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reached through the gate and touched her hand. His hand was cold, yet it sent heat radiating through her. Very odd.
    “Ye’re cold.” She placed his hand between hers. “And shaking.” His hand was trembling. A closer look revealed he was shivering beneath his hauberk.
    “I am fine,” he lied.
    “Nay, ’tis the shock. Ye need to keep warm. The evening grows cold.” Indeed it had. Thick, gray clouds had rolled in, bringing torrential rain. Though the gated passage provided shelter from the rain, the air was damp and cold.
    “Not cold.” He shivered when he said it.
    Gwyn bounded up and searched the storeroom only for a minute before she found what she was looking for and returned with her arms full of a long length of Campbell plaid. “Wrap yerself in this.”
    The knight’s eyebrows rose. “You wish for me to wrap myself in the colors of your clan?”
    Gwyn crouched beside him, for she doubted he could stand. “I offer ye the plaid to keep yerself from going into shock, ye daft man. But do as yer pride allows.”
    The knight took the cloth. “My pride is cold.”
    “Here now, ye should remove yer armor, or ye’ll ne’er get warm.”
    “I cannot without help from my squire.”
    “I shall squire ye.” Gwyn gave him a bold smile even as her heart beat faster. Was she truly going to undress this knight?
    His eyes met hers and held them. Heat flashed up the back of her neck. His eyes were bright; his lips looked soft. She leaned a bit closer in spite of herself.
    “Forgive me, but why are you being kind?” he asked.
    “I dinna ken.” She was honest at least. “Ye did most likely save a young girl’s life. Seems right to return the favor. I hate to see any poor beast in pain when it is in my power to correct it.”
    “I am a beast then?”
    “Nay.” Though it would be so much easier if he appeared more like a gargoyle. Gwyn shrugged. “Do ye want my help or no?”
    “Yes. I will admit to needing some help.” He gazed at her through the bars, his eyes sweeping down the length of her.
    Her treacherous body responded without even the merest touch. She should run from such danger, but instead, she leaned forward. He slowly slipped off his red-and-gold surcoat with his English family crest of a lion embroidered on the front. Her pulse quickened to watch him undress, though in truth he still wore several layers of clothing, let alone armor, so he was hardly indecent.
    He lifted an arm without a word, and she reached through the bars to untie the leather laces that held his shoulder plates of armor in place. She was undressing this man. Undressing! She wondered how far she dared to go.
    Her hands became clumsy, and it took longer than it should to remove the shoulder and elbow plates. He struggled out of his hauberk of fine chain mail and placed it on the ground beside him with a chink of the armor. He should be warmer now. Seeing him in his arming doublet was certainly sending waves of heat down Gwyn’s spine.
    Jack and Gwyn stared down at his legs. They were still armored. He focused on untying the chain mail chausses from his arming doublet. He stilled and looked up at her, his eyes searching hers. “The rest are tied in the back.”
    “I can do it.” Gwyn’s hands were itching to undress him.
    “I doubt I can stand at the moment.”
    “Roll over.”
    “It would not be chivalrous to give a lady my back.”
    “It would’na be chivalrous to force a lady to watch ye freeze to death.”
    He reclined onto the ground and lay on his side, his back to her. She got to work untying the back side of the chausses. When they fell away, she was graced by a glorious view of his backside in nothing but snug-fitting woolen hose. She forced herself to move on to untie the padded cuisses of his thighs. Her hands unavoidably touched his thigh, and she swore he shuddered in response. The poleyn steel plates on his knees were all that was left, and she took a long look at his backside and muscular legs before