A Highland Knight to Remember (Highland Dynasty Book 3) by Amy Jarecki

the cross hanging around his neck. “I do not believe—”
    Sean pushed past him and marched ahead. “Where is she?”
    John hastened to keep pace. “She is vulnerable.”
    “Do you not think I ken?” Sean barreled around the corner and opened the first door. “I’ll find her if I must open every door in the priory.”
    John skirted in front of him. “Please. She needs more time—she’s incredibly frail.”
    Sean again pushed past and flung open another door. “That is exactly why I must see her now.” Sean slammed it, grinding his back molars. “Damn it all, tell me where she is.”
    John’s gaze shifted along the corridor to a door at the far end. “Perhaps I could deliver a missive on your behalf.”
    Sean turned in the direction of John’s stare. “There’s no time for that.” He strode directly to the door at the end.
    “Please.” The priest scuffled after him. “I have parchment and a quill in my quarters.”
    Sean ignored John’s plea and yanked open the door.
    Gyllis gasped, her eyes horrorstruck, she clapped a hand over her mouth. A monk had her skirts up around her thighs, his fingers clear up to her…
    “Unhand her!”
    Shoving her kirtle down, Gyllis scooted back.
    Sean grabbed the lecherous monk by his collar and yanked him up. Before the man could raise his arms, Sean slammed his fist into the sniveling maggot’s pasty face. With a high-pitched wail, the monk toppled to the floor. Sean advanced.
    “No!” Gyllis shrieked.
    John darted between Sean and the monk, seizing Sean’s shoulders. “Have you lost your mind?”
    Enraged, Sean broke from John’s grasp. “Did you not see him? He had her skirts hiked up so far I could see—”
    “Miss Gyllis requires stimulating massage several times per day. I assure you, Brother Wesley has taken an oath of celibacy.”
    Sean glanced at the monk now sitting on the floor, rubbing his jaw.
    “Are you all right, brother?” Gyllis asked.
    The monk nodded. “Aye.” He stood, giving Sean a wide berth.
    “How could you barge into my chamber and accost a man of the cloth?” Gyllis moved slowly, but folded her arms, her face redder than a boiled lobster.
    “Apologies, Miss Gyllis.” Sean couldn’t have made things any worse with his bravado, storming into her chamber like a jealous cur. “I did not think.”
    Gyllis pursed her lips—God, her face was still as lovely as sunrise. “No, you did not.”
    “Miss Gyllis, please,” Sean pleaded. “Allow me a moment of your time, ’tis all I ask.”
    John grasped Sean’s elbow and squeezed. “If I must resort to force to make you leave, I will.”
    If anyone in this God-forsaken priory could pose a challenge, it was John Campbell. He’d been a damned good knight before he became a priest, but Sean doubted he’d sparred much as of late. He steeled himself for a fight.
    “I will hear him.” Gyllis held up a trembling hand. “Leave us.” She looked to John. “Brother Wesley will be standing directly outside the door should I require his assistance.”
    Sean tried not to grin.
    The bumbling monk, bowed. “Very well, Miss Gyllis. We can keep the door ajar if you wish.”
    Gyllis met Sean’s gaze and then looked down as if she were embarrassed. “That should not be necessary.” The high color in her cheeks betrayed her unease.
    “A quarter hour. ’Tis all I will allow—even for you,” John said. “And the door shall remain ajar.”
    “My thanks.” Sean ushered the two holy men out of the small cell and pushed the door until only a sliver of light shone through. When he turned to face Gyllis, he swallowed, completely at a loss for words. “Uh.” He shifted his feet. God, her face was aglow with fury—and something pained. He guessed he’d hurt her deeply by not sending his regrets at Beltane.
    She inclined her head toward the stool. “Will you sit? Looking up at you is making my neck sore.”
    She obviously had no intention of making things easy for him. But moving toward the