“I told ye no’ to do it.” Caleb reached out and patted her on the back. “Do ye ever listen to a thing I say?”
She coughed several times, feeling as if she were going to die. Caleb continued to pat her on the back as he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took another swallow, as if he were the one with something to prove.
“Ahhh,” he said, making a big show out of smacking his lips together. When she stopped coughing, he laid back in the hay, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. His pine marten slinked over to her bag on the ground to inspect it closer. “Lay down,” he told her, with his eyes closed. “The hay is soft and makes a guid bed. There are also probably a lot less bugs in it than the pallet in the tavern.”
“Nay, I need to get back to my faither.” She stood up too quickly and felt dizzy from just one sip of Mountain Magic. “Och,” she said, bending her knees and sitting back down. “Mayhap I’ll stay, but only for a few minutes.”
“It’s yer choice,” said Caleb, looking way too comfortable. “I must say it’s a lot warmer down here in the hay.”
A cool breeze blew in the window, and Bridget shivered, pulling her cloak closer. The broken shutter banged slightly against the wall. She decided to lay down next to him, just to get out of the wind. And when she did, Caleb turned on his side and flung his arm over her.
“What are ye doin’?” she gasped, feeling her heart almost beating out of her chest from being touched by him again.
“Dinna fash yerself, lass. I’m only tryin’ to make ye warmer since I see ye’re shiverin’.”
“Oh,” she said, liking the way his body warmth felt up against her. “All right.”
“So, did yer faither write anythin’ in the Highland Chronicles tonight?” he asked, his breath caressing her earlobe as he spoke, making her body tingle.
“Nay, no’ tonight. He was tired,” she told him, not relaying the information that she hadn’t really had a chance to even think about the book.
“What is the king goin’ to do with the book and all the information?”
“I dinna ken,” she said as he pulled her closer, his entire body now pressed up against hers. “We just record the information, like the king asked us to do.”
“We?” His eyes drifted closed. “What does that mean? I thought yer faither was the one who wrote in the book.”
“He is,” she quickly corrected her statement, cursing to herself for having such a loose tongue. Damn that Mountain Magic. “I mean, my faither records the information, and I only help him collect the facts.”
Caleb chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ve heard what yer faither’s written and I canna say I believe it is all facts. I think the stories have been embellished to make them sound grander than they really are.”
“How can ye say that?” This insulted her. “My faither is writin’ nothin’ but the truth.”
“Is he, now?” Caleb wet his lips with his tongue and settled in, sounding like he was starting to fall asleep.
“Caleb MacKeefe, I dinna like what ye are insinuatin’. We – I mean he – only writes what we see or what we’ve been told. Nothin’, and I repeat nothin’ is falsified in the book. I am appalled that ye would even think so.”
“Whatever ye say,” he answered with a smile, clasping one arm over her and sliding his other arm underneath her as he drifted off to sleep. In a matter of seconds, he started snoring. Just like a man to fall asleep so quickly and when they were talking. Actually, she was glad for this, since she didn’t like the way the conversation was going.
“I need to leave,” she said, but he didn’t answer. She tried to pry his arm off of her, but even in his sleep his hold was tight and protective. Bridget, being a small woman, wasn’t able to release his hold on her. His arms trapped her there, and now she was unable to go.
She sighed, spying the flask of whisky on the ground next to him. Reaching over, she was able to grab it. After taking a sip, she swallowed it down, feeling the liquid bringing her to life and relaxing her all at the same time. Slink rummaged through her travel bag, finally curling up inside it, poking its head out as it went to sleep as well.
“I’ll just stay for a few more minutes,” she said to herself, her eyes drifting closed as her head spun and her muscles relaxed from the Mountain Magic. Then, without meaning to, she fell asleep in the hayloft, wrapped protectively in Caleb MacKeefe’s strong arms.
Chapter 5
Caleb woke the next morning with his arms around Bridget and his pine marten licking his face.
“Och, nay! Get away from me, ye little pest.”
Bridget’s eyes popped open with a start. Caleb stared down into her gaze of confusion.
“What?” she asked, blinking twice, her eyes darting back and forth like a frightened doe as she tried to grasp her surroundings.
“I didna mean ye, love,” he told her, pushing the pine marten away with one hand. “I was talkin’ to Slink.”
“Love?” She bolted up to a sitting position, clutching her cloak around her neck like a lifeline. “W-what happened between us?” she demanded to know.
“Nothin’! I swear.” Caleb sat up, raising his palms upward in a gesture of innocent surrender.
“Then why did ye get me drunk and why are ye now callin’ me love?”
“That’s just the way I talk, lass. And I didna get ye drunk,” he told her. “If ye canna handle yer Mountain Magic, dinna blame it on me.”
Her head turned and she spotted the sunlight streaming in the window. “God’s eyes, it’s mornin’! I’ve been here all night.”
“Aye, we slept wrapped up in each other’s arms.” He was smiling until he felt the sharp sting of her hand across his face.
“Och, bid the devil! What was that for?” Caleb scowled and cradled his cheek.
“That was for ruinin’ my reputation.” She stood up and brushed the hay off her gown.
“What? Nay,” he said, not understanding why she was getting so angry. “I told ye, nothin’ happened between us.” Caleb stood up as well.
“That may be so, but no one else is goin’ to believe it once they find out I spent the night in the barn with the likes of ye!” She stormed over to her travel bag that lay on the hay close by.
“I didna force ye to stay,” he pointed out. “That, ye did on yer own.”
“Well, I was trapped under yer rock-heavy arms and couldna leave and neither could I wake ye since ye were drunk to the world.”
“Rock-heavy? Really?” Caleb touched his bicep, feeling satisfied, and nodded. “Aye, I suppose my muscles are like rocks. Then again, I work out with a sword and lift heavy things every day to keep them that way.”
“So, ye’re no’ goin’ to deny ye were well in yer cups last night?” she asked him, tying the lacing on her bodice tighter.
“I canna deny what I dinna remember.”
“Well, what do ye remember?”
“I remember ye bringin’ me food. And I remember the way the moonlight glistened on yer bonnie, long, red locks, makin’ ye look like a goddess. I also remember the feel of yer silken hair against my hand as I brushed away a loose strand from yer face. And then the way yer shinin’ blue, shy eyes lit up when ye looked at me.”
She was quiet for a second, their gazes interlocked. The hardness of her face softened, and she seemed to like the way he’d described what happened. But then she shook her head and waved her hand through the air. “Stop it!” she said sternly. “Stop sayin’ those things, tryin’ to confuse me. I ken ye really dinna mean them.”
“Och, but I do mean them, lass. When I look at ye with yer hair loose instead of braided, ye dinna seem like a child anymore. Instead, ye’re a bonnie woman in every sense.” His eyes scanned down her body. “I’d be willin’ to bet that underneath those big, baggy clothes are the curves of an enticin’ siren that shouldna be hidden.”
Her face turned red and her eyes lowered. “I have nothin’ further to say to ye. No
w, keep yer mouth closed about me stayin’ here all night.” She spun on her heel and grabbed for her bag. When she picked it up, Slink poked his head out and she screamed and dropped it. Slink ran out and climbed up the railing, disappearing up in the rafters.
“Bridget?” came her father’s voice from down in the stables. “Bridget, is that ye? Where are ye, Daughter?”
“My da!” She grabbed her bag and hurried to the ladder, descending so fast that Caleb was surprised she didn’t fall. When she’d picked up the bag, Caleb saw the Highland Chronicle book fall out and into the hay. He was going to tell her, but remained quiet. He figured she’d be furious if he made his presence known when her father was down below.
“I just came out for a breath of fresh air,” he heard her telling her father as they exited the barn.
Caleb chuckled, picking up the book, realizing that a bottle of ink had fallen out as well. And when Slink came down out of the rafters and wandered over with a quill in his mouth, Caleb shook his head.
“Ye’re stealin’ and hidin’ things again, ye little thief,” he told his pet. “Ye really seem to like that quill. Och, Bridget is goin’ to be furious when she finds out she lost it again.” He took the quill from Slink. “I think we’d better give this as well as the ink and book back to her before there’s hell to pay,” he told the pine marten. “After all, ye ken she’ll blame us for stealin’ it.”
He gathered up the things and was about to descend the ladder when he had a thought. Walking over to the window, he peered out to see Bridget and her father walking back to the tavern. Logan passed them by with his wolf at his side, heading for the barn. “On second thought, I think there is a way of gettin’ into the Highland Chronicles after all.” He chuckled, sitting down with the book on his lap and uncorking the bottle of ink.
“Caleb, are ye in here?” came Logan’s bellow a few minutes later from down in the barn.
“Up here,” Caleb called out, blowing on the ink to dry it on the pages.
Logan appeared at the top of the ladder. “What the hell are ye doin’? We need to get on the road if we’re ever goin’ to make it to Hermitage Castle. As it is, it looks like rain.”
“Just a moment,” he said, blowing on the ink once more.
“That looks like the Highland Chronicles,” said Logan, cocking his head, stepping off the ladder. His shoulder-length blond hair looked mussed, as if he’d just woken up.
“It is,” Caleb answered smugly.
“And ye’re writin’ in it?” His eyes opened wide in surprise. “What is goin’ on here?”
“I deserve to be mentioned in this book just as much as any of ye,” Caleb told him. “And since Bridget refused to get her faither to add me to it, I decided to just do it myself.” He slapped the book closed and stood up grinning from ear to ear.
“Let me see what ye wrote,” said Logan with an outstretched hand.
“No’ now. Ye said we’ve got to get on the road before it rains.” Caleb gathered up his sword and put the quill and ink in his pouch along with his pine marten, holding the book under his arm.
“Ye’re right,” said Logan, gesturing toward the ladder. “Ye first, guid friend.”
“Why thank ye.” When Caleb started to step on to the ladder, Logan snatched the book from under his arm.
“Nay! Give that back.” Caleb grabbed for it but lost his balance and ended up falling from the ladder into a pile of hay on his back far below. The travel bag landed atop him. Slink stuck his head out of the bag and hissed. “Ooooh,” mumbled Caleb, feeling his headache from the effects of last night’s whisky. And now his body also ached from his fall.
Suddenly, Logan started laughing. He poked his head over the top of the ladder, holding the open book in his hands. He read it aloud. “Caleb is perhaps the most heroic and noble of the MacKeefe Clan. He helps lassies in distress with his rock-hard muscles, protectin’ them from the enemy as well as shieldin’ them from the harsh elements of nature. Praises for him and his pine marten are often sung by the bards that travel the lands.” Logan laughed heartily. “What bards? And rock-hard muscles? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever read.”
“It wasna meant to be funny,” grumbled Caleb, getting up and gathering his things. Jack ran into the barn, causing Slink to jump up atop the wall of one the stalls. The pine marten climbed up high so the wolf wouldn’t get him.
“Next, ye’ll be sayin’ ye should be crowned King of Scotland. Mayhap King of England as well.” Logan slammed the book shut and tossed it down to Caleb.
Caleb caught it and shoved it into his bag. “It’s no’ a lie. No’ really,” he grumbled. “After all, Bridget said last night my arms were rock-heavy. And that I kept her warm.”
“Rock-heavy isna the same thing as rock-hard, Caleb. I think yer head is rock-hard for doin’ this. Dinna ye think ye stretched the truth a little, just wantin’ to get mentioned in the Highland Chronicles?” Logan started down the ladder.
“No’ anymore than her faither did while writin’ about all of ye. I swear she convinced him to say all those things because she just wanted ye all to like her.”
“Do I detect a tinge of jealousy in that statement?”
“Nay, no’ at all.”
“Do ye think by writin’ in that book ye’re goin’ to get the lass to like ye?” He let out a puff of air from his mouth and shook his head.
“Well . . . nay.” Caleb looked down to his bag that held the book. “Bridget will probably hate me more than ever once she finds out.”
“I dinna understand,” said Logan. “None of us particularly even like havin’ the chronicler or his daughter around, yet they write guid things about us in that silly book. Ye, on the other hand, have followed the girl around like a lovesick puppy ever since she arrived, and yet she wants naught to do with ye.”
“I guess that’s the way women are,” said Caleb, shrugging, heading over to collect Slink from the top of the stall.
* * *
“What’s the matter, Bridget, did you lose something?” Rhoswen stood at her horse, closing up the travel bag, looking over at Bridget who was readying her horse as well.
“Aye, I seem to have misplaced the Highland Chronicles.” Frantically, she dug through her bag, looking for the book. “The ink and quill are gone as well.”
“Perhaps you left them in the chamber in the tavern where you slept last night,” suggested Rhoswen. “I’ll go back and look for you.”
“Nay, they’re no’ there,” she said, closing up the bag and looking back at the stables.
“Are you sure?” asked Rhoswen, coming to her side.
“I’m sure. I think I might have dropped them in the stables.”
“The stables?” Rhoswen looked at her oddly. “What were you doing in there so early this morning? The stableboy brought all of our horses to the tavern and had them waiting for us.”
“I – I went to find Caleb. To wake him up. I’ll be right back,” she said, taking off at a run. “Please, dinna mention this to my faither,” she called back over her shoulder.
“Dinna mention what to me?” Brigham walked up, and she hadn’t even known he was there. Her thoughts were so focused on the book and the stables that she didn’t hear him coming.
“Da,” she said, trying not to look nervous.
“We’re ready to leave, Bridget. Why are ye goin’ to the stables? Our horses are this way.” He nodded toward the tavern.
Just then, Caleb and Logan walked out of the stables, led by Logan’s wolf. Caleb’s pine martin was perched on his shoulder.
“I’ll meet ye at the horses, Da,” she told him. “I need to talk to Caleb first.”
“About what?” asked her father.
“She probably wants to feel his rock-hard muscles,” said Logan with a chuckle, making Bridget’s mouth drop open.
“Logan, stop it,” Caleb warned him in a low voice. “Why dinna ye and Brigham meet us by the tavern?”
“Come on, Brigham,” said Logan, reaching
out and putting his arm around the man’s shoulders as they walked away. “Mayhap if we’re lucky, we’ll find a bard singing about the way Caleb shelters lassies from the wind and rain.”
The men left, Brigham looking as confused as Bridget felt.
“What is that all about?” asked Bridget, watching the men go.
“It’s nothin’.” Caleb cleared his throat and looked the other way. “What did ye want to talk to me about?”
“I seem to have lost the Highland Chronicles,” she blurted out, feeling fear course through her. “If it gets lost, all our work these past few months will have been for naught. No’ to mention, the king will probably hang my faither. Oh, Caleb, I have to find it.”
“Relax, lassie.” Caleb pulled the book out of his bag and handed it to her. “It fell out of yer bag when ye left in such a hurry. I have the ink and quill as well.”
“Oh, thank ye!” Feeling so happy, she grabbed Caleb by the shoulders and plastered a big kiss right on his mouth. The pine marten, being frightened, shot off his shoulder, and scurried across the ground.
“Caleb, come on,” shouted Logan, already atop his horse. “If we dinna hurry, we might get rained on and then yer arms will get wet shelterin’ the lassies from the harsh elements of nature.”
“What does he mean by that?” asked Bridget, pushing the Highland Chronicles into her bag, followed by the ink and quill.
“Ignore him. He’s just talkin’ nonsense and actin’ like an arse as usual. Slink, come here,” Caleb called out, chasing down his pine marten.
Bridget headed back to her horse, wondering why everyone was acting so odd this morning. She had the impression there was something that she’d missed out on, and somehow, she felt like she was the brunt of the jest.
Chapter 6
They traveled in the rain most of the day, and this didn’t make Bridget happy in the least. They’d stopped once to eat, but Caleb rushed them, seeming to be in a hurry as always. Bridget looked over at her father. He’d been quiet all day, more so than usual. He also had a faraway look in his eyes that told her his symptoms were coming back. If he started talking gibberish or acting odd, she wasn’t sure how she would explain it. Keeping a close eye on him was vital. Lately, he’d been wandering off, and not remembering where he went. She was lucky not to lose him.
Highland Spy: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 4 Page 5
