Chapter 21 #3
Her breath was coming in little gasps now, and he could wait no longer.
He took her again, and once more overwhelming pleasure consumed him.
She met his passion with her own, wrapping her legs around him, trying to pull him even closer.
When he felt her body tighten around him, he let go at last, spilling himself into her with a roar, feeling her come with him.
The moment was too much for him to bear.
It was too overwhelming, too perfect. He felt for an instant that all was right, that she belonged to him, that their very souls had touched in that one rush of pure bliss.
He wanted to cradle her in his arms now, whisper sweet words in her ear, tell her all the dark secrets of his heart.
Then his own reality hit him like a fist in the gut.
It was all an illusion, this night. And he had taken her innocence, something he had no right to do.
He abruptly rolled away from her and began gathering their discarded clothing.
“Get dressed. We need to get back to the camp.” He needed time alone, to think. If he stayed here with her any longer, he might just be lost forever.
Though his stomach clenched at the hurt look on her face that she could not quite hide, he forced himself to look away and put on his clothing. She followed him in silence back to the camp, and he saw her safely to her tent.
“Good night, Ella”, was all he said. He knew she stood and watched him walk away… but this time it was without his heart.
Chapter 13
He had thought that once he had taken her, the burning need would go away.
He had thought that it was denying himself her body that made him want her so badly; but he had been wrong.
It was worse now. In fact it was excruciating.
He now seemed to be preternaturally aware of her every move.
And her every move only served to remind him of the way her body had felt against his, of the pure bliss he had felt in her arms, the soothing warmth of her touch.
Lying in his bed back at Tulloch, unable to sleep, Ceann’s mind wandered back to a time when he had thought everything in his life was falling into place.
Just before all had gone so wrong. He had sat proud and tall on his horse as he rode for home at the head of the small band of highland warriors, victorious once more in their latest conquest. He felt strong and invincible, and he thought of the future, and how glorious it would be.
One day he would be Laird, and all of this he looked upon would be his domain.
He would ride home to be greeted by his people, and then by his wife, standing on the steps of the keep, his child in her arms, and another two or three clinging to her skirt.
She would smile and he would laugh and sweep her up into a passionate kiss, then lean down to kiss each of his bairns in turn.
Beautiful daughters and strong, strapping sons.
He would tell her of the battle while she tended his wounds, then he would carry her off to their chamber…
He had never been able to quite picture her face, this future wife, but he knew she would be beautiful and charming, and he would consider himself very lucky to have her as his own.
Later, on that long-ago day, after he had washed and rested, he went to speak with his father, Artair, in the study.
Laird Tulloch was still a fine figure of a man then.
Handsome and well muscled, he looked much younger than his years.
He ruled the clan with an iron fist, but also with fairness and honor.
Ceann had looked up to him for as long as he could remember.
But this day, his father looked weary. His face was drawn as if he hadn’t slept, and his mouth turned down at the corners just a little. “Ceann, son, come in and sit down.”
Ceann took a seat across from his father and waited, troubled by Artair’s dark mood.
He held in his hands a crumbled and wrinkled piece of parchment. He fingered it absently as he spoke. “I… I have things to tell you. Things you need to know, since… you’ll soon be Laird in my stead.”
Ceann stared at him for a moment. “No, not soon. You’ll be Laird for many years yet Father.”
“Aye, son, sooner than you know. But listen.” His expression took on an intensity Ceann had never before seen, and his heart began to beat faster, realizing something significant was about to happen. His life was about to change somehow, forever.
“You have always been everything to me, son, and you have made me proud. You have grown into a strong warrior and a good man.” He paused, as if afraid to go on.
“But there is something you must know. I did something, long ago, something I can never regret, because it brought you to me. But it has made things… complicated.” He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words.
“I went to the Auld Ones, Ceann, to make a bargain, a bargain for a child, for you. They agreed, but as they always do, the Auld Ones demanded a payment, which…”
Ceann stood abruptly, toppling the chair, fear and anger suddenly filling him. A dull roar began in his ears. “What payment, Father? What was the payment?”
“That you would be the last of the MacKenzie line, that you would never father a child…”
Ceann heard no more after that. “No!” he roared in sudden rage and hurt, as his dreams seemed to shatter like glass before his eyes. Then he turned and ran from the room, even as his father called after him to come back, to hear the rest! He did not.
He was gone for several days, maybe more.
Even as a boy, when things became too much for him, he simply left for a time, to be alone, to think, to heal.
Now he was a man; a man who had just been told he would live his life alone, with no wife, no family.
No sons to raise into honorable men, no daughters to coddle and spoil.
No wife… to share the secrets of his soul with, and the joy of raising their bairns. He mourned his loss deeply and utterly.
When at last he returned to Tulloch, he learned that his father had been killed in an attack by the Campbells.
To his eternal shame, he had not been home to defend him.
Now he was Laird. He was Laird, and his father was gone forever.
There was nothing to be done about it. He would be the last of his line.
***
Ella was frustrated and heartbroken that Ceann had withdrawn from her again, even after what they had shared.
Somehow she had thought that when he made love to her at last, he would feel the same as she did: that they belonged together.
Days had gone by already since they returned from the gathering.
The women were still all busily trading gossip and goods, the men bragging over their prowess, both at the games and with the women.
And she… she was reliving the most perfect moment of her life, which had been quickly followed by the most heartrending.
He hadn’t even kissed her good night. For such a short time, Ceann had been hers, body and soul, and then he had slipped out of her grasp again.
She down sat for a moment on a little bench in the garden, trying to regain her strength of heart.
What had happened at the gathering between them, it had meant something to her.
It had meant everything to her. What did I expect, that he would fall madly in love with me?
That we would live happily ever after? No, he hadn’t so much as spoken a word to her since they had arrived back at Tulloch.
And she was heartsick over him, though her pride would not let her show it.
Elizabeth noticed, though. Ella had often thought Elizabeth was wise beyond her years, or perhaps she had a touch of the Sight. She spied Ella on the bench, apparently looking despondent, because she came to sit beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Is it the Laird?” she asked.
How did she know?
A single tear rolled down Ella’s cheek, and Elizabeth wiped it away. “Tell me. I swear on my life what you say will never leave my lips, but it will help you to speak of it.”
“Aye, it’s the laird.” She didn’t know how to begin.
Ella was not used to talking about such things out loud.
She usually kept her own counsel, but then, maybe Elizabeth could give her some advice.
Elizabeth had been married for several years, and doubtless knew much more about the ways of men than she did.
Ella took a breath and began again. “At the gathering, he and I… we… lay together, and he hasn’t spoken to me since. ”
Elizabeth nodded, not seeming at all surprised by her confession.
“He cares for you, Ella; I can see it in his eyes.” She leaned closer in confidence, speaking in a low voice.
“It’s been the talk for weeks now, when the two of you would finally get together.
Everyone assumes it will be just a matter of time, the way you have the laird all riled.
” She sighed. “But men, well, they will always fight against matters of the heart… at first.” She smiled.
“My own father was a warrior, strong and fierce he was, and it was the same with him and my mam in the beginning. As soon as he started to have tender feelings for her, he ran off. She had to chase after him and convince him warriors could love, and still be strong, too. He was fearless in battle, but terrified of his own heart, that love would make him weak, less of a man.”
Ella smiled at the image of Elizabeth’s fearsome father cowering before love.