you to Beharra. It was wrong of me. I should have freed you, and let you go south, at Wulversmeade.’ He brought his hands to her shoulders.
‘But you didn’t, Lyall, because you wanted the coin I would bring.’
‘If I’m honest with myself, I don’t think that was the reason.’
‘Was it to protect me from Banan, then?’
He looked down into her face. ‘I told myself that, but standing here with my hands on you, I want to do the opposite of protecting you.’
‘And what is that?’
‘Hold you, touch you - every inch of your skin, every hair on your head. I want to kiss you, long and hard and all night.’ His voice oozed desire, making her loins quicken. ‘I want to lay you down in the hay, Giselle, and take you, make you cry my name into the night.’
Giselle gasped at his honesty. Was this how all men spoke when they tried to take a woman’s virtue, in such a blunt, matter-of-fact way?