Taming the Highland Beauty (Guardians of the Isles #7)

Chapter Fifteen

I t was late afternoon when the travelling party returned to Dunvegan. Gille watched impatiently as Callum handed over their horses to the waiting stableboys, then together they raced down to the shores of the loch.

The sun, a fiery orb, dipped towards the horizon, casting long, dancing shadows across the loch. Gille and Callum stood at the water’s edge. The gentle lapping of waves against the shore provided a soothing rhythm but Gille did not feel at all serene.

“Minerva,” Gille called.

“Lottie,” Callum shouted.

After several long moments passed and the water remained undisturbed, they called out again. “Where are the selkies?” Gille asked, her eyes fixed on the shimmering water, searching for any sign of seals. Typically, the creatures would be basking in the late afternoon sun, their sleek bodies glistening in the fading light. But today, the loch seemed unusually quiet.

“I do not know,” Callum offered. “Minerva should sense the moonstone we bring.”

Gille sighed. Obviously, Minerva did not feel the same pressure to complete this task that Gille did. She and Callum stood in silence for several more minutes, their gazes fixed on the empty water. The absence of the seals was a disappointment, but she knew they were there, somewhere. All she had to do was wait them out. In the meanwhile, she should take a moment and breathe in the beauty of the water, the sea beyond, and the slightest hint of salt lingering in the air. Those were memories she could hold on to in case...

“Let us come back later,” she said, refusing to let the rest of the thought form. She had to remain hopeful.

Two hours later they returned and called out to the seals once more. When their attempt yielded similar results, they waited another hour and tried again.

Gille’s throat tightened as she forced back her desperation. “Should we launch a boat? See if they come to capsize us? At least we will have gained their attention.”

Callum shook his head. “It is growing late. Gwendolyn has plans for us this eve. We have tomorrow.”

With no other option left to her, Gille nodded, and she and Callum returned to the castle through the sea gate. But instead of joining the others inside, Callum paused and turned to Gille. “There is somewhere I want to take you, somewhere I have avoided for years, though now it seems the only place I want to go.”

Gille nodded and followed him to a stone building alongside the back of the castle. In silence, they entered a chapel. It was not grand, but the late afternoon sunshine poured through the stained-glass window above the altar, filling the space with a sense of peace.

Callum led Gille to the altar and knelt. She did the same. When she saw him close his eyes, she assumed he prayed. For herself, what did a person who had never prayed before say to God? Would he care what weighed upon her soul? Would he help her in overcoming any other obstacles that came her way if she only asked? Or should she pray for something other than herself?

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the peace that filled the chapel. When her mind was as still as it was likely to get, she plunged through her chaotic and exhausted thoughts, digging for an inkling of how to ask for that for which she probably had no right to pray.

Despite all, concepts came to her. She asked that no matter what happened to her tomorrow, the woodlands would continue their regrowth until they were once again a glorious sanctuary for both people and every living thing that ought to be there. Thinking on a grand scale, she asked for peace between the English and the Scots. She prayed both sides could find a middle ground so that no more men had to die on battlefields. But then, she started to question her own choice. Was that something she, who had no experience praying, could ask?

Instead, she sent up a prayer of gratitude for Callum who had brought a sense of joy back to her life. And she asked for this place’s god to watch over her during the night, the following day, and into the sunrise on the seventh day. Whatever happened, she would accept, and was thankful she would not face the challenges before her alone.

When she opened her eyes, it was to see Callum smiling at her, his eyes filled with the same peace that had settled inside of her. “Are you ready to go inside?” he asked, standing, then extending his hand to assist her to her feet.

“I am now,” she said, honestly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Outside, the sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the rear courtyard as Callum and Gille returned to the castle.

The moment they stepped into the castle it was to be greeted with a cacophony of sounds coming from abovestairs. As they made their way towards the great hall, they heard the clinking of dishes, hurried footsteps, all interspersed with laughter. The great hall was a hive of activity, bustling with preparations for a celebration.

At the noise and activity, anxiety crept inside Gille as time slipped forward. With an effort, she tried to pull back the peace she had experienced earlier in the chapel, remembering her prayers. With her next breath, she relaxed, allowing the sights and sensations to flow through her instead of jarring her nerves. She would live in the moment. She could spare an hour or two for a bit of celebration, especially with Callum at her side.

The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat and spiced ale. Long tables, laden with platters of food and tankards of drink, stretched across the room. Musicians were tuning their instruments, their melodies mingling with chatter and laughter. The servants were scurrying about, setting the tables and polishing the silverware.

Gwendolyn saw them and came to their side. She wore an exquisite gold gown that made her light red hair look like it was highlighted by spun gold. “There you are. We are about to begin.”

“What is all this?” Callum asked with a frown.

Gwendolyn gave them an apologetic smile. “My attempt to stay busy. We have decided to have a pre-Beltane feast and dance in your honour, Gille. Or am I wrong in assuming you have never celebrated Beltane before?”

“As the seasons did not change in Fairyland, there was no need to celebrate the arrival of summer.”

Gwendolyn’s smile grew. “Then you are in for a treat. The MacLeods know how to celebrate in style. There will be special events tonight and over the next two days.”

Anguish shot through Gille momentarily at the idea of not being present, that she would be at the end point of her curse instead. She forced the thought away, giving no life to negative thoughts. She had to stay positive. “That sounds lovely.”

“Lovely... Oh, aye. You two must hurry. I had your clothing for tonight set out in your chambers. Go now and change. We are about to begin.”

With no other choice, Callum and Gille hurried upstairs to their chambers to change. “Should I come to your room and take you belowstairs myself?” Callum asked.

“Nay. I do not wish to make you wait. I will meet you in the great hall.”

At his nod, she entered her bedchamber and shut the door then startled to find a maid waiting for her.

“M’lady said tae wait fer ye here,” the young maid said in a nervous voice.

Wanting to put the girl at ease, Gille offered her a friendly smile. “Thank you for your assistance. I am grateful for your help, especially with my hair.”

The maid giggled, then hid her amusement behind her hand just as Gille stepped before the looking glass. Her face was tinged with ash and her hair was a wild tumble with several leaves sticking out of the unbound length. They had travelled hard on their return, moving through the woodlands and beneath the burnt trees. “Good heavens,” she exclaimed at her own image. “You have your work cut out for you.”

The maid bobbed a curtsy. “It’ll be my pleasure tae see ye in that beautiful dress.”

Gille glanced at the green dress laid on the bed and gasped. It was the most beautiful gown she had ever seen. Where had Gwendolyn found such a thing in so little time? Gille made a mental note to thank her when she next saw her. There was no further time for reflection as the maid stepped forward and began removing Gille’s riding clothes. Then after washing her face and body in a basin at the bedside, the girl changed her into the fresh gown and set about styling her hair.

Half an hour later, Gille glanced once more into the looking glass. Her reflection was almost unrecognisable. The maid had helped her into the shimmering green silk gown with a low neckline that offered a tantalising hint of the creamy flesh beneath, and a diagonally wrapped bodice adorned with intricate embroidery that emphasised her tiny waist. The silken fabric moulded itself to her hips then flowed gracefully to the floor.

Her glossy red hair was swept back off her forehead, almost concealing the white streak, and held in place by an emerald clip, then left to fall artlessly about her shoulders and midway down her back, where it ended in luxurious waves and curls that gleamed brightly in the dancing candlelight. And her eyes, she could not reconcile the change in them as they reflected the colour of her dress. They were neither jade nor emerald, but a startling shade somewhere in between.

In that moment of stunned silence, Gille realised how much she had changed since first coming to Dunvegan. Her cloak would look as foreign on her in the moment as Lottie’s sealskin had looked when she had donned it along the shores of the loch. Yet the sealskin was Lottie’s true nature. Gille’s cloak had been crafted as a disguise, an adaptation she had made to ensure her survival in the wilderness.

Her true nature was not that of a beast, despite Oberon’s spell, but something that had been forced upon her until Callum had helped her break free. Tonight, she had an opportunity to be herself and enjoy what would be a first for her—a big celebration. She smoothed the silken fabric across her hips with a satisfied smile. “Thank you for your help, Mary,” Gille said to the maid.

Mary returned her smile. “I hope ye have a good time, miss. Ye look like a fairy princess, ye do.”

Gille laughed. She was far from a fairy princess, but the MacLeods had certainly made her feel special. Gille dismissed the maid, then moved to the trunk and sorted through her garments there until she found a silk pouch Gwendolyn had lent her and slipped the moonstone inside. With a pin she secured the heavy pouch to the waist of her petticoat. She wanted the stone always on her to make certain it remained safe.

Then, after smoothing her gown back around her hips, she left her chamber and made her way belowstairs, determined to enjoy herself to the fullest despite the endpoint of her curse. It was a possibility she could not ignore. As she reached the doorway of the great hall, she paused and drew a deep breath. Instead of letting nervousness and fear overwhelm her, she would focus on the present moment and enjoy the celebration. For tonight, at least, she would allow herself to be swept away by the magic of Beltane in the presence of the MacLeods.

Soft candlelight bathed the great hall in a warm, intimate glow as Gille entered. The sounds of revelry mixed with the savoury scents of meat and spiced ale. But all of that faded into the background as Gille turned, her heart pounding, and met Callum’s gaze. His dark eyes searched her own with an expression of awe and wonder, and she knew everything had changed.

She was no longer the beast he had known. The transformation had been complete, and she was a woman, standing before him in a gown that felt both foreign and strangely befitting.

Callum came to stand before her. “Gille...” he breathed, his voice filled with a reverence that sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes traced the lines of her dress then returned to her face. Admiration lit his eyes.

“You are... breathtaking.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips before offering her his arm and guiding her to a seat at the table on the dais where the family was seated.

To Gwendolyn, Gille said, “Thank you for everything you have done for me. This gown is the most beautiful piece of clothing I have ever worn.”

Gwendolyn’s smile was radiant as she gazed upon Gille. “You look lovely. I knew that dress would be perfect on you,” she said as Alastair, Tormod, Orrick, Keiran, and Graeme nodded their approval.

Rowena and Marcus offered smiles of admiration while Fiona, Isolde, and Rosalyn all welcomed her back from the day’s journey.

Aria and Pearl came to stand on either side of Gille, smiling at her with joy in their eyes.

“Sister,” Aria said, “everything is finally starting to go your way, and I could not be more pleased.”

For a heartbeat, Gille tensed, fearing that Aria’s words might tempt fate to start throwing even more obstacles at her again, until she remembered her earlier vow to only focus on the positive tonight.

Pearl leaned in and pressed a kiss to Gille’s cheek.

“I always knew you were a beauty,” her mother said with pride. Then a heartbeat later, joy dimmed more towards regret on her face. “Seeing you happy in this moment, I can finally forgive myself for forgetting all about you while you were banished to the forest,” Pearl said haltingly. “You know I would do anything to remove this curse from you if I could. ’Tis yet another thing that I feel guilty about. I did not protect you from Oberon as I should have.”

Gille squeezed her mother’s hand. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. Oberon made certain no one would remember me, and the fairy king wanted revenge. If not me, he would have found you or Aria.” A lightness came to Gille’s chest. “I am glad he chose me and not either of you.” She truly meant the words.

“You are very forgiving, Daughter.” Pearl’s eyes misted, and a tear ran down her cheek. “I wish there was some way Aria and I could repay you.”

Gille squeezed her mother’s hands again, then released them. “Promise me this, if I do turn into a tree on the morning after Beltane, remember me as I am now, happy and content.”

A second tear joined the first on Pearl’s cheek. “I promise,” she said, then drew Gille into a quick embrace before stepping away. Her mother’s eyes filled with sadness and a tentative hope as she turned to Callum. “Protect her and make certain the curse is broken before...”

Callum nodded. “I will.”

Any further conversation was made impossible as Mrs Honey and her staff entered the room, carrying platters heaped with even more food to add to the already overburdened tables. Callum held out Gille’s chair before taking the seat beside her. Soon, the solemn conversation she’d had with her mother was replaced by good food and levity. When all had eaten their fill, the tables were cleared and then pushed back to make room for dancing.

The musicians who had been warming up earlier began to play, weaving a sparkling refrain through the chamber. Voices hushed as a dulcimer, a lute, a harp, and a bagpipe chimed a steady beat. A cheer rose up as they began a country dance, and two lines formed. Men and women joined in pairs.

Callum grimaced at the sound of the bagpipes. “Why do they always bring in the pipers?” He stood.

“Are you going to get your mandolin and show that piper how it is better done?” Gille said with a laugh.

He shook his head and extended his hand. “Let the piper have his moment. I have something far more important to do.”

“What is that?”

“I want to dance with you.” His expression was tender, his voice warm and engaging. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her into the lines of dancers just as the music started. The steps were easily learned, but when she misstepped, Callum helped her find her footing.

The room spun before her in a whirl of colours. She drew a deep breath and let joy flood her spirit. She could feel the heat of Callum’s presence as he took her arm in a promenade. And felt her own cheeks warm as she let the rhythm of the music move through her body. A swirl of air caused by the dancers brushed against her fevered cheeks. She had missed so much of what life had to offer, both while she had been imprisoned in Fairyland and while banished to the forest. She did not want to miss out any more on the simple joys of living.

After three country dances, Gille was about to ask for a respite when the music changed its tempo to a more soothing and much slower pace. Callum held his arms open and Gille walked into them. His right arm slid around her waist, bringing her close against the solid strength of his body. The music swelled and the rhythm of the dance lent itself to fluid, sweeping motions. His left hand closed around her fingers, engulfing them, and suddenly she was whirled around the chamber as if they had not a care in the world.

Gille felt a warmth spreading through her, a contentment and peace she had never experienced before. She wanted to hold on to this feeling, to forget about tomorrow, or the sunrise after that. But darker thoughts intruded on the moment. Was her destiny to become a part of that to which she had been banished?

Her steps faltered. Callum did not seem to notice, as he continued to twirl her about the chamber. The candlelight overhead suddenly became glaringly bright, the sound of the music too loud.

She had fought destiny before when Oberon had sent her to the Shadowlands to die. It was her strength of will that had helped her survive, to avoid the dangers lurking there, and to reach the human realm where she had met Callum and the MacLeods. The fighter in her began to rally one more time. At first light, they would go to the shores of the loch to see Minerva. If the selkie queen yet avoided them, then they would find a way to force her out of hiding. For Gille was not about to give up the life she had recently found, not without a fight.

She would meet her fate head-on for herself, for Callum, and the MacLeods. She would use her strength, her determination, and her love to break her curse. Gille startled at the thought, not of breaking the curse, but of the idea of love. A smile came to her lips. Love. She did love Callum. Had loved him since she had first seen him in the forest, despite his demands and his arrogance. He had braved her beastly exterior and asked for her help. And when she had been threatened by the villagers, he had stood beside her.

Joy cascaded through her, rippling, forming circles of radiance. The dangers ahead did not matter, not if the outcome was that she could be a part of Callum’s life beyond two more sunrises. Love.

She bit down on her lip, studying Callum as they made another sweeping circle around the room. Should she confess her feelings? After another series of twirls, Gille decided that her emotions were still too fresh to verbalise, but that did not mean she could not show him what was in her heart. Even so, she manoeuvred the two of them out of the centre of the chamber and towards the side of the room, until they were alone.

“Callum.” There must have been something of her feelings in her eyes, because his movements ceased and the world narrowed to the two of them, standing before each other. “Take me abovestairs.”

A silent moment passed, then another. She put everything into her glance. That which she could not yet put into words. That which told him all she hoped for, wanted with all her heart and soul and body. What she knew she needed regardless of what the future brought.

His fingers, wrapped around her own, suddenly trembled. “Are you certain?”

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life.” Drawn to him, Gille held her breath and pressed up on her toes, bringing her face closer to Callum’s.

His arms tightened around her possessively. His smouldering gaze dropped to her lips, and Gille felt her body ignite at the same moment his lips captured hers. His hands urged her even closer, to meld her pliant body against the rigid contours of his.

With a silent moan, she slipped her free hand up his chest, her fingers clutching his broad shoulder, her body arching into his. A shudder shook his powerful frame. A heartbeat passed before he lifted her into his arms and carried her from the great hall, up the stairs, and into his bedchamber. With his foot, he shut the door behind them then carried her to the bed, setting her gently atop the coverlet.

Over the thunder of her heartbeat, she gazed at the man before her, gilded by the firelight, with desire in his eyes, and committed the image to memory. In case this moment was all she would ever have...