Chapter 22
Her touch is divine!
Fingers brushing over his collarbone awoke him. His eyes popped open, discovering a doe-like pair staring up at him. How long had he slept? He glanced at the tall candle which had burned almost into a nub. Damn, a long while.
Her hand stroking his torso paused before she pointed at the parchment and quill.
She wanted to talk. He nodded. His long arm stretched, fetching the three requirements along with the pewter plate once holding the bread so she had something to write on.
The quill, plate, and parchment she took; he set the ink horn on his rib holding it steady.
Scratch. Scratch. His eyes watched the slender fingers make quick work of the tools present.
Once her palm halted, she raised the parchment.
His eyes narrowed in the dim light.
Thunder was the cause. It happens at times when thunder or lightning strikes while I am enacting my instinct in senses. My line called it a “cost of measure” for abusing my element foolishly. ’Tis nothing, Callum.
He stole the quill from her to write.
No, Nella, ’tis something.
The expression she wore silently declared she had more to say. He handed the quill back. A long succession in scratching with crinkle by parchment, she lifted the message closer.
I beg to differ upon that accord! I almost got us captured by my weakness then the sorrowful words Captain Castellón murmured regarding your times past. Before he appeared upon the deck, he murmured, “Well then let us have a look at the lady who has finally broken through that sound stoic armor he has worn all these years in sorrow.” Those “years” were cast by my hand, my rash actions, same as this eve.
I should have told you of my weakness. I am still holding words back that should be said.
No. No More! The purpose I had not spoken regarding my weakness is I feared you would forbid my use of it and this…
well, Callum MacCade, this I could not chance.
I could not chance you and yet I placed you at risk.
The effects by the thunder shall pass in a short while, perhaps a day.
Please be patient with me. However, I lost the path to freeing the Northman.
He looked from the parchment, discovering her eyes strayed down. Lifting the quill from her fingers, he inked his reply.
To the last charge, Lord Kolson shall live, Nella, do not worry about this.
If the Benefactor wanted him dead, they would never have declared he should go quietly with them.
Regarding your worry about patience. I have spent years wishing for us.
My patience shall not be cast aside by those merely looking to hunt us down.
As he watched her read the reply, tears began streaming her cheeks but joy did not fill her eyes.
Why? Was a future with him not wanted even after all they had shared?
A thousand years she could ask him to wait and wait he would.
They had made no formal promises to one another, but he would watch over and want her always.
There was no changing this pull in his heart; he would never want to, even if he could, close off his emotions for her.
Her hand moved at a rapid rate over the parchment as if fear filled her soul. When she handed him the parchment back, his mouth gaped.
I believe the Benefactor may be my late husband. Hiss stated to Lord Kolson this eve directly before the lightning strike “that they must make haste and be as bold as the devil who dances in the firelight”. This was an odd turn of phrase my late husband would use. I have never heard another say it.
His mouth closed while his jaw set at the final words.
Callum, I cannot go back to him.
He plucked the quill from her grasp, writing fervently.
Aye, the sentiment you state is a unique turn of phrase. If he is the Benefactor, you will never be in his reach again. This I vow!
She took the quill once more. His emotions trenched deeper as he read.
Callum, my heart is only yours now and always.
He met her gaze while she took his hand and pressed it on her heart in a silent lover’s vow.
Capturing her lips, he set the ink horn forgotten onto the table. The quill tickled his brow when her hand raised up cupping his scalp. The tender dart from her tongue on his caused him to spin her about on the narrow pallet till he loomed above her, deepening their kiss. She was his, always.
However, he had to stop. She was hurt! Claiming her was not a choice at this moment. Giving an inward growl born of instincts unfulfilled, he leaned up, finding her wide eyes staring at him.
Grinning at her, he took his hand and pressed it to her heart. She leaned into his touch, her breast cupped perfectly into his palm. They held in this position for a long moment.
The most glorious creature he had ever beheld wished solely for him. If only he could speak he would shout from rooftops the emotions it tore loose. He lifted his palm to rest it over his heart in silent ode to his feelings for her.
Tears shined in her eyes but this time joy shined bright as dawn’s light. She knew. His heart was hers now and always. Her fingers raised up, covering his while his heartbeat thumped wildly.
She lifted her calf up his backside as her thighs opened wide. There her garden awaited him, right there. One thrust she would be his once again. No! She was hurt.
Move or all control was sure to vanish! Spinning them back around, he cupped her left buttock as she straddled his thigh.
Her head fell under his neck with her brow pressing his throat.
Their breathing was hoarse from want and wish and will to claim one another.
She nodded slightly against his skin as if saying at him, Aye, Callum, ’tis the best choice to wait.
Wait they shall. Someway he would find a path for them if Nella’s fears were a reality.
He clutched her close and they both shook slightly from desires unquenched before sleep finally took hold as a means to escape what could not be tasted.
Same as one who sleeps from hunger gnawing and no feast abounded.
***
Callum yanked the scabbard tight around his hips. Perhaps it would ease the ache below the strap. No! Still suffering from not claiming all of Nella.
The innkeeper had been true to his word and arrived before dawn, rousing them. Rustling by Nella was behind while he stood studying the flicker in the candles on the table. It was better this way. If he watched her dress his control would have flown quicker than a hawk diving for game.
“Callum.” Her voice was a whisper. “You may turn. However, I beg your pardon, the gown is rather wee for me.”
He spun on his heel then inwardly groaned. It was tight with a low neckline. It must have been one for the lassies who served here. Her breasts were fighting against the fabric’s tightness and crested with a taste spilling over the neckline.
She murmured, astonished, “How unique to discover I have breasts at long last.” Cloak. Where was the damn cloak? There – on the chair. He leapt like a stag for the dark garment, throwing the find over her shoulders.
“Callum?”
His meek tone matched hers. “Best not harbor a chill, my lady.” It was partially true.
“Is the wimple straight?”
This had to have been a tavern lassie’s also. The fresh thin veil didn’t cover but skimmed over her tawny red waves in a shimmery way; most beguiling. Even with her tiny pillows still situated over her ears with the wimple strap covering them. He yanked the hood on her cloak up.
“Aye, Nella.” She gave her temple a rub. The desire cooled in his veins as fear took its place. “Nella, the pain?” He held his breath.
“On the mend. Low tones should reign but by mid mornin’ the cost of measure will have passed,” she assured, her eyes clear. “This was me simply straightening a stray hair offering a wee tickle on my temple.”
He exhaled again. “Nella, before we go forth there is an urgent matter we must converse upon.” She raised a brow. “I must have your word you shall not wander recklessly into any action and will obey my every command.”
The brow rose higher. “Shall I baa or moo as you herd me?”
He didn’t hide his smile. There was his feisty lady once again. “This is not what I seek.”
“Then pray tell, what do you seek, Sir Callum?” Oh, hell, she used the title; never a good sign.
Ahem. “We are charging forth into battle, are we not?”
“Aye.”
He pointed at the closed door. “Soon as we step over this threshold again where you are nae longer Lady Fawnella MacHearin. You must be the same as one of the knights or warriors or mercenaries under my command. For one very simple reason.” She leaned closer as he continued.
“When one marches into battle, the commander must know those about him shall follow the orders lest chaos reigns and all may be lost. Even for the commander himself.”
Studying him a long moment, she murmured, “By not listening to all you say this may place you at chance?”
“Aye, and you as well. This I cannot have, Nella.” Never would she be chanced. “Promise me you shall not take matters into your own hands once again. If I were to lead a siege and Sir Brayden bolted his horse ahead all others, does this not place those ‘others’ at risk?”
She chewed her lip a moment. He clamped his tongue between his teeth as he stared at the action. They would never leave this chamber if he kissed her.
“You are a most clever one, Callum MacCade, all you state is logical.” She stuck her hand out same as warrior sealing an accord. “My vow is yours.”
They shook soundly. He could kiss one part of her.
Raising her soft knuckles to his lips, he brushed a soft press across them.
Her breath caught at the action. “Thank you, my lady,” he replied in a lover’s tone, “’Twas a grand ask, I know.
The comfort you have bestowed is immeasurable.
” His gaze strayed again toward her lips.
Knock. Knock. “Time to take your leave!” the innkeeper announced through the shuttered oak. “Your charger is by the forest, move!” the voice crackled through the split wood.
***
A wrinkled face with hawk-like eyes flew into her view after she and Callum ripped open the door. “I shall see you both to the charger,” she heard the man state.
Callum wove his hand in hers. His other remained on his sword’s hilt after placing the bow and quiver across his shoulder. They reached the bustling kitchen’s back door.
Dawn’s first rays were fighting past the trees beyond like a battering ram though a raised drawbridge.
The innkeeper pulled on Luss’s reigns, bringing the stallion toward the door.
Handing the leathers to Callum, the innkeeper vanished back inside with a grunt of goodbye in departure. All righty then.
Callum remained halted while he darted his eyes across the whole vista. Seemingly pleased by the quiet surroundings, her knight set her up onto Luss’s saddle. She grasped the reins with her right hand while rubbing the fur soft as warm moss under her left palm.
He swung up behind her before his thick arm wove her waist with his other hand reaching forth to seek the stallion’s reigns from her grasp. As he set the steed at a brisk canter, she heard him ask softly. “The sound from Luss’s stride…”
“’Tis fine,” she broke in, assuring his worried tone as a low oak branch whizzed by their ears. “Callum, if my suspicions regarding the Benefactor are correct, hadn’t we best gather to Castle Sgàrlaid first?”
“Sgàrlaid, ‘crimson’ in Gaelic, this is the title of Clan MacMardan’s castle and keep?”
“Aye,” she explained. “Upon my first arrival there I grew curious as to the name’s choice by the clan.
I asked my betrothed, whose name I shall never utter once more, then he declared to me, ‘My lady, ’tis crimson, same as the blood from those who dare to enter the bailey walls or threaten the clan or treat the chief with ill respect.
’ ‘Twas a threat right at the start he tore at me.”
“There shall also be a ‘crimson’ marking on a spike after I place his skull at the castle gates,” Callum replied, his words ridden by promise. “His death, tell me again how it came to be.”
“A fall from his charger. He struck his head. However, perhaps he was revived and then staged a ruse, which included the plans we are now entrenched in. He was always plotting whether it be against man or beast. Who would dare to suspect one who is already dead?”
“To your original inquiry, we stay the course with Sir Brayden and Tomas following the swords. Where is Castle Sgàrlaid?”
“Northwest from the meadow we are to gather with them. ’Tis a great distance but that is the direction. What of Lady Keirah? You stated she is a fate-seer. Perchance she will aid in the cause that has befallen onto the kingdom?”
Callum cantered them past a wide boulder. “The fates are fickle at times,” he explained. “My brother Aonghus told me once she declared that if fate is meant to be cast, ’twill not appear to Lady Keirah.”
“This must cause a great deal in uncertainty for her,” Nella countered thoughtfully.
“Aye, Aonghus agrees most ardently.” Callum looked from the oak grove they began entering to her. “Nella, I do not wish for you to chance yourself by harnessing your prowess too soon.”
She gave a snort. “Callum, I feel well at this moment. We may remove the pillows from my ears.”
“Nae.”
“Callum?”
“Aye?”
“A sound captain also heeds the direction from those in his charge.”
He gave the snort. She smiled back at him. “Nella, you speak logic but my heart screams nae.”
“Harken to the logic,” she counseled. Reaching up, she removed the stuffing from under the wimple strap. Thump. Thump. Luss’s sound rhythm by hooves battering the earth she harkened too but no pain! Thank all! Her smile grew. “Aye, ’tis good once more. We may speak in normal tones.”
“Nella.”
“Aye?”
“If you grow tired or weak or even a stray cloud gathers overhead, the stuffing goes back, agreed?”
“Agreed, but clouds?”
“Aye, Nella.”
“Callum, ’tis Scotland.”
“Aye, clouds gather same as heather on the hills. We cannot chance a rumble by lightning.”
She leaned back, pressing her lips upon his lobe.
He gave a low growl at the gesture, tugging her tighter.
“Please take heart, my knight, all will be well. ’Twas a rare occurrence same as spying a white stag in these hills.
All the years, this I know: gray may reign overhead, but lightning does not! ”