Highland Magic (13 page)

Lady Maclean patted Branwenn’s hand. “Well,
you are back home now where you belong.” And, if she had anything
to say about it, the lass would be well-wed and carrying Callem’s
babe under her heart long before that Norman swine ever stepped
foot on Highland soil—if that turned out to be his plan. “Now,
let’s get this on you, lass. ‘Twill be a fine foil for those lovely
amethyst stones in the filet Callum gave you.”

Branwenn hadn’t thought of
that. “Aye, ‘twill!” she said, hurrying behind the screen to change
into her new cream-colored chemise with the intertwining carmine
rose-and-purple violet stitched border, the stems of which were the
exact color of Callem’s eyes. She swallowed a sigh. Would he think
her pretty in the new gown? She prayed so. Mayhap, he would even
ask her to dance with him after dinner, when the pipers played. A
thrill of excitement ran up her spine.
Callum.

She hurriedly drew the
chemise over her head and tied the lace at the neckline into a bow.
Hmmm. It certainly was a bit tighter than she was used to. And much
lower than she thought proper, only just covering the rise of her
breasts.
Oh, God, did it hide the ugly
freckle?
Her heart raced as she
frantically inspected the garment and how it covered her. She let
out a sigh of relief. Aye, aye, it did. But, mayhap, the tailor had
been in a hurry and had not cut it properly. She shrugged. It
certainly wasn’t low enough to ruin it for use. Then came the gown.
After settling it over her breasts and hips, she skillfully tied up
the laces on the sides of the garment. This was when true alarm set
in. She peeked around the screen at Lady Maclean. “Grandmother!”
Her voice cracked with disappointment. “The gown doesn’t fit
properly; it’s much too small in the bodice!” The material fit
snugly under and around her bosom, lifting it up a bit and
smoosh
ing the two white
mounds together.

Lady Maclean smiled gently, but inside she
was doing mad cartwheels. “Nay, lass, it fits as ‘twas designed to
do. Is this your first lady’s gown, then?”

Branwenn blushed. “Nay…,” she said, thinking
of the one Gaiallard had given her, which had been one of his
sister’s, and had not fit so well. Mayhap that didn’t count, then?
“Aye, aye...I suppose it is,” she said, still unsure ‘twas properly
fitted. But, recalling the fine ladies at the Earl of Pembroke’s
castle, her mind settled. Aye, there had been much more skin
displayed by them than she was used to seeing. Mayhap, ‘twas truly
the fashion. She shrugged again. “Well...if you think it won’t make
my brothers angry....”

“Why, lass, why ever should it? ‘Twas they
that brought it back here for you after all.” She quickly crossed
her fingers behind her back. ‘Twasn’t that much of a lie, was it?
After all, ‘twas all for a good purpose. A wedding. And soon.

* * *

Branwenn was the first to arrive in the great
hall an hour later—or, she thought she was, until she saw Callum
step from behind the screen to the buttery with a tankard of ale in
his hand.

His eyes did a quick sweep
of her and his brows slammed together. He strode toward her. “Where
did
those
come
from!” he said harshly, his eyes fastened to the bosom ‘twas so
hard to miss.

Branwenn’s hackles
immediately went up. “What do you mean ‘
Where did
those
come from?
’ They”—she was so
furious, she actually
pointed
at them!—“dropped from the sky, of course, and
landed directly on my chest this very afternoon.” A brief pause and
then: “Are you a lackwit?”

Callum’s cheeks burned. “Well, they weren’t
there before...,” he said feebly, realizing how idiotic his words
had been, still were, in fact. His rudeness, his irritability, his
inability to say the right thing, kept surprising him with their
appearance. There was just something about the lass that lifted the
social shackles from his usually glib tongue, making him say every
single thought in its exact tone and wording, at the precise moment
he thought it.

“I bound them, you simpleton. I couldn’t
exactly travel about as a lad with them hanging out for all to see!
And I have been wearing your mother’s larger gowns since coming
here, remember?” She shrugged and gave a quick glance to her
breasts before lifting her eyes once more to Callum’s. “Besides,
‘tis not as if they’re the size of Jesslyn’s.”

A twinkle came into his eye and his gaze
softened, warmed, as it slid over the area in question.
“Well...with your petite frame, believe me...to a man, it looks as
tho’ they are.”

A hot thrill of excitement traveled over her
skin, causing her stomach to quiver as the peaks of her breasts
pebbled under the soft fabric, and that other place, where a man
would someday mate with her, to tighten. “I’ll go change.”

Callum reached out and grabbed hold of her
hand before she could take a step. “Nay, no need. The gown becomes
you—and ‘twas a gift from my grandmother, was it not? Surely, she
would be hurt should you not wear the thing this eve, as she
intended.”

* * *

Callum watched Branwenn
from across the hall. She was now dancing with his stepfather.
She’d danced with every male member of the household, or so it
seemed, at least twice. Lord, how he craved to be near her, to hold
her hand as they danced to the piper’s tune. But, he dared not. For
he knew if he touched her while she wore that gown, he’d do
something very, very, very stupid. Like kiss her in front of
everyone. Or drag her off to his chamber and kiss her even more
deeply before he stripped that red gown from her pale, creamy body
and burrowed his face in those lush breasts he’d had
no idea
had been hiding
all these moons under her clothes. Aye, he’d best keep his
distance.

And then he was struck by a sudden stray
thought. His eyes narrowed and he turned his gaze to his
Grandmother. What, he wondered, was her game?

* * *

Bao and Daniel stood with their grandmother
and their aunt Maggie across the chamber, watching in amusement,
the play of emotions that moved across Callum’s visage as he avidly
watched Branwenn swirling with Laird MacGregor in a dance. “Cupid’s
arrow has definitely hit its mark, would you not agree, Bao?”
Maggie asked.

Daniel answered. “Aye. And not only his
heart, but other parts as well,” he said irritably, noting where
Callum’s eyes were glued.

Bao’s brows slammed together, too, just now
seeing the exact position of Callum’s sights as well.

Lady Maclean patted Daniel’s arm. “Do not be
such a prig, Daniel. Why, how else should he feel? I do want to see
great-grandbabes from this match, after all.”

* * *

Branwenn finished the dance with Laird
MacGregor and, tired of waiting for Callum to ask her, she decided
to ask him for a dance. She walked with clear determination toward
him, a bright smile plastered on her countenance to hide the dire
fear of refusal she felt. Her heart pounding, she stopped before
him and said cheekily, “Daniel told everyone you’re not dancing
because you got kneed in your manly parts on the training field
this afternoon and their swollen. Everyone laughed of course.” If
this didn’t get him out on the floor, he was not the man she
thought him to be—proud and cocky.

Callum ground his teeth together and
swallowed a growl. He was going to kill Daniel. Without saying a
word, he took Branwenn’s arm and led her to the area where the
others were dancing. He could do this. He could. The dance would
only last a few minutes and then he would leave. Because, he truly
could not trust himself to keep his hands from her afterward.
Mayhap, he thought, turning an evil eye on his much-too forthcoming
cousin—he had been kneed, but that was decidedly not why he was not
dancing; he’d been wearing a groin plate, for Christ’s sake—and
decided a little retribution was in order. Mayhap a wrestling
match. And, if he was very thorough, he’d tire himself to the point
where his dreams would not be filled with the lush body of the lass
beside him. Nor, he added, his stomach quivering, that carmine
mouth of hers either.

* * *

After her brothers and
Callum left the great hall, Branwenn made a very big decision.
Tonight, she’d give her virginity to the man she loved. For, if
Gaiallard de Montfort came for her, she may for evermore be forced
to mate with that horrid creature. And once, just once, she wanted
to know what it felt like to make love to someone for whom she
cared deeply—and someone whom she knew—nay, he did not love her,
but—
desired
her.
Aye, he desired her. That much had been made plain to her these
past days. And, for what she had in mind, that would have to be
enough.

* * *

Callum callapsed on his bed, exhausted from
the wrestling matches he had had with both Daniel and Bao after the
feast. He’d been so drenched with sweat when they’d finished that
he’d walked to the small inlet of the sea that was near to the
MacGregor fortress, and taken a bath in its cold depths. Afterward,
he’d swum awhile, slicing through the water in slow strokes to work
out the tension in his muscles. Then he’d taken some of the sleep
tonic Daniel had made for him after Lara’s death. Within moments he
was deeply asleep.

* * *

Branwenn crept into
Callum’s room, tensing at the
snick
the door made as she closed it behind her. She
waited a moment with her palms pressed on the door behind her back
as she leaned against them, in case he awakened and she had to make
a quick exit.

When she only heard the deep cadence of his
breathing as he slumbered, she cautiously began the seemingly long
journey over to his bed. Silently stepping out of her carmine gown
and flower-embroidered chemise—she’d left the filet in her
chamber—she carefully lifted her knee to the mattress. Fearful of
waking him before she was ready, she slowly leaned down onto her
hands and climbed in next to him. She let out the breath she had
been holding once she was settled on her side facing him, grateful
that she’d been able to get in without rocking the mattress very
much.

Breathing in deeply, she took in the
intoxicating smell of him. He smelled of heat and sandalwood—and
man. Her mouth watered as she imagined running her tongue over his
lips, the way he had done to hers that day outside the chapel.

He lay on his back, shockingly nude and
obviously deep in slumber, perfect for her plan. She wished she
could light a candle so she could view him fully, but worried that
he’d be repulsed by the marks on her frame, should he learn of
them. Thankfully, she’d seen enough of what a man looked like
(though she’d never admit as much to her brother!) that day by the
fall two summers past, when she’d watched Bao make love to Jesslyn,
to know how things were done, and Callum’s explaining the process
to her the day in the sea cave had added to her understanding.

Her heart pounding with excitement and
trepidation, she stroked her hand along his broad chest, her palms
tingling with the contact of the crisp hairs that grew there. From
there, she moved her hand to stroke the bulging muscles of his
upper arm. He sighed and mumbled something she could not understand
and then placed his large palm on her bent knee, absently rubbing
his fingers along the crease. She tensed for a moment until she
realized he remained asleep. Good. She didn’t want him to awaken
until she had him where she wanted him.

Deciding she must make haste to do just that,
she stroked her hand down his torso, coddling his already growing
manhood in her hand. Never having seen a man’s sex in its aroused
state before (she’d been too far away from her brother and Jesslyn
to see any actual details, just some flesh colored thing jutting
out from his groin, and Callum had made it vexingly impossible for
her to see him that day in the cave after dousing the flame), she
didn’t know exactly how it worked. Callum’s had already been
‘ready’ the two times she’d been near enough to touch it. Still
amazed at the size of it, a thrill coursed through her when she
felt it become even more large, more hard, more straight, as it
rose up from its nesting place against the sacks below, making her
fingers open wider as it grew. Wanting to feel the whole length
that was barely visible in the darkness, she held him in her fist
and lightly stroked up to the rounded head, using her fingers to
trace the edge and press the tip, learning once more its manly
attributes. A loud moan burst from Callum’s throat at her
exploration, and yet he still did not awaken.

* * *

Callum was having a very erotic dream. He was
lying on a bed of seaweed just inside the mouth of one of the sea
caves on the MacGregor land and Branwenn, dressed as the beautiful
black-haired water nymph, was treating him to another of her very
sensual massages. She seemed to know exactly the place on the head
of his cock that would send a tremor of pleasure rocking through
him if she manipulated it and she did it several times in a row
drawing a moan from his lips. “Sweet nymph, I ache to feel your
mouth on me.”

* * *

Branwenn shot a glance at Callum’s face,
thinking he’d wakened and would allow this intimacy with her. But
no, he still slumbered. She smiled ruefully. He was dreaming. Good.
But, wanting to please him, she opened her mouth and took him in,
sliding her tongue around the head and stroking it along its
length. The urge to suckle came over her, and she recalled that
he’d asked her to do just that the last time. So, she answered the
urge, surprised and pleased when he groaned and placed his hands on
her head showing her the up-and-down motion he desired from her.
She tasted the musky flavor of his seed and knew from their
previous encounter how close he was to completion, that she might
have gone a bit too far. Not wanting this finished before she’d
done what she’d come here to do, she took her mouth from him.