Blaze Historicals Bundle II

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  She sat up with a sigh. The fire had long ago died, leaving the chamber icy as a tomb. Ordinarily she would burrow back beneath the covers and try going back to sleep. But the bed was now a tainted place. Rather than remain there, she rose.

  She picked up Callum’s plaid, wrapped the chilly wool about her, and settled into the chair by the window to await the dawn. Tucking her legs beneath her, she stared out onto the stillness. It might be Christmas, the season of hope and new beginnings, but inside her soul it felt more like Lent. Her future, which had seemed so bright just yesterday, now loomed before her, unbearably barren, hopelessly bleak, a trial of days and nights to be endured rather than one of unending Christmases to be celebrated.

  Just kisses, only kisses…

  She’d tested him for seven long months, needing to know that his feelings for her were true love, not fickle fancy. Throughout, he’d proven himself, his love, many times over. He loved her, he truly loved her. And now that she was finally and completely certain of his heart, she must say goodbye to him, not for seven months or even seven years but for the rest of their lives. Tears squeezed out of her eyes, slid down her cheeks. Now she understood why so many women who’d suffered tragedy and who could afford to do so retired to convents. A lifetime of no Christmas and no Callum stretched before her, an unending winter’s night.

  She accepted the bleak consequences as her due. Pregnant or not, marrying Alex had been her choice. But she could not, would not, condemn Callum to a similar bleakness. She had pined for Alex for months. Callum, she feared, would mourn her, their lost love, for the rest of his days.

  The temporal world could be a hard place indeed, but she knew what she must do to make it that much easier for Callum. She must release him, not just from the vows he’d made in church but from the invisible bonds shackling his heart to hers. Those bonds she must sever. And so when she took her final leave of him later that morning, she would also take back her love, not the feeling but the words. Doing so would all but kill her. It would mean living the rest of her life as a lie.

  But for Callum’s future happiness, she would brave the devil himself.

  SHE CAME TO HIM that morning as promised. She came to him clad in her blue gown and veiled not as a bride would be but more in the way of a novice nun, the wimple and drape covering the sides of her face as well as her hair. She came to him not with a new wife’s bright eyes and glad bearing but with the somber face and measured steps befitting a mourner.

  Callum rose from his chair before the banked fire, the same seat from which he’d watched the dawn break. Everything he’d ever loved, everything he’d ever wanted, and everything he now could never have stood on the threshold of his chamber, her one small slipper-shod foot left out in the corridor. Now that Alys was here, he found himself at a loss for words. Unlike his brother, he was a warrior, not a poet, a man more at home with a bow and arrow than a book, a man of action and few words.

  He swallowed hard. “You came.”

  She stepped inside. “As I promised I would.”

  His gaze scoured her face. The redness rimming her eyes and the faint bluish circles crowning her cheekbones betrayed that she’d wept recently and slept not at all. What he couldn’t tell from looking at her was whether or not Field had claimed his husbandly rights. The thought of the Outlander’s hands on her had kept him awake all the night.

  Crossing toward him, she glanced about the derelict chamber. He well knew what she was seeing. Rose petals lay brown and curled upon the turned-down bed, the bed in which he still refused to lay himself to rest. On the table what was to have been their wedding supper sat out untouched, the bread and cheese molding, the candlestick still lying on its side. For now he wanted nothing touched.

  “I feared you might not.” He who’d never feared anything in his misbegotten life, had feared never seeing her again with all his might.

  Drawing up before him, she admitted, “I nearly didna. I’ve always loathed goodbyes. But to steal away without seeing you would be the coward’s way, would it not? And I needed to give you…this.”

  She reached for his hand and without thinking he gave it, so eager was he to touch and be touched by her. Too late he realized her intent. The signet ring lay cold and heavy in his palm. She closed his fingers about it.

  Taking back his token was like a knife twisting in his heart. He slammed the ring down on the table. “I don’t want it. Keep it.”

  She shook her head, so firm, so adamant. “It is meant for your bride.”

  He closed the small space between them and wrapped his arms about her in a fiercely possessive hug. “You are my bride, you and nay other!” He buried his face in the sweet curve of her throat and shoulder, the damnable veil getting in his way.

  “My lord, I beg of you…” Her voice broke.

  She tried stepping back but he tightened his hold. “I dinna care if he’s your lawful husband. Forsake him and bide here with me. Married or not, shriven or not, acknowledged or not, I vow to love you and protect you and keep myself to you and only you for the rest of my days.” He bowed his burning forehead against her cool one.

  “I know you do, but you mustn’t.” She took his face between her hands and looked up into his welling eyes. “You are young and strong and beautiful and one day ere long you will find a good lady to love, a bride who is worthy of you and free to love you openly and without shame, who can give you fine, strong sons.”

  Who could have predicted that in the final leave-taking, she would be the strong one, the comforter? But then his life ere now had been so very easy while hers had been so very painful and hard.

  “I willna.” He caught her hand and carried it to his lips. “Living without you, lady, is an art I’ve no wish to learn.”

  She shook her head. “Learn it you must. You must!” Her voice was firm for all its softness. “You must find the strength to let me go and I you. We must say goodbye now lest we court a greater grief in the future. My lord, if you love me, let me go!”

  His hands fell away. He dragged a hand through his hair, deliberately scouring the scalp. Physical pain would be so welcome now, anything to draw his thoughts away from the invisible heartrending hurt. “By God and all the saints, I will find a way free of this coil!” He swallowed hard and drew his hand away, vaguely aware of the bits of skin and blood entombed beneath his nails.

  “I am wed to him and all the world’s wishing will not undo it. Beyond that I…I love him.”

  Callum stared at her, feeling as if the floorboards were seesawing beneath his feet. “You do not! Pity him mayhap but love him you do not.”

  Her gaze slid away. “I do. I love him.”

  He caught her gaze and willed her not to look away. “You’re lying. I see it in your eyes.”

  She looked back at him then, her expression so plaintive his heart would have broken were it not in bloody strips already. “My eyes?”

  “Aye, you willna use them to look at me.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “My brother bears two scars on the inside of his hand, one white and wizened, the other pink and fresh. The first was made as a blood oath between him and Brianna when they pledged themselves to each other as weans, the second made a decade later when first she brought him to her bed. I would bear such a token of you. Whether you love me or not, I would wear your mark to my grave.” He drew out his dirk.

  “Callum, dinna!” Expression horrified, she reached for his arm. “Because of me, you have borne enough already.”

  He shrugged her off. Jaw clenched, he stretched out his left forearm. Pinning the elbow to his torso, he slashed as savagely and deeply as he dared. Once, twice, thrice…

  “Oh, Callum.”

  Face aghast, she stared down at the damage. Blood pooled in his palm and spilled through his fingers onto the rushes.

  Grounding himself in the pain, he smiled. “Like a rune, your symbol will be my oracle for the rest of my days.” He wiped the blood on his kilt and stretched out his hand palm up, revealing the
rough-hewn A.

  “Oh, my lord, what have you done? You bleed too much.” Eyes wide, she tugged at her veil, pulling off the muslin to make of it a makeshift bandage.

  He refused to accept it. The free-flowing blood alone was his to release or control. “If I canna have you for my wife, then I’ll have nay wife at all. If I canna have your heart, your full heart, then I’ll have no heart at all.” He caught her hand in his cut one, laced his fingers through hers and squeezed.

  “I Callum, Laird of the Frasers, do solemnly swear on mine honor and all that I hold holy to consecrate myself to you in body, mind and soul, forsaking all others for the rest of my earthly days.”

  She tried pulling away, refusing him, but he wouldn’t let her. “Callum, you mustn’t. An oath made in blood is a sacred act. Take it back before ’tis too late.” She sent him a beseeching look.

  He but squeezed her hand tighter, their skin slipping in the slickness. “’Tis done, lady, and live with it I will and most gladly.”

  And it was done, entirely done. Such a vow, once made, could not be taken back. Nor did he wish to. He’d meant every word. For the first time since Alexander Field had entered his great hall and wreaked havoc upon his happiness, he knew a moment’s peace.

  A knock sounded outside his door. Breaking hands with Alys, Callum called out, “Who goes there?”

  The door creaked slowly open. Milread appeared in the portal, Alasdair in her arms. Her sightless gaze centered on Alys. “The bags are packed and taken below, milady. You asked me to bring the bairn.”

  Alys nodded. “I did. Thank you.” She turned back to Callum. “I thought you would want to say goodbye.”

  He swallowed hard. “Aye, I do.” The sight of Alasdair’s cherub’s face had the lump blocking Callum’s throat building into a boulder. Making sure to hide his bloodied hand behind his back so as not to frighten the boy, he crossed the room, leaned low and kissed the child’s plump cheek. “Be a good lad and mind your mam. Papa…I love you.”

  Alasdair twisted, reaching for him. “Papa! Papa, come!”

  Callum drew back. Dividing his gaze between Alys and Alasdair, the full force of his loss hit him. He wasn’t only losing his lady but his child, as well. He who had led men into battle and once wrestled a wild boar to the ground with naught but a dirk felt his composure draining away like a tree tapped of its sap.

  Before he might shame himself by breaking down, he turned quickly to Milread. “Take the boy and leave us.”

  For once the old woman offered no argument. She shifted her gaze to Alys. “We will await you below.” She turned and carried Alasdair away.

  Callum stood at the door. Fixing his gaze on the back of the boy’s blond head, he owned he likely would never see him again. He’d never now have the chance to take him to the tilt yard or to the burn to fish or to his council meetings to learn clan ways. He would never now have the chance to see him grow from child to man. Ere now, he hadn’t realized how very much he’d been looking forward to doing all those things and more. He hadn’t realized how very much he’d been looking forward to being a father.

  Throat working, he closed the door and turned back inside. “I would give you something, a gift, before you go.”

  Like watching Alasdair grow up, the twelve nights of sensual gifts would never happen now. The gift he had in mind was to do with practicality, not pleasure, and he prayed to God she would take it.

  She shook her head. “You have given me more than I deserve already.”

  Rather than waste precious time refuting that claim yet again, he reached down to his belt and unknotted his purse. Freeing it, he held it out. “I would give you this.”

  She recoiled. “I willna take money from you. Not from you, my lord. It would be too much like…” Though she left the thought unfinished, the allusion to her prostitute past wasn’t lost on him.

  He closed the distance between them and pressed the purse into her hand. “Then take it for Alasdair. He was almost my son. I will always think of him as such. At least let me have the peace of knowing he suffers no want.”

  Alys hesitated, biting at her bottom lip, her mother’s heart warring with her principles. As he’d hoped, the mother’s heart won. “Thank you.” She closed her fist over the money. “I should take my leave now. We are packed and…and Alex will not want to lose the light.” She made as if to walk past him.

  Before she could, he wheeled about, blocking her path. “Before you go, I crave a gift from you.”

  She stalled in her steps. “My lord?”

  “Kiss me, lady. Kiss me true.” Anticipating her protest, he grabbed her wrists, drawing her to him, drawing her close. “Just kisses, only kisses, but let them be kisses I may live off for the rest of my days.”

  She shook her head, her mouth trembling. “Sweet my lord, once I am gone, there will be ladies aplenty wanting to kiss you.”

  “I don’t want kisses from them. I don’t want kisses from any lady save you. So kiss me, Alys. Kiss me fondly. Kiss me farewell. If part we must, then part from me with kisses, kisses I can carry with me to my grave along with this scar.”

  She hesitated, and then stepped up to him. Slender arms wound about his neck. She drew his head down at the same time lifting her face. Rising up on her toes, she kissed his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and the corners of his mouth. She kissed his jaw, the side of his neck, the curve of his shoulder. Finally she kissed him full on the lips. He opened. For the only time in his memory, she entered him first, her tongue touching his.

  “Just kisses, only kisses.” Drawing back, she reached for his hand, his hurt hand. He gave it to her—he could deny her nothing, not before and certainly not now. She turned it over, palm up, and bent her head. “Just kisses, only kisses…” Her voice drifted off. She ran her tongue along the trio of cuts, the A that would always, always mean Alys for him, lapping at the blood, drinking in the sadness, consecrating their shared pain.

  She lowered his hand at last. Holding on to his wrist, she fixed her welling gaze upon his and shook her head. “I dinna know how to say goodbye to you.” A tear slid down her cheek.

  That tear was more precious to Callum than a diamond. She might have a fondness for Field, she might even love the man, but seeing that tear told him she loved him, Callum Fraser, a little, too. She loved him still.

  He reached out and caught the crystalline droplet on the edge of his thumb. “Then let us not say goodbye. Let us say ‘go safely for now.’ Go safely for now, my lady. Whether you love me a little or a lot, whether I may hoard your heart for myself or whether I must share it with another, whether I see you again in this life or only in the shadow land of my dreams matters not. You are forever my lady, my one true love, and aye, my Christmas bride.”

  5

  SO MANY GOODBYES…

  Seated atop her palfrey, the gentlest mount Callum’s groomsman might find, Alys looked down on Milread, a bawling Alasdair swaddled against her breast. “I shall miss you, Milread. You have been a good and true friend to me.”

  Standing atop the mounting block, Milread reached up to tweak Alasdair’s bootie-covered feet. “Our paths will cross again, wean, and mayhap sooner than you think. This current sorrow will run its course and there will be joy again.”

  As much as Alys wanted to believe that, she didn’t see how it could possibly be so. At present, the prospect of a joyful future seemed as attainable as pixie dust or a moon made entirely of green cheese.

  Alasdair pushed against her, protesting the swaddling though they’d yet to set out. She pressed a kiss atop his golden head and shook her head. “Alex is my husband in the eyes of the law and God. The claim he makes upon me is his by right. Beyond that, I loved him once. I loved him true. I gave up everything, my home, my family, my friends, to be with him. And yet now I feel nothing for him beyond pity. How can that be?”

  Milread fixed her with a knowing look. “Beyond his face turning from fair to foul, mayhap he has changed less than you might think. You, t
hough, have altered greatly. The girl you once were has grown into a fine, strong woman, a woman loving and wise.”

  Had Alex always been this way, and she’d simply been too infatuated to notice? It was possible. She’d been so very young then, easily impressed and even more easily led. When he’d insisted they elope and come north even though winter was fast approaching, it had never occurred to her to question him. He’d sworn on his honor to take care of her, and blindly, trustingly she’d followed.

  She shook her head, torn between laughter and the terrible desire to scream. “I have never felt less wise in all my life.”

  “But you are. You are!” Milread grabbed her hand, which still bore Callum’s dried blood. “Your eyes are open wide now, all three. You see him for what he is, not for what you once wished he might be. That is wisdom.”

  Alys let out a bitter laugh. “If so, then it has come too late to do me good.”

  “We shall see. Mind you, the final rune in your reading was Wyrd, the cosmic void, the gateway to both everything and nothing. The Fates have yet to spin the ending to your story. Much of what drives events is still hidden from our view. All may not yet be lost. In the coming days, mind your inner wisdom for in so doing, you will feel the breath of the gods whispering in your ear.”

  Alys might have asked more, but Alex walked his mount up to them. “Still goodbying?”

  Milread spat upon the cobbles at his horse’s hooves. “My lady is ill at ease on horseback and the distance is too great for her to carry the bairn in the saddle with her. Let her and the bairn be borne in the litter the Fraser provided.”

  He scowled, his horse pawing the ground. “My wife is not some china doll to be coddled. The sooner she accepts her lot as a foot soldier’s wife, the better she will fare.”

  She snarled. “Your soul matches your face, I see. Were it not for milady and the wean, I would put upon you a curse that would make the smallpox seem mild.”