Highland Magic (17 page)

Branwenn wanted to squirm on the stool she
was settled upon before the hearth that night in the great hall.
Her heart felt as if Callum had taken it into his large,
long-fingered, warrior hands and wrung it as tight as he could,
over and over again.

And he hadn’t even noticed
her new gown! ‘Twas similar to the crimson one, but of a different
color. ‘Twas purple—like her eyes, Grandmother Maclean had told
her. And the saffron colored chemise that rose above its neckline
was lovely as well, tho’ it did not have the delicate embroidery
around the edges, as the other did. She’d hoped she’d gain a much
more pleasing reaction from Callum with this gown, than she had
with the last, even tho’ she still felt awkward in such finery.
But, nay, his eyes had rarely strayed from their lovely
guest,
Isobail
.
The two had known each other for years, she’d just learned. But how
well?
Had they been lovers?
And, more importantly, now that Isobail was
staying with them,
would they be so
again
?

That question had been tormenting her for
long minutes now as she watched the couple closely. She blinked
away the sudden dew that came into her eyes—for at least the
thousandth time that eve—and swallowed hard, holding her breath to
keep the whimper from sounding that kept rising up in her throat
every time she turned her eye in the direction where Callum and
Isobail now stood.

Their heads were so close together as they
shared some jest or another that Branwenn was certain Callum could
brush his lips across her brow with no one noticing. For, ‘twas a
thing he’d done to her as they stood in just that manner only last
eve.

* * *

Callum’s eyes strayed once more to Branwenn.
Lord, but how he wished this night would be over, so he could meet
her, as they’d planned, in her bedchamber. And, by the gloom-filled
look on her countenance, ‘twas no doubt, she was of the same mind.
But, they must stay the prescribed time with the family after the
meal, else eyebrows would certainly lift. And the last thing he
wanted for Branwenn—or himself, for that matter—was rumor and
scandal surrounding their reasons for wedding.

She lifted her hand to her hair and brushed a
bit of the cropped, shiny black mass away from her face. Those
small, silky-soft hands. Lovely. And, God! What they did to him.
Their time together just kept getting better and better. He’d never
known that making love—for that was what ‘twas for him, he was sure
now, not simply a pleasurable diversion, as it had been since the
first time he’d bedded a woman lo’ these many years past—could
affect him so deeply. Make him crave not only the physical
closeness of her, but the spiritual as well. She just filled him
with so much joy. More joy than he’d ever felt and, certainly, more
joy than he’d felt since the utter loss of pride he’d endured after
losing the Maclean lairdship almost two years past.

But...did she love him? He knew not for sure.
Some days he had no doubt of it, but others...he wondered if he was
mistaken. And the not knowing was killing him. But, why else would
she have given him her virtue? No matter how unusually she’d been
raised, he knew that Bao had instilled in her an understanding of
how disappointed—even angry—he would be should she not remain
innocent until she was wed—and he knew how much she craved to
please her brother, do as Bao bade.

Callum scrubbed a finger
over his brow. But then, if she did love him,
why
would she not wed him? Aye,
there was the rub. ‘Twas enough to drive him mad!

And, ‘twas the reason he’d not revealed how
deeply his own feelings for her went. For, what if she did not love
him yet? What if, as he hoped, his carnal wooing of her was
softening her heart to him, but the confession of his love
frightened her away? As it had Maryn.

Branwenn resettled on her stool and his eyes
traveled, for at least the thousandth time that eve, to the creamy
rise of her bosom above the neckline of her gown. His mouth
watered. Godamercy! That gown! It scooped down so low over her
breasts, he was sure, ‘twould take only the merest tug on his part
to release them from their anchoring. And the color of it. Crushed
violets. Just the same hue as her eyes when he was deep inside her,
when she was spinning through the heavens on the shooting star of
his passion. He’d wanted to rip the gown from that wee gorgeous
frame of hers and take her right here, where they stood, from the
moment she entered the great hall earlier.

A hand squeezed his arm, bringing him out of
his impure musings. He turned to his companion. “Aye?” His voice
was craggy.

“So, ‘tis like that, is it?” Isobail said, a
teasing smile bringing the dimple in her cheek into full
prominence.

Callum grinned sheepishly. “Aye. ‘Tis like
that.”

* * *

A shadow crossed Branwenn’s vision directly
before she felt someone settle beside her on the next stool. A big,
beefy, calloused hand took hold of one of hers that lay in her lap
and she turned to its source. Daniel.

“What ails you, sis? Feel you not well this
eve?”

She forced a cheerful smile—or, at least, she
prayed ‘twas cheerful—and replied, “Nay, I feel quite well. Worry
not.”

“You’ve not been yourself all eve. You’ve
said no more than a few words since you came into the hall two
hours past. Something is wrong. What is it?”

‘Twas hard to keep looking
at Daniel, he reminded her so much of Callum. Well, Callum’s face
was much more beautiful. And, tho’ Callum was a very muscular, tall
man, Daniel and Bao stood a few inches taller than him, and their
muscles would be better described as massive. But Daniel’s coloring
was nearly the same as Callum’s. Same auburn hair, same—well
almost
the same green
eyes. Daniel’s were a bit bluer, more of a sea green than an
emerald green. She dropped her gaze to their intertwined hands. “I
fear Callum has found another lady to admire,” she said in a small
voice, almost a whisper.

Daniel laughed.

Branwenn stiffened, but then her face and her
shoulders crumpled as tears welled in her eyes. “You find it
amusing that he’s bro-o-ken my heart?” She bounded to her feet and
headed with as long and dignified a stride as she could manage,
straight for the door. Her watery sight was set on the entrance and
never wavered. She prayed Callum was too far away and too involved
with his lady-love to notice.

Daniel was so stunned by what had just
happened that it took him a minute to follow her. She was almost to
her chamber door when he caught up to her. “Branwenn!” he called
out.

She turned and looked at him. She hesitated,
but only for an instant, and then she turned the handle to her
door.

Daniel grabbed hold of her wrist, stopping
her forward stride into the chamber. “Wait! Let me explain!” he
said urgently. “I laughed not—and why you would believe I was
capable of such a cruelty, I truly would like to know—because your
heart was broken. I laughed because the thought of Callum wooing
any lady but you is utter nonsense.” His sister stood so still, her
head bowed, her demeanor much too quiet, that he knew she was in a
great deal of anguish.

Daniel pushed the bangs away from Branwenn’s
brow so that he could see her face more clearly. “He loves you,” he
said softly, “cannot you see that?” She shrugged and shook her
head. Tears still leaked from the corners of her eyes, but she did
not swipe at them. “Branwenn, the man has asked you to wed him, how
many times now?”

Branwenn opened her mouth to speak, but
Daniel put his fingers over her lips. “Nay, do not tell me, for
that will also be the number of times I should have kept you from
being seduced by that silver-tongued demon.”

“If he loves me,” she said thickly, “why does
he not tell me so?”

“Because he is a lackwit.
Truly, I do not see what is so wonderful about
Callum MacGregor
. ‘Tis all I’ve
heard lo’ these many moons since first hearing his name, that he
could charm the gown off of the Virgin Mary. Truly, I believe I’ve
had my fill of such talk.”

Branwenn giggled. Was Daniel jealous of
Callum’s ability with the ladies? Then, she remembered. Nay, ‘twas
that Callum had threatened a clan war, he’d wanted so badly to wed
Maryn, Daniel’s wife. Of course, that was before Daniel had wed
her.

Daniel relaxed.
Thank God!
He grinned.
“What find you so humorous, may I ask?”

She gave him a little slap on the arm. “You,
silly.”

* * *

Callum waited only a few more minutes after
seeing Branwenn, followed by Daniel, leave the hall before bidding
his good-nights as well.

He would have loved to go directly to
Branwenn’s chamber, but another, smaller, just as precious, love
called him to her first. His daughter. He must see Laire’s sweet
face and spend a few minutes with her at this, what had become,
their special quiet time together.

* * *

Daniel hadn’t been gone from Branwenn’s
chamber more than a half-hour when a soft rap came on the door.

She knew who it was. Callum. But he’d not
gain entrance this night—nor any other, for that matter. She’d not
share her body with a man whose eye could wander so quickly and
disloyally to another.

Callum looked both ways
down the passage. No one about. Good. “Branwenn?” he said in a low
voice into the crack between the door and its jamb. “Open the door,
my wee
fey Mai
,
so I can finish mapping the hills and dales of your sweet form with
my tongue and teeth.” He scratched the wood lightly with his
fingernail. “Open for me, sweet. We were just north of the delta of
your desire last eve when we quit, and I’m parched. I’ve a craving
for a long draught from it. Quench my thirst, fair one.”

He’d been amused—and thrilled—when he’d seen
her hurrying from the great hall earlier. Clearly, she was as avid
as he to end their eve with the family and begin their eve with
each other.

On the other side of the door, Branwenn bit
down hard on her knuckle as she stood, not two paces from the
wooden portal, to keep from giving him leave to enter.

“Braaan-wennnn,” Callum said softly,
pleadingly.

She threw back her shoulders and took a deep
breath. He would not go away on his own, ‘twas clear. So, she must
do the thing she dreaded. Tell him ‘nay’.

In two strides, she was at the door. Opening
it a crack, she peeked out and said, “Go away.”

“Have you been crying?” he asked in alarm.
“Are you ill?” He tried to push the door open in order to enter but
she pressed herself into it, not allowing the motion.

“Nay, I’m well. But you must leave, for ‘tis
clear to me now we should not continue meeting as we have
been.”

Callum’s heart began a mad thumping in his
chest. “Why? Has there been talk about us?”

“Nay, but ‘tis clear you are keen for the
lady Isobail, and I have no wish to be with a man whose eye can be
turned so quickly to another.”

“
Isobail?!
But I have no desire for
that lady!” Callum knew ‘twas not the time—if ever there would
be—to give her the truth of his past relationship with David’s
mother. “We are only old acquaintances—she is the older sister of
my friend Robert MacVie—remember you him? He lends his skill as
knight to the Maclean clan?”

“And this is why you stood so close to her
this eve? Why you spoke not more than three words to me? Why the
two of you had your heads together in privy conversation, off in
the corner of the hall?”

Callum’s mouth set in a grim line. He could
not reveal the topic of the conversation, for ‘twas Isobail’s to
reveal, not his. Her dire sickness had taken him by surprise, and
saddened him greatly. He wanted only to aid her these next
sennights—or, hopefully, moons—as she struggled to get her affairs
in order. “‘Twas not as you believe, Branwenn. Not at all. I swear
this to you.”

“Oh? Then, of what did the
two of you speak? Surely, if ‘twasn’t lover’s talk, then it can be
openly shared with me—your
current
lover.”

Callum sighed and scrubbed his hand through
his hair. “I wish I could reveal it—I do. But...’tis personal;
something that she told me in confidence, and I have not the right
to reveal it to anyone without her permission.”

So, Branwenn thought, ‘twas just as she’d
suspected. He was the lowest, silver-tongued, liar of a cur dog,
the vilest breaker of hearts, the last man on earth she should have
ever trusted with her love—or given her maidenhead to. “Fine.”

Somehow, in the last hours, the tide had
turned for her, and she could not—would not—share her bed or her
body with this man she loved so desperately, not again. Not, that
was, unless he somehow—at last—gave to her the words she craved to
hear above all others. And ignored—and mayhap, was even rude to—the
lovely Isobail, as well, of course. “This has been a mistake—my
mistake—and I’ve decided I shall not commit it any longer. Go back
to your chamber, Callum, for you’ll not gain entry here this
night—nor ever again.” With that, she shut the door and threw the
bar across it to lock it.

Callum stood there stunned a moment, his
hands fisted at his sides and his breathing harsh. He could not
yell, or bang on the door, or—hell—break the damn thing down, as he
would have loved to do at that moment. Nay, ‘twould cause the scene
he’d so carefully been avoiding these past days.

After another moment, he at last turned and,
not so gently, strode down the passage and down the winding stair,
to the corridor that led to his own chamber door.