“Caleb,” said King Robert. “Approach the dais.” The king waved his hand and his guards backed away as Caleb climbed the stairs.
“Did ye see who did it?” asked the king in a low voice.
“I canna be sure,” said Caleb. “I have some suspicions but I need time to gather evidence. I canna do that unless I have time in between rounds. Competin’ in the competition is provin’ to be distractin’.”
“Ye did fine out there,” said the king proudly. “Ye are livin’ up to the stories I read about ye in the Highland Chronicles.”
“Thank ye, Yer Majesty,” said Caleb with a bow.
“Mayhap we should halt all further rounds until the morrow,” suggested Storm.
“Aye, I think that would be in order.” The king stood up and held his hand in the air. “The hammer throw will take place first thing in the mornin’ instead of tonight,” announced the king, getting mixed emotions from the crowd. “In the meantime, ye are all invited to stay and feast on fine food and drink plenty of the famous Mountain Magic, compliments of the MacKeefes,” he said with an outstretched arm to Storm.
“What?” asked Storm in surprise, his body snapping around so fast that his foot fell off the stool and he winced and cried out. “Sire, there are a lot of people here, and to feed them all will be an expense I’m no’ sure I can afford.”
“Och, MacKeefe, quit yer complainin’,” mumbled the king. “I’ve seen the food ye serve and the way yer castle screams that yer clan has money.”
“But that was for yer benefit,” Storm tried to explain.
“Who are ye jestin’?” chuckled the king, making a tsking sound with his tongue. “I’ve heard the stories of how tight ye are with the strings on yer coin pouch. Now, get up, MacKeefe, and escort me to the great hall where I will sample some of yer grandfaither’s Mountain Magic before I retire to my chamber for the night.”
“Of course, Yer Majesty,” mumbled Storm, struggling to stand on his hurt foot as the king started down the wooden stairs. “Caleb, get over here and help me get to the great hall,” he said. “My foot hurts like the devil and my toe is swollen and bluer than the sea.”
“Aye, Storm,” said Caleb, putting his arm around him to help him walk.
“With the way the king is spendin’ our clan’s money, ye’d better hope to hell ye win the Leader of the Lairds Competition,” Storm told him. “Because I’ll need that money to fill our coffers again.”
Caleb didn’t answer. But as he helped Storm to the great hall, his dreams of his life together with Bridget as his wife on his plot of land with his manor house were quickly fading away.
Chapter 18
During the meal, Caleb didn’t take his eyes off of the finalists, and made sure to watch Sorley and Valan as well. None of them did anything suspicious, so Caleb couldn’t be sure of anything. The great hall was so crowded with all the extra people the king had invited to stay, that Caleb had left Slink in the bedchamber.
“What are yer thoughts on all of this,” asked Logan from next to him, throwing Jack some meat under the table.
“I dinna ken,” he said, taking another drink of Mountain Magic. “There is too much commotion to try to watch anyone closely. And Storm isna happy with the fact the competition is goin’ to last longer and that the king wants our clan to feed and give drink to all the extra people.”
“I ken,” said Logan, snatching the last piece of venison from the platter and slapping it on his trencher. It was chaotic, and everyone fought for the food. “I heard that Auld Callum will be here in the mornin’ with more barrels of Mountain Magic. And Storm sent a carrier pigeon with a missive to the Highlands right after he broke his toe, askin’ for Hawke and Ethan to join us.”
“Hawke and Ethan are on their way here?” asked Caleb in surprise. “What for?”
“I dinna ken.” Logan started cutting the venison with his eating knife. “Mayhap he’s goin’ to convince the king to let Hawke take yer place in the competition.”
“Hawke? Nay. I’m competin’. The king chose me.”
Logan chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“He chose ye because of the lies Bridget wrote about ye in the book.”
“They’re no’ lies,” spat Caleb.
“Nay?” Logan gave him a knowing look.
“Well, even if she did stretch the truth a little, ye have to admit that I’m doin’ well in the competition.”
“Every squirrel finds a nut once in a while,” said Ethan, holding the knife up, ready to take a bite. “Dinna get too used to winnin’ because it’ll probably no’ happen again.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Caleb, grabbing the big hunk of venison off of Logan’s trencher.
“Och, what are ye doin’?” shouted Logan. “Put my food back.”
“This is for Slink. He hasna eaten all day and has been locked away in our chamber.” He headed away from the table, ignoring Logan’s protests from behind him.
As he left the great hall, he noticed that he didn’t see Bridget or her father anywhere.
Taking the steps two at a time, Caleb hurried to his chamber to feed Slink. He hated the fact he had to share the room with the other contestants, because he liked his privacy, and Slink didn’t like being around a lot of people either.
When he got to the room, the door was open a crack. He stopped in his tracks, using his free hand to draw his sword. Then he slowly pushed open the door to the darkened room, hearing someone shuffling around at the opposite side of the room.
“Who goes there?” he called out, wishing now he would have brought a torch with him.
“Caleb, it’s me,” came a soft voice from the darkened room that sounded a lot like Bridget.
“Bridget?” he asked, sheathing his sword and reaching out into the corridor to get a torch. He entered the room with the fire lighting up his surroundings. He gasped when he saw the mess. Every bag had been gone through and things were scattered all over the floor. The pallets were even torn up and the straw inside was spewn about as if someone had been looking for something. Bridget was standing next to the pallet, half-hidden behind a trunk. “What are ye doin’, lass? It looks like someone ransacked the room.”
“My faither drank too much Mountain Magic and was startin’ to act addled again, so I took him to our chamber. He’ll be sleepin’ until the mornin’.”
“So yer faither did this to the room?” He moved the torch from one side of the room to the other, taking in the messy sight.
“Nay. It was like this when I came to check on Slink. I forgot to bring a candle, so I left the door open a crack. But when I saw the room and then heard someone at the door, I became frightened that Valan might come back so I hid behind the trunk, until I saw ye.”
“Someone might still be in the room,” said Caleb. “Stand behind me, lass.” He put the venison down on the torn-up pallet and unsheathed his sword again. “I’m goin’ to have a look.”
There was the sound of rustling coming from behind a small table. With his sword outstretched, Caleb led the way with the torch guiding him and Bridget clinging to his plaid. With one leg, he kicked the table over, expecting to see a man. Instead, he found Slink’s back end sticking out of one of the mens’ packs.
“Slink, what are ye doin’?” he asked with a chuckle, lowering his sword. “Och, I think we found our intruder,” he told Bridget.
“Slink made this mess?” asked Bridget, taking the torch from Caleb, so he could collect his pet.
“I’m afraid so,” Caleb answered. “Slink isna used to bein’ locked away all day. He was curious and probably searchin’ for food. Come here, ye little troublemaker.” He pulled Slink out of the bag to find something hanging out of the pine marten’s mouth. “What have ye got there?” he asked, taking some string from his pet.
“What is it?” asked Bridget curiously.
Caleb brought his open palm closer to the flame. “It looks like shavin’s of a . . . bowstring,” he said. He looke
d down to see a knife sticking out of the pack as well. “Bridget, today Ollie Fraser’s bowstring snapped durin’ the competition.”
“Aye, I ken,” she said. “It’s unfortunate.”
“Ollie is skilled at any weapon, and very guid at it. He’d never be careless enough no’ to notice he had a weak bowstring.”
“It was the saboteur again,” said Bridget.
“That’s right,” agreed Caleb. “And this is Henry MacDonald’s bag.”
“So, do ye think he’s the one doin’ all this?”
“I dinna ken,” said Caleb. “After all, the last evidence we found was in Ollie’s bag. I’m no’ sure what to think.”
“What the hell happened here?” growled Clement MacLean, walking into the room with a torch in his hand. Henry MacDonald and Angus MacKenzie were with him.
“I’m sorry, but my pine marten must have gotten frightened bein’ locked in the chamber and he tore up the room,” Caleb apologized.
“Stay away from my things,” growled Henry, picking his back up from the floor. When he did, his knife fell out.
“I think ye dropped somethin’.” Caleb picked up the knife and handed it to him, keeping the piece of bowstring hidden.
“That’s no’ mine,” snorted Henry. “And I dinna want to share a room with a dirty weasel. I’m goin’ to sleep outside in a tent.”
“Me, too,” said the other two men, grabbing their things and heading out the door.
“I’m sorry,” Bridget said to Caleb after they left. “Now it will make it harder to spy on them.”
“I’m no’ sorry,” said Caleb, walking over and picking up his pet. “Slink doesna like sharin’ a room anyway.”
“Caleb, my faither is sleepin’ and I was wonderin’ if ye’d like to go for a walk with me.”
“I could use some fresh air to clear my head,” he said, holding Slink in one arm and taking her hand in his other, heading out of the room. “Where do ye want to go?”
“Somewhere perhaps where we can . . . be alone?” She looked at him and smiled shyly.
“I would like that more than anythin’, lass. And I think I ken just the spot where no one will bother us.”
* * *
Bridget rode double on the horse with Caleb as they left the castle in the dark. Merry music could be heard coming from the great hall as well as the sound of the king’s low bellow as he laughed with the men and drank Mountain Magic.
The courtyard was nearly empty now, as most of the spectators went back to their homes for the night, and the rest of the clansmen either chose a space to sleep in the great hall or in the tents they’d pitched outside the castle’s gate.
“Shouldna we bring a torch?” asked Bridget, not sure where Caleb was taking her or how they’d get there in the dark.
“No need,” he said, over his shoulder. “We are no’ goin’ far, and the moonlight will guide our way even though I could find my way with my eyes closed.”
After a short while, Caleb turned off the road, slowing down and stopping at a small hut made of wattle and daub in a clearing at the foot of a hill.
“What is this place?” she asked, curiously.
“It’s a place of privacy that I built years ago along with Logan, Hawke and Ethan.”
“What is it for?” She held out her arms as Caleb helped her from the horse.
“Like I said . . . it’s for whenever we needed some time alone – or with someone else but out of watchin’ eyes.”
“It’s a love nest, isna it?” she asked with a giggle.
“Well, it might have been used for multiple purposes,” was all he said. He tended to the horse and then they made their way inside.
“It’s dark in here,” said Bridget, holding on to Caleb’s arm.
“Give me a moment,” he told her.
She heard the sound of scraping flint and then saw a spark. Caleb lit a candle and the flame encompassed the small room in a soft glow. There wasn’t much in there. Just a small table and two chairs. Also, an overstuffed pallet atop a raised platform with a blanket and two pillows in the middle of the floor. There was only one small window and it was covered by a wooden shutter that was closed.
“Och, this really is a love nest!” she said in excitement, since now she and Caleb would have time alone and not have to worry about watching eyes.
“Go look for mice, Slink,” said Caleb, closing the door and putting the pine marten on the table. Slink crawled over the top of the chairs and then, to her surprise, crawled up the wall and settled in the crossbeams overhead.
“Slink did that easily,” she said, stretching her neck to see the animal looking down at her.
“Because of his retractable claws, it’s easy for him to climb. Sometimes, I find him way up high in a tree.” Caleb put his bag on the table, walking over and lighting another candle. Then he came back and pulled a flask out of his pouch.
“What’s that?” she asked as he uncorked the top and handed it to her. She took it as he unbuckled his weapon belt and laid it on the table as well.
One sniff told her it was that dangerous Mountain Magic in the flask.
“Have some. It’ll help ye relax,” he told her.
“Nay, but thank ye. I’ve seen what this can do to a man. I’d hate to think what too much of it can do to a woman.” She handed it back to him. He looked down at it as if he wanted a drink, but then corked it back up and slipped it back into the bag.
“Ye’re right. I want to spend time with ye and remember every minute of it, so I willna have any either.”
Bridget shivered from the night air, pulling her cloak tighter around her. “There’s a chill in here,” she told him.
“I’m sorry there is no hearth,” said Caleb. “It’s just a simple place. But if ye’re cold, I can warm ye up.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. His hands went to her braid, and he quickly unbound her hair, letting it fall loose over her shoulders.
Instantly, she felt a spiral of heat go through her. “Mmm,” she said.
“Is it workin’?”
“A little,” she answered.
“A little isna guid enough.” He picked her up in his arms, making her giggle.
“Caleb MacKeefe what are ye doin’?”
“I’m goin’ to warm ye up, lass. And when I’m done, ye’ll be so hot ye’ll want to run around stark naked just to cool down.”
“Stark naked? If I’m cold, I should be puttin’ more clothes on instead of takin’ them off, shouldna I?”
“Nay, no’ necessarily.” He brought her over to the pallet and gently laid her down atop it. “Actually, they say that body heat is the best way to get warm. But to do that, two people have to remove all their clothes and press up against each other.” He caressed her hair, rubbing it against the side of his face. His eyes closed slightly when he did it. It was a sensuous act and it excited her more than she already was.
“They? Who are they?” she asked playfully, watching as he removed his shoes and then his plaid and dropped them in a pile on the floor.
“When I say they, I mean anyone who has tried it.”
“I see. And have ye tried it before?”
His eyes interlocked with hers. “All that matters, is what’s happenin’ now.”
“I suppose ye’re right.”
When he pulled his leine up over his head, exposing his bare chest and hard biceps, she was drawn in. All she could think of was running her hands over his body, feeling him beneath her fingers. He leaned over her in just his braies, reaching out to unclasp her cape. Kissing her, his hands worked quickly to unlace her bodice.
Caleb felt his hands shaking as he slowly pushed Bridget’s gown from her shoulders, revealing her pale pink, soft skin. “Freckles,” he said, gently running his fingertips over the skin just above her cleavage.
“I dinna like them,” she said, slapping her hand over his, as if she were ashamed of them and didn’t want him to see them.
“Well, I like them,” he said, slowly p
ushing her hand away. “And I want to see every single one of them, and kiss each one as well.” He undressed her until she was only in her shift. Already, he could see her hardened nipples poking up through the cloth, so he knew she was as excited as he was right now. Then ever so nimbly, he took the hem of her shift and slid it higher and higher a little at a time, kissing her all the while. Pulling it off over her head, he flipped it onto the pile of his clothes on the floor that were already there.
His breathing labored with anticipation. When he stared down at her perfect body, she seemed to become shy again, or mayhap she started having second thoughts. Her hands covered her breasts and she turned her head, looking the other way.
God’s eyes, he prayed she wasn’t going to turn him away again, because he didn’t think he could take it. “There’s no need to be shy,” he assured her.
“But I’m no’ sure my body will please ye.”
“And why wouldna it?” he asked, wondering why she’d even say such an absurd thing.
“When I – when I was married . . . I was told by my husband that I didna have what it took to bear children or to even excite a man.”
“Blethers, that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Just look at ye, lass. Ye’re a vision of lovliness.”
“But Valan said –” she stopped abruptly and bit her lip, once again turning her head away from him.
“Look at me, Bridget,” said Caleb, placing his hands over hers. Slowly, she turned her head to face him. “I’m no’ Valan, and I dinna care what he thinks. I am Caleb, and Caleb thinks ye have a most allurin’ body.”
“Really?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I have a feelin’ that’s part of the reason ye hide beneath the baggy clothes and wear yer hair in braids all the time. Ye dinna think ye are bonnie, but I assure ye that ye are.”
“Mayhap that’s why I do it,” she said, her reply sounding like the seductive whisper of a siren, pulling him in. Caleb needed her. He wanted her. And if he didn’t have her tonight, he was sure he would go mad with wanton desire.
Once again, he lowered his head to her chest, kissing one freckle after another until his mouth covered the nipple of one of her breasts. Slipping his hands around her back, he pulled her closer, letting his tongue work magic on her.
Highland Spy: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 4 Page 15
