Chapter 12
When he stuck his head out of the cavern mouth the next morning, Callum did not like what he saw.
He came back to the campfire ring and hunkered down next to his saddlebags.
He began to dole out the food from inside them into two piles.
He was not impractical or martyrish about the portions; if he wanted to stay strong enough to protect Meria, he must keep up his strength, and if Meria wanted to maintain the warmth of her body, the lady must eat a hearty meal too.
It was a dilemma because when he looked at the small piles of dried apple slices and loaves of waybread and the half dozen flasks of small ale, it was not going to be enough to make them comfortable.
He had placed the dried meats and cooking lard into the small trunk, which even now must be a tasty tidbit for some ravaging animal to feed off.
They could have melted snow over the fire if it had fallen, but the icy slicing sleet would be difficult to collect into flasks.
From the look of the weather out there, they might have to stay in the cavern until the threat of snow disappeared.
Callum leaned against the stone at the back of the cavern and gnawed his lower lip with furious concentration.
He had allowed his eye to stray away from the main objective: getting close enough to MacTavish to kill him.
How had the situation suddenly become so complicated?
After what had happened last night, the thought of Meria wedded to MacTavish made his blood boil.
It did not change his need to dispatch the laird off the face of the world; if anything, Meria marrying the man made Callum want to kill him far more.
It was the irksome feeling he had that if he, Callum, was not able to do the murderous deed before the beddan night, it could be Laird Hamish MacTavish breaking Meria’s maidenhead instead of…
well, he knew he was not noble enough to marry the daughter of a laird, but a man could dream, couldn’t he?
When Callum looked down at his hands, he saw they were balled into tight fists.
He breathed out slowly and looked at Lady Meria sleeping on the fur in front of the fire.
She had one hand under her cheek and the other draped over her midriff.
When Callum had woken that morning, they were lying together, facing the same side; his arm had been wrapped around her in such a way that allowed her to clasp his hand.
A fierce, intense need to protect her had washed over him, and his arm had tightened around her involuntarily. It was a complicated situation indeed.
Missing the warmth of his body behind her, Meria stirred, murmuring and touching her face as her dreams fled and were replaced by the bleak reality of waking inside a makeshift shelter. She opened her eyes a fraction and then shut them again.
“Ahh,” she moaned, “me bones ache…”
He bent down to ruffle the spiraling red curls. “Give yerself time to get yer blood flowing, lass. I’m guessing ye’ve never spent so many long hours on a horse before?”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking around the cave blurrily. “Who would want to? I feel wretched.”
He grinned. Meria was back to normal. The wild, abandoned woman who had been so hungry for his kisses had disappeared as if frightened away by the light of day.
“What do we have to break our fast?” She looked over at the two piles of food and then over at him.
“Is that all we have left?” He nodded. Meria paused, then said, “I suppose that means we should be making all haste to MacTavish Castle, Cal…and yet I am in no hurry to meet the man.” He watched her cheeks grow rosy and was instantly reminded of the enchanting siren who had run her hands so eagerly over the front of his trews the previous night.
“Then ye will be pleased to ken there will be nay travelin’ to the castle today, lady.
” He watched her face light up with happiness.
“The weather is too poor: mists so thick we could ride right over the mountainside an’ be none the wiser; winds so strong we might no’ tumble over but be picked up by the gales an’ carried away to the treetops; an’ sleet—sheets of icy sleet. ”
Meria pointed her little riding boots toward the fire. “We have enough wood. We may as well stay here until the squall has passed.” She gave him a naughty wink and smiled.
He could not stop himself from responding but was compelled to deliver more bad news. “Aye, ye took the words out o’ me mouth, lass. But we need more food. I must leave ye to go out hunting.”
She bounced up immediately. “Oh nay ye don’! I ken full well how men disappear for the longest time when they go hunting, an’ if ye think ye’re leaving me behind here to get eaten by wolves or waylaid by highwaymen, ye are mad! I’m comin’ with ye.”
The more Callum thought about it, the more he did not mind agreeing to Meria’s demand.
If something did happen to him out there, it would be best for both of them if they were together.
They only had one horse now, but his gelding, Frankl, was so large that her weight would not hinder the horse as they rode down the mountain to the forest. But…
“Lady Meria, the hind or boar carcass will be draped over the horse when we come back up the path. D’ye think yerself strong enough to walk up an incline?”
“Nay, I most certainly am not,” she said in her most determined voice, which was still hoarse from the freezing cold she had experienced the day before.
“That’s why we are not going up an’ down the blasted rocks to the forest. Ye must set a few traps around the rocks for birds an’ rabbits an’ such. That’s a better idea.”
He doubted they would find much meat on an animal that lived on the mountaintops, but Callum saw the sense in what she was suggesting. “Och aye, lass. Will ye come with me?”
She nodded, wrapping his plaid around her shoulders and smoothing the woolen trews closer to her legs. “Aye, Cal. I want to learn how to do it. Maybe we will be trapped here for longer than we ken.”
He had to smile; she sounded very happy with the idea of living in the cavern for a few days.
Before allowing her to exit through the mouth of the cave, Callum pulled the plaid over her head.
“Ye have no bonnet, lass. The cold will have yer ears frozen in the blink of an eye if ye dinnae cover yer head.” She gave such a sweetly grateful smile that his heart leaped in his chest. His hatred for Laird Hamish MacTavish intensified.
Callum had brought a thin cord with him and used his dirk to cut it into shorter lengths.
“Ye never seem to run out of cord, do ye, Cal?” Meria said to him as he tied a length into a noose and fixed it under a heavy rock. “I wish I did nae ken what that felt like. It almost makes me feel sorry for the animal…”
They were having to shout slightly over the howling wind, so he just shook his head and gave her a rueful smile. After setting ten traps around the cavern entrance, he led Meria back inside. They waited by the fire for their faces to thaw out, blowing on their hands and stamping their feet.
“I saw a fallen tree a wee walk down the path,” he told her. “Set the ale to warm against the rocks, an’ I’ll be back anon.”
When he returned, dragging another thick log behind him, he noticed Meria had tried to tidy the narrow cavern by using a branch with twigs to sweep the debris off the floor and push their few possessions against the stones opposite the entrance.
Without saying a word, Callum removed the scarf from his neck, stretched up to the top of the overhanging rocks, and stuffed the crack with the wool.
The thin film of sleet that had been falling in front of the fire, sometimes hissing and steaming when it hit the circle of rocks, stopped.
They looked at one another and smiled. Never one to lie to himself, this was the most at home Callum had ever felt since staying in the small tavern bedchamber with his mother and brother.
How was it possible? They were living in a mountain cave, at the beginning of winter, without much food to eat or warm clothes to wear, and somehow he was happy.
Home is where the heart is.
The words stuck in his mind. Callum gave his head a shake, determined to dislodge that crazy thought. This was not his home…and his heart was dedicated to finding the man who ordered his soldiers to tear wee children away from their mothers so they could grow up to be slaves in his castle.
“What are ye thinkin’ about?” Meria asked him. “Ye look sad an’ angry at the same time.” She knew him well enough already to realize his harder emotions were never directed at her.
He shrugged, not wanting to lie or tell her the truth. “I hope me scarf does nae soak in the rain is all.” He did not look at her, knowing that Lady Meria would read the deception in his eyes.
The long day passed slowly. They sat on the fur cloak, watching the flames consume the wood, watching the gray skies for any sign to show them the weather would break, but they watched in vain.
Callum and Meria shifted closer, and it was not only for warmth.
Every passing moment brought them closer to night, and they both knew they wanted to spend it the same way they had done so previously.
The tension between them was palpable. No amount of chat about warcraft, weapons, and sword fights would be enough for them to forget how marvelous it had felt in one another’s arms.
“Shall we go and check the traps?” he suggested, reaching his hand out to help her stand up.
Meria nodded, but her mind was not on supper.
There was a coney at the first trap they inspected. “I am more used to the meat arriving at the dinner table with a sauce on it, Cal,” Meria told him, wrinkling her nose and backing away from the coney.
He gave her a comforting smile. “Return to the cavern then, but be sure to find a few hardwood sticks on the way back so we can spit the meat.” He had to show her how to tell the difference between hard- and soft-wood sticks before she left, but he knew she would not shirk her task.
When he returned later, with the game already skinned and cut, Meria had two long hardwood sticks waiting in the cave.
He showed her how to skewer the meat and turn the sticks so the game cooked evenly.
“I keep forgettin’ that this is what ye were trained to do, Cal,” Meria said to him with a naughty grin. “Was yer heart no’ set on turning those spits in the kitchen for the rest o’ yer life?”