Chapter 10
She did not return his look with a matching stare; instead, Meria lowered her eyes in such a way that she was able to look at him from under her lashes.
It was an expression that Callum found both enticing and enigmatic at the same time.
He felt his loins tighten and tried to stop himself from fixating on being alone with such a beautiful woman.
“Perhaps I am,” she whispered in her throaty voice.
Her reply filled the air between them with endless possibilities of how Miss Meria Calvin might school a man to do her bidding.
Callum MacNair did not doubt that a bewitching woman like the young girl with the mane of long red hair and sweetly curved body lying in front of him would be able to bring the sternest of men to his knees.
He waited with bated breath for her next question, trying to stop his brain from creating images of her.
He was so aroused. He had been in a state of suppressed excitement ever since pulling the trews over her deliciously ripe and rounded behind.
The way the smooth skin of her bottom had felt when his thumbs hoisted up the breeks made his head spin.
All the blood had rushed away from his head, called away to another part of his body.
And it had stayed there, ebbing and flowing according to what he was doing and saying, but never disappearing from its ultimate destination.
As they lay staring at one another next to the fire, Callum was torn: should he shift his body in such a way to hide his desire from her, or should he cover the area with his hands with the chance the action might draw her attention to it?
As a Highlander, Callum missed the discretion his neatly pleated and belted plaid could have provided him at this time.
Wearing trews might have solved their problem with how to keep warm, but now that they were cozy and well-fed, he was growing to hate his well-fitting trews with every passing moment.
Making a choice, he turned onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows as he made himself available to answer more questions. He tried to control the urge to shift from one side to the other in order to accommodate his surging manhood.
Please let it be a really complicated answer I have to give. Maybe it will take me mind off how badly I want to mount her here an’ now right by the fire.
Callum knew this was wishful thinking. No question was going to be complex enough for his mind to forget the feeling of his fingers touching her soft skin.
“I have me doubts that Kerr is yer name. Up there on the mountains when I called for ye, it didnae seem as if ye recognized the title. It was more like ye were looking around for someone else to answer to it.”
Now, this was more like it. Time for a little bit of deception, but it was all for the greater good.
His revenge had burned hot inside him for so long that Callum would have felt empty without it.
“Ye can call me ‘Callum’ or ‘Cal,’ Lady Meria. I will answer to that name, an’ I have nay problem with ye using it. ”
She was not prepared to accept this. “Aye, but see it from me point of view, Cal. Ye arrive at the estate with no’ much to say for yerself other than ye were willin’ to come an’ fetch me for yer laird.
A laird for whom ye have nae worked very long and likely as not, someone who does nae ken yer real name.
A laird who wrote to me faither to say he would be sendin’ more than one man to escort me.
And ye seemed hell bound to arrive at our destination as soon as humanly possible, even if it meant us freezin’ on the mountain pass.
An’ guess what that says to me…” She locked her gaze on him, and he was transfixed by her stare.
“It says to me that yer master is a cruel an’ terrifying man who may well kill ye if we return to him in a tardy fashion. ”
Callum had to inhale deeply. The urge for him to tell her everything rose up like a tide inside him.
She was not just a pretty face: Meria Calvin had astute powers of reasoning as well.
She was also good at looking at someone and working out their thoughts.
Callum was relieved he had turned onto his stomach to hide his rampant desire from her.
Meria’s keen observation would have noticed the bulge under his trews crotch.
He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin while deliberating how to reply. “I have a clan name, lady. But me faither did not live long enough to acknowledge me. The name Kerr is random, but the name Callum was me faither’s, given to me by m’mither…who is no longer on this earth.”
He watched the expression on her face soften; her hand reached out to pat his, closing the gap between them. “So ye are an orphan, Callum? How long ago did yer mither pass away?”
Her sorrow was so sincere that he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, thanking her for the kind words. He had not heard another person express sympathy for his darling mother’s death ever before.
“I was six when Mither passed away…and then I was raised by the laird of another clan.” He thought of something that might distract the conversation away from such a sad topic. “Guess what me first post was at the castle?”
The way he saw Meria’s face light up cheered Callum greatly. Maybe she was not aware of how expressive her eyes could be when the hair was pushed off her face.
“I cannae imagine ye as a wee child, Callum, truly I cannae…ye’re so tall an’ braw, I struggle to think o’ ye as being anything other than formidable!” She gave her husky, throaty laugh. “Ummm, were ye the waterboy? Those great arms o’ yers must have been able to carry four pails all at once.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Believe or no’, but I was a lean child when I arrived at Castle Gray and so was put to work turning the spits for the cook.”
She burst out laughing. “The worst post to hold in summer! Ye poor wee soul.”
Her face showed compassion for the skinny orphan set to work next to a roaring log fire all day. She pointed to their own fire. “Does it bring back memories?”
He did not bother looking over at the fire: Callum was completely absorbed in how glorious her hair looked cascading down her back like a waterfall of molten embers.
“They started me off turnin’ chickens, and I was promoted to bigger meats after I had proven meself to be trustworthy.”
Meria ran her fingers through her hair, sighed, and stretched like a cat. “From looking after chickens to caring for bonded brides on their way to marry a sixty-year-auld laird, ye certainly get around, Callum Kerr.”
He had turned onto his side as they conversed together. She was holding his hand as if it were the most natural thing to do. They were taking consolation in one another. It was normal for them to move closer to one another, and neither felt uncomfortable doing it.
“How did ye lose yer mither?” he asked.
Meria dipped her head, looking grave. “I was a young lass. It was another birth. Sometimes I feel as if I am doomed to repeat the tragedy. Birthin’ bairns seems like a fearfully dangerous business.”
He wanted to reassure her. “Nay, ye have naught to worry about. Ye have ample room down there.” Callum wanted to bite his lip, but it was too late.
“What d’ye mean?” Meria demanded to know. “What d’ye mean I have ample room? Are ye sayin’ I’m a heifer?”
She was no longer jackknifing her body toward him or holding his hand. Meria’s face was flushed red whereas two hours before it had been blue.
“Nay! Why do ye jump to such an assumption?” Callum was astonished and confused at her reaction. The girl was like quicksilver in the way she moved from warm affection to outright anger at the time it took to drop a hat.
“I have every right to assume yer meaning, Cal, because that’s what ye said!
” She was scrambling to stand up but then realized he would be able to gauge the spread of her hips and bottom far better if she did that because she was wearing trews.
Meria gave a tiny growl of frustration and sat back down on the fur with her legs and arms folded, glaring at him.
Callum knew enough about hurt feelings to make an earnest attempt at an abject apology. Never in his life had he wished he knew more about what made women take offense.
“Listen, lass! Ye misconstrued me meaning entirely.” He scrambled closer to her, taking one of her small hands in his own large one.
“Ye are very…blessed in those areas I referred to. I-I could nae help but notice when I pulled those trews on ye. So lovely an’ rounded an’…
abundant.” Callum prayed he was not making a mull of it.
“Ye are neither scrawny nor over-fleshed down there. Please believe me when I tell ye that yer behind parts are perfect! No man would disagree with me.”
She stared down at him for what seemed like a long moment, then Meria burst into hysterical giggles, collapsing onto the fur beside him. Callum held his breath, thinking she was upset, but then she came up for air, and he saw she was indeed laughing.
“Och Cal!” Meria gurgled with humor. “Ye should have seen yer face! It looked like ye were preaching a sermon, not making an apology. Whenever I hear a particularly fervent sermon in kirk from now on, I shall always remember ye beggin’ me forgiveness and praising my amply rounded bahookie!”
She was a naughty lass, but he was so relieved. “Ye had me goin’ there for a moment, lady.” He growled, pulling her to lie down beside him. “And I stand by what I said. Ye have a bonny…well, every part o’ ye is bonny and beautiful.”
His words seemed to make Meria grow silent and serious. “Do ye really think I am beautiful?”
They were lying side by side, facing one another. The sound of the flames licking the logs and the hiss of steam each time a pocket of resin exploded filled the cavern. The winds outside had died down. It was just the two of them together alone on the wild mountaintop.
When she asked him the question, Callum felt the puff of her warm breath on his face. She smelled like apples and toasted barley. Compelled by their strange circumstances, he brushed his mouth over her soft pink lips in the whisper of a kiss.
“Aye, Meria, ye are lovely beyond words…”