Highland Magic (10 page)

As she scanned the field, she took another
bite. Lord, but these apples were good. Many she’d eaten were
rather sour—used mostly for cider—but these had a rather sweet,
tho’ still tart, flavor. Her eyes at last landed on the object of
her errand and a slow, lethargic, heat moved through her veins,
across her skin, weakening her knees. Her mouth’s cavern, which
still held the partially chewed bite of fruit, became as dry as the
Holy Land desert.

Had he always been this
large
? Her
mind scanned back to that first day they’d ever met, the day almost
exactly a year ago, when Callum had come to the Maclean keep to
request aid in mitigating a feud with the Gordons. Nay, while he’d
certainly not been without muscle, his chest and shoulders had not
seemed this broad. And although she’d noted some physical
difference in him since she’d last seen him even this past
Hogmanay
, she’d had no notion just how much breadth he’d
actually gained. Until now. For, who could miss the change in him
with the man standing as he was, bare-chested, with only his braies
between him and her—and full nakedness.

She only allowed herself one more fleeting
moment of sensual enjoyment before she quickly finished consuming
the bite of now-dry apple and waved to the man who’d been the other
player in all her carnal daydreams—now that she knew, in detail,
what to dream about—these past days, since their last encounter in
the cave.

It took a minute, but she finally got
Callum’s attention. He nodded to her and then turned and spoke to
the man who’d been giving him direction as he carefully exercised
his shoulder, before grabbing his shirt and tunic from the squire
who’d been holding it and jogging over to where she stood.

He pulled his shirt on. “Aye?” he said, but
with little inflection. The tunic came next. What a shame.

“Umm, Lady Maclean would like for you to”—she
ran her tongue over her lower lip—Was there still some apple there?
Why was he staring at her mouth, for heaven’s sake?—“meet with her
and your parents in the solar in a quarter-hour’s time.”

His eyes lifted to hers, but she could read
no emotion in them. “All right.”

They both turned and headed, in awkward
silence, toward the keep. After a moment, Branwenn, all too aware
of the man beside her, decided to take another bite of the apple
she still held in her hand. Surely, this should make her seem
unmoved by his nearness.

Callum watched her eat from the corner of his
eye. He truly did not know how much longer he could keep up the
pretense of indifference. When the hell was Bao going to get here,
for Christ’s sake? They’d sent the missive the day after he’d
brought the lass here, but there was still no sign of her foster
brother. Granted, it would have taken the messenger two days to get
there, and even if Bao had waited to depart until the next day, he
should have arrived no later than this day past.

Branwenn took a really big bite out of her
apple, angry now at both herself and the vexing man beside her. A
drop of juice ran over her lip and onto her chin and she swiped it
away.

“You seem to be enjoying that apple,” Callum
said the words before he even realized he had opened his mouth.

Branwenn gave him a sour look, expecting him
to make some snide comment about the mess she was making. When she
discovered the pleasant smile on his face—a thing she’d not seen
aimed at her since way before ‘the interlude’—she relaxed and
pulled another one out of her basket. Holding it out to him, she
asked, “Would you like to try one? They are very good.” ‘Twas not
much of a peace offering, but ‘twas a start, she thought
hopefully.

He laughed. “Nay, I much prefer watching you
enjoy them.”

Branwenn shrugged and, since she
was
still hungry and she’d finished the other one already, took a bite
of her proffered fruit. Unfortunately, this one was even juicier
than the first, and the sticky substance once more left drops on
her lower lip. She hurriedly consumed the bite and then ran her
tongue over her mouth to clean it.

“Damn it to hell! ‘Tis too much!” Callum said
under his breath.

In the next instant, she was crowded against
the shadowed side of a stone wall—were they already to the
chapel?—and jailed between Callum’s massive arms as he rested his
palms on the cool stone to either side of her head. Without any
further warning than that, he kissed her. And, Good Lord in Heaven,
what a kiss it was! There was little gentleness in it, only hunger.
He wouldn’t allow her to keep her lips closed. His tongue invaded
her, ran over her teeth, delved deep—like he said he’d do to
her...down there? He took her bottom lip between his teeth and
nibbled before soothing it with the most erotic suction she’d ever
imagined.

At some point, her limbs had gone numb and
she vaguely realized that the basket of apples had dropped to the
ground. Tentatively, she put her arms around this so-handsome,
massive man that now boldly kissed her, testing the feel of him
there.

He lifted his mouth a fraction from hers and
murmured, “God, I shouldn’t be doing this.” But he didn’t step
away. Nay, instead, he answered her action with one of his own. He
brought his arms down and wrapped them tightly around her shoulder
and waist, lifting her up until her pelvis was fused with his. Good
Lord, he was as ‘ready’ as he had been the other day! Did that mean
he wanted to mate with her now? The thought both frightened and
excited her. “
Branwenn
,” he whispered, his lips, his warm,
moist breath, fluttering like dove’s wings against her cheek. A
thrill ran down her spine. He’d said her name as if it were a
benediction. Her womanhood spasmed. She turned her head and brushed
her lips across Callum’s, not really sure what she was doing.

But he knew. And in seconds, he was ravishing
her mouth again with his lips, with his teeth and his tongue.

Her thoughts became fragmented as an aching
need infused the apex of her torpid lower limbs. She wanted...she
wanted...her hand traveled down between them and began to caress
the long, turgid, length of him.

He froze, his muscles taught, and then he let
go of her as if he’d been burned, stumbling back a pace. His eyes
were dilated to such a degree, they looked like black agates
instead of green emeralds, and his breathing now was so harsh that
his shoulders bobbed like waves with the struggle to put air in his
lungs. “Stay as far away from me as you are able until your brother
comes to get you,” he demanded darkly.

There was anger in his voice—at her? This
brought her own hackles up. “Pardon me, Your Highness, but ‘twas
not
I
who did the shoving-up-against-a-wall and kissing just
now, if you recall! And I
have
been staying away from you,
you bleating goat! I only spoke to you this day because that fine
lady in there,”—she jabbed her finger in the direction of the
keep—“your grandmother, asked me to do this favor for her and,
after all she’s done for me, I could not refuse.”

* * *

“Do you think our ploy worked, Mama?” Maggie
asked. The two of them were sitting in the solar, waiting for
Callum to arrive.

A calculating gleam came into the older
woman’s eye as she nodded and said, “Aye, and mayhap a bit better
than we had hoped. For you know your son well, and only one thing
could keep him from arriving on time when he’s in the company of a
female.” Her brow furrowed. “Tho’ I do hope he doesn’t take
advantage of Branwenn’s rather bold, inquisitive nature.”

Maggie patted her mother’s knee. “Worry not.
We’ve raised a fine man—an honorable man. If aught unseemly takes
place between them, ‘twill not be long before he’ll be wanting to
wed the lass.” She smiled slyly. “And, is that not just what we
desire for them?”

Lady Maclean sighed. “Aye, it is. Tho’ I
cannot help worrying that she’s not seen the last of that fiendish
Norman she was betrothed to wed.”

Maggie looked at her in surprise. “That seems
unlikely. For, how ever is he to learn she is here with us? Surely,
they will only think to look for her at the Maclean holding. And
possibly the MacLaurin holding, since her other foster brother is
living back there now.”

Lady Maclean nodded. “Aye, and if they do go
to Daniel’s land, his fortress is so strong, the Normans are sure
to not gain entrance should they attack.”

With a wave of her hand, Maggie said,
“Besides, surely her brother-germane will not let leak the fact
that Branwenn survived the shipwreck.”

“Nay, my impression of the young man when I
met him last
Hogmanay
was that he cared for Branwenn even
before he ever met her. Nay,” she said again, “Reys will do all he
must to keep those tidings
from ever reaching the
man’s ears.”

“Aye, and in the meantime, just in case, if
the lass is well-wed by the time the Norman arrives...”

Lady Maclean met her daughter’s eye and
nodded. “Precisely.”

* * *

Bao arrived with little ceremony the next
morn. But he did have some surprising tidings to share: Daniel
would be meeting them here as well.

“When is he to arrive?” Lady Maclean asked.
She, her daughter, Laird MacGregor, and Callum were all gathered in
the great hall and seated on benches around the hearth.

Bao shrugged. “I expect he shall be here on
the morrow, or the next day at the latest.”

“Pardon, but I ken you not,” Callum said,
glancing around at all gathered. “Why must Daniel meet you here?
Surely, ‘twould be better for him to meet you at your own fortress
once you and the lass arrive back there.”

Bao looked at Laird MacGregor in confusion,
saying, “Am I misinformed? I thought the missive said that you
would keep Branwenn here with you, as a safety, until we know for
sure what Gaiallard de Montford’s plan may be.”

“
What!
Nay, nay, this is not a good
idea,” Callum protested, rising to his feet and walking over to the
buttery. A very hard lump formed in the pit of his stomach, for he
now knew his doom was drawing near, and he needed a drink of
something with a bit of spirit to numb the horror.

“Now, Callum, of course ‘tis a good idea.
Gaiallard de Montford has no knowledge of this clan’s close ties to
the Macleans and would not think to look for the lass here,” Lady
Maclean reminded him.

He took a long swallow
of
uisge beatha
before replying, “Aye, you are right. I hadn’t thought the
thing through. Pray pardon me.” He would only make himself look
further the fool by giving argument to such a sound scheme. And
there was also the dreaded possibility that he might let slip
exactly
why
he
was so loath for the lass to remain here—he wanted her desperately.
But, mayhap, that might be the better plan—for, if he allowed Bao
to see the danger to his sister’s virtue that he presented, then
Bao would kill him, and the problem would be solved. Except, he had
a bairn to raise. God’s teeth! What the hell was he going to
do?!

The conversation had gone on without him for
the past seconds as he pondered his predicament, and he was brought
up short when Laird MacGregor asked, “Do you not agree,
Callum?”

“Pardon? Pray pardon me, I was thinking of
something else,” he said. He felt his cheeks flush. Damn it to
hell! He no doubt looked like some callow youth to all of them.

Lady Maclean and Maggie glanced at each other
and shared a silent, delighted, communion before hastily sobering
their countenances and turning their sights back on Callum. “Your
stepfather thinks it best that you train with Bao and Daniel, in
case another siege is in the offing,” Maggie said. “We will be the
last line of defense, should this happen, for we shall send our
army to come in from behind to attack the aggressors. And your
stepfather—and Bao—want you to lead that assault. But Bao and
Daniel have had more years’ warring experience than you, and they
have much in the way of cunning to teach you.”

Callum turned to Bao. “So, you and Daniel
will be staying on here awhile?”

“Aye. But we cannot be away
from our clans—or our wives and babes—for too long a time. I will
no doubt stay a bit longer than Daniel, for I’ve a need to spend
time with my sister. I’ve missed her.” He craned his neck toward
the door. “Where
is
the lass, anyway. I thought sure she’d have flown in on
winged feet the moment I arrived.” There was a bit of hurt in his
voice, Callum noticed.

Lady Maclean patted her grandson on his knee.
“She knows not that you’ve arrived. In fact, she knows not that we
even sent word to you that she is here. The lass was so set on
keeping all her brothers safe from that loathsome Norman, that she
wanted us not to reveal her whereabouts—even to Reys. But we
thought that more cruel than kind to allow the poor lad to grieve,
in case he believes she perished in the sea, so we sent word to him
as well.”

“What did this Norman do to her?” Bao ground
out. “If he touched one hair on her head in anger, he will die by
my sword.”

“Nay, ‘tis naught like that. But ‘tis a tale
that you should hear from Branwenn’s lips, not ours,” Laird
MacGregor intoned.

* * *

An hour later, Bao at last found his wayward
sister. He jogged across the bailey toward the well where she now
stood, looking down its dark, black hole, with the most familiarly
sweet look of bewilderment on her countenance. What had the lass
gotten herself into now? he thought with a grin. “Branwenn!”

Branwenn looked up and over her shoulder. Joy
and wonder spread across her elfin face, immediately followed by
dark thunder clouds of vexation. “Bao!” she said, storming toward
him “What do you here?” ‘Twas an accusation, not a question.