Highland Magic (26 page)

But, his concerns were for naught, and it
actually turned out to be a rather comical, pleasing diversion,
with him feeling his way to getting the thing adjusted in the way
he’d envisioned and her giggling uncontrollably as his fingers
tickled her torso. He’d drawn the hem of the shirt through her
thighs from the back and brought it up to surround her hips before
using the sleeves to encircle her waist, as well as the material,
and then rolling it down a few times to ensure it was snug. And
she’d only tensed a few times in the process. Evidently, him on his
knees, blind, and with his head turned away, gave her the courage
to allow his touch. “There, will that work, do you think?” he asked
her when the complicated process was finally done. He made sure to
keep his eyes tightly shut as he spoke.

“Yes, I think it will. My thanks.” A brief
pause and then: “Will you go stand by the horses again?”

“Yes.” Reys rose from his position and walked
away.

When Alyson emerged a moment later from
behind the shrub, her tunic was only slightly more bulky around the
waist than it had been. And though his hose drooped at her ankles,
they were clean and there was no longer any trace—except, of
course, the stain on the back of the tunic he had yet to tell her
of—that she’d had any mishap with her clothing.

When she was next to him once more, he took
her cloak from the back of the saddle and settled it around her
shoulders. “Wear this until you get into your chamber, all
right?”

She gave him a questioning look and he
sighed. “There is a stain on the back of your tunic as well.”

“Oh, no!” She immediately twisted around to
see the offending mark.

“It’s not very big....”

“Yes, but this belongs to Branwenn! How am I
ever to tell her! Oh, God!”

“Alyson, do you not think that Branwenn has
stained more than a few articles of clothing in this very same way?
She will not be angered, for she will know ‘twas not due to
carelessness on your part.”

Alyson, turned back to Reys, giving up her
quest to see the offending mark, and, her head bowed, nodded
slowly. After a moment she said in a small voice, “Think you she
will give me instruction in this ‘flowering’ thing my body does? I
have no wish to speak to any of the other ladies, for Branwenn is
the one I know best, and she was always so kind to me during our
time at my uncle’s holding.”

Reys’s voice was gentle when he replied,
“Yes, I do. She has a very warm and giving nature, as you well
know.”

“Good.” Then, lifting her eyes to his once
more, she said, “Let us return to the keep then, for I have need of
a bath and fresh clothing.”

Reys settled his young wife on her mount and,
after picking up the bow and arrow, mounted his own horse before
leading them back to the keep.

* * *

What luck! Gaiallard thought as he walked his
mount out of the cover of trees. He’d found them with no need to
question anyone—which, he knew, this close to his quarry, might
raise suspicions and all could be lost.

But, what was all the disrobing and scurrying
behind bushes? He’d thought, when he’d first come upon them and
seen Reys taking off his clothes, that he’d stumbled upon a lover’s
tryst. But when Reys put his tunic back on, he began to wonder. And
then later, when Alyson had come from behind the shrub, it had been
clear the girl had somehow used the shirt Reys had given her, and
his hose as well. Gaiallard shook his head. ‘Twas truly a
puzzle.

He waited a bit longer to begin trailing
them. For now, all he intended doing was a quick study of the area
before finding a place to make camp. He made note of the direction
in which he was traveling, just in case he had to return to the
wood for the night.

* * *

Callum gritted his teeth behind the
counterfeit genial smile he’d had plastered on his countenance
these past long minutes. The morning meal had proved a bit more of
a trial than he’d anticipated, for not only was Branwenn not
speaking to him after his drunken lark the eve before, but she’d
also turned her attention instead to their guest. Robert would be
here until the morrow, when he would be taking his sister’s corpse
back with him to their family’s holding for burial.

Branwenn giggled at
something Robert said to her and Callum nearly leapt from his seat
and pummeled the man to a bloody, oozing, pulp.
‘Leave my lady be!’
he wanted to
shout, but he dared not show such emotion to the man, as that would
surely only egg him further into his already improper dalliance
with
someone else’s
betrothed.

The same betrothed that had all morn spurned
his own attentions. From the first sighting of her in the great
hall earlier, he’d attempted to speak with her, share some gentle
words, learn of her progress in her preparations of the wedding
feast and such. Just the same easy manner of speaking they’d fallen
into these past sennights as they awaited the priest’s availability
to give his blessing. But he’d been summarily cut to the bone with
her sharp tongue then, and each time after, no matter what words
he’d used to appease her anger at him for using hard drink to
assuage his—and Robert’s—grief the night before. Although, he did
admit, parts of him—his roiling stomach and thick head, to name but
two—were at this moment in direct concordance with the spirit, if
not the execution, of her disgust.

But ‘twas the execution she’d been using with
him that had him worried. For ‘twas the same mode of punishment
that Lara had used upon him at every turn when she was displeased
with him—which, Lord knew, had been more oft than not. Was he
doomed now to a life of snubbing and cutting words whenever he
displeased her in some way, instead of gracious forgiveness and
calm discussion?

But even that was not the
worst of it. Nay, ‘twas the clear delight Branwenn was taking in
the attentions she received from Robert that bothered him the most.
It rankled in a way much like, but far more painfully disturbing
than, Lara’s enjoyment—and outright pursuit—of every man’s
regard.
Did
Branwenn suffer from the same need? He’d dismissed it before,
but now, with this new flirtation, the old doubt resurfaced. He
recalled how merry she’d been this
Hogmanay
past as she’d danced around
the bonfire with first one, then another, and then another still of
the young soldiers at the Maclean holding. And, again, there had
also been that young guard several sennights past who’d clearly
wanted her and to whom she’d freely given her kind regard. Mayhap
this was not some passing interest, but a thing he’d be dealing
with for their entire lives together.

Branwenn took a sip of wine from her cup and
flicked her tongue across the drop on her bottom lip.

Callum stiffened, his eyes flying to Robert’s
face. Aye, he’d noticed as well. ‘Twas a clear invitation she’d
just given the man. Would he accept it?

Mayhap ‘twas a good thing that he’d seen this
side of her before they’d said their vows.

* * *

“Do you not think you’ve made poor Callum
suffer enough for his indulgence in ardent spirits last eve?”
Robert said to Branwenn as he spied his friend eyeing them for at
least the thousandth time that morn. “Go speak to him, I beg you,
else I’ll surely be without my scalp in just a moment more.”

Branwenn glanced at Callum before settling
her eye once more on her companion. “Aye, I’ve made him suffer
enough, I trow. But I’ve had some direct, and loathsome, experience
with…well…someone who drank heavily of the hard spirits. And so, I
am not pleased to be wed to a man who uses the stuff to the extent
Callum tends to do, you see.”

Robert’s gaze turned keen. “Your brother Bao?
The one who raised you?”

Branwenn shook her head. “Nay! Never. Bao
drinks not—or at least not very much.”

Robert tipped his head in
Callum’s direction. “He’s not a drunkard, if that is your worry,
lass,” he said. “But, Callum’s spent his life on the Maclean
holding; and that lot do enjoy their
uisge
beatha
, ‘tis a well-known
fact.”

“Aye, but ‘tis a habit I’d like to break him
of—at least by a wee bit.”

“Well, I do believe, that after this morn, he
will think twice before crossing you on that score.”

Branwenn smiled. “I do hope ‘tis so.” She
turned, saying, “I will give him another chance to make amends, I
think. But this time, I shall accept his confession of sorrow.”

* * *

When Lady Maclean and Maggie saw Branwenn
headed in Callum’s direction, they rose from their seats by the
hearth and moved to stand with Chalmers and Daniel a bit further
away. They—all the family—had got in the habit these past sennights
of giving the two lovers a bit of chaperoned privacy whenever they
were all together in the hall.

“Good morn, my love,” Branwenn said brightly
as she settled next to Callum on his bench by the hearth. Silence.
She tipped her head and studied her betrothed’s tightly controlled
mien. His eyes were the color of the storm-tossed Irish sea she’d
nearly drowned in last summer. “Do you not wish to confess your
sorrow to me once more for your bairn-like behavior this night
past? For, I am now ready to accept it.”

“Truly? Well, it seems I am now not of a mood
to give my confession to a devious tart-mouthed siren such as
yourself,” he said for her ears only.

Branwenn chuckled, thinking
him only a bit vexed by her delay in forgiving him.
“
Siren?
Me?” she
said, just as quietly.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Recognizing now that his anger at her ran
deeper than she’d first believed and that laughing was not the best
way to soothe him, Branwenn sobered and began, “Callum—”

“Tell me,” he said harshly, “do you enjoy
dallying with all the men, my love? Stirring their desire for you
to such a degree that they’d give their fighting arm to have you
beneath them, sweating and straining in the age-old rhythm?”

Branwenn’s entire face flushed hot with both
mortification and anger as her gaze darted about the chamber to
make sure no one had heard him. Her molten amethyst eyes narrowed
as well when she settled them upon him once more. “No, I do not,”
she whispered.

Callum’s smile was cold
when he said, not as loudly as before, “Oh, I believe you do,
sweet.” He tipped his head in Robert’s direction. “See you how
avidly the man awaits your return to his side. His eyes have not
left you since you came into the hall this morn. And he told me
this night past that he was set to give you his troth last
Hogmanay
after you
danced so prettily with him ‘round the fire.” He studied Robert
more closely. “Oh, aye, he wants you. Badly.” Turning back to
Branwenn, his eyes shot daggers at her. “Just, I’m sure, as was
your intent.”

“I do not want to wed, nor do I have a desire
for, Robert MacVie! And,”—her eyes followed the same path as her
angry betrothed’s—“he looks not at me, he’s talking to my brother,
Bao, for heaven’s sake.” She turned her gaze upon Callum once more.
“Truly, Callum, what has got into you this morn?”

“And all your seductive
smiles,” he continued his diatribe as if he hadn’t heard her, “your
whispered words, your sweetly trilling laughter, the glide of your
tongue over that lush lower lip of yours,
your gentle touch to his arm
, were
not meant to entice him? Ha! I think you play me for a fool.” He
grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly in his
fist.

“Ouch! You hurt me, loose your grip!”

He ignored her dictate. “I’ve played the
cuckold before, and I won’t do it again. Do you ken me?” He tossed
her hand down onto her lap.

Branwenn rubbed her abused digits, though, in
truth, the pain in her heart was much harsher. She gritted her
teeth against them, but tears still formed in her eyes. “I did not
do this thing you accuse me of,” she said, her voice trembling.
“‘Tis not my nature—I thought you knew that, for I”—she swallowed
down a whimper that threatened to rise up—“was a v-virgin that
first t-time we...” She turned on the bench and put her back to him
as she lightly touched her pinky to her lower lids, hoping that
none of the others in the chamber would notice her breakdown.

He took hold of her upper
arm and forced her to turn back to face him. “Aye, the barrier was
there, but how many others, I wonder, have felt the sultry cavern
of your mouth about their cock? Have felt you spasm against their
tongue? Will Robert—or, mayhap, he already has? Last night?” He
shook her arm slightly. “Do you give to him what you hold back
from
me
? Have you
lit the tapers for him so that he might see what you have yet to
allow me sight of?”

Her brows slammed together. “NAY!” she
hissed. “If this is what you believe of me, then we should not be
wed!” She’d said the words without thinking, acting purely on her
hurt and anger. Turning her back on him once more, she prayed he’d
settle and beg her forgiveness now that that horrible volley had
been thrown. For, no matter what, she knew he wanted to wed
her—hadn’t he nearly begged her for such? But, when, after several
very long, doom-filled seconds, she’d not got the response she’d
been hoping for, her heart began to pound in her chest. This was
followed swiftly by a mad whirring in her ears, until, finally, she
was overtaken by dizziness as she at last gave a nod of
understanding. ‘Twas the thing he’d been set on from the moment
she’d sat down next to him a moment ago. “I believe we must tell
the others forthwith of our broken betrothal,” she said thickly,
“as ‘tis not too late to keep Maryn and Jesslyn from beginning
their journey here.”