“Mairi…” he attempted.
“Christ’s sake, Calum. I’m fine. Truly.” Though, her red-rimmed eyes refuted the claim. She urged her mount onward, riding ahead.
He sighed in defeat. Now what was he to do with her?
“Just give her time, Cousin.”
He cast a doubtful glance at Liam riding on his opposite side.
“Do not worry so. She’ll come round. I’ll have a word with her.”
Calum shook his head. “Nay, leave her be for a while.”
In time, he hoped Mairi might come to understand he’d taken certain measures to ensure his family’s safety. But for now, he’d suffer her anger.
As they passed through the front gates, he nudged his sleeping wife. “We’re here, Sweetness.”
To his surprise, she’d remained awake for much of the journey, only giving in to her exhaustion when they neared home.
Arabella stretched against him, groaning from the effort. ’Twas a sentiment with which he agreed. From bouts of nerves, to struggling with Longford, his stiff body ached. A hot, steaming bath would soothe his sore muscles. Perhaps, much later, he might persuade his wife to join him for a long soak.
Yawning, she lifted her head to peer around the bailey. “We’re home.”
The evident relief in her raspy voice brought a smile to his lips. “Aye, we’re home.”
Calum glanced over his clan gathered in the courtyard, searching for one particular face amongst a sea of familiar people. His grin widened when he spotted Iain waiting impatiently at the foot of the keep’s front steps. Iain’s anxious gaze locked on Arabella and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
Calum’s heart thumped heavy in his chest as he held his breath, awaiting the moment she noticed her brother. The moment she did, her lax body straightened into a rigid line.
“Iain,” she mumbled to herself, as though she did not trust her eyes.
He ducked his mouth near her ear. “’Tis no dream, my sweet wife.”
Calum reined his stallion near the front entrance, hurriedly dismounted, and reached to help Arabella to the ground before she leaped from the saddle on her own. As soon as her feet touched solid earth, she took off at a run. How she managed not to fall flat on her face surprised Calum.
“Iain!” Her cry resounded through the courtyard, drawing the eyes of everyone present.
She flew into her brother’s waiting arms, nearly knocking his unsteady frame backward onto his arse, and the pair clung to each other. Cheers rose from the crowd of MacGregors who witnessed the happy reunion.
Pleased with the outcome, Calum stood a bit taller. Longford had utterly failed to rob Arabella of her brother and Iain of his birthright. Naught else could make Calum happier.
A cold hand slipped inside his and he glanced down to find Mairi beside him. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.
“I cannot believe he is alive.”
“Nor could I,” Calum confessed. “But I am pleased for both of them. It would pain me to lose my sister.”
Leaning into his side, Mairi wrapped her arms around his middle. “It would pain me to lose you, too, Calum. I do love you, you know.”
He lifted his arm over her shoulder, hugging her close. “I love you, too, even if you are a pain in my arse sometimes.”
She shot him a quick glare. “Me? What of your big head?”
Squeezing her tight, he tossed his head back and laughed. Perhaps now, naught else could make him happier.
*
CALUM AWOKE WITH a start, his heart pounding in his chest. The remnants of a nightmare lingered in his mind. In spite of his protesting body, he forced himself to sit upright. He scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced over the chamber until his gaze settled on the sleeping woman at his side.
Arabella. Safe and sound.
He expelled a deep, calming breath. No doubt he would awaken many times in the future from the same unsettling dream. Anxious to touch her, Calum shifted onto his side, wincing from the gash, and propped his arm beneath his head as he lie facing her.
Arabella’s chest rose and fell with soft, even breaths. Bright red curls hung over her shoulder, drawing stark contrast against her smooth, pale skin. Her swollen, puffy eyes had faded after a long, well-deserved rest.
Calum snorted faintly. Between briny seawater and the alarming amount of tears shed for her brother the day before, ’twas a wonder his poor wife could open her eyes at all. But, ’twas to be expected. His wife had a tender heart. ’Twas a trait he loved about her.
Loved.
Aye, he loved her. More than he could put into words. He couldn’t place the exact moment he’d fallen in love with her, but the feeling was there, wedged firmly in his chest.
Unable to stop himself, he traced a finger over her pink cheek, savoring the soft feel. Her eyes fluttered open and a sleepy smile curved her lips. As he studied her comely features, his heart stuttered over several beats.
His tongue burned with words he wished to tell her. So many things he’d left unspoken between them. Too many missed opportunities to speak of his true feelings for her. Moments that could’ve easily been stolen away from Calum had Longford succeeded with his foul deeds.
Arabella lifted her hand and ran a finger over the seam of his mouth. “Why are you frowning?”
He grasped her hand, holding it to his chest. “I should’ve spoken of my agreement with your uncle.”
“Calum—”
“Please, there are things I must say.”
Her brow furrowed, but she nodded.
“’Twas never my intention to hurt you, Arabella. I’d rather cleave my heart in two than cause you pain. The truth is, I had no wish to take a bride before I left for England, despite the dowry your uncle offered.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he hushed her.
“Let me finish. Once I met you…” He paused, searching for the right words. “You shifted something inside me. When we returned to Scotland, I knew then I never wished to be parted from you. So I agreed to take you as my wife, even though, without my knowledge, your uncle had already told the clan I was bringing home a bride.”
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I signed the contract with Fraser, but later told him to keep the land he offered. I did not want the dowry, but the old goat was too stubborn to let me return it. So, I’ve decided to give it to you, the rightful owner. ’Tis yours to do with as you please.”
“Why? I do not understand.” She frowned. “What am I to do with it?”
Releasing her hand, he rolled onto his back and stared at the rafters overhead. “I just…I have no wish to take away your choices, Arabella. I do not want you to feel…trapped…with me.”
Beside him, his wife breathed out a deep, annoyed puff of air. Inwardly cringing, Calum shut his mouth with a snap and closed his eyes, holding his breath.
The bed moved beneath him as she rearranged herself to sit astride his hips. She laid a hand on his chest. “Look at me.”
Hesitant, he did as she bid and almost closed his eyes again at her dark scowl.
“Trapped?” she growled. “I love you, you daft, foolish man.”
Stunned, he gaped. “Arabella—”
“Nay, ’tis my turn to speak.” Propping her elbows on his chest, she leaned closer. “If I had no wish to marry you, then I would not have. I wed you because I wanted to, Calum. I do not care about the land. My uncle can keep it for all I care.” A slow smile played about her mouth and she stroked a finger over his chin. “Nay, on second thought, we shall keep it for our clan.”
“Aye, our clan.” Calum swallowed against the swell of feeling lodged in his throat. “I love you. With every piece of my heart, I love you. You are everything to me, Arabella.”
“Oh, Calum.” She leaned a hairsbreadth from his lips. “I cannot imagine my life without you in it now. Nor do I want to try. I love you, Husband.”
She brushed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Unable to resist
the sweet press of her warm body, he shifted beneath his wife, flipping her onto her back. Moving to settle between her parted thighs, he captured her mouth, pouring every bit of ardor he felt for her into their kiss.
For the first time in his life, everything else ceased to matter—the weight of his duties, the wounds marring his face and body, his doubts and fears. As long as he held his loving wife in his arms, none of it mattered. The two of them would face each new dawn together.
Calum drew back to stare down into Arabella’s darkened, emerald eyes and spoke from his heart. “I’ve waited my whole life to find you, my reckless love, and I shall never let you go.”
The End
My Steadfast Love
Highland Loves
Book Two
By
Melissa Limoges
Dedication
To the hopeless romantics—
May your will remain unfettered.
Chapter One
LIAM MACGREGOR HEFTED his tankard for a long drink. However, naught but cool metal met his lips. He slammed the empty goblet on the trestle table and growled in annoyance. “Damnation.”
The curse earned him an elbow in the ribs from his cousin, Mairi, seated on the wooden bench beside him.
“What the devil was that for?” he demanded in a near shout.
“Shut it,” she gritted out between clenched teeth.
He scowled at her before glancing at the high table’s occupants to gauge whether he’d disturbed the merry banquet. All around him, men, women and children wore revoltingly sappy grins as a drone of words resounded throughout the overcrowded great hall. He shifted his gaze to the speaker at the head of the table and met the direct, mossy-green stare of Laird Hammish Fraser.
The slightest narrowing of the older man’s gaze issued a warning, one Liam disregarded with a shrug. Scarcely suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at the old boar, he tipped his head in a semblance of a halfhearted apology. Merely for his mother’s sake. He glanced away to survey the hall.
The laird had spared no expense when it came to his wedding. A sizeable mix of guests from Clan Fraser and Clan MacGregor filled every spare seat and bench in the hall. The rest stood, lining the stone walls. Rich tapestries hung from the rafters, while fresh spring flowers and streams of ribbons added vibrant splashes of color to the usually austere surroundings. A bountiful feast spilled over on each trestle table. Servants dashed to and from the kitchens, serving spiced wine, whisky, and ale. And yet, the rumble of Fraser’s deep voice, constant gargles of amusement, and well-wishes rankled Liam.
Of all the men his mother might’ve wed, why in heaven’s name had she chosen Hammish Fraser?
He cast a measured glimpse at his mother, Elena MacGregor—now Fraser—and blew out an exasperated sigh. Her comely features shone bright with love as she looked on at her new husband addressing their guests.
In truth, Liam was pleased for her. Hell, he’d even go so far as to admit that in his youth he’d admired the fierce warrior Fraser had once been. Swift to anger and hasty to action, the man had ignored consequences, yielded to no one, did as he damned well pleased, and to hell with the rest.
Of course, that did not mean Liam agreed with the crude arse wedding his mother. Prior to the last harvest, as long as memory served, the pair never spared a kind word to one another. For the life of him, he could not wrap his head around his mother’s change of heart, nor could he dismiss his reservations of Fraser. To make matters worse, the two of them carried on like a pair of lovelorn youths. Were they not far past their primes for such absurd behavior?
’Twas ridiculous.
Christ, had all of his kin fallen prey to love’s piercing blow?
Liam shifted his gaze to his cousin, Calum, and his wife, Arabella, seated across the table from him. They sat with their heads pressed together, no doubt whispering some silly drivel to each other. Calum rested a protective hand over his wife’s still flat belly. His cousin had never looked as overjoyed as he had a fortnight ago when Arabella announced she carried his bairn.
Not that Liam blamed Calum. His cousin deserved a bit of happiness for a change. But did the man have to forfeit his cods in order to gain it?
Even Mairi had felt the strangling grip of love. Whether she confessed so or not, he knew the truth. The foolish woman had languished in silence since the day they’d left Aaron MacRae and his brother standing along a northern shore some months ago. Now, the blasted young woman slumped against the table, her cheek resting in her palm and ebony hair surrounding her solemn features, while she poked at a morsel of food on their shared trencher.
Saints, if this was love, then why did everyone fall into its clutches?
Not to say he did not share affection for his kin. Hell, he’d do anything for his family. But why should he subject himself to such foolishness or grief? He remembered the day his father died. His mother had fallen to pieces and left Liam little choice but to hold her together. Nay, there was no room in his life for that kind of love.
Shoving aside the fleeting memory, he nudged Mairi. Unable to resist pestering her, he grabbed his eating knife and stabbed the lump of meat she tortured, jamming the plump morsel in his mouth. She straightened from her slouch to glare at him. He grinned in return and signaled to a comely blonde maid serving ale at the end of the table. The buxom beauty met his gaze and a saucy smile curved her lips.
Now, that was his kind of loving.
Her rounded hips swayed with each step down the aisle until she stood between him and Mairi. The maid leaned over his shoulder, presenting a clear view of the creamy swells of her breasts, as she filled his tankard with ale. She peeked at him from the corner of her light eyes and winked.
Not one to turn down an offer, he fastened on his most charming smile and lifted a brow in question. In answer, the woman placed a hand on his shoulder, letting her fingers trail across his back as she moved on to the next guest. And as simple as that, he’d have a willing woman to warm his bed later, if he felt the inclination.
He took a moment to admire the curve of her backside as she sauntered away. The swing of her rounded hips promised an entertaining eve ahead. Grinning to himself, he shifted his attention to Mairi, who did not bother hiding her disgust.
“What’s the matter with you?” she whispered in a furious rush. “You’re being a rude arse.”
Her frank words struck a chord of humor in him, and a peal of laughter slipped out before he could recall the sound. At once, he became painfully aware the hall had grown silent. He stifled his amusement and darted a glance to the head of the table, only to meet Fraser’s daunting stare. Liam opened his mouth to offer an apology, but Fraser lifted a hand and motioned his way.
“Ah, Liam, you’ve reminded me of my next manner of business.”
The faint gleam in the old man’s eyes boded ill for Liam. The hair along his arms rose, and his heart drummed a swift beat.
“I’ve given the matter a great deal of thought and consideration as of late.” Fraser lifted the back of Elena’s hand and placed a lingering kiss on her wrist. “As you are all aware, I’m gaining in age and the truth is, I know not how many years I have left in me. That being said, I wish to reserve what time I do have for my beautiful bride.”
A clamoring of cheers did naught to dampen the unsettling twinge mounting in Liam’s gut. In fact, he wavered on the edge of full-blown panic.
Fraser lifted his hand to hush the crowd. “I’ve decided to step down as laird of this clan.”
All noise throughout the chamber ground to a halt, the piercing silence boring in Liam’s ringing ears. Despite capturing the hall’s full attention, Fraser had yet to remove his firm stare from Liam.
He held his breath as dread sank like a massive stone in his belly.
“Now that Elena and I are wed, ’tis only fitting to choose one particular man for the task.” Fraser flourished his arm. “Before you all, I name Liam MacGregor as my successor and heir.”
Shock held Liam
immobile as a weakening numbness sped through his limbs. He fumbled with the full tankard of ale in his hand, lost his grip, and dumped the contents over his tunic and braies.
*
A SHORT WHILE later, Liam stood in Fraser’s solar before the hearth, willing the flames to hurry and dry his sodden clothes. Since he’d entered the small confines a half-hour ago, his mother and her new groom sat mute behind him as if they sensed he needed time to recover from his upset. And rightly so, but it would take more than a few quiet moments before he comprehended Fraser’s ridiculous decision.
Of all the blasted things the uncouth, old man might’ve said, Liam had not anticipated that. What was the daft fool thinking, naming him heir? And why the hell had Fraser not approached him with the matter first? He would’ve spared the man the trouble by flatly refusing the position.
By the Saints, he was Liam MacGregor—pleasing on the eye, confident with his sword, full of jests, and he could damned near charm the skirts off any woman. What the devil did he know about leading a clan? And more importantly, why should he want to?
Sure, he understood the workings of running a keep as well as the next. That did not mean he had any desire to run one of his own. Nor did he wish to accept the burden of ensuring the safety and welfare of a clan. ’Twas not in his disposition to lead any man, much less an entire group of people.
He preferred the carefree, audacious side of himself he presented to everyone. He’d learned at an early age no one demanded a thing of him in that capacity. His life was simple, unfettered—the way he liked it. Why should he wish to change?
Damn Fraser. First his mother, now this.
He lifted a hand to rub at the persistent dull ache in his temple. Christ, why had he not missed his mother’s wedding altogether as planned? He would’ve favored her anger or tears to dealing with this steaming pile of dung heap.
Liam gave up trying to soothe the pain in his head and dropped his arm to swipe at his damp braies. The thick buckskin clung to his thighs. To hell with it. Thoroughly vexed, he spun around, crossing his arms over his chest, and studied the pair through narrowed eyes.
Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle Page 96
