Celtic Fury (10 page)

“He is a very dear man.” 

Those words slammed into Rory like a fist to his vitals. So, it was true! She was smitten with his father. Brielle looked at Rory and noticed a muscle working in his jaw. She had seen that before. It always did that when he was tamping down some thought or emotion. Was he jealous of his Da’? She shouldn’t allow such fanciful thoughts. Rory was not interested in her in any other way than a concerned honorable man who had tended to an injured woman, and why would he be jealous anyway?

Rory said, “My Da has been alone a long time.” That also seemed to be an odd thing for Rory to tell her, she thought.

“That’s a pity. He is kind and still quite handsome.”

“He seems quite drawn to ye too.”

“Ach, he is just bein’ kind to me, as ye’ all have been.”

Rory started at her accent. While he had heard it once before, he hadn’t given it much thought. Now, it seemed so much more pronounced. Hmmm, he thought, she was letting her guard down. He had always thought of Brielle speaking with more of the English inflection. Now, there was no doubt she was a highlander, for the accent came too easy to her. Perhaps, he would learn what she was hiding after all.

“I’ve not known my Da to have a fondness for the lassies. Ye’ must be a special girl to get his attention.”

“Yer’ Da is a kind man and he is being a most gracious host to a most uninvited guest.”

“He is still quite hale.”

“Aye, I can see that. I can see where ye’ get yer’ looks and strength from. Ye’ remind me of him in character, too.”

Brielle really thought it was very odd that they were discussing the merits of Caleb. She did not understand what Rory was trying to say to her or what he wanted her to know.

“Nay, Lass. Caleb MacCollum is a far better man than me…than I could ever be!” Brielle's eyes met Rory's and she placed a hand over his own.

“I dunna’ know about that, Ruiri MacCollum.”

Rory’s heart warmed at her words. For some reason, it was important that she think he was a good man. He looked down at her delicate hand and she suddenly became aware of her forwardness so she quickly snatched it away. Rory’s hand rapidly retrieved it and he looked into her eyes.

He stroked the back of her hand and said, “When did ye start speaking thus? I hadn't realized you were really from this land.”

Brielle glanced down, feeling the warmth of his hand on hers.

“T’is my native land, Ruiri. I only lived in England a short time. I learned the English inflection to not be different in my husband's home. I am afraid I was not a welcomed addition to his household.”

Rory released her hand, now reminded of her recent loss and widowhood. Although Brielle didn’t dress for mourning, Rory was certain her widow’s drab was ruined from the accident.

He said, “I am sorry about yer’ husband, Brielle.”

At that moment, Brielle felt like she could tell Rory anything. The intensity in his eyes was so sincere.

She said, “Thank you for yer’ sympathy, but Ruiri, we were practically strangers.” She left out the part that the marriage was never consummated. That was no concern of Rory's and how could she ever admit such a thing? “I didna’ belong in England, which is why I needed to come home. Only, I really have no home to come back to. My Grandfather is passed, thus I was married off to Marcus Val Cour.”

“Was he a good man?”

“Marcus?” For a moment, Brielle panicked, thinking Rory would want to talk about her grandfather and that would lead to forcing her to tell him who she really was.

“Aye, Marcus, your husband.”

“He seemed kind. He was infirmed and very old. Much older, even, than yer own Da. He didn’t mistreat me. He was just too sickly to be much company to me. We were only married a short time when he succumbed to his illness and left this life.”

Rory was drawn to feel sympathy for the poor young woman who was laden with a so much older husband, only to have him die in the midst of being
just recently
wed. Rory then also realized that if Brielle’s husband was older than Caleb, she would not be opposed to a man Caleb’s age.

“So, my father’s age is not a hindrance to ye?”

“Hindrance to me?  I dunna’ understand.”

Swallowing the lump of lead that had formed in his throat, Rory said, “A man his age could hold yer’ interest then.”

Brielle finally understood. Rory must have thought she had an attraction to Caleb. She did not want Ruiri to think she had any romantic interests for Caleb. While Caleb was a wonderful and sweet man, Brielle no more wanted to be with him than she had wanted to be with Marcus Val ‘Cour. She had to clarify her feelings before any further misunderstandings could occur.

It was not easy for her to admit her attraction to Rory, but in light of what he was thinking, Brielle knew she had to tell Rory how she really felt. She knew it was unseemly and that it would probably end in an embarrassing rejection, but Brielle knew she had no other choice. She had to tell Rory how she felt about him. She supposed part of her resolve came about when she realized that Rory seemed unnerved by the thought that she had possibly fallen in love with Caleb. She knew it was too much to hope for that the disappointment in Rory’s gaze was because maybe he had hoped she cared for him. Still that look on his face gave her the strength to admit who she had really wanted. Brielle found her courage, then, and she took Rory’s hand in both her own. She looked him straight in his eyes, meeting those golden pools that turned her insides to molten.

“I am
not
interested in Caleb, Ruiri. He is a wonderful man and I am fond of him, t’is true. But I have learned that I am fonder yet of his son.”

Rory felt his heart slam into his ribs, suddenly so grateful for her words. He had not realized how much he needed to hear them. He also had not realized he was holding his breath, waiting for her to admit she loved his father, as if to steel himself for such news. He forgot for the moment that he wasn’t the marrying kind of man. He forgot that he was hailed as the Highland Wolf, dark feral beast to be feared and avoided. All that mattered, right here and now, was that Brielle didn’t want his Da. She had declared it boldly and Rory was pretty certain Brielle had not meant she had a fondness for any of his married brothers, either. That meant only one thing. Brielle wanted him.

He smiled at her disarmingly and he leaned in across the chess table and touched his lips to hers, suddenly just really needing to kiss her. She was holding her breath, not wanting to believe that this was truly happening. Dear God, Rory was kissing her! She leaned in to kiss him and he heard the chess pieces hitting the floor. That actually caused Rory to laugh. Brielle had thought she had never heard such a wonderful sound. Rory had rarely smiled since finding her battered body on the road, much less laughed, but the laugh now made Brielle see such a wonderful boyish quality in him. It was the first time he didn’t appear so serious and affected. He moved the table over and out of their way, and he knelt before her. He was afraid to take her into his arms, knowing she was still bruised in so many places, but he ached to feel her in his embrace. He gently touched his lips to hers again. She felt her heart thudding wildly. She felt his mouth gently pressed to hers and she had to remember to breathe. He felt the chaste way she kissed him, which left him wanting more, but it made him realize how improper it was to kiss her. Despite what she had said, she was still a widow and he really should respect that fact. Rory broke the kiss and stood up.

He said, “I am sorry, Lass. I shouldn’t have done that. I meant no disrespect to ye’ or yer deceased husband.”

Brielle stood slowly, still careful of her movements and she put her hands on his shoulders. Looking up at him dreamily, she said, “Dunna’ be sorry, Ruiri MacCollum.”

She stood on her tiptoes to reach him and leaned up to kiss him of her own volition, only she missed her mark
badly
and kissed that strong chin of his. He raised an eyebrow at her missed attempt at a kiss, and a slow grin spread on his face. She blushed, realizing how inexperienced she must have seemed to a man like Rory. Was he laughing at her? He was so tall that she could scarce reach his lips. His hands gently circled her waist as he held her closer and bending his neck, he lowered his mouth closer to hers, giving her the access she wanted so she could initiate the kiss. Her arms snaked around his neck and she kissed him, opening her lips slightly; wanting more from the kiss. He pulled her closer and in feeling his strength, it gave her added courage. Her lips parted, giving him deeper access and she felt the honeyed velvet of his tongue as it darted against her own. It made her positively weak in the knees.

He felt her shaking and without thinking, Rory scooped Brielle up into his arms and carried her to a comfortable chair near the fire. He settled her on his lap and he kissed her in earnest, dipping his tongue between her teeth. It was then that he felt her kiss him back. Her tiny tongue was tentative at first, but as she felt him kissing her, she flicked it sweetly against his. She tasted of spiced tea, but her delicate little tongue was almost cool. Rory pressed her tighter to his chest so she could actually feel his heart thudding beneath the thick muscled flesh there. She could feel it, indeed. It felt sublime to feel it beating almost as if it was her very own heart. The feel of his arms around her was delicious as well. As their kiss deepened, Brielle felt something else happening inside of her. It seemed like a liquid warmth pooled in her belly, spreading downward between her thighs. She felt moist heat forming inside her and she blushed deeply.

Rory thought she blushed because she felt him rising hard under her. He touched her cheek and said, “It’s alright lass. Dunna’ worry.” It was then that she understood. She felt him hard and thick and she gasped, in embarrassment.

“I’m not going to harm ye, Brielle.” 

“I know.”

“Do ye’ wish me to stop?”

“Nay, oh Ruiri, nay.” She kissed him again to assure him to continue. Brielle loved the way it felt to kiss him. A small moan escaped as his lips continued drawing hers in a deepening kiss. Her lips felt swollen and she could feel the glorious scrape of the slight growth of his beard against her chin and mouth. So many new sensations were coursing through her and every one was wonderful and exciting.

Caleb and Morag watched from a distance, happy that Rory and Brielle had finally acknowledged their attraction for each other.

Caleb said to Morag, “Ye were right.”  She smiled and just said, “Aye, our Ruiri is finally falling in love, thank the Heavens. This is the girl to heal all his old wounds.”

Brielle looked into Rory’s eyes and she knew she had to tell him the truth. The time had come to be honest with him. She could not keep kissing him and not be truthful to him. Brielle forced herself to stop kissing Rory so that she could tell him the truth. He thought she needed to catch her breath, but he sifted his hand through her hair and gently pulled her closer to kiss him again. The feel of his big hand fisted in her hair sent shocks through her. She almost couldn’t bear to stop, but she could not keep kissing him and not be truthful to him.

She pulled her mouth away and said, “Ruiri, there is something ye’ need to know.” He smiled down at her and said, “I already know ye’ are delicious.” 

“But I…” He touched her lips, running his thumb over her bottom lip. “Shhh, not now, Brielle. Just feel, no talking now.”

He kissed her quickly and she sighed. She got lost in the kisses a little longer but then said, “Ruiri, please. I canna’ have this between us.”

His fingers kept running through her hair as he looked into her eyes. His senses were dulled with passion as he touched her.

“What is it lass?”

With his fingers playing with her hair, it was difficult to think. His eyes held unspoken desire and she wanted to forget her confession for now and just lose herself in his kisses once again. She felt love filling her heart for this man, and therefore, she knew she had to tell him.

“I…I…told ye I am from the highlands. Yer’ Da’ knows where I am from. I lived much of my life…in Castle Campbell.” At first, what she had said did not register completely
through
Rory's heated desire. “Ye lived there? Why
,”
he asked, lazily tracing a finger over her
beautiful
mouth.

“Because I…”

“Brielle, were ye a maid there? T’is no matter if ye’ were. Yer’ status is not so important to me. I am the last son of a laird. My status is last in line as heir.”  Brielle looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. He believed her to be a serving maid. She wished she could let him continue believing that.

“I was not a servant there. Ruiri, my grandfather was the Campbell. I am… Gabrielle…Gabrielle Campbell.”

That explanation quickly broke through Rory's languid desire. His eyes grew dark and she felt him stiffen defensively.

“Nay, it isn’t true. What trickery is this woman?”

“T’is no trickery, Ruiri. I lived there, isolated greatly from the doings between the clans. After my grandfather died, my brothers were the only ones…”

“Yer’ brothers,” he spat. “Those Satan’s sons! Brielle, how could this be?
What other lies have ye’ told me.”

“I have not lied to ye’, Ruiri.”