There were smiles and compliments from the waiting crowd as she rode past, though Maev could not fail to notice that many of the comments were restrained. A subtle yet strong reminder that most members of the clan thought she was marrying far above her station and would have preferred Callum to have selected one of their daughters or sisters or nieces as his bride. Though she had lived among them all her life, Maev knew that many would always view her as an outsider.
Yet nothing could dampen her joy on this magical day. The emotions shivered in her chest and weakened her knees when she first caught sight of her groom. Their eyes met and Callum smiled broadly, a smile so genuine and happy that Maev felt as if someone had gripped her lungs and squeezed.
He was such a handsome man—and he was all hers! His dark thick hair had been combed to some measure of order, though it was worn far longer than any other and his clean-shaven jaw was square and determined. There was a large silver broach studded with precious jewels pinned to the plaid on his shoulder, and the bare legs beneath his kilt were lean and strong.
She dipped her chin, feeling a sudden burst of shyness, and when she raised her head, Callum's eyes sparkled back at her, filled with love. The last of her nuptial nerves vanished in an instant, and Maev knew that more than anything else in the world, she wanted to see that expression every day of her life.
In keeping with the old tradition, the bridal couple stood outside the church, so all could witness the exchange of vows. The gentle breeze set the women's brightly colored veils to fluttering, the cool air providing a welcome relief among the tightly packed crowd.
"Is there anyone here who can give reason why these vows should not be taken?" the priest demanded.
Maev held her breath and listened to the rustling of the people clustered behind her as the clan members shifted on their feet and looked toward one another. She was painfully aware of the small jealousies among some of the women toward her, especially since she was marrying the future laird.
Maev let out her breath when the priest gave a nod of satisfaction, relieved that no one would publicly voice any objection. She turned her head and kept her gaze steadily on Callum, drawing strength from his strong and steady demeanor.
"Join hands," the priest commanded.
Maev willingly complied, marveling anew at how the hands of a man who wielded a broadsword with such deadly ease possessed such a gentle touch. She repeated her vows in a loud voice, wanting everyone to hear. The ring of gold Callum placed on her finger felt warm and comforting, tangible proof of the bond they now shared.
"What God has united in holy matrimony, let no man dissolve. You may seal yer pledge with the kiss of peace."
Maev raised her face expectantly. Callum, it appeared, needed no further encouragement. He swept her into his arms and captured her lips in a searing kiss that sent her heart fluttering.
At his action, a mighty roar of approval went up from the men, echoing through the courtyard. A few of the women let out small sighs. Now that all had borne witness to the couple exchanging vows in the open courtyard, the crowd pressed forward into the church to celebrate mass.
When that ended, the couple received a final blessing and then the real celebration started. The great hall was soon filled to near bursting as everyone indulged in the elaborate wedding feast.
The best hunters of the clan had set out for three days in search of the choicest animals, and the most skilled cooks had turned the meat into countless mouthwatering delights. No expense had been spared in food or drink or decoration for the laird's nephew.
Maev and Callum sat together on a raised dais in the center of the hall, holding hands beneath the table and smiling with unconcealed joy. Course after course of sumptuous food was served, and both the wine and ale flowed freely. When the guests were sated with food and drink, the dancing began.
The bride and groom joined in, and Maev was soon breathless as she was passed from one eager partner to the next. The sound of so many footsteps on the stone floor thundered up into the hall's wooden rafters and mingled with the music and laughter.
As the tune became livelier, Callum tightened his grip on Maev's hand and pulled her from the dance. She stumbled, staggering for several steps until Callum caught her by the upper arms to steady her. Laughing, she braced her hands on his chest and then realized he had maneuvered her into a small room.
She noted briefly that it was the chamber where the castle steward did the accounts, but her interest in her surroundings ended the moment Callum reached up and framed her face with his hands.
"Finally, a moment alone," he declared, bending his head. His mouth teased hers open, and he eagerly thrust his tongue inside. Maev sucked upon it hungrily. He tasted marvelous, like spiced wine and excited male.
Caught in the passion of his kisses, Maev leaned into Callum's hard strength. His lips and tongue stroked and explored her mouth, then he was kissing her neck and biting her earlobe and nipping a path down her sensitive neck to her shoulder.
"Sweet Maev," he whispered. With the back of his hand he stroked possessively across the peak of one breast.
Maev quivered helplessly as her nipples tightened and ached, sensitive even through the layers of fabric. Need for him flooded her, pulsing and demanding.
"Ye are too beautiful," he whispered. "And I love ye too much."
Then he lowered his head and gently bit her nipple through her garments. She gasped and he nibbled at it again, while tweaking the other with his fingers.
"Callum," she cried, arching her back, hugging his dark head against her, her fingers slipping through the thick, silky waves of his hair.
His throat vibrated with deep sounds, and Maev realized she, too, was moaning. The room around them blurred, and all the thoughts in her head were pushed aside by passion and need. Roughly, he lifted her and set her on the edge of the wooden table where the accounts were done. Her senses forgot everything but Callum as he spread her legs and pressed himself against her, ignoring the garments bunched between them.
Maev cried out at the feeling of sinful excitement Did he intend to take her now, while their bridal feast continued just beyond the open door?
Willingly, her arms circled his neck, fitting her even more intimately against him. She felt his hand sliding up her inner thigh, then brushing lightly against her curls. Widening the angle between her thighs, he parted her swollen flesh, exploring until he found the silken pearl that throbbed at his touch.
Maev gasped against his mouth. Every portion of her body came alive. Her blood ran faster, her skin burned hotter. Callum's mouth continued to torment her with deep kisses, his hands inflamed her with slow, sweeping caresses. She tottered on the edge of pure abandon, her will crumbling in ruins about her. It was not the ideal place to lose her virginity, but logic had no place where passion reigned so strongly.
Callum slid his other hand down to pull her skirt up higher, baring the skin of her hips and thighs. The rush of cold air on her heated flesh startled her, and suddenly Maev froze as she felt a cold sense of horror invade her soul. She imagined the raised brows and snide whispers if she could not produce a wedding sheet tomorrow morning stained with her virgin's blood, proof of her honor and worthiness to wed the future laird.
With a cry of regret, Maev pulled away. Pangs of apprehension went through her stomach. She looked into her beloved's eyes, their faces so close that their noses were nearly touching.
"Can we not wait until we have more time to pleasure each other? Please, Callum, I dinna want this first encounter to be so hasty."
"I burn for ye, Maev," Callum declared. His breathing was harsh, his face looked pained. "I fear our first time together will be over very quickly, at least for me." He let out a grim smirk. "But I shall not force ye."
Maev groaned. "Och, Callum, 'tis as much a sacrifice for me as it is for ye." She kissed him hard, trying to convey her own sense of passion and physical need. "I burn for ye as well."
He took her hand and placed it at the
junction of his thighs. "This is what ye do to me," he said in a husky voice as he rubbed her fingers against the hard length of his fully aroused penis.
Turning her hand, Maev let her fingertips graze along the length, lingering at the velvety tip. A few drops of moisture escaped and she gently massaged them into his skin. Then she reached lower and toyed briefly with his heavy balls. "Do ye want me to… to bring ye some relief?" Maev whispered, remembering the night she had closed her fingers around his warm, pulsing flesh and had stroked and pulled, quickening the pace until his jaw clenched and his entire body tightened and his warm seed had spurted.
Her fingers moved faster as she recalled the intimate act and the pleasure it had brought both of them.
Callum audibly sucked in air. He groaned loudly as his penis flexed inside the sheath of her fingers. Then he gritted his teeth and pushed her hand away. "No." He took a deep breath. "Yer hand willna satisfy me today. I want to thrust myself deep inside ye, where it's hot and tight. I want to take my time teasing and tasting every inch of yer lovely body." His voice was a little slurred, as if he was drunk on passion.
Maev's lips curved in a wobbly smile. Never had she loved him more than in that moment She reached up and smoothed the hair back from his forehead. "If we rush the rest of the toasts and cut off the speeches before they get too long, we can be alone in our bedchamber within the hour."
Callum's handsome face broke into a wide, mischievous grin. "I always knew ye were a clever lass, Maev McGinnis." He pulled her close and kissed her, then gripped her hips between his hands and set her on her feet. They fussed with each other for a few moments, making sure their garments were back in place.
Then laughing like a pair of naughty children, they entered the hall and rejoined the celebration.
Callum sighed with satisfaction as his gaze raked over the naked body of his bride. She was extraordinary. Illuminated in the candlelight, her body was a thing of great and rare beauty. Every inch of it. The nape of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the line of her shoulders.
Her breasts were small but perfectly formed, the nipples a dark rose. Her waist was narrow, her hips curved with womanly roundness, and the golden curls between her thighs looked soft and delicate.
No woman should ever be so tempting. He had waited nearly a year to claim her, and now, aroused by the sight of her pale, pink flesh, his heart pounded in anticipation of finally achieving what he had craved for so long.
She was staring at him with an intensity he had only dreamed of, eliciting a powerful need in him to satisfy her in every possible way.
"Are ye frightened?" Callum asked. "I've heard it can be painful for a lass her first time."
"I'm not afraid. Mother told me the pain is sharp, yet brief." Her face broke into a shy smile. "I love ye, Callum. There is nothing I would not do to please ye."
She took a few steps closer. He could feel the warmth of her body, smell the flowery scent of her lovely skin. Her glorious hair surrounded her body like a silken veil of spun gold, and he could barely contain his need to run his hands through it.
Nothing could spoil this incredible moment.
Yet as he approached his bride, a shiver of unease passed through Callum's body. Something was wrong. Battle instincts honed through years of rough warfare made him turn in alarm.
The door was barred shut from the inside, just as he had left it, but there was a movement in the far corner of the room, a shadowy figure of evil. The hair on Callum's nape started to prickle. Naked and defenseless, he lunged toward his sword, which had been left near the bedchamber's doorway.
As he rushed toward it, he heard Maev's scream of fright and agony. God Almighty! Heart pounding with fear, he grabbed his sword with both hands, turned, raised it high above his head, and charged straight ahead, a mighty battle cry upon his lips. He could not clearly see his enemy, but he knew the enemy was there, threatening all that he valued, all that he loved.
Callum's feet came off the ground as he connected with the unseen warrior. Dimly he could hear Maev's screams continue. Callum felt numb. He fought with courage and strength, striking out fiercely, yet this time his efforts yielded no victory. As he struggled to get closer to Maev, Callum felt a crushing blow at the back of his head. A light of sharp pain exploded in his brain, then total darkness descended upon him.
"They have been shut up in that bedchamber for nearly two days," Brenda said, her brow furrowing as she glanced at the strong wooden door. "I dinna care how loving a couple they might be, 'tis unnatural to go so long without food or drink. Ye must demand that they open the door. At once. I want to see my daughter."
The laird of the McGinnises raised his brow and gave her a masculine snicker. "Maybe she disna want to see ye."
"Then she can tell me to go away," Brenda retorted. Drawing herself to her full height, which was little more than five feet, she signaled to the female servants waiting in the hallway.
The pair hurried forward, and after a quelling glance from Brenda, the laird moved aside and allowed them to pass. Arms ladened with trays of food and drink, they stood at a respectful distance behind Brenda.
The older woman raised her arm and knocked, and when there was no response, she called out, "Maev, 'tis yer mother. I've brought ye and Callum some lovely refreshments. Open the door so we can deliver yer meal before it gets cold."
The silence continued. Brenda tried again, this time offering to have the tub fetched so the couple could have a nice warm bath.
"They might be sleeping," one of the servants volunteered.
"Or just plain exhausted," the other chimed in, and both women giggled.
"Aye," the laird agreed. "Just leave the trays in the hall. When they have a need, they'll come looking for the food."
It was a logical suggestion, but a nagging sense of unease began to grip Brenda. Perhaps it was the worry of a protective mother, but it suddenly became vitally important to see and speak with Maev.
She lifted the door latch, but was unable to budge the heavy wooden door. "'Tis barred from the other side," Brenda said. Her pulse raced and her heart started pounding with fear. Turning toward the laird, she asked, "Can ye open it?"
Irritation flashed through the laird's eyes, then he expelled a resigned sigh. "Dinna expect me to protect you from my nephew's wrath," he warned as he braced his shoulder and rammed it against the wood. "Most men want to be alone with their brides, and Callum is no exception."
It took several attempts before the door broke free. It slammed open noisily, assuring that if the couple had been asleep, they would certainly be awake now.
The moment the way was clear, Brenda pushed past the laird and entered the bedchamber. But she could scarcely credit her eyes with the sight that greeted her.
"Mother of God!"
Callum lay sprawled on the floor, his left cheek pressed against the cold stone. Maev was on her back on the bed, her head twisted at an odd angle. Both were naked, their flesh an unhealthy, pasty white color. Beneath each of them was a large, dark pool of dried liquid.
Blood. Oh, dear God, she had never seen so much blood. The scent of it seemed to surround her. A horrible, coppery taste coated Brenda's tongue. Sobbing and crying Maev's name, Brenda ran to her daughter's side. She lifted her limp body into her arms, trying to ignore the smears of deep crimson on the white bed linens.
Behind her, Brenda could hear the laird's shouts of surprise and grief. There were footsteps and yelling, screams of anguish and horror.
"He's dead."
"My God, who could have done this?"
"We must search the castle grounds at once. Whoever is responsible for this carnage will be caught and punished."
Brenda cradled Maev's head in her lap. She smoothed back a few strands of her daughter's hair, revealing a pale cheek streaked with dry blood. Maev's body was cold, yet still pliable. Brenda continued to stroke her face and hair, a gesture that had always comforted Maev as a child.
Suddenly, she felt the faint puls
e of life at Maev's neck. Tears streamed down her face as Brenda's heart soared with hope. Pressing her ear close to the spot, she waited and listened. The beat was so weak she could barely hear it. But it was there. Feeble and sporadic, with long moments of somber silence between each thump.
"She lives!" Brenda hugged Maev's limp shoulders as her lips moved in an anxious prayer of thanks.
In all the commotion, no one heard Brenda's exclamation. Except for Maev. Miraculously, her eyes opened. She gazed in solemn confusion at her mother for several long moments.
"Callum?" she whispered weakly.
Brenda slowly shook her head. "He's with the Lord."
Maev's face contorted with pain. Her eyes seemed to lose focus and then her lashes fluttered closed.
It was a tragic day for the Clan McGinnis. Those who had so recently gathered to celebrate Callum's nuptial joy now huddled together at his grave and offered prayers for his soul. Maev, her body and spirit broken, her mind unhinged, did not attend the funeral mass or the burial. Brenda remained by her daughter's bedside, trying to offer healing and comfort.
"Please, love, ye must try and swallow a wee bit of the broth I made for ye," Brenda pleaded. "Nothing has past yer lips for days."
Maev turned and gave Brenda a blank stare. Her sunken cheeks were nearly the same white color as the linen on the pillowcase where her head lay. Callum, God rest his soul, was dead, but the life had been taken from Maev also, and the mystery surrounding the fatal attack was a heavy burden for all of them.
The castle grounds and village had been thoroughly searched, but no intruders had been found. The door had been barred from the inside; the height of the bedchamber and sheer drop to the ground outside the chamber's window made it difficult to believe someone had escaped so easily.
So how had the killer gotten out of the room?
There were no large stab wounds on either Maev or Callum, which made the presence of so much blood another mystery. The laird had questioned Maev endlessly, yet she had no answers, repeating constantly that she had seen nothing, remembered nothing.
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