Highland Magic (21 page)

“
Aieee!
Caaaluuummm!
Stop! That tickles!” But she was laughing
uncontrollably now, trying valiantly to push his hands away and
twisting from side to side.

His own laughter had a bit of evil pleasure
running through it.

After another moment of this, he at last had
mercy on her and stopped. Still settled astraddle her, resting on
his knees, he said at last, “Nay, my love, I’ve had no one but you
for nearly two years. Well, except for the one night of my wedding
to Lara.”

Branwenn’s eyes grew round. Callum? Callum,
the most gorgeous human male she’d ever laid eyes on? Callum, who
could charm the gown off of any woman—lass or lady—with that silver
tongue of his, had not been with a woman for that long?

“Truly?”

He chuckled. She was
clearly amazed. Hell,
he
was amazed he’d gone so long. But gazing upon the
end result of all those moons of abstention, he realized, ‘twas
worth every moment. And he’d do it again, if she were waiting for
him at the end of it. “Aye,” he finally said, “truly.”

* * *

“Well, ‘tis clear that we were right to
inveigle that handsome guard to give his attention to Branwenn
these past eves,” Grandmother Maclean said to Maggie and Isobail
the next day. “For, I’m sure ‘tis what sparked my grandson to at
last speak his heart to our lass.”

Isobail grinned. “Aye, but ‘tis also clear
that Branwenn would get those words from him regardless—she was
quite set on giving him a love potion!”

“Aye, but naught, even a love potion, I trow,
could have brought forth those words from my son lest there was a
good amount of feeling behind them in the first place,” Maggie
said.

The door to the solar swung
open and Branwenn stepped inside. “Good morn, ladies,” she said.
Then, to Lady Maclean: “Will you give me some assistance with the
priest? He is insisting that we wait until after
Samhainn
to speak our
vows, as he must oversee and collect his parish’s tithes to the
church from this year’s harvest until that time. Must we wait so
long?”

“But, lass, that gives us less than a moon to
put your trousseau together and plan the feast! I’ll not rush the
priest, for we, ourselves, need at least that long to plan the
wedding.”

Branwenn’s shoulders slumped. “But,
Grandmother...” Then, seeing the light of determination in the
older woman’s eyes, she said, “Oh, very well.” She turned to
Maggie. “Will you at least speak to your son and explain this to
him? For, I cannot bear to give him these bad tidings. He was so
determined that we would be wed within the sennight this day
past.”

“Aye, lass, fret no more about it, for I know
just the thing that will turn his mind to other pursuits.” She
turned to Lady Maclean and said, “Mother, let us host a tournament!
‘Tis been so long since we’ve done such and Chalmers has said his
warriors are growing fractious with the onset of winter coming on.
This will surely settle them.”

Lady Maclean grinned. “Perfect. ‘Tis the
perfect solution. And I’m sure Daniel and Bao will be pleased for
the diversion as well.”

“But will it not take just as long to prepare
for a tournament?” Branwenn asked, bemused.

“Aye, it will,” Isobail
chimed in, having caught the gist of the lady’s reasoning. “But,
the tournament will require that the men
train
quite vigorously. Long hours,
in fact.” She turned to Maggie, “Am I not right, my
lady?”

Maggie nodded and there was a definite
sparkle in her eye. “Aye, which will give my son little, if any
time, to storm about muttering over the delay in the wedding.”

“But what if Callum gets killed! “Nay! ‘Tis a
very bad plan, I trow,” Branwenn said with a shake of her head.

Lady Maclean looked at her with kindness.
“Branwenn, my dear, what Maggie and I speak of is a test of skill
on the jousting lists, not a melee. ‘Twill be no more likelihood of
death than there is each day when Callum trains.”

* * *

Little did Gaiallard de Montfort know, as he
stepped off the sea vessel onto the craggy shore of Arren that
mid-October morn, that he was setting foot at almost the exact
location his wayward betrothed had stepped close to three moons
prior.

He’d come on this initial search mission
alone. He was not far behind Branwenn’s brother Reys, whom he’d
been tracking since the man departed with his new bride a fortnight
past, and whom he assumed had direct knowledge of where the chit
was staying. He had every intention of bringing her back with him
and completing the ceremony that would make her legally his bride,
giving him the demesne he’d been promised.

When he’d awakened the morn of the wedding
and been hastened to meet with his uncle, he’d believed ‘twas
merely the formality of signing over the land that had prompted the
early morning summons. But, when he’d been given the news that the
girl had fled in the night—to no one knew where—and that Reys, her
brother had stepped in to fulfill the contract by wedding Alyson,
Gaiallard had been filled with a sense of relief. Now, he’d
thought, he would at last be able to pursue the lady Caroline, as
he’d wanted to do from the beginning. And that lady would surely
not reject his troth now that he would be in possession of the
lucrative demesne. There would also be the added benefit of getting
his sister off his hands, for the thrill he’d received the past
times he’d played his little game with her had palled, as she was
no longer quite the untutored youngling that she’d been when he’d
begun teaching her how to pleasure a man.

But his initial elation was dashed into
dismal dust in the next moments when his Uncle told him that the
demesne would now go to his arch rival, Guy de Burgh. Over the last
year, Guy had won the day at every tournament the two had entered,
bringing much praise and coin to both himself, and his liege lord,
Guillaume le Maréchal.

But, he would deal with that thorny matter
later. First, he must at least fulfill the original contract, as
signed, then he would petition the court for rights to the land
he’d been promised.

“Ho! Fisherman!” he called out to an old man
just taking his boat out for the day.

The man turned and nodded a greeting.

Gaiallard jogged up to him and said, “A few
moons past, was there a lass—he intentionally used the vernacular
of the region—who washed up on shore? A shipwreck survivor,
mayhap?”

The man’s brows drew together in thought and
he scratched his rather dirty, quite tangled, gray-haired pate.
After a moment he shook his head. “Nay, ‘twas no’ a lass I sa’, but
a lad of mayhap thorteen summer.”

Gaiallard’s heart began to pound as his blood
rushed. Victory was just within his grasp, he could feel it. “And,
in what direction did the lad go, do you recall?”

The old fisherman shrugged. “I know no’, fer
the lad be gone from m’ hut when I got back fro’ fishin’.”

Damn! A lost trail. And then: “Did a man,
with hair as black as pitch, come through here a few days
past?”

“Aye—he be a fine sor’, too, fer he bought me
whol’ catch and then shared hi’ spirits wi’ me. And he could sing
wi’ the choir of heav’n, too, so sweet wa’ his voice.”

Reys. It had to be, for he
was well known for his songs and his playing of the
crwth
, the lyre-like
instrument he was rarely without. “Do you happen to know in what
direction
he
went?”

“Aye, he crossed on a boat to the High Land
no’ two days past.”

Wonderful! “My thanks, old man,” Gaiallard
said and strode back the way he’d come, back to where the larger
sea craft were docked.

* * *

Alyson nocked her arrow, drew the bow and
took aim. “Like this?” she asked Reys.

Reys, who stood behind his young wife,
studied her stance from that angle and crouched down to see if her
aim was true, then walked to her right side and studied her stance
from that angle as well. “Aye, that’s good. Now, loose the
bowstring and, forget not to keep your aim and follow through until
your right hand is just past your ear.”

His young wife had been so timid with him the
first couple of moons after their wedding, even tho’ Reys had sworn
there would be no pressure from him to bring forth an heir until
she was older. But, one day a few sennights past, he’d decided to
go grouse hunting with bow and arrow and, when she’d shown interest
in the outing, he’d asked her if she would like to join him.
Surprisingly, she’d said she would. That had been the first day of
their newly budding friendship. For, she’d taken to the sport
immediately, ‘tho the bow he’d lent her was too large for her
frame.

It had pleased him so greatly that she had
become easier with him, that he’d done something he’d never done
before: given a lady his promise that he’d not go bow hunting
without her ever again! She was so avid to try her new skills after
her first success—she’d brought back two grouse that first day—that
she’d pleaded with him to take her out to the moors again the next
day. And so had begun over these past sennights, a daily ritual in
which they both roamed the moors in the small hours of the morn,
hunting for grouse, geese, ducks and other wild game for their
dinner.

Of course, since that first day, he’d had
made for her a lovely bow, just her size. ‘Twas the one she now
used to expertly hit the target he’d set up for her.

“Alyson, I do believe you’ve outdone me in
this sport,” he said when he saw that she’d split the arrow down
the center that still reverberated in the target with the next one
she let loose.

She turned and grinned at him, the dimple in
her left cheek now in full view and her grey eyes glowing. “Did you
see that!”

“Yes, ‘twas—”

“Oh, but I must try to do it again!”
Positioning herself in the correct stance once more, she said, a
bit over her shoulder, “Reys, will you please take the arrows out
of the target? I want to start afresh.”

Reys grinned and shook his head as he began
walking that direction. “Do not dare let loose that arrow while I’m
in between you and your sights, my fair young mistress!” he called
over his shoulder.

Alyson giggled. “I shall not, I give you my
oath!”

After several more attempts to replicate her
previous feat with no success, Alyson at last relaxed her stance
and began to put away her gear. “How ever did I do it? How?”

“I know not, for I confess, I was looking
elsewhere when you loosed your arrow.”

With a sigh of resignation, Alyson nodded her
head. “Well, if I did it once, I will not rest until I do it
again.” Lifting her head from her task and turning her gaze to him,
she asked, “When will we reach our destination?”

Reys shrugged and looked off in the direction
they would be traveling come morn. “I believe we should arrive at
the Maclean holding in another day—mayhap two.”

“Will the lady of the keep be vexed that
you’ve brought me with you, that she must place us in different
chambers?”

“Nay, Lady Maryn is a kind woman, very
generous. She shall open her home to us gladly, you shall see.”

“But, will she not find it odd that you and I
do not...share a bed?”

Reys, at that moment, would have given his
right arm to be allowed to fold the poor girl in his arms and
comfort her, but she would not allow the contact. She was still as
skittish as a new colt when faced with the prospect of any physical
contact with him. So, he said instead, “I truly doubt she shall
give such a thought more than a second’s notice, my sweet.”

* * *

Late afternoon, two days later, Reys and
Alyson begged entrance to the Maclean fortress.

But ‘twas not Maryn and Daniel who met them
in the courtyard, ‘twas the lady Jesslyn.

“M’lady,” Reys said warmly, bending low over
her hand and lightly pressing his lips to the back of it. “I was
expecting Laird Daniel and Lady Maryn to greet us; are they away
from home at present?”

Jesslyn smiled. “Nay, sir, I do believe, at
least Maryn is at her home—the MacLaurin holding—at this time. My
husband, Bao, is the new chieftain here, you see.”

“Ah, and where is Bao? Is he on the training
field?”

“Nay, he’s at the MacGregor holding at
present.” Jesslyn turned and extended her arm in the direction of
the entrance. “Will you not come inside? You are in time to partake
of the meal that is about to be served.”

“My thanks, my lady.” He turned slightly
toward Alyson. “Lady Jesslyn, this is my bride, Lady Alyson.”

Alyson dipped her head and did a small
courtesy. “Good day, my lady. I thank you for your kind
hospitality.”

“Good day, Lady Alyson,” Jesslyn said warmly.
“And you are quite welcome.” Turning back toward the keep, she
said, “Now, let us go inside where we may more comfortably settle
and have our repast.”

Alyson walked as closely beside her husband
as she was able without touching him. The lady Jesslyn was surely
the most lovely creature she’d ever seen! Her flaxen brows arched
prettily above eyes the color of the summer sky. She was rather
tall, with a very womanly form—a thing Alyson had hoped to have one
day...until...her brother. She felt her skin crawl and forced her
mind back to her host. Gazing at the graceful way the lady Jesslyn
moved, she tried to emulate it, but couldn’t quite get the rhythm.
And she was kind, as well, Alyson thought. Just as Reys had
promised the other lady would be. A rather disconcerting thought
struck her and she turned her eye to Reys to study his countenance.
Nay, he did not look to be smitten by cupid’s arrow where the lady
was concerned, at least, she didn’t think he did. Still. ‘Twould
not hurt to learn from and emulate the lady, she determined.