Highland Magic (41 page)

She pushed with all her might against his
chest. “Get off me, you dull-witted beast!” she said between
clenched teeth. But he was much too big, much too strong for
her.

He ground his pelvis against her mons and
twisted his hand in her hair, forcing her head back. He bit the
rise of her breast.

Branwenn let out a scream. “Release me!” she
yelled.

“But I paid good coin for you. And your
husband will not be pleased when he discovers you denied me my
due.”

“Callum
sold
my favors to you?” Branwenn
asked, stunned.

“Aye, as is his right.”

“Godamercy,” she whispered.

“
God
had naught to do with it, I
assure you,” the warrior said. Then he put his big, beefy hand on
her breast and squeezed.

Branwenn renewed her struggle to get out of
his embrace, but with little success. The more she struggled, the
more impassioned his hands and lips became.

“Callum should have warned me what a wee
cockfighter you are,” the man said. “And worry not, I’ll not be
repelled by the mark on you—not as your husband is.”

Branwenn’s stomach twisted and she felt bile
rise into her throat. “Oh, God,” she moaned.

* * *

At first, Daniel had thought to allow
Branwenn some time alone before following her to make sure she was
all right. He’d had his suspicions about the piece they were being
presented when he’d heard the players speak of a mark on the skin.
But when, as he watched her, Branwenn first lost all complexion,
then her skin flamed, and then she’d departed in such haste, he’d
known ‘twas as he’d suspected: Callum had set the players to
perform the piece purely as a means to humiliate the lass.

But after only a few minutes, Daniel found he
was too anxious to see how his sister fared to leave her be for
long. He excused himself and made his way to the doorway of the
hall. He was just walking through it when he heard a man say:

“I like a lady with a bit of a deformity. It
heats my blood.”

* * *

Branwenn twisted and turned, but couldn’t get
free from the iron embrace. “I won’t let you bed me, no matter how
much coin you paid Callum! I’m not his to sell!”

She’d begun to feel faint, begun to see
pinpricks of light dance in her sights, when all at once she heard
a mighty growl. The man was hauled back and off of her, and thrown
onto the stone stairs. He landed with a harsh cry, a muffled moan,
and a tremendous crash and clatter.

“Daniel!” Branwenn cried and flew into his
arms.

The man lifted his head and groaned, but in
the next second, his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell back
once more, silent.

“I’m going to kill him,” Daniel said. “Leg
wound or no leg wound, Callum’s a dead man on the morrow.”

Branwenn struggled out of his embrace. “Nay!
Do not touch one hair on his head!”

“Branwenn! How can you defend him? What he’s
done is indefensible.”

Even now, she couldn’t get the words past her
lips. The words that would help Daniel understand. The words that
would tell him that this horrid beast Callum had become these past
sennights was not truly Callum, not at all. And...that Callum was
the father of her babe. So, instead, she simply shook her head and
said, “I beg you, leave him be.” She paused and then said what she
should have said a fortnight ago, when Callum had first reviled
her. “Take me home. Take me to the Maclean holding. I’ll not tarry
here another day, waiting for something that I see now will never
be. Callum does not love me, does not want to be wed to me any
longer. And ‘tis time for me to let him go, to give him what he
wants.”

Daniel kissed her brow. “All right. We’ll
leave at first light.” He leaned back and, placing both hands on
her cheeks, lifted her chin so that he could see her face. “After I
escort you to your chamber, I want you to throw the bar across the
door. You aren’t to leave that room again until I come for you, is
that clear?”

“Aye.”

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to kill
him?”

She smiled, tho’ she knew he was only
half-jesting. “Aye. Do not kill him.” She sighed. “He’ll not be a
bother to me any longer after the morrow, in any case.”

“All right. But, if you change your mind, let
me know.”

“Daniel! I shan’t change my mind, so get the
notion out of your head!”

* * *

Callum took a long pull on his ale and then
slammed the tankard down on the table next to him. The result of
the play hadn’t managed to rid him of his heartache, eviscerate his
desire for Branwenn from his being, as he’d thought it would when
he’d first conceived of the idea a few days past.

“Ho! Callum,” Ramsay, one of his drinking
partners said as he stumbled up behind him. “I just saw Kenrick
knocked out cold on the stair.”

Callum turned his head and
looked up. His sight was growing a bit bleary, now that he’d
finished his tenth tankard and swallowed down a good portion
of
uisge beatha
as well, but he did manage to focus well enough to see who
was speaking to him.

“D’ya think ‘twas yer feisty wee wife’s
brother who did the deed then? I tol’ you ‘twas no’ a good idea,
what ye did.” He shook his head. “Not a good idea a-tall.”

Callum shrugged. It made
him weave a bit, but he balanced himself with his forearm on the
table. “I need—
hick
—ed the coin. Besides, if she’s goin’ta shleep wi’ e’ry man
a’tha keep, why shouldn’t I make a bit of profit fro’
it?”

All at once, the room began
to spin and Callum’s stomach churned. In the next second he fell
forward, his cheek hitting the table with a loud
‘
thunk
’ and his
arms sprawled across the top of it.

“Hey!” Ramsay called out to one of his other
cronies. “Another one’s down, and I think he’s spewed his
supper!”

* * *

It had taken two full days of travel to
arrive at the Maclean holding, and Branwenn had been hard-pressed
on the journey to keep her condition from her brother and
Grandmother Maclean—who’d insisted upon traveling back with them—as
she was still fighting her morning ills each day. But, somehow, she
had managed to keep her secret, and now, a sennight later, she was
seated at her hearthfire in her chamber, busily sewing a few shirts
for her babe.

She’d yet to sew one
swaddling cloth, however. She just couldn’t seem to find it within
herself to do so. Did babe’s
truly
need to be bound so tightly? She shrugged and bit
her lip. If only she could speak to Grandmother Maclean about
it!

But, nay, she simply was not yet ready to
reveal the wondrous (and oh, so frightening!) news. Not yet. Mayhap
in another moon? Surely, by that time, she’d have found the words
to explain why she’d not told the babe’s father before she’d
left.

She needed more time. For, what if they
insisted upon sending word to Callum? With a groan, she dropped the
linen into her lap and lifted her head, staring straight ahead.
Assuming he believed ‘twas he that had sired the babe—which, after
what he’d done to her the night of the feast, she doubted he
would—he might demand to renew the marriage vows. For the babe’s
sake, of course. And her heart could truly not bear being wed to a
man she loved so much, but who hated her to the same degree. If not
more.

She sighed and shook her
head. Nay, she must wait as long as she was able to reveal her
condition to her family. And, surely, ‘twouldn’t be
so
difficult to hide her
condition until then, would it? For she’d begun to wear only the
looser fitting gowns that Maggie had given her, as the ones that
Grandmother Maclean had had made for her were now growing tight in
the waist. Fortunately, none of the family questioned the move, as
she’d been prone to wear the larger gowns often in any
case.

She placed her hand over the small mound that
her growing babe had formed under her belly. A wash of pure bliss
filled her as she thought of the wee one she’d hold in her arms
next spring. With that happy thought, her gloom from the moment
before receded and she went back to her sewing, a cheerful tune
tripping from her tongue.

* * *

In that same moment at the
MacGregor holding, Callum turned the corner of the chapel and
stopped short. His eyes narrowed as he watched in disgust the scene
before him. There was the guard,
Kerk
, with his arms around the
alewife’s rather buxom daughter, his face buried in her
neck.

The lass giggled, but allowed the intimacy.
Kerk must have whispered something to her, because she squirmed
away and cheerily cried, “Nay, I’ll not! Not ‘til later, at least.”
She shoved at his chest and said, “Now, off with you before the
lieutenant sees that you’ve not resumed your post.”

Kerk grumbled something, but he nodded his
head and began walking in the direction of the guard tower. The
lass turned back to the well and dipped a bit of water out of the
bucket into a pitcher.

Callum jogged to catch up to the guard. “Ho,
there! Kerk?”

Kerk turned around and stopped. When he saw
who’d called him, his eyebrow lifted and a smirk formed on his
lips. “Aye?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Callum bristled. He knew he had the authority
to slap the man’s impudence down, but it wouldn’t serve his
purpose. For he wanted answers, honest answers, and the best way to
get them was with a bit of diplomacy, not force.

“The alewife’s daughter’s certainly a comely
lass.”

Kerk’s eyes narrowed. “Aye, that she is.”

“Tho’ not the type that usually appeals to
you, I’d wager.”

“Oh, really now? And how would you be knowing
that, I’m wondering?”

Callum cleared his throat. With a shrug, he
said, “She hasn’t the small, slender frame you’ve desired
before.”

Kerk threw his head back and laughed.

‘Twas a struggle, but Callum managed to hold
onto his temper and not take a swing at the man’s jaw.

Kerk’s laughter trailed off, but his grin was
in full prominence when he said, “I care not that you are the
nephew of the laird, I’m going to say this anyway: You are truly a
lack-wit. And an arse as well. I cannot ken what the lass saw in
you.” He turned and continued his trek across the courtyard. “Now,
I’ve my duties to attend,” he said loudly enough for Callum to
hear, “so why don’t you go find your irksome friends and harry them
instead?”

Callum felt the heat of his blush spread up
his neck and over his cheeks. He ground his teeth together. That
had not gone as he’d hoped. Just as the guard had done that other
time, when Callum had confronted him about his attentions to
Branwenn, Kerk had had another good belly laugh, clearly, but
curiously, at Callum’s expense.

Ever since the night of the feast, and
Branwenn’s subsequent departure, he’d been a virtual outcast
amongst his family and most of the clan.

He shouldn’t have sold
Branwenn’s favors; he knew that. It had been
the
most childish, stupid thing he’d
ever done in his life—and he’d racked up quite a list of them these
past years. Even Kenrick, once he’d sobered, had castigated not
only himself, but Callum as well for inciting him to act in such a
manner.

Callum growled low in his throat. It should
have been he who bore the bruised ribs and lump on his head for the
crime. He pressed the base of his palms against his eyelids.
“Aargh!” he bellowed. Yet, once again, ‘twas someone else who
endured the brunt of his own ridiculous behavior.

Tho’, in truth, he had suffered greatly from
the barbs delivered by his own conscience, as well as the cool
reception from his family these past days.

But by the night of the feast, his resolve
had slipped and he’d known that if he didn’t get Branwenn from this
keep forthwith, he’d give in to the violet-eyed siren’s charms once
more. And then, all would be lost.

So he’d conceived of the plan to humiliate
her, to tell the world her closely-held secret. That, he’d been
certain, would be enough to send her speeding from this keep, and
purge her from his soul as well.

But then the drink and his sore heart had
brought his anger at her betrayal to the fore once more and the
next thing he knew, he was offering her up to Kenrick for only a
few coins.

Truly, truly, Daniel should
have run him through for that one. And the fact that he still
lived, he had an uneasy feeling, was due in great portion to
Branwenn
.

Branwenn. Who, Kenrick had revealed to Callum
later, had rejected his attentions—quite vociferously, in fact. A
thing that Lara would never have done. A thing that even now wore
at Callum’s belief in her duplicity.

* * *

“The alewife’s daughter seems to be enjoying
that guard’s attention,” Callum said to Chalmers two nights later.
He was still curious at the man’s change of taste. For, tho’ the
lass had a pleasing enough countenance, she was in no way as
perfectly lovely, perfectly formed, as Branwenn.

Chalmers followed the line of Callum’s gaze.
“Oh. Aye, as well she should for she’s not been his bride for more
than three moons I trow. Hardly time for them to grow weary with
the other, I’d say.”

Callum straightened in his
chair, his gaze sharper now as he more closely studied the couple,
his mind doing a quick calculation. “They’re
wed
? For three moons?” But that was
the same time that Branwenn and the guard were so clearly enjoying
each other’s company.

Chalmers cocked a brow at Callum. “Aye.” He
shook his head. “Why do you care so?”