Concern reflected in his clear eyes. He grasped her hand. “Is something amiss?”
The soft-spoken question, coupled with the warmth of his callused hand, smothered her irritation. Every single instance she wished to rail at him for some offense or another, he simply need look at her, speak a kind word or offer a warm touch, and her thoughts ran away from her altogether. How did the blasted man do it?
Suddenly, the notion of never setting eyes on him again spurred an unsettling tightness in her chest. Would this be the last she saw of him?
Arabella laid her hand over his and managed to find her tongue. “Calum—”
“Calum! You’re home!” A shrill feminine squeal rose from the gathering MacGregors.
Wrenching his head toward the speaker, he shifted away, leaving Arabella to grasp naught but air. He searched over his clansmen and a huge grin split his face. Frowning, she followed his line of sight and her jaw grew lax.
A tall, raven-haired female pushed her way through the men and horses and threw herself into Calum’s waiting arms. Their laughter rang out in the courtyard as he swung her around in a tight embrace. The buxom woman planted a kiss on his cheek and dropped back to her feet. Her bright eyes brimmed with a depth of love visible for all to see.
Arabella’s pounding heart plummeted to her feet in a dizzying rush. Now she understood why Calum avoided her the past few days. The deceitful rogue was married!
Shame sank its greedy teeth in and her cheeks burned with heat. Her stomach twisted in painful knots. The knowledge she behaved so wantonly with another woman’s husband fanned the flames of her humiliation. If only the ground would split open and swallow her whole.
She backed away and wheeled around, desperate to escape the sight of the happy pair. As she passed Liam, he winked at her and she grappled with the urge to push him on his arse. The grinning idiot might’ve told her of his cousin’s wedded state, but he had not muttered a word. Tears threatened to spill over, and she bit her bottom lip to withhold a sob. She refused to cry now and, most assuredly, not in front of Calum or his wife.
Arabella hastened around Devlin’s side, out of the clan’s sights, and rested her forehead against her gelding’s sturdy neck. At least he’d never make a fool of her.
Well, not on purpose.
Closing her eyes, she lifted her hand to stroke Devlin’s velvety muzzle. By the Saints, she could not leave quick enough for her liking. The sooner her uncle arrived, the sooner she could get away from this place and away from Calum for good.
Just as she reached for Devlin’s reins and started for the stables, strong hands grabbed Arabella from behind and whirled her around with a swiftness that made her head spin. A full head taller, Calum’s wife stood in front of her wearing a dazzling smile. Silken tresses curled around her shoulders, adding to her beauty. Arabella narrowed her eyes and battled an overwhelming desire to lunge up over the woman’s ample bosom and strike her perfectly-formed nose.
Before Arabella could react, the giant female enveloped her in a warm embrace. Stunned, she stood wrapped in the lady’s arms as her own hung limp at her sides. After a rather long, uncomfortable moment, the woman released her and offered another infectious grin.
“I’m Mairi, Calum’s sister. We’re so glad to have you here, Arabella.”
Sister?
Despite the gaping void in her mind, she managed to stammer. “H-his s-sister?”
“Aye, who else would I be?” Mairi’s lilting voice chimed in Arabella’s ears, drowning out the pounding of her own heart.
Her shoulders sagged and the breath she held rushed out of her. She parted her lips to speak, but could not manage a word. Baffled, she darted her gaze left and right and, to her dismay, the entire clan closed in around her.
“Er…I—”
“Oh, I’m so happy you’re here.” Mairi yanked her into another constricting hug. “You must be weary. Come, I’ll see you inside and into a hot bath.”
When she stepped away, Arabella caught the shrewd glimmer in the other woman’s eyes. The vise squeezing her heart loosened. Somehow, Calum’s sister understood her plight and spared her embarrassment, to her utter relief. The sudden impulse to tug the woman into a fierce embrace of her own struck Arabella.
Calum approached and laid a hand on Arabella’s shoulder. “I’ve some matters to attend, but Mairi’ll see you settled in.”
Arabella met his gaze, and her heart thumped a quick pace. The gentle press of his hand spread warmth down the length of her arm.
“I’ll see you at the evening meal.” He offered her one last reassuring smile and turned away, headed for the stables with his stallion trailing after him.
Bewitched by the taut lines of his broad shoulders and back, she would’ve lingered there, watching his strong form, until he disappeared from sight, but Mairi tugged her through the courtyard and up the keep’s front steps. The woman had strength. Arabella would give her that.
Once inside, Mairi paused in the entryway of the great hall to murmur to a servant, and Arabella took the opportunity to look over the vast chamber. Long, oak, trestle tables and benches lined the room in neat rows. The chamber smelled of the fresh herb rushes scattered over the stone floor. A collection of daunting weaponry hung from the far wall over the hearth. Throughout the hall, servants hurried to and from the kitchens as they prepared for the evening meal. The aroma of roasting meat hung heavy in the air, pulling a growl from her empty stomach.
“Has Calum been feeding you?” Mairi frowned. “He’d better have, or I’ll have words with him. Once you’ve had a bath, I’ll send Florie up with a bite to nibble on, if you like.”
“Nay, I do not wish to be a bother. I imagine I’ll leave with my uncle as soon as he arrives.” Arabella shrugged.
Mouth agape, Calum’s sister stared at her as if she sprouted a third eye. “But…I thought…are you not…”
For an awkward moment, Arabella frowned at the woman, at a loss.
Mairi shook her head and grabbed Arabella’s arm to tug her up a broad stairway. “Well, we shall figure it out once Hammish arrives. Come, let’s get you in the bath for now.”
’Twas not as though Arabella would argue. After days of travel, a hot bath sounded divine.
Mairi rushed her down a long, tapestry-strewn passageway, pausing only when they reached the end of the west hall and stood in front of a solid, wooden door.
“Here we are.” She shoved open the heavy oak and strode inside. “I had this chamber readied as soon as I knew you’d arrive.”
Arabella narrowed her eyes as Mairi flitted around the room, grabbing fresh linens. Just how long had the woman known? She wagered ’twas long before Symon and Anthony had ridden through the front gate a few hours past but, for now, she’d bide her time and seek answers later.
She stepped over the threshold and took in the austere furnishings in the chamber. A massive bed piled high with furs dominated the room. Aside from a large wooden chest, a high-backed chair, stool and bedside table, the chamber held little in the way of personal belongings. After a full sweep of the room, her gaze settled on a bathing tub filled with steaming water in the far corner.
As she covetously eyed the welcoming sight, her feet moved closer of their own accord. Though Calum afforded her a chance to wash in a handful of cold streams and lochs during their journey, she yearned to rest her weary bones in hot water.
Mairi handed her fresh linens. “Do you require aid undressing? I could send a servant to help, if you’d rather?”
“Nay, I can manage.” She accepted the offering and moved a step closer to heaven. Midway, she paused and smiled over her shoulder at Mairi. “Thank you…for everything. I cannot tell you how much your kindness means.”
Mairi dashed forward and crushed Arabella in another tight embrace. “I’m just so pleased you’re here at last. Calum must be beside himself with joy.”
Joy?
Before Arabella could question the woman, the whirlwind known as Mairi spun on her
heel and hurried from the chamber, banging the door shut behind her. Arabella merely gawked, thoroughly bewildered by the odd encounter.
Something most assuredly was going on. What, she had no notion, but she would soon find out. She glanced longingly at the steaming water. After a hot bath.
Making short work of her clothing, Arabella sank into the fragranced water with a contented sigh and allowed her thoughts to slip away, at least for a short time.
*
CALUM GUIDED HIS MOUNT into a stall, mulling over the dejection he witnessed on Arabella’s face after she caught sight of Mairi. Had she somehow mistaken Mairi as someone other than his sister? He snorted at the absurd notion. Now he was being as ridiculous as Liam.
As he unfastened his stallion’s bridle, he thought on the remainder of their journey. On one hand, he cursed the distance he imposed between him and Arabella. On the other, he did so for her own safety…from him.
The supple press of her body against his, the soft little moan she made in the back of her throat when he kissed her, the sweet taste of her mouth…he repressed a shiver. His control already rode a narrow path in her company. The last thing he needed was the temptation of her riding alongside him for days. Or worse, seated on his lap.
Saints above, he should not have taken liberties with her, but the kiss they shared was as inevitable as his next breath. Those few stolen moments in the forest had shifted something in him, softening him, forcing him to make a decision that would alter the course of their lives. ’Twas why brought her to his home. He could not bear to deliver her into Fraser’s hands. Not yet—never—if he had a say in the matter.
Now, he simply needed time—to woo her, for her to accept him, to tell her of his agreement with Fraser.
His hands paused in loosening the leather straps of his saddle. The last thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He cared naught of the dowry Fraser offered. Aye, his clan would benefit from the rich bounty, but ’twas not why he decided to wed the lass.
In truth, he wondered if he lost his good sense somewhere along the journey to and from England. For so long, he rejected the notion of taking a bride, unwilling to saddle himself with an unhappy marriage. But Arabella was…different, unlike any other female he’d encountered, or so he prayed. The lass had somehow forged an odd connection between the two of them—one he was unwilling to disregard.
One troubling thought lingered, planting a wash of near-crippling doubt in his mind. What if she had no desire to wed him?
Calum grabbed the saddle from his mount and chucked it over the wood railing. He leaned forward and rested his forearms and forehead against the hard leather. When had his simple life grown so difficult?
He raised his head and came face to face with his first commander, standing on the opposite side of the rail.
Marcus’ brow creased. “Is all well, Laird?”
“Aye, just weary.” Calum unfastened his saddlebag. “Any trouble while I was away?”
“Not in the least.” Marcus grinned. “’Tis good to have you home.”
He cuffed his commander’s shoulder. “Good to be home, old friend.”
“I saw you ride in with Fraser’s niece.” Marcus quirked with a half-smile. “Looks to be a handful, if you ask me.”
If you only knew.
“A handful that Calum’s more than willing to handle.” Liam’s earsplitting voice shattered the peace in the stables as he ambled toward them. He gave Marcus a solid thwack on the back. “Good to see you as always.”
“Welcome home, Liam.” Marcus chuckled and settled his amused gaze on Calum. “Is that so?”
Liam snorted. “Of course ’tis so. If his mood is any judge.”
The man may be his kin, but Calum would have no trouble smacking the silly grin off his foolish face. Liam knew naught of his decision to wed Arabella. In fact, he’d made a point not to discuss the matter. Mainly because Liam could not keep his blasted gob shut.
Glowering at his cousin, Calum tossed his saddlebag over his shoulder and strode out of the stall. “Stop being an arse.”
“Oh ho!” Liam laughed. “See, Marcus, I told you.”
“About that…you might want to speak with Fraser, Laird.”
He turned and narrowed his eyes on his commander. “Why?”
Marcus shifted from foot to foot. His gaze flitted away in a nervous manner uncommon for the man.
Calum opened his mouth to insist Marcus spit it out, but a solid cuff to his ear caught him unaware. Enraged, he swung his head around only to find Mairi scant inches from his face. Her usual pleasant features twisted with a scowl.
“Are you a flaming idiot, or have you fallen and taken leave of your senses?”
His mouth flapped open to rebuke her sharp tongue, but she threw up her hand to silence him. He swerved his head in time to avoid a clout to the jaw.
“I would’ve thought you had better sense than this. You should’ve seen the poor dear’s face when I went on and on about her arrival.” Her lip curled in disgust. “She has no idea, Calum. How could you not have told her?”
Christ’s bones, what now? He glared at her. “I know not what—”
“Nay, you do not!” Mairi stepped closer, shoving her finger under his nose. “I cannot believe you would do this.”
“Do what?” Out of patience, he slapped her finger away and shouted. “What the devil are you on about?”
“Arabella! How could you not tell her of the wedding?”
The air pushed from Calum’s lungs in a violent rush. The saddlebag slid off his numb shoulder to drop onto the hard-packed earth with a faint, distant thump. Apprehension crept into every dark crevice of his mind. After several deep gasps, he found his voice.
“What wedding?”
Her scowl eased into a confused frown as she searched him over for the truth. She bit her lip. “You really do not know?”
He sucked in a painful breath. “Tell me.”
His mischievous, vexing sister had the good grace to look sheepish. She swallowed loudly. “Well, Fraser…he told the clan…you were bringing home a bride.”
Dread crashed over Calum in a blinding wave, dragging him under and submerging him in a sea of panic. A low hum bore in his ears while his sight dimmed. His body slackened and he grew weak-kneed as though he were going to…
Hell, men do not faint!
He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists.
“Oh no!” Mairi’s eyes flew wide open. “I have to warn Florie and the others.”
She spun away and ran for the keep, leaving him stewing in the stable entryway. He started when a firm hand cuffed his shoulder. He slanted at look at his cousin, who watched Mairi’s mad dash across the courtyard.
Once she disappeared inside, Liam slid him a sly grin. “At least one good thing comes from this mess.”
Do not ask. Do not ask. “What?” Damn.
“Now you do not have to make a decision. Someone else has done it for you.”
As God was his witness, he was going to flay Fraser alive the next time he saw the old goat.
Chapter Ten
THE RELENTLESS DRUM of his fingernail tapping the oak table pounded a tedious thump in Geoffrey’s head. For days, he’d sat in Penswyck’s dismal great hall, awaiting word of Arabella’s capture. And for days, there had been naught.
He stared across the distance at the enormous hearth, ensnared by the flames’ flicker. With each passing moment, more of his patience slipped away and the dull pain in his temple throbbed with an excruciating pulse. Closing his eyes, he lifted his hand to rub above his brow in a bid to quell the relentless ache.
Christ, everything he’d worked for, all the steps he’d taken, relied on recovering the vexing wench. How damned long must it take to capture one silly, simple-minded woman? Still, his men had yet to return with her.
Shifting in his seat, Geoffrey opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the fire once more. One thing was certain, when he got his hands on Arabella de Percy, she wo
uld repay him the trouble. Though he had no desire to break her—yet—she would have to learn obedience once they wed. The notion gave him pause.
Him, Geoffrey Longford…with a wife.
’Twas laughable really, but what choice did he have if he wished to lawfully gain lordship over Penswyck and its coffers? Not that wedding the girl would be a hardship. Arabella was pleasing on the eye, spirited, defiant—just how he preferred the women he took to his bed. And who’s to say she might not meet with an unfortunate accident when he tired of her. In the meantime, bedding the wench would prove interesting sport, indeed. For the first time in days, his lips stretched with a grin.
The clatter of the hall doors pulled his gaze to the entrance. Renard, one of the men he’d sent after Arabella, strode inside at a clipped pace. No doubt the grim set of the hired arm’s features boded ill. Renard paused feet away from the raised dais where Geoffrey sat and bestowed a stiff bow. Refusing to meet his unwavering stare, the soldier regarded the trestle table Geoffrey continued to tap.
Advisable, given his current mood.
When the man did not speak, Geoffrey ceased the drum of his finger. “Well?”
“I came as quick as I could, my lord.” Though Renard spoke in a steady, even tone, he shifted from foot to foot, belying his unease.
“And?” Geoffrey drawled. “Do you have Lady de Percy?”
Unease hung on the guard’s pockmarked face. “N-nay, my lord.”
Anger unfurled in his belly with a furious burn. He slapped his palm flat on the table, the sound hammering throughout the quiet hall. “Come again?”
“The rest of the men…” Fidgeting with the sheathed weapon at his side, Renard refused to glance upward. “Forgive me, my lord, but they’re dead.”
“What do you mean, dead?” He floundered between fury and disbelief. “She’s but one woman!”
“Lady de Percy was not traveling alone.” Renard shook his head. “She and a band of Scots camped near the border. The men snuck into their camp early in the morn, but the Scots awaited them. All the men were slain.”
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