Highland Magic (43 page)

* * *

Branwenn decided to take the long route to
reach the cave chamber she and Bao had dwelled in for that short
time nearly two years prior, the one which led her from another
entrance to the cave and then through several long passages into
the chamber. The access they’d used two summers before had involved
climbing a pine tree, and she thought it not prudent to do such in
her current condition.

She’d now been at the Maclean holding for
nearly a moon and yet she’d still not broken the news of her
childing state to her family. And ‘twas time. For even her larger
gowns were no longer hiding her rounding middle the way they had
only a couple of sennights before. Her babe was growing faster than
she’d expected. She’d been careful to rid the bucket of her
stomach’s purging each morn before the chamberlain saw it, and
thankfully, those bouts had ended recently. But last eve,
Grandmother Maclean had settled her hawk’s-eye gaze directly on
Branwenn’s belly for what seemed an eternity as Branwenn scurried
across the great hall to find her seat at the table. Thankfully,
the older lady had given her naught more than a greeting and then
proceeded to speak to her of things more mundane. However, she had
also pressed her to drink a bit of milk and eat more of the kale
that had been prepared, which only heightened Branwenn’s unease
that the lady was growing suspicious.

So, upon rising this morn, Branwenn had
determined that she would tell her family this very day. But first,
she wanted to spend a bit of time alone with her babe—far from
curious eyes—to rehearse the words she’d say to them this eve. And
the only place she could think of that would afford her that type
of privacy was the cave chamber.

Besides, this place held such warm memories
for her that she knew she’d also gain a bit of comfort as well from
revisiting their old dwelling.

Once inside it, she quickly kindled a fire
and settled next to its glowing warmth.

She was deep in her thoughts, preparing her
speech, when she was startled from her reverie by the harsh sound
of someone clearing his throat. She swung her head around and
looked in the direction of the noise. “Bao! What do you here?”

Bao ambled toward her. “I followed you, wee
one. What, pray, is this about?” He looked around the chamber, an
expression of confused amusement on his countenance. “Why the
affinity for this place? ‘Tis cold, ‘tis dank, ‘tis stark. Hardly
the cozy situation I expect my sister to enjoy.”

As Bao settled down next to her, Branwenn
shrugged and took a look around the place herself. “It holds fond
memories for me, is all.” She looked at him then. “When we dwelled
here those few moons, ‘twas just you and I, no one else, with no
King’s campaign to hie you off to who knew where, or for how long.”
She shrugged again. “I enjoyed that.”

The look in Bao’s eye became gentle as he
reached out and took hold of her hand. “Aye, ‘twas a special time.”
Straightening, he said again, “Now, tell me what is this
about?”

* * *

First, Callum strode over to the place on the
wall where his sword hung and gazed up at it for a moment, then,
still restless but deciding against cleaning the thing again, as
he’d done every morn and night these past sennights, he turned and
strode over to sprawl in the chair next to his bedchamber’s
hearthfire. He was only down a second or two before he was up once
more and marching toward one of his clothing trunks. The pain in
his chest was almost too much to bear, so tight was the invisible
band, that each breath he took was harsh and labored. His hands,
loose at his sides, fisted and opened, fisted and opened, as he
looked down at the lid to the wooden container.

After forcing air into his
lungs twice more, he finally reached out and lifted the lid. The
smell of wood and dust met him. His heart thudding against his
ribs, he crouched down in front of the container and simply stared.
After a moment, and with slightly sweating hands, he moved aside
the filet and set of marriage rings he’d given Branwenn, which
she’d left when she’d departed nearly a moon prior, and then rubbed
his fingers over the now brown-red stains on the soft linen sheet
beneath.
Branwenn
. His lips formed the name, but not a sound was uttered. He
savored the feel of it on his tongue. Gloried in it.

But then his jaw hardened and, with a
decisive movement, he slammed the trunk shut once more and pushed
to his feet. He turned, strode to the door and left the chamber.
‘Twas barely light out yet, but by the time he arrived at his
property, the men would be at work. What he needed was exercise—and
what better means could there be than to maneuver heavy stone?

* * *

“I think it best that we inform Callum of
Branwenn’s condition,” Lady Maclean said that evening. She, Bao and
Jesslyn were all seated in the solar, drinking mulled wine. It had
begun to snow rather heavily earlier in the day and the air in the
chamber was quite chilled and dank.

Jesslyn, who a bit over a
year past had gone through a similar quandary, was possibly the
only one among them that understood why Branwenn might want, and
deserve, to keep those tidings from the father of her babe. “Can we
not wait a bit longer? Surely, in a moon or two, Branwenn, herself,
will want Callum to be informed.” She gave her husband a pleading
look. “Is it
such
a travesty to keep Callum in the dark a bit longer? After
all, the marriage contracts are voided, and have been for nearly a
moon.”

Bao, who’d borne the unpleasant effects of
Jesslyn’s subterfuge, was fully standing behind Callum’s rights as
a father. “I’m sending a missive to him in a quarter hour’s
time.”

“But, after what he did to her—”

“Aye,” Lady Maclean said with a sigh, “I do
worry a bit that the foolish lad will question the paternity”—she
gave her grandson a steady look—“and I wouldn’t put that poor lass
through more heartache for any amount of relief to my conscience
our telling Callum of the babe might render.”

Bao was resolute. “I’m sending the missive.
If he’s fool enough to reject his own bairn, so be it. At least
he’ll have no excuse other than himself for such an action.”

* * *

Callum limped toward his hearth chair and
nearly fell into the seat as he sat down. Every muscle in his body
ached, and he now had so many cuts and scrapes on his hands and
arms, he looked as if he had been in a wrestling match with a
mother bear. But he also was filled with a sense of accomplishment,
a thing he’d not felt to this degree since those first years of
squire training when he’d entered all those tournaments and become
ever more skilled at the craft. He’d soaked in a hot bath in the
kitchens for nearly an hour, but his body was still giving him much
protest. And he was expected to return to the great hall in a half
hour’s time to have the evening meal with his mother and Chalmers.
He only hoped taking the stairs down would be easier than the climb
up them had been.

The construction of the
manor was going very well. In fact, the ingeniator was quite
impressed by the design changes Callum had asked for. But, they’d
had to stop work a bit earlier than usual due to a late afternoon
snow storm, so some of those modifications would not be started
until the morrow. Even still, the master mason and ingeniator were
sure that they would be able to have the main quarters habitable
by
Bealltainn
, as
originally promised.

With that in mind, and his sore conscience no
longer a thing he wanted to live with, Callum had come to a
decision. At the morrow’s dawn, he would leave for the Maclean
holding.

‘Twas time to speak to Branwenn.

* * *

Callum had taken the faster, but more
treacherous route, which got him to the Maclean loch near the old
Roman outpost close to the chimes of Nones a day and a half after
his departure. Fortune had smiled on him, for warmer winds had
begun to blow once more and most of the snow from the storm of two
days past was now melted, making the traveling easier. But the
ground was still damp, and his bay’s hooves kicked up heather,
turned winter-brown from the cold, and dark earth as well, as he
steadily picked his way ever closer to his destination.

Perhaps ‘twas some primitive need to heap
additional punishment on his already bruised and battered soul, but
he found himself nearing the ruin before he realized he’d turned in
that direction. He hadn’t seen the outpost since finding Robert
there with Lara nearly a year ago.

The outpost was positioned on the edge of a
crop of pine and juniper and as it came more fully into view,
Callum pulled up short. Someone, no doubt Bao, had restored the
thing. Where before, a portion of the limestone and mortar wall had
been tumbled, now all four walls were set to rights. And a
heather-thatched roof had been added. Curious.

Callum prodded his bay and headed toward the
front door. There was now a stone post on which a horse’s reins
could be tied just outside it.

After tying his horse to the post, he headed
to the arched oak door and swept it open.

“
Eeeek!
” Branwenn whirled toward the
noise, nearly jumping out of her skin at the same time. Her brows
slammed together and she crossed her arms over her middle. “What
are you doing here? Hie thee back to hell, devil.”

Callum’s eyes drank in the sight of her. Even
if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t find his voice to say a word in
response to her. He took another step inside and closed the door
behind him before resting his back against its hard surface and
crossing his arms over his chest. He couldn’t help it. He
smiled.

Lord, but she was beautiful, and those
crushed violet eyes he hadn’t seen in much too long sent brilliant,
warm ripples of joy through his being. Her hair had grown a bit
since the last time he’d seen her, the ends were now several inches
below her chin, and her cheeks were rose-blushed, her skin almost
shimmery, like pearl dust. And, Godamercy, that pink, full mouth
was already sending carnal missives through his bloodstream and
into his groin. He couldn’t catch his breath.

His eyes dropped lower still. She was covered
up in a thick midnight-blue miniver-lined cloak. Suddenly an image
of her standing in the sea cave, partially naked and nervous as
hell, settled in his mind. What wouldn’t he give to have her in
that state once again, all his for the taking?

Branwenn’s eyes darted left and right. The
ruin was much too small, she thought, frantic now. Callum was only
two paces away from her; so close she could feel the wind buffet of
each heavy breath he took. She knew that look, and her body was
already reacting to it. She had to get out of here. But how? He
blocked the only exit. Why was he here? Had the messenger somehow
made it to the MacGregor holding the same day as the missive was
sent? Impossible. Why would he not speak? His silence was making
her even more nervous. She would not do what her body was begging
her to do. Not this time. Not ever again. He hated her. And she
would never, ever, ever trust him again. Not ever.

But she needed more space between them. Now.
She took a step back, but her foot twisted in the blanket she’d
only just begun to lay out before Callum’s entry. She stumbled and
began to fall backwards. “Aaahhh!”

“Take care!” Callum leapt forward and grabbed
her around the waist and shoulders, bringing her up against his
chest and pelvis. “Oh, God. Branwenn.” She was in his arms now,
just where he wanted her and he didn’t hesitate. He brought his
palm up to cradle the back of her head and dipped his own, taking
full possession of her lips before she could possibly know his
intention. The rose scent of her, the sweet, fiery taste of her was
all Callum could fix his mind upon. He deepened the kiss, running
his tongue over her lower lip and then sucking it into his mouth
before taking it between his teeth and nibbling. ‘Twas not
enough—not nearly enough. He fisted the hair at the back of her
head in his hand and tugged, forcing her head back, and her mouth
to open wider still. She mewled in reaction and it heated his blood
even more. He was out of control. Out of his mind with need for
her. He lifted her off the ground slightly and plunged into the
dark, delicious recesses of her gorgeous mouth, showing her with
his tongue what he wanted to do with his sex inside hers.

Branwenn felt as if her entire body was a
raging, seething inferno of scorching flames. All reason was lost
to the burning ache of need he could engender in her within mere
seconds. He was dangerous. Dangerous to her heart. Dangerous to her
senses. But she couldn’t break free of the spell his body had over
hers. Without realizing it, she lifted her arms and wrapped them
tightly around his neck and shoulders, pressing her frame even
closer into his own.

In the next second, they were on the ground,
him with his tunic hiked up over his hips and his braies untied,
revealing the extent of his need for her, and her with her own
clothing rucked up at her hips and her legs wrapped high around his
waist.

Callum didn’t falter. He entered her quickly
and deeply, afraid she’d change her mind and not allow him access.
He swallowed her shocked moan as it reverberated against the back
of his throat. He couldn’t bear for her to say him nay. He needed
it too badly. Needed her. Needed the ultimate pleasure, the
absolute delight, the loving solace only her delicate, sweet body
could bestow.

When he was sure that she would not push him
away, he began to rock against her, with only the shallowest of
movements at first, letting his slight rotating motion against her
prepare her further. After another moment, he lifted his lips from
hers and began trailing open-mouthed, nibbling kisses across her
cheek and down her neck.