Highland Magic (38 page)

* * *

Callum awoke to the feel of a cool hand on
his brow. His eyelids seemed as heavy as portcullis gates. ‘Twas a
struggle, but he at last was able to lift them far enough to see
who was tending him.

Branwenn twisted slightly on her stool,
turning her head in the direction of the doorway. “Grandmother! He
awakes!” she called out, hoping to catch the older woman before she
was too far down the passage to hear her. She turned back to her
husband. “Callum, can you hear me? How do you feel? Does your leg
pain you?”

“Drink,” he rasped.

Branwenn nodded and poured a bit of water
from the ewer that sat on the table next to her into a silver cup.
“Can you lift your head a bit—or would you like me to give you aid
to do so?” she asked, bringing the cup forward, toward his
lips.

Callum tried, but was too weak to lift his
head. “Need...hh...hhhelp.”

Branwenn sat the cup back down and rose to
sit beside him on the bed. Gently, she nudged first her hand, and
then her arm, under his neck and lifted his head slightly. With her
free hand, she took hold of the cup once more and brought the rim
up to his parched lips. “Drink.”

Daniel and Lady Maclean hurried through the
opened doorway. “Do not give him more than a few swallows at a
time,” Daniel instructed, “as his stomach will not hold down more
than that right now.”

He strode up to stand on the other side of
the bed from Branwenn and lifted the blanket that was draped over
Callum’s torso, revealing the bandaged and elevated leg beneath.
“The wound dressing is still clean. A good sign.”

Branwenn helped Callum settle his head back
on the pillow. His eyelids fluttered slightly before closing. In
seconds, he was asleep again.

She turned to her brother. “He’s so weak,
Daniel! What if he does not recover?”

“He’ll recover, fear not,” Lady Maclean said
as she walked up to stand next to Branwenn. She took hold of her
granddaughter’s hand. “Now that he’s at last come out of his sleep,
he’s sure to. For he’s a strong lad.”

“Aye,” Daniel replied, “‘tis true. He was in
his senseless slumber for only a few hours, not days, as we all
feared.” He settled his gaze on hers. “And now ‘twill be much
easier to get him the water he requires. Wake him every hour and
give him more, in the same way that you did just now. All
right?”

Branwenn dropped her gaze back onto her
husband and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Nodding, she
said, “Aye.”

“I think that you should allow one of us to
relieve your vigil, my dear, for you need your rest,” Lady Maclean
said to her.

“Nay, I cannot—will not—leave his side in any
case, so ‘tis best that I do this duty.” And she must tell him of
the babe. The moment, the very moment, that he became aware enough
of his surroundings, she must do it.

Which meant she must be here day and night,
if need be, else she might surely miss the opportunity. For what if
Daniel and Lady Maclean were wrong? What if he did not recover? She
could not bear to know that he’d gone to his final peace without
knowing of this wondrous gift he’d given her.

Lady Maclean patted her hand. “I must go tell
my daughter that her son’s revived.”

“I’ll escort you down, Grandmother,” Daniel
said. Then to Branwenn: “I’ll have some meat broth brought up. He
needs his strength rebuilt.”

After the two had left the chamber, Branwenn
settled once more on her stool. She felt under the blanket until
she at last found Callum’s hand. Wrapping her own around his much
rougher, larger one, she pleaded in a whisper, “Do not leave
me.”

* * *

Sometime around the chimes of compline,
Callum awoke on his own again. And this time, he felt much less
dazed, less weak. The room was dim, the only light, that from the
hearthfire and a single candle that flickered on the table beside
his bed.

His eyes ached as they
slowly panned the chamber, then halted and fixed onto the shadowed
figure seated in the window’s alcove.
Branwenn.
His heart leapt, then
settled into a rapid, joyous beat against his ribs.

He’d survived. Praise be to God. A vague
glimmer of a remembered speech flitted through his mind, something
he tried to hold onto, something about Branwenn, but was gone in a
flash before he could grasp its meaning.

“My love?” he said, his voice raspier than
he’d expected. When she didn’t respond, he cleared his throat and
tried again. “My love? Might I have a bit of water?”

Branwenn swung around. “Callum!” And in
seconds she was beside him, running her hand over his brow. “How do
you feel?”

“I—”

“Your eyes are much clearer than they were
before. And your cheeks have more color. Are you well?”

Callum chuckled. How was he ever to give her
his answer if she’d not still that tongue? “I’m much recovered, I
trow. And hungry. Is there naught to fill my stomach but that
broth?” He indicated with a scan of his eye the vessel containing
the liquid meal that sat next to the water ewer on the table beside
him.

“I’ll have something brought up from the
kitchens for you. But first, I’d best get Daniel, for he knows
better what you should be eating now.” She started to turn but
Callum grabbed hold of her wrist and halted her flight.

“Nay, stay here with me awhile. My stomach
can wait to be filled. For now, ‘tis my eyes that need the filling.
With the sight of you.”

“Oh, Callum. You
are
better!” Branwenn
leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. Callum lifted
his arms to deepen the kiss, but Branwenn scooted out of his reach.
“Nay, you must eat and gain more strength, for I’ve something to
tell you when you have. Something wonderful.”

And then she was off. Out the door and down
the hall before Callum could say “aye” or “nay” to her words. With
a sigh, he smiled and rested his head back onto the pillow.

He lived.

And Gaiallard, the Norman fiend, was
dead.

He closed his eyes. Instantly, an image of
his opponent standing before him with his sword thrust deep into
his thigh swam behind his lids.

“
...patch...Branwenn...freckle...sucked
dry...tongue lashing.”

Callum’s eyes flew open and he tried to sit
up, but he was stymied by his wound. He gritted his teeth and
bellowed as a sharp, eviscerating pain shot into his groin and down
his leg, all the way to his toes. “Blood of Christ!” he ground out
through clenched teeth as beads of sweat instantly formed on his
brow and upper lip.

His lungs blowing hard from his struggle
against the pain, he gingerly settled back onto his pillow and
stared, unseeing, up into the darkness of the bed’s canopy above
him.

Gaiallard had known about the mark on
Branwenn’s thigh. And the freckle as well. How could he have known
of them if he had not done as he’d said he’d done?

How?

He could not. For the position of the mark
was in a place that only someone who had been granted intimate
access to her naked, delectable body would be able to see it.

Only a lover....

Callum growled. She’d lied to him.

More of Gaiallard’s words
floated up from the depths of his memory.
“And then I fucked her. Twice. What a tight little cunt she
has!

His skin crawled.
She
was
tight.
How could he know? Unless...Oh, God! She’d lain with that
bastard!

“
She did it for you, she swore. She
wanted me to leave the two of you be; to release her from her
betrothal contract.”

Had she? Had that truly been her reason? And
even if it were, he’d never forgive her for it. Never. For, if
she’d give her body to another when she was already wed, then she
was not the woman she’d convinced him she was, not the woman he
wanted as wife.

Another memory came to the surface. This time
of a feast night a few sennights after his marriage to Lara. Of
overhearing some of the soldiers, deep in their cups, wagering on
him. On when he would discover that his wife offered herself each
night to a new man; that she complained of her husband’s inability
to please her.

Callum felt the hot flush of remembered shame
sweep o’er his cheeks.

Had Branwenn played him for
a fool these past moons, pretending timorousness in regard to
unveiling her body when, clearly, she had no such compunction with
her Norman lover? Callum’s fists clenched at his sides. And what of
her flirtation with that guard? Even if his mother had brought the
guard to Branwenn only as a means to force Callum’s hand, the way
Branwenn had reacted to him still rankled. Now, more than ever, he
was sure that she was weaving her spell on Robert as well, even if
the man was too dull witted to know it. Aye, she was a siren,
a
Boabhan Sith
,
irresistibly drawing him—and all men—to her.

He growled low in his throat, more certain
with each passing moment that he’d been duped. That he’d once more
entangled himself with a faithless woman.

Her duplicity twisted his gut and ripped at
his heart like a blunt, rusted dagger.

She’d lied.

Just as Lara had done.

And that lie had made him the fool, the
cuckold.

Again. As he’d sworn he’d never be. Ever
again.

And—Blood of Christ!! The
clan
knew
it. The
hunters had seen the proof and now Callum would once more feel the
brunt of his clansmen’s disparaging wit.

A great tide of humiliation crashed through
him. He’d sworn, after Lara, after the ousting by the Maclean clan,
that he’d be a man, not a lad. Be responsible. Do his duty. Wed a
lady of high character, worthy of mothering his children. Be the
man his family expected him to be.

And, once more he’d thoroughly blundered.

But ‘twas not too late to make things right.
And he knew just what he must do.

* * *

Branwenn met Bishop Richard
outside the great hall. “My husband has revived, sir. Will you give
us your blessing now, for I’ve something of great import to tell
him, and I’d like it to be
after
the marriage is blessed.” Branwenn’s cheeks
heated, but she kept her eye steady on the man of the
cloth.

The Bishop smiled and gave her a wink. “Ahh.
I ken you well, my dear. And ‘twould give me great pleasure to give
you the blessing. Allow me to retrieve my holy book and I shall
meet you in his chamber in a quarter-hour’s time.”

“Oh! Bishop. Will you not give me an hour?
For he must have a meal first. And I must tell the others, as well,
so that they may be there also.”

Bishop Richard nodded. “Aye. An hour
then.”

Branwenn sighed and grinned. “My thanks to
you,” she said and scooted past him through the doorway of the
great hall.

* * *

All the family were settled around the
hearth. Daniel, who faced the door, saw her first and stood up. “Is
he awake, then?”

Branwenn smiled. “Aye, and hungry for
heartier fare than what he’s had these past hours.”

“We must get the lad something to eat.”
Chalmers indicated with a nod of his head to one of the servants to
have a tray of food prepared for his stepson.

“I must check on his wound dressing,” Daniel
said, and strode toward the door.

“Wait!” Branwenn called out to him. “First, I
must tell you that the Bishop has agreed to bless our marriage in
an hour’s time. I want all of you to be there.” She scanned her eye
around the gathering. “Where is Alyson?”

“She’s not emerged from her chamber since the
sheriff questioned her regarding the arrow that went into her
brother’s eye,” Maryn said.

Branwenn walked over to the
stool that Daniel had recently vacated and slowly sat down.
“
Was
she the one
to do the deed?”

“Aye, I believe so,” Lady Maclean answered.
“Tho’ no one outside the family will ever learn the truth of
it.”

“We told the sheriff that ‘twas a stray shot
from one of the young squires we have training on guard duty,”
Chalmers said, “that he no doubt was practicing where he should not
have been and the arrow misfired.”

“Truth be told,” Bao said, releasing
Jesslyn’s hand for a moment to scrub the back of his neck with the
rough pads of his fingertips, “‘twas Callum’s dirk that killed the
man, so even tho’ the sheriff was suspicious of our tale, he wrote
the incident down in his book as an accident and let the matter
rest.”

“It aided our cause, I trow, that his wife is
a MacGregor,” Maggie said.

“Aye, no doubt,” Chalmers agreed.

“When will Reys be back?” Branwenn said.

Chalmers sighed and shook his head. “I hope
‘tis not more than another moon, for ‘tis plain his wife needs
him.”

* * *

A quarter-hour later, Branwenn and Daniel
walked back inside Callum’s chamber, the servant bearing the food
tray directly behind them.

Callum, his head making a deep well in the
pillow beneath it, turned his face away from Branwenn. “Get out,
Branwenn.”

“What? Why? Are you fevered?” Branwenn rushed
to the side of the bed and tried to place her hand on her husband’s
brow, but he thrust it away.

“Get. Out.” Callum sat up a bit and winced, a
harsh groan bursting past his tightly clenched lips and teeth.
“NOW!”

Daniel took the tray from the servant and set
it on a table by the hearth then quietly indicated that the servant
should leave.

“But...Callum...please. We are to at last
have our vows blessed by the bishop—in only a few minutes’
time.”

Daniel walked over to stand with his arms
akimbo a bit away from the scene, his eyes narrowed in speculation
as he studied his young cousin.