Trouble with a Highland Bride by Amanda Forester

pocket. Jack rested all his weight on one leg, and she hoped he could manage across the courtyard. She drew his arm around her shoulder for him to gain support, and wrapped her own arm around his waist. Jack had on one boot and his other foot was bandaged. His injured foot would not fit in the boot, so there was nothing to do but leave it behind.
    She had never been so close to a man. Or maybe she had, but never one who made her heart pound and her head spin. He rested some of his weight on her, and Gwyn strained to hold even part of it. He was a tall man, trim but solid.
    In this most unconventional manner, Gwyn helped Jack hobble through the storeroom to the door to the courtyard. It was fortunate the rain had chased everyone inside the keep. With luck, they could leave without anyone taking note.
    “Just keep yer head down, and dinna say a word,” whispered Gwyn. “I have a plan.”
    They proceeded slowly across the courtyard in plain view, if there was any to see them. They moved slowly, and Gwyn kept her head down against the cold rain. They were almost there.
    “Gwyn Campbell!” Isabelle appeared before her, holding a plaid over her head. “What are you doing, child? Is this man ill?”
    “Nay. Well, aye, but only slightly. I can take care o’ him, just a mild case o’ collywobbles.”
    Isabelle frowned. “What nonsense are you speaking?”
    “Here!” Gwyn thrust the key to Isabelle, hoping Jack would have the good sense to keep his head down. “I found it and was taking it to ye, and then I saw this man and offered to help take him for a lie down. Little too many sips from the jug. Just needs to sleep it off, poor man.”
    “Put him where he can sleep it off and come back to your quarters. ’Tis late and you need sleep. I will check on you soon.” She drilled a look into Gwyn that brooked no opposition.
    “Aye, I will be there shortly.”
    Gwyn and Jack continued the short distance to the tower where the chapel was housed. Below was another storeroom, as most of the towers’ ground floors were. She hurried him inside and set him down on a crate with a sigh of relief, both for her aching shoulders and her escape from Isabelle. She shook off her plaid from the rain.
    “Was that Lady Isabelle, my cousin?” asked Jack weakly. “I thought she had caught us.”
    “Aye, it was Isabelle. I also feared we would be caught.”
    “I do not wish to cause you trouble.”
    “Much too late for that,” said Gwyn with a smile. She rummaged through the storeroom and was pleased to find a stack of pallets that had been prepared for the coming guests. She arranged them in a corner and slid crates around it, so that the bed would not be visible to any who entered the storeroom. She wished to lock the door but did not dare. This storeroom would be used during the feasts and a locked door would raise suspicion.
    “Come here and lie down.” She braced him against her once more, even as sparks of excitement shot through her at his touch. She helped him to lay on the pallets, and he did so with a groan.
    “I must return to the solar. Isabelle will be checking.” Gwyn chewed her lip, thinking of what she must do. She could not leave an English knight unguarded in a storeroom, even if Jack was hardly in any condition to cause trouble. David would have her hide.
    “I cannot thank you enough for your help.” Jack’s eyes were half-closed and his face was white. His foot had begun to bleed again through the bandages, so Gwyn raised it up on a bundle of hay.
    “Ye need to sleep.” Gwyn pulled out the sleeping draught. If Jack would take it, Gwyn could feel secure knowing he could not escape or cause any harm.
    Jack stared at the little bottle. “What is it?”
    “Something to help ye sleep.”
    Jack pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and finally nodded. “You have trusted me. I shall trust you.” He accepted the draught and took a swig. “I shall hope to wake from this sleep without a sword through my