Highland Magic (44 page)

Branwenn felt her thighs
begin to tremble. What was he doing to her? “Oh God! Oh God!
Callum!
” She held tight
to his buttocks as he lifted himself up onto his palms and strained
against her, each new thrust, deeper still. A wave of violent
pleasure crashed through her and she splintered. His name burst
from her lips once more on a long moan.

As the last eddy undulated
through her, she opened her eyes at last. Callum was drenched in
sweat, his face flushed a deep red, and his eyes and jaw tightly
shut. He was close to completion. He would leave her soon. Still
dizzy from her own release, it took her a moment to hear the words
he was mumbling feverishly through his teeth with each hard plunge
he made into her. “
I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
I’m sorry,
” he said over and over again
and then he suddenly reared back, lifted her calves over his
forearms, held her hips steady, and yelled out “
I love you, Branwenn!
” as he
ejaculated inside her with fast, forceful thrusts. For the first
time.

Callum collapsed forward and then rolled onto
his back next to Branwenn. Did he still live? If he’d known how
acutely pleasurable would be the climax inside her, he’d never have
been able to wait this long to do it. He opened one eye a crack and
looked at his love. She was no doubt in shock that he’d done the
deed when they were no longer legally wed. But that could be easily
rectified. In fact, he saw no reason why they couldn’t get their
vows blessed this very afternoon. The contracts could be signed and
sealed later, surely. Everyone already knew what the terms would
be, as they’d gone through that before.

And besides, he really
didn’t care any longer what his clan thought about their union;
whether his family approved or disapproved of what he did. In fact,
he didn’t care about anything except building a life with Branwenn
and their bairns, as they’d planned. “We can have the priest bless
our vows this eve and then we can go back home on the morrow—or,
would you prefer to stay here awhile longer? It matters not to me,
as the living quarters in our manor won’t be completed until the
time of
Bealltainn
.” She wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were focused on the
rafters above their heads.

“We’re not getting wed, Callum.” She looked
at him. “This was a mistake, which I won’t ever let happen again.”
She sighed and sat up, pushing her cloak and gown down over her
legs as she brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.
She turned her head and looked back down at him. “Go home. It’s
over between us.”

His brows slammed together
and he rolled to his side, then raised up on his elbow.
"Impossible. You could even now have my babe growing in your belly.
We
must
wed."

Branwenn turned her face away. ‘Twas so quiet
inside the ruin in those moments before she spoke that they could
hear each other breathe. "You have no worries on that score for,
you see, I've a babe there already.”

Callum’s heart did a somersault before
plunging into his stomach. He bolted upright and reached around,
taking her shoulders in his hands and twisting her about to face
him. “Whose? The Norman’s?”

He looked deeply into her eyes, watching as
the black centers expanded and filled most of the space where, just
a moment prior, the dark, bruised purple had been, before they
swiftly contracted to a mere black pinprick in a sea of purple
velvet. There was sadness there as well. “’Tis mine,” she said at
last with a nod.

He took that as an
affirmative. “I care not, Branwenn, truly, that it be the Norman’s.
I understand that ‘twas your love for me that made you waver in
your vows to me, and ‘tis all right.” He took a deep breath and let
it out slowly. “Come home with me. We’ll wed. I’ll be father to the
babe, just as I’ve done Lara’s—
my
—daughter Laire.” Callum released
his grip on her shoulders, but settled his palm over the top of the
hand that she had splayed on the ground for support at her
side.

Branwenn shook her head.
“It cannot—it
will
not—be, Callum. ‘Tis time for you to go forward with the life
you’ve chosen, and allow me to do the same.” Her voice cracked but
she managed to finish, though her throat ached and the words nearly
choked her. “We...
us
...” Her eyes misted and she gritted her teeth to keep the
tears at bay, to keep her jaw from trembling, her face from
crumpling with grief. She took in a shaky breath. “We were not
meant to be. Let go, as I have. ‘Tis for the best.” She gave him a
watery smile. “And, after all, we are still friends—and family as
well!”

‘Twas too much for Callum. He wouldn’t give
up on her, on them, but this new twist—she was with child!—was
something he needed a bit of time to come to terms with himself.
So, he decided not to press her further; to instead allow her to
believe that they would part this day and that would be the end of
it for them. But he knew it would not, it could not, be so.

He curled his fingers around her hand and
lifted it to his lips. After brushing a brief, warm kiss upon its
back, he said, “May I offer you a ride to your brother’s holding at
least?”

She was awash in relief. And despair. But her
smile never wavered as she shook her head and answered, “Nay. I
think it best if they do not see us together.”

He looked around, suddenly
realizing that they were sitting on a blanket. “What were you about
in here, anyway,
fey
Mai
?”

Branwenn’s heart twisted in her chest at the
term of endearment he’d adopted for her so many moons ago now. She
shrugged. “Bao told me that he’d had this ruin renovated, and I was
curious to see it, so I thought to use it as a private place for me
to rest awhile and enjoy sewing my babe’s clothes.”

Callum’s eyebrows lifted. He nodded his head
as he continued to gaze about, studying the small enclosed room,
and finally noticing the satchel in the corner with a bit of white
linen emerging from the opening. “Hmm. I see.” He settled his gaze
upon her once more. “Does my grandmother know of your
condition—does Bao?”

“Aye. I told them of it a few days past.”

“And what say they? Do they believe ‘tis
mine?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. She dipped her
head and studied a bunch in the woolen blanket beneath her. “Aye. I
believe they do. They...sent a missive to you a couple of days ago.
I suppose you and the messenger passed each other without
realizing.”

“I took a shorter route; we no doubt were
never even near each other as we traveled.” Callum could see that
Branwenn wanted him to leave. Winning her back was going to take
some planning, and, if he were honest with himself, he needed a bit
of time by himself to consider the role he would play in her babe’s
life.

There had been, at first, a glimmer of hope
within him that the babe was his, but with Branwenn’s confirmation
that ‘twas the Norman’s, he let go of that desirable notion. After
all, he and Branwenn had not lain together for quite some
time—excepting the night of their wedding—and even so, he’d always
been careful to do what he must in order that she wouldn’t
conceive. But the Norman had said that he’d taken her more than
once that day. And there was no doubt in Callum’s mind that the man
had not had the decency to withdraw before he spilled his seed
inside her.

Aye, he needed time to
think and to scheme. “I should leave. There’s an inn about an hour
and half ride from here that I can stay at for the night, but if I
wait too long, ‘twill be full.” He rose to his feet and walked
toward the door. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back and
said, “Take care, Branwenn.” And then he turned and walked out,
closing the door behind him and not looking back until he was once
more on his bay’s back and a good distance away. It wouldn’t be
easy, but he was determined to win her. And this time—aye, he’d
learned his lesson well—this time, he’d
never
let her go.

* * *

Branwenn smiled as she trod through the
brightly blooming flowers of purple, yellow and white toward the
Roman outpost she’d made her private sanctuary these past moons.
The sun was high in the sky and the heat from its rays made each
color seem even more vivid, warming her skin as well. There was a
sweetness in the air that she hadn’t smelled in far too long, it
seemed. But the scent of winter snow was long gone now, and in its
place, the smell of summer sunshine now reigned.

As she watched, a small brown butterfly with
yellow spots on its wings flitted about in front of her, from one
blossom to the next, in search of a meal. Mayhap, ‘twas a wee faery
sprite keeping company with her, Branwenn thought, and then giggled
at the notion.

She wondered what the ‘wee folk’ had left her
since her last visit. It had been five moons and five days since
she’d met Callum in the ruin, but not since she’d seen him last.
Tho’ he surely did not ken that she knew he spied upon her while
she was there, ‘twas plain who was leaving her gifts.

The first time had been some three sennights
from that day last winter. The weather had been harsh, she
remembered. So harsh, in fact, that she had almost turned back
halfway to the outpost. But some inner need to find a bit of solace
from her aching heart had driven her onward. And when she’d
arrived, she’d found a lamp, lit for warmth and light, and in the
corner, a beautifully carved pine chest. Resting upon its rounded
top lay a vellum scroll with a red silken ribbon twining its
middle. When she’d unfurled it, another red silken ribbon had
fallen out that tied two keys together which she instantly
recognized: They were the keys to the heart locks that closed off
the keep from the sea cave. Then, as she’d gazed upon the
beautifully illuminated lettering on the vellum, she’d been
charmed. For faeries idly sprawled upon the letters there.
“Tryamour Manor” it said.

Then, when she’d opened the lid to the cask,
she’d found it full of the best quality linen, wool, and velvet,
with some thirty spools each of brightly colored silk and cotton
thread as well. And resting on top, an unusual, finely made silver
needle, a lovely pair of sharply-honed scissors, and three
perfectly sized copper thimbles.

She’d looked for him then, but to no avail.
But each fortnight after, on the same day, she found another gift.
Once, there had been a small cask of seashells and a string of
pearls. Another time there had been a baby’s rattle and a small
cradle with a thin down mattress tucked inside. Then, there had
been the banquet, a bounty of her favorite foods. That had been her
favorite, after the cradle and rattle.

The same dull ache that had
been plaguing her since early this morn started again, like a band
around her middle and lower back. She stopped and rested for a
moment, trying to stretch a bit to relieve the pressure.
Grandmother Maclean was sure ‘twas a sign that the babe was coming,
and she’d told her not to wander far from the keep, but Branwenn
had needed the exercise. And besides, it had taken hours and hours
for Maryn to have her babe, so she surely had time to see what
Callum had brought for her this time. She had to admit, he was
wearing down her defenses against him with his devotion and his
steady wooing of her. And, he’d seemed different the last time
they’d been together, swearing that he didn’t care that she carried
Gaiallard’s babe. He’d even told her that he would
raise
the babe as his
own!

Branwenn sighed and bit her lip as she
resumed her trek to the ruin. And though it angered her still that
he thought she’d allowed the horrid man to bed her, it had, after
she’d had time to think upon it, soothed her that he no longer
hated her, thought her a whore. ‘Twas in those times of quiet
remembrance, that she would contemplate wedding him again, as he
wanted.

But then she’d recall how quickly he could
change, could rip her heart out and trample it under his feet,
could coldly take away all he’d freely given. So, once again, she’d
walk away, back to her brother’s keep. Her heart safe, but her soul
desolated.

As she came through a stand of pines into the
small clearing around the outpost, she stopped and gazed at the
scene before her. A large wild rose bush was now planted by the
entry and full of pink, fragrant blooms. And at its feet, violets
swayed and dipped their purple-velvet crowns. ‘Twas the gift he’d
given her a fortnight ago. As she resumed her step, she began to
hum a familiar tune, one she’d heard Callum sing to Laire a few
times, as she pushed wide the door to the ruin and stepped inside.
“Oh, Callum!” she cried, hurrying, as best she could with her
awkward gate, over to stand by the birth chair, intricately carved
and painted with wee sea faeries, shells, and roses intertwined
with violets.

All of a sudden, a great
wave of fluid flushed from inside her womb, down her legs and onto
her feet. “
Godamercy!
” Branwenn lifted her now drenched skirts with trembling,
nerveless hands and waddled to the door. She was having her babe!
She could feel a very strong contraction begin as she flung the
door open and stumbled outside the cottage. “
Callum!
Ohmygod!
Callum, the babe!
” she yelled as
loudly as she could. Then, unable to keep herself upright any
longer by herself, she held tight to the doorframe and doubled
over.

* * *

Callum’s heart leapt into his throat. In the
next second, he was on his bay and kneeing it into a hard gallop,
forcing it to leap over logs and debris. The animal nearly lost its
balance when it slid in some muddy, soft soil by the side of the
loch, but with some quick maneuvering, Callum and the horse were
once again headed in the direction of the ruin.