Chapter 8
It was all his fault. If only he had insisted on checking her outer garments before they left the inn.
The problem was that Callum had never encountered such a mercurially-minded woman before in his life.
One moment she was coaxing him to try and delay their journey so she might make another escape attempt, and the next moment she was urging him to make all haste so they could reach their destination in good time.
And now Meria was nearly dead from cold, and her horse had lost a shoe. The chance of bringing his vengeance home to Hamish MacTavish before the year was any older rapidly faded from Callum’s goals. First, he must comfort the frightened girl and get her to a place of safety.
“I ken this road well, lass.” She was seated in front of him on the saddle with the pommel on either side of her legs so he could use his wolf pelt cloak to cover her while she leaned sideways against him.
He could not see her face; she had tucked it against his chest because she had no hat.
“Round yon corner ahead, there’s an outcrop of rocks that forms a cavern of sorts.
We’ll have ye inside it all right an’ tight soon enough, never ye fear.
” He felt her head nod, and her riotous curls tickled his chin.
He held her tightly as they descended the mountainside at a fast trot.
Meria’s mare limped behind them, tied to his saddle by the cord that had once held the small chest.
Meria did not even turn to look about her when he peered ahead to check out the cavern for hibernating beasts.
He knew there was little chance of any animals using the cavern as a lair; it was too shallow to provide a good hiding spot.
The promontory rocks jutting overhead were not watertight, but the space would provide Meria with enough shelter and warmth for her to come out of her shock.
Compared to the exposed weather on the mountaintop, the cavern was warm and cozy.
They would have been able to watch the sunset through the wide entrance crack if it were summertime.
“Here we go, lady.” He slid out of the saddle, and Meria fell into his outstretched arms, not even bothering to check if he was ready to catch her.
He carried her into the small rockside hole in the side of the mountain and placed her gently against the wall, seated on the ground.
Then he went back to get the saddlebags.
He would have to see to the horses later.
Meria was shaking so hard as her face and limbs thawed out, she could not speak because her teeth were chattering.
He pulled a small bundle of kindling out of his bag and set it in the middle of the cave floor.
After making a circle of rocks around it, he sparked the kindling alight with his tinderbox and beckoned Meria to come and sit closer.
She was too frozen to move, so he picked her up and brought her closer to the flames.
“I am off to gather some logs. Don’ be afeared, lass, I will return before nightfall. ”
It was an empty statement. It was already dark outside; the clouds were so heavy with sleet, they acted like a blanket, blocking out the sun’s weak rays. He left Meria with the fur cloak wrapped tightly around her. He would survive outdoors with his thick woolen coat and scarf for now.
She looked up and gave him a tiny smile, and suddenly, he could breathe again. Her lips were blue, and her hands were blotched with purple pools of frozen blood, but she would survive.
True to his word, Callum returned with three enormous logs. At this altitude and with the winds so fierce, trees did not stand for long.
The flames roared hungrily when he placed the wood on top of the fire.
But he was not done yet. Now that he knew she was comfortable (he had brought a loaf of bread out of his satchel and pushed it toward her), he went out to attend to the horses.
There was no choice but to stable them in the cavern; the horses’ body heat would warm the space.
The evening was closing in fast. Callum went out once more to collect more wood.
When he returned, he was happy to see some of the bread had been eaten.
He took the water flask out of his satchel and leaned it against one of the rocks that made up the circle around the fire.
“Let the flames warm the water a wee bit first before ye drink some.”
“D’ye have any strong spirits?” Her voice was thin and hoarse, barely a whisper.
They were the first words she had said since the accident. Callum’s heart leaped in his chest. “Nay, lass. I dinnae. Me mither made me swear to never touch the stuff.”
She seemed to accept his words. “I’m warm now,” she told him. “Ye can have yer wolf pelts back if ye want.”
He stood up. “Before we start talkin’ about who should be wearing what, let’s sort out those clothes o’ yers.” Callum began to pull plaids and trews out of his saddlebags. He stared at the garments on the floor, concentrating, making a plan. “I ken what we can do.”
Standing in the middle of the cave, he turned his back on Meria, removed his thick gray wool coat, and then unbelted his plaid.
All he was wearing underneath was his shirt.
He was aware of her eyes staring at his legs, and his shirttails were not that long either, but there was nothing Callum could do about that—this was an emergency.
He was too shy to look at her as he said, “I’ll give ye me plaid as a shawl while I wear me trews.
The wool is warm and thick, and ye will no’ suffer from the cold when ye go outside again, I promise ye.
” He sidled around the rock face so he was facing her but then realized that was an even worse idea.
“If ye avert yer eyes, lass, I’ll have these trews on before ye can count three. ”
He risked looking over at Meria as he pushed his feet through the trews legs.
Her eyes were open and watching him keenly.
Callum’s experience with women was slight, and his expertise in interacting with ladies and maidens was naught, so Callum had to suppose the way she was staring at him was entirely normal.
He lifted his shirt so he could tie the belt above his hips and then let the shirttails drop.
He shrugged his coat on next, but the fire had already done its work; the chilling emergency to stay covered was fading away, replaced by heat and crackling flames.
Callum sat down on one of the logs he had dragged inside the cavern, so he could put on his woolen stockings and boots and fasten them over his trews. He watched as Meria lifted the bread with two thawing hands and nibbled from the top of it.
Then she used the loaf to point at his legs. “Have ye got another o’ those in yer bags by any chance?”
He raised his brows and pointed at the plaid wool trews that tightly encased the defined thigh muscles of his legs. “Me breeks, ye mean?”
She nodded. “I don’ think I will ever feel safe wearing a skirt ever again, Kerr.
I’m still numb from me knees to me belly.
I’m nay sure if ye ken how ladies’ garments work, but our thighs an’ upwards are naked under our skirts, ye ken.
Our stockings only reach above our knees.
But if I was able to wear a nice pair o’ breeks... ” She gave him a wry, hopeful smile.
Maybe it was his face reacting to the heat.
Or maybe it was the thought of her soft bare thighs hiding under the lace petticoats.
But Callum felt his cheekbones grow hot.
Even with the red hue of the firelight, Meria was able to notice.
She clucked her tongue. “Och, I’m a hoyden for puttin’ ye on the spot like this, Kerr, but if we are to continue our journey, I need to wear more than just yer plaid for an arisaid.
I’ve lost me bonnet an’ have nay gloves. ”
Almost lost for words, all Callum could do was nod.
Then, thinking she might construe his lack of conversation for selfishness, he delved into his saddlebag and pulled out a pair.
“These are the ones I wear in summer, lass, an’ might be covered in horsehair, but if ye draw them on and place yer skirts an’ the plaid on top, ye should be warmer.
Ye’ll have to roll up the ends and belt it real tight, though. ”
“Would ye help me tie them on?” Meria stood up, but her legs could not hold her weight yet; she was still half chilled to the bone.
He ran to catch her before she fell and began lowering her gently to the ground.
She shook her head and pointed to the log he had been sitting on.
Callum picked Meria up and carried her there.
Before helping her sit down, Callum said, “It will be easier for me to tie on the breeks if ye step out o’ yer skirts first. Can ye see yer way around to doin’ that without compromising yer maidenly virtue?”
Meria gave a loud shout of laughter. As relieved as Callum was to hear her make such a happy sound, he could make no sense of what she found so funny.
“Mister Kerr,” Meria said in her hoarse little voice, “I nearly died and might still do so if I don’ warm me thighs and those other parts of me body I value above all else!
Untie these blasted skirts and petticoats o’ mine an’ let us be done with shrinking away from one another.
As ye are the master of me misery, at least ye can do yer best to be the one to make it better. ”
She wrapped her arm around his neck and leaned against him.
In a moment of madness, Callum thought he might have fallen into a snowdrift and be suffering the sensual delusions that come from being covered in deep snow.
But he knew he was too warm for that to be the case.
As if in a dream, Callum slipped his hand around the back of Meria’s skirt, found the ribbon band, and pulled it loose.
The layers covering the lower half of her body fell to the floor.
“Can ye sit down on the log, lady?” he asked. “Then I can lift yer feet into the breeks legs.”
As if she were in a salon at court, Meria allowed him to help her sit down, only giving a small squeak when her bare bottom touched the rough surface of the log.
Callum knew he was dithering, but he could not help himself.
“Och aye, right then. Er…I’ll get these breeks”—anything to delay having to slide the woolen garment over those smooth white thighs—“an’ ye’ll be as warm as a bannock out o’ the oven before ye ken. ”
He lifted up one dainty stockinged foot and pushed it down into the trews leg.
Then he did her other foot. “I’m going to run the breeks up to yer hips if ye can stand, lady.
” Callum froze. Only now that he was forced to look at Meria’s thighs did he realize how cold she had been.
Her beautifully rounded thighs were blotched with purple stains where the blood had stopped moving around the faint blue etchings of her veins.
Callum hated himself at that moment. He was a brute for not caring about her more. He looked up into her face. His expression was tortured.
“Meria, forgive me.”
She gave him a wee smile. “Forgive me, Kerr. I was a veritable harridan. If I had no’ been in such a close-mouthed sulk, ye would have cottoned on to me unpreparedness sooner.”
He was not sure what made him do it, but he did not regret it at all. Callum ran his fingers up the soft skin of her thigh. “Can ye feel that?”