Highland Magic (12 page)

His mother slumped a bit on her stool. “The
gold filet? Aye,” she said, less enthusiastically than before,
which surprised Callum, but he couldn’t think of what else she’d
been hoping he’d be asking her for, “you may have it.” She rose and
walked to the far corner of her bedchamber and opened a large
chest. After moving the swaths of silk aside, she found the velvet
pouch that held the filet and then walked back to where Callum sat
and handed it to him. “Here, I believe this is the one you are
wanting.”

Callum untied the string and loosened the
opening of the pouch before slowly sliding the golden circlet out.
He held it up to the light of the hearth. Aye, this would do.
‘Twasn’t the most ornate of hair ornaments he’d ever seen, but
‘twas certainly of higher quality than the one the lass had been
given by his grandmother. “My thanks, Mother.” He stood abruptly
and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I shall see you at dinner, no
doubt.” And then he was off, giving her no chance to question him
on his reasons for wanting the piece of jewelry.

He couldn’t say why it bothered him so that
the lass had had so little of the finer, feminine things growing
up, while he’d had access to as many as he’d ever wanted to bestow
upon this lady or that, but it did. It did bother him. And it
helped not his sore conscience to know that he’d been the one to
cause her to irrevocably lose the only one she’d ever owned—the one
she’d very nearly killed herself trying to retrieve earlier that
morn.

He hurried back to his room and fetched the
gord he’d so diligently looked for earlier by using his hands to
measure the size, holding it just as he’d done with that silken
hair-covered head of hers during those long, intense minutes in the
cave when she’d pleasured him. Then he quickly settled the filet
around its round mass to measure the size of the band. ‘Twould need
to be made smaller, just as he’d suspected. Turning, he strode from
the chamber and took off toward the smith’s cot. Since there were
no craftsmen about that could take the amethysts from his squire’s
ring and, using the gold from it, set them in the filet, he’d have
to make do with whatever skill the smith could lend to the
task.

A quarter hour later, the errand completed,
he was off to the training fields to no doubt have his body broken
with the strain of vigorous exercise by his cousin Bao.

* * *

When Branwenn returned to her chamber after
supper many hours later the most lovely gold-filigreed filet she
had ever seen, having three small, oval, amethyst stones inset in
the design, lay resting on a bed of dark red rose petals atop her
pillow.

After trying it on and finding that it fit
her perfectly—Was this from Callum? How could he have known the
size? And where had he gotten hold of it so soon after their
talk?—she placed it back in its resting place on the pillow.

That night, she slept with her hand wrapped
around the offering. ‘Twas the first gift she’d ever been given
from (she hoped) a potential swain.

* * *

“You have the look of your mother,” Bao said
to Branwenn the next day as they walked toward the stables. They
were set to take a ride to the seashore. “Tho’ she was a bit
rounder than you when I knew her—for she carried you in her belly
at the time. And your features are quite similar to hers. Lord,
those eyes...” he said.

“Aye, you’ve told me of my resemblance to her
often. I wish I could have known her.” Branwenn halted her stride
and, turning to Bao, she took his hand and held it, saying, “Did
she want me—love me?”

Bao lifted his other hand to her cheek and
stroked it gently. “Aye, she did. She didn’t want to leave
you—fought hard, in fact, to stay alive for you.” He sighed. “But,
alas, in the end, she lost the struggle. And when I saw how sweet,
how fragile, you were, I knew I would do aught that I must to keep
you alive, safe from harm. And I did just that. I pray you don’t
hate me for what I did.” Though they’d had a similar conversation
the day she’d departed for Cambria, Bao still worried that his
sister was repulsed by the degree to which he’d sunk into the
depths of human depravity in order to raise her.

Branwenn threw her arms
around her brother, holding tight. “Nay! How could I hate you? You
sacrificed so much for me. I
love
you.”

Bao craned his head back and looked at her
more closely. “That’s a fine-looking hair thing you’ve got perched
up there, lass. Where did you get such a handsome piece? Did Reys
give it to you?”

Branwenn shook her head. “Nay,
actually...”—she lifted her hand to the filet and ran her fingers
over it lightly—“I believe ‘twas Callum that gave me this.”

“
Callum!
” ‘Twas an
accusation.

Branwenn’s head whipped up and around. “Nay,
‘tis not what you think,” she hoped she lied. “He only meant to
replace the one he accidentally made me lose down the well this day
past.”

Bao’s eyes narrowed as he
studied the sheepish look on his wee sister’s countenance. There
was definitely more here than met the eye. Mayhap a very brief,
very
serious
,
talk with Callum would be prudent at this juncture.

“Aye,” he said letting the matter drop for
now.

* * *

Daniel was in the great hall, enjoying a
draught of ale and a bit of cheese when Branwenn and Bao came
through the door several hours later.

“Daniel!” Branwenn said excitedly, running
straight into his open arms. “‘Tis so good to see you! How is
Maryn, how is Nora, how are your clansmen?”

“You give
him
the greeting
I
should have received
this day past?” Bao said, interrupting the loving reunion.
“‘Tis
I
who
raised you, whelp, not he.”

Branwenn gave him a slight
shrug with a wink and smile attached. It didn’t escape her notice,
either, that Daniel’s answer to that was a smug grin pointed
directly in his brother’s direction. His words were to Branwenn,
however. “‘Tis good to see you, too, my wee
sister
—this as a poke to Bao’s
pride—and Maryn and our babe are fine, as well as all my clansmen.”
He stood back, his hands on her shoulders as he put her at arms
length and did a quick perusal of her from head to foot. “You’re
just as beautiful as ever, wee one,”—Branwenn felt her cheeks
pinken with pleasure—“but ‘tis truth, you need a haircut and a new
gown.”—Now her cheeks turned hot with the flame of
mortification—“Why ever has Grandmother not seen to this yet?”
‘Twas an accusation clearly directed fully upon his
brother.

Bao shrugged, a bit sheepishly. “I asked her
not.” He turned his gaze on Branwenn. “Branwenn? Has Grandmother
made arrangements for some other clothes to be made for you?”

Branwenn bowed her head and nodded, saying in
a small voice, “I believe the gowns will be ready soon.”

“And your hair? You cut it again, I see.”

Touching the strand of bangs lying to the
right of her brow, she answered defensively, “Aye, ‘twas the best
way to travel—I traveled as a lad these past moons.”

Bao shook his head. “Can you believe, my
sister had hair whose tips brushed her calves the summer we hid in
the Maclean cave.”

“Aye, and now I’ve hair like a lad.” No
wonder Callum thought her young—why, he’d even called her
‘laddish’. Mayhap, he hadn’t given her the filet as a token of his
regard, but truly as a salve to his guilty conscience for startling
her and making her lose the thing.

Daniel, seeing her
crestfallen countenance, hugged her to him, saying, “But you still
look like a beautiful lass.” He shot a look at Bao that
said,
“We must find her a new dress.
Now.”

* * *

Callum sat facing his two cousins in the
solar an hour later. Tense and uncomfortable as hell, with the two
men’s eyes drilling into him, he forced himself not to squirm on
his stool. “I tell you, I only gave the thing to her as a
replacement for the one I made her drop in the well when I startled
her. ‘Twas naught else behind the gift, I swear.” But even he knew
that was a lie. There was more to that gift than simply a soothing
of the conscience. Why else had he been so impelled to have the
amethysts—the same shade as her eyes—set in the ornament? Why else
had he gone to the gardener and paid the man for one of his rare
red roses?

Daniel’s eyes were shrewd as he assessed his
nervous cousin. “I told you this year past that the lass is too
young for you but, if you are wooing her in earnest...well,”—he
briefly turned his gaze on Bao before returning it to his
cousin—“‘twould certainly be a better match than she and the
Norman.”

Callum’s cheeks warmed, and clearly, Bao
noticed, for he drawled, “Aye, ‘twould be better to have her
here—even with a callowling such as yourself,”—Callum swallowed a
growl, but shot Bao a venomous look, which only made his cousin
grin—“than to have her off in a foreign land, and in the Norman’s
bed.”

The knot in Callum’s belly
tightened and his teeth ground together, but he managed to keep his
angry retort to himself. How could her own brother speak of such?
Her. In bed. With the Norman. This did not sit well, but he’d be
damned if he’d take the bait—for bait it most definitely was. So,
he said in as even a voice as he could manage, the truth, as he
knew it. “I have a daughter now. Mayhap, this year past, I did have
an idea of wooing your sister, but the events since that time have
altered my course.” He leveled his gaze on Daniel. “She
is
too young. I need
someone capable of mothering my daughter—and Branwenn, tho’
a...ahem...well—mayhap ‘sweet’ is not the word, but kind-hearted,
certainly—lass, is as callow as you accuse me of being. I cannot
take that risk.” Needing to steer the conversation far from this
very uncomfortable topic, he decided to take the offensive,
specifically directing it to Bao. “Why the hell did you never give
the poor lass a filet, for Christ’s sake? Every lass above the age
of five has one. How cold-hearted can you be?” He stood and began
to pace, now truly riled as he recalled this bit of Branwenn’s
history. “Why, if you’d only seen how avid she was to retrieve that
pitiful excuse for jewelry! I swear she was more in than out of
that well, her toes barely still touching the ground
beneath.”

His ploy must have worked, because when he
turned back to the two massive warriors, they were both silent and
had the most perfectly amusing sets of guilty expressions on their
countenances that Callum had ever seen.

Daniel and Bao looked at each other and with
a shrug, they rose to their feet and spoke at once.

“—Well, if that’s all there was to it...”
Daniel said.

“—Aye, I should have gotten the lass a
filet...” Bao said.

Relief washed over Callum.
He’d just barely—just
barely
, dodged the dart.

* * *

“Oh! Grandmother Maclean! This is so lovely.”
Branwenn looked up from the carmine velvet gown she held lovingly
in her hands into Lady Maclean’s eyes. “But this is much too fine
for me. I…I feel”—she shrugged self-consciously and touched her
fingertips to her cropped hair—“odd wearing such fine things.”

Lady Maclean stroked Branwenn’s flushed
cheek. “You are a lady nonetheless, and must apparel yourself as
such. I’m sure, in time, you shall grow accustomed to the finery.
Practice. Practice is what is needed. And this night, this gown,
shall be a good start.”

She dipped her head and nodded. “Aye, ‘tis
truth that I’ve admired fine things, but now…now that I have the
opportunity to wear them….” She shrugged again. “‘Tis only that I
thought I’d have a bit more time before I had to…well, I thought
the clothes would not be ready for another sennight.” She lifted
her gaze to Lady Maclean’s. “How were we able to get this one so
soon?”

Lady Maclean did not miss the note of
disappointment tinging the question and gave her foster
granddaughter a gentle smile of encouragement. “Truth be told,
lass, ‘twas your brothers who, shall we say, ‘twisted the
clothier’s and then the tailor’s arm a bit and made them finish
this one, and the chemise, for the feast we’re having this
afternoon.”

A look of chagrin crossed Branwenn’s face.
“Aye, I can only imagine Daniel and Bao would not want me showing
up to a feast held in their honor looking like a beggar.”

Lady Maclean put her arm around the lass’s
slumped shoulders. “Now, you surely know that they care not for
such—‘tis your sweet countenance and loving nature they crave to be
near. But, they understand how important it is for a young lass to
have pretty things.” She placed a kiss on the crown of Branwenn’s
head. “They did this because they love you, and I ordered the thing
made for you for the same reason. We love you, lass.”

Branwenn’s face crumpled and she threw her
arms around Lady Maclean’s neck, crushing the gown between them.
“My many, many thanks. Lord, how I missed you!” she said
thickly.

Lady Maclean held her for a time. What a
sweet, sensitive lass Bao had raised. He’d done well. “There,
there, dear. Dry your tears, or ‘twill surely make your brothers
believe I beat you!”

Branwenn giggled and
brushed her thumb under her eyes to swipe away the moisture.
Clearly feeling much better now, she drew away from Lady Maclean
and said, “You should have seen how humorless, how pompous all
those Norman’s are, Grandmother! I
loathed
eating in the hall with
them. They all looked down their noses at me—even the old,
doddering goats—as if I were some poor relation or some
such.”