Page 55 of The Falcon Laird
Robbie, newly returned with Patrick and Will in tow, peered at them, bending so far that Moira grabbed the back of his tunic. “D’you want another bucket, da?” he yelled. “There’s two here.”
“One is all we need, lad,” Gavin called back.
“Can I come down?” Robbie asked.
“We’re nearly done, lad. Stay with your mother,” his father called.
Christian saw Gavin draw a breath and sink under the water. “What are they doing?” she asked.
Moira looked down. “They’ve been gathering the debris that has blocked the water and sending it up in the buckets. They spent near the whole morning there, trying to open it up.”
“The water level has risen quite a bit,” Christian said.
“Aye,” Dominy said. “Freezing, they must be.”
Moira nodded. “Fergus takes a chill easily, and he’s been down there a long time. Gavin Faulkener must be chilled as well. They need to come up and get warm.”
“Pull up the rope, my love!” Fergus called. Moira tugged the fat rope, and with Christian’s help, pulled the bucket loaded with wood, leaves, and stones out of the well. The children helped carry it away and dump the contents outside.
After a few more loads, Fergus announced that they were done. He climbed upward, clinging to the iron rungs embedded in the side of the well, and heaved himself out of the well, shivering until Moira threw a blanket around him. She handed another to Christian to give Gavin when he came up. Then she led Fergus away toward the heat of the cooking fire.
Moments later, Gavin began to emerge, climbing steadily up the rungs in the side of the well. He hoisted himself up and out, water slicking off his torso and breeches. Christian threw the blanket around him, and could not help but notice the solid musculature of his chest and abdomen, the water-darkened hair matted over his powerful chest. He took the blanket, smiled at her, and reached up to shove back his wet hair. The sight of him, half-nude and strong, startled and stirred her. She felt herself blush as a subtle tingle rushed through her, from her heated throat to her abdomen.
He wrapped the multicolored plaid around his shoulders and dried his face with a corner of it. He glanced at her again, and she blushed further, lowering her eyes.
“Is the well cleared now?” she asked.
“For now,” he answered, ruffling his hair with a corner of the plaid. “The debris had blocked the opening through which the water runs. We pulled out quite a bit, and the water runs clear again.”
“Is it safe, then, and not fouled?”
“It will be fine, I think. Ash and soot had collected there too, but it should all clear in time.” He settled the plaid around his shoulders. A lock of hair, dark with moisture, fell into his eyes and he shook it back. Christian wanted, quite suddenly, to comb her fingers through his tousled hair.
Gavin grabbed up his discarded tunic and pulled its thick folds over his head. She saw the elegant play of muscle along his smooth back and something elemental shifted within her, a startling, heated, deep sensation. Her breaths came quickly.
“I need to change into something dry,” he said, as he bent to pull on his boots.
“Else you will have a lung ailment,” she said, half laughing, glad to release some of the strange tension she felt. Gavin chuckled. “I will fetch some things for you from the storage chamber. There is clothing there that belonged to Henry. He was a large man too, but much wider. His things will fit.”
“If you go into the storage chamber, I want you to decide what bed frames and feather beds and such you want for the bedchambers.”
“Bedchambers?” she asked.
“Choose enough for four rooms for now. We can ask some of the men to help move it.”
“Not many should know about those storage rooms.”
He faced her. “Very well. We will sort it out somehow. But I asked the masons and carpenters to ready the bedchambers as soon as possible. I am told they are complete but for some details. We can use the rooms as soon as they are furnished. Even tonight.”
“Sleep there tonight?” she asked, and closed her mouth, for she realized she stared at him.
By tonight she might be alone in a bedchamber with her husband. Her heartbeat picked up a faster pace, and the curious warmth that blossomed inside her began to swirl in earnest. Her mouth went dry.
“Aye, Christian,” he said softly. His eyes were steady on hers. “Tonight.”
Chapter Fourteen
“And here theking of the Picts holds his court,” Patrick announced, standing on a wooden chest and gripping the shaft of a broom. His voice echoed in the cavernous chamber. “Here are his warriors!” He waved at his brother and Will, who stood by, narrow shoulders straight, chests out.
