A Knight and White Satin. Jackie Ivie

a fraction. She watched the black of his enlarge to overshadow the intense light blue color and wondered at her sanity in noting that.

      “Laird Dunn-Fadden! ’Tis Kilchurning!”

      “Where?”

      Payton yelled it as he shoved from her, making a buzz in her ear with the volume of voice he gave it. He pushed her into the mattress in order to spring to the floor. From there he went to a squat, shoving aside his discarded clothing for his weapons. Dallis pulled the covers to her chin and shimmied to the far wall, putting her back against it and ignoring the cold from the stone.

      “Here!”

      He growled it as a dirk was tossed her way, landing in the sheet at her knee. He’s giving me a knife? For a scant moment she felt like giggling, and then put it aside.

      She didn’t have time for such an idea. Payton’s tupping with her had taken the choice away. She didn’t have the luxury of wedding Kilchurning once she proved her virginity. Like before. Now, all she had was the right of captive.

      “Well? Where?”

      Payton was at the door, pulling the bolt out of its socket, rather than lifting it. He wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

      It was the man that had been with Payton earlier. In the shadows of the hall he looked even more massive. And he was fully dressed. Dallis caught his glance and went so warm with the blush the wall at her back lost its chill.

      “At the woods. Inside the demesne.”

      “Jesu’, Man! You interrupted me for that?”

      Payton straightened and pulled himself into a full stretch, while Dallis tried to ignore the winter light as it caressed sinew and muscle and buttocks. It wasn’t possible! She had to turn aside.

      “You were warned,” his man continued.

      “Aye. ’Tis why I posted guards. You ken that.”

      “I also ken our numbers.”

      “So? Each one is worth three men. And he’ll be spent. ’Tis a fair ride from Castle Kilchurn,” Payton said.

      “Unless he encamped closer.”

      “Why would he do that?”

      “To gird you in this accursed tower the moment you’re spotted outside Edinburgh’s high walls…what else?”

      “Only if he had warning. Who would give him that?”

      Both men turned and looked toward her. Dallis could see it from the corner of her eye. She kept her gaze fixed to the footboard. She supposed they thought they were whispering.

      “’Tis a blizzom outside. Kilchurning is daft.”

      “The man is burning with vengeance. Warms a body in the coldest of climes. You ken this. ’Tis your own creed.”

      She waited for Payton to answer, then had to look at what was taking so long. He’d donned the shirt and was shaking out his plaid, prior to winding it back onto his frame. And then he secured it with the immense silver belt of the King’s Champion. “You sent Daws?” he asked, when the belt was affixed.

      “And Graham. To Edinburgh. Upon your order.”

      Payton nodded. “We’re ten then.”

      “Aye.”

      “And Kilchurning?”

      “Forty.” The man in the hall shrugged. “Perhaps more. Less. ’Tis difficult to be certain in the storm. Dugan dinna’ wait around to count fully.”

      Dallis was going cold again. And it wasn’t from any element outside her body anymore. Forty…or more? Against ten? Payton was mad.

      “Heat the oil. Prepare the pitch. Gather the men. Check for an armory. If I still possess such. And see if there’s a catapult with any service to it.”

      The man in the hall nodded, and didn’t move.

      “What are you waiting for?” Payton asked.

      “You.”

      “I’ll be down shortly.”

      “I’ll just wait that event. Right here. Watchful.”

      Payton probably had the same expression she did. Dallis didn’t need to verify it. She felt mystified and Dunn-Fadden looked it as he turned his head toward where she was still shoved against the wall. She raised her brows and shrugged when all he did was stare, and then relaxed as he turned back to his man. She hadn’t even known she was tense.

      “What for?”

      “The wife.” His man gave a nod in her direction in the event anyone questioned who that was.

      “We’ve more worries than a lone woman, Redmond.”

      “She has one of your dirks. I want it back. On your person.”

      Dallis had forgotten it. So had Payton, although the outline was easy to see amidst the mass of white satin all about her. She watched him glance there and then to her face.

      “She’ll have need of it,” he replied finally.

      “You planning another romp?” Redmond asked. “Now?”

      Payton chuckled. “Nae. I’m planning a battle. With your help. Go. See to my orders. I’ll be down shortly.”

      “She’s already proven treachery, My Laird. Dinna’ gift her with your life.”

      Payton turned back to his man and lowered his voice so far Dallis couldn’t catch what more he said. It must have reassured him, for the hulk turned and vacated the space he’d been in.

      And then she had Payton’s full attention again. But at least, he was dressed. That didn’t help much as he moved across the floor to stand at her bed, feet apart and hands on his hips. He flicked a glance to the knife and back to her face. Dallis kept everything blank.

      “If I allow you yon dirk, will you use it properly this time?”

      “This…time?” She had to clear her throat of the dryness to get the words out.

      “Kill the man who claims you without the right. Doona’ just stick him in a non-vital spot.”

      He moved a hand to the scar at his left side. It wasn’t necessary. She already knew what he meant.

      “You dinna’ have the right.”

      He lowered his chin and regarded her through his eyelashes. “’Tis why I gift my blade to you now. Use it. But doona’ go for his manhood. ’Tis powerful hard to spot.”

      “Payton Dunn-Fadden!”

      The name carried a bit of sob at the end of it. That matched the blur she was looking at him through. God was cursing her worse than ever to make it so! She wasn’t crying and she definitely wasn’t heart-sore at anything attached to him. She cared little that he was facing a force four times the size of his and was making plans for defeat. She was Dallis Caruth. She cared only what it meant to her. She didn’t even care if he had his head cleaved clean off his shoulders. She didn’t care—

      “Or so I’ve been told.” He stopped her thoughts with words, accompanied by a grin. That expression creased his forehead with one small line across it, while one black lock decided to caress the spot as well.

      “What?” Dallis wasn’t feigning the bewilderment. She was infused with it. Which was better than thinking herself saddened at what could be his demise, and her freedom from him!

      “His manhood. Dinna’ go for it. Go for a soft spot in his belly. Right here.” He pointed to a spot above his belt. “Na’ only will that prevent him from taking what’s mine but t’will make his death a surety, as well.”

      “Payton?” The name was whispered.

      “Aye?”