She took a breath and once more pulled her skirts away from her legs, then shifted her feet as though her boots were paining her. Sweat dripped down her forehead.
He realized he was staring at her in confusion as he struggled to put it all together.
“I-I apologize, Callum, I’m being foolish, making these intricate plots out of what is likely nothing. I’ll leave you be from now on, I promise. I’m sorry. Enjoy the lake.”
She took a step back and stumbled over her skirts before catching herself on a tree branch. “Damnit,” she cursed under her breath as she turned to go.
Callum suppressed his laughter, knowing it would not be welcomed.
“Victoria,” he called out, and she stopped. “You’re not wrong.”
She looked back over her shoulder at him, the sun framing her curves and when those wide violet eyes pierced into him, the flicker of desire he always felt for her was fanned into flames throughout his body.
He sighed and continued. “Come sit, lass. I suppose ’tis my turn to tell you a story.”
With halting steps she returned to him, and he caught her hand and pulled her down next to him on the shore as she tucked her feet underneath her. He looked off into the distance, cleared his throat, and began.
“My family lives in the Highlands of Scotland, which you know already,” he began, missing them at just the mere mention. “What ye don’t know, is I’m not just a clan member — my father is the chieftain, and I shall be the next chief following his death, which we all pray will be a long ways off.”
“But you traveled here in steerage!” she interjected.
“Aye, I did. Being the leader of a clan does not mean vast amounts of wealth, especially not anymore. Our clan, like all others, is struggling. People are hungry. Since the uprisings a century ago, nothing has ever been the same, and the changes in agriculture continue to threaten our way of life. Have you ever been to Scotland?”
She shook her head.
“No? Well, there are fewer and fewer clans, and people are leaving to the cities, or this new world, looking for a better way of life. Have you noticed how many Scots live in Qu'Appelle? This new land is becoming a second home. But the Highlands… the Highlands are a different world. They are magic. This place holds some of that, which I would not have thought possible.
“But forgive me, for that is not the story. I have brothers and a sister, but I also grew up with my cousin, Gregor. He was — is, rather — more than my cousin. He is as close to me as any brother could be. A year ago, Gregor decided to come to the Americas. He had few prospects for his future in Scotland. He hates the British and had no use for them, didn’t see himself working in a city. He attended a gathering where recruiters presented about the Territories, and he set his mind on coming here, specifically to Qu’Appelle. We tried to convince him to stay, but he was determined. Life wasn’t the same for me at home after he left, but as long as he was happy and making a life for himself here, that’s what mattered. We exchanged letters a few times. He wrote to me of Qu’Appelle and his involvement in the fur trade with Hudson’s Bay. He loved it. Going into the forests, traveling the countryside, trapping, enjoying all nature had to offer.
“Then one day, the letters stopped. I didn’t hear from him anymore. We waited a few months, thinking that perhaps there was an issue with the post. Gregor had been staying at the Johnsons’ boarding house as well, and Mrs. Johnson finally responded to one of my letters, saying that Gregor had not returned, she was selling his belongings, and if I would like any of them, could I please send postage and she would send them back to Scotland?
“Which is why I’m here. Trying to find Gregor, or find out what happened to him, if that’s the case. I contacted the North-West Mounted Police and was put in touch with Angus McLaren, the only man who seems to believe something is amiss with Gregor’s disappearance. McLaren is a fellow Scot, and he promised to help. But there are few men to look after the needs of a large territory with many people and concerns. So I’m seeing what I can find out myself. Once we find Gregor, I’ll return home to my family and continue to look after my people.” He spread his hands in front of him. “And there you have it. Now you know.”
He finally turned to look at her.
Victoria sat staring at him wide-eyed, mouth agape. “Thank you for telling me,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. How awful to not know what has happened to someone you love. But, Callum, we will find your cousin, I am sure of it. He cannot have simply disappeared. And we have a clue now. Those men must have something to do with Gregor’s disappearance. We should go tell Sergeant McLaren, and he should bring them in for questioning.”
“Hold now, lassie,” he said, grateful for her enthusiasm but needing to nip this before she started down a path that had no room for her. “I’m not sure who you mean by ‘we.’ I appreciate your interest, but I can take it from here. I’m sure you understand the importance of keeping this information to yourself, as I will your story. You are, however, right about one thing. I really must be going to talk to Angus.”
“Please, Callum, let me help. I can find out things that you could not. People open up to me, and they would never guess what I’m asking about. I can investigate, I promise. I am a wonderful listener.” She captured his hand between hers, and looked up at him with a pleading expression. He was sure it was typically irresistible to most men, and she likely knew it. It was not, however, going to change his mind.
“’Tis cute, Victoria,” he said with a smile. “But it’s not going to work. Now let me go.”
He reluctantly removed his hand from hers, couldn’t resist a quick kiss upon her forehead, and then stood and walked over to his horse.
“Callum,” she called, and when he looked back she wore a vulnerable expression, her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you… do you really have to leave?”
Whether she was meaning right this moment, or in the future to Scotland — or maybe both, he wasn’t quite sure — the answer was the same.
“I wish I didn’t, Victoria,” he said quietly. “But I do.”
18
Callum rode on to the Mountie barracks, thinking over all that Victoria had finally shared with him, her eagerness to help him without a thought to her own safety, and her expression when he had told her of the responsibilities he must return to in Scotland.
She wore her heart in her expressions, which was part of the reason he must ensure that she stay far away from any danger that might present itself. She’d give herself away, and it could prove far too dangerous for her. The last thing he needed was to worry about her when he had to be focused on Gregor.
When Angus was absent at the barracks without any hint of when he might return, Callum decided the best course of action would be to return to the boarding house and search the rooms of Victoria’s three suspects.
She actually had provided him with the first real lead in weeks, for which he was grateful, but one thing was for certain — he wasn’t going to share the information with her.
* * *
Victoria slowly made her way back to town, wandering along the lakeshore, thinking over all that Callum had shared. What a story! And the fact that he had come all the way here for his cousin. What must it be like, to have someone that close, to love you that much?
She had loved her father in that way, but she had been so young that it was a different kind of love. She had depended on him — he was her life. She loved her Aunt Sarah, of course, but often Sarah was more of a protector than a friend. Callum and Gregor had the bond of close siblings that Victoria would never have a chance to experience.
She was so lost in her daydreams, she didn’t hear anything unusual. She stepped onto the bridge which led back to town, thinking over Callum’s declaration that he must return to Scotland once all was resolved here. It explained much of his actions toward her and in a way, was something of a relief. It wasn’t her that he was avoiding — it was simply that he didn’t have the
inclination to spend time with a woman. A thought struck her. Suppose he had someone waiting at home? Perhaps—
Suddenly she felt a shove on her back. She hardly had time to think, let alone try to catch herself as she lost her footing and tripped over the side of the railing-less bridge, splashing into the water. She panicked for just a moment at the shock, but her ingrained reaction led her to circle her arms and kick her feet until she broke through the surface and gasped in air, sputtering and angry.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, looking around her, her wet hair plastered to the side of her face. No one was in sight, and Victoria angrily began swimming to the shore. Had she not known how to swim — as was the case with many Englishwomen, she knew — she could have drowned. As it was, her skirts weighed her down in the deep stream, but fortunately the current was more of a meandering brook than a fast-flowing river. She was just dragging her waterlogged self onto the bank when Callum rounded the corner.
“Victoria! My God, what happened?” he cried incredulously as he dismounted and ran to her.
“I was pushed into the river,” she said, still in disbelief herself, as she hauled her legs up over the edge.
“Pushed?” he said, lifting her effortlessly up onto her feet as he looked her over as though assessing her condition. “Are you sure?”
“Am I sure? Of course I’m sure. I am not an idiot, and while I may be known to occasionally lose my footing, I would not just fall off a bridge,” she said with a snort. “Or perhaps I just decided a swim while fully clothed sounded like a wonderful idea.”
He laughed and rubbed his hands up and down her arms as Victoria realized the chill was beginning to invade. “Ye certainly have backbone, lass. Come, I’ll ride with you back to town. Ye’ll be wanting fresh clothes.”
“I’ll dry enough and warm shortly,” she said, glancing around for Star and breathing a sigh of relief when she spotted her standing near Callum’s mount. “I don’t want to be riding into town like this. Go on ahead, I’ll stay here.”
“Leave you alone after someone pushed you?”
Victoria winged up an eyebrow. “Oh, so you do believe me?”
“Aye, I believe you,” he said with a sigh. “While I’ve seen you daydream, I ken you’re not stupid or fanciful. If you want to dry your clothes, come through the trees, there’s an outcropping of rocks that face the sun and is hidden from the road. Perhaps its best you don’t ride into town like that.”
She followed his gaze down to the wet fabric clinging to her bosom and heat rose in her cheeks as she crossed her arms in front of her.
He had certainly gotten an eyeful. One that he didn’t seem to mind.
* * *
Victoria followed him through the trees to the clearing, where he signaled a tree branch for them to tie their horses to. This little copse reminded Callum of forested areas of the Highlands, as the sun streamed through the tall branches of the elms and evergreens onto a couple of large boulders which rested on the grass-filled space.
“This is beautiful,” she breathed. “How did you find it? Is it natural?”
“I found it exploring when I first arrived. It’s somewhere to get away alone, where I can sit and think,” he replied, looking around himself. “It may have been cleared some time ago, but no one ventures here now — at least, not that I have found. Come here and let me help you with your dress. I have a blanket in my saddlebag that you can cover with.”
“I do not need help, thank you,” she said primly, and he knew it was probably a good thing she refused his help. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep himself from her if he helped her undress. “You may go.”
He stepped over to his horse and returned with a green wool blanket. “Here. It’s coarse but clean. I’ll stay close, but will keep my back turned.”
He walked back to the edge of the clearing and turned to face outward as Victoria worked at freeing herself from the dress. Callum tried not to laugh at her muffled curses, as he realized that the water had likely stiffened the fabric. Her struggles continued until finally Callum knew he had to be a gentleman and offer his assistance.
“Having troubles?” he asked.
“No,” she replied, despite the fact that she was clearly struggling. After a few more moments she gave in. “Yes,” she sighed. “My arms are stuck.”
“Would you like some help?”
“I suppose. But do not let this put any ideas in your head.”
If only she knew that it was far too late for that. Callum turned and suppressed an obvious laugh as he took in her current state. She glared at him and tried once again to free herself. One arm was in, one out. Strands of wet hair clung to her face, the rest of it tangled on top of her head.
“Do not laugh.”
“I’m not.”
"You are.”
“Not… not on the outside,” he finally managed, and she narrowed her eyes at him as her cheeks grew pink.
“No need to blush, lass,” he said with a wicked smile. “Do you think I’ve never undressed a woman before?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said with a sniff as she turned around, causing him to grin even wider as the thought clearly bothered her.
She stood still as he gently freed one arm and then the other before pulling the dress down from her shoulders. Her skin looked so incredibly soft that he couldn’t help but brush his fingertips along her back, causing her to visibly tremble.
“Thank you,” she said, stepping away quickly as though he had burned her. “Now turn your back.”
He turned around, in agony as he listened to her finish removing her dress and what would be her top petticoat. He heard her flip up the blanket, and she finally told him that he could turn around.
“I am decent.”
Callum wasn’t sure if “decent” was an accurate description of the way she looked, so small and vulnerable in the large green blanket. Her shoulders glistened from the drops of water still covering them, while her tousled hair reminded him of a woman recently bedded. Her dress and petticoat were lying in the sun on the rock, and he imagined that she was still wearing her undergarments.
Callum could only stand frozen as he stared at her, not moving a muscle save for the involuntary tick in his jaw. Then she self-consciously began to comb her fingers through her hair, and he was sunk.
He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, but only one thought filled his mind. He closed the gap between them in seconds, roughly reaching out and pulling her to him before she even knew what was happening. His mouth fell on hers hungrily, and after a moment of stillness in which she was likely too shocked to respond, Victoria moved her lips beneath his, taking as much of him as he gave. His arms held her close to him, and as she lifted her hands to run her fingers through his hair, the blanket fell away, leaving only her thin chemise between them. His hands slid over her ribs and down to her hips, her skin torching his fingertips as he went.
Victoria clutched Callum, holding on as though he was a life preserver. He became equally lost in the sensations. Never before had he had such a yearning for a woman, a longing to not only have her, but to make her his, for not just the moment but forever more.
The thought should scare him. Commitment always had. And yet what was even worse to think of was that this could be the one and only time they would have together, in this way. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, as he couldn’t get his fill. When Victoria’s knees gave way, Callum lifted her in his arms as he crouched to stretch the blanket out on the ground before them. He laid her upon it, before covering her nakedness with his body. His hands roamed upwards, teasing her nipples, and he couldn’t help but lean into her so that she could tell just how much he wanted her. She arched up toward him, moaning his name in a whimper of need that first nearly sent him over the edge, but dangled him just far enough off the precipice that he was stoked back to his senses.
Abruptly he lifted himself from her, propping up on his arms, hovering over top of her. He was bre
athing hard, his heart racing as he realized he had nearly taken here, right here in the middle of the forest.
She seemed, for once, incapable of speech as she gazed up at him. Her cheeks were red, her pulse beating fast underneath his fingers.
“I am sorry,” Callum finally muttered, breaking the silence. “I shouldna have done that.”
“You must stop apologizing for these moments,” she said, her voice coming out breathily. “That was … magnificent.”
He gave a short laugh.
“That was nothing.”
“It could be more,” she looked up at him imploringly, and he knew what she wanted — something that he could not give.
“There can’t,” he said, his words coming out harsher than he had meant them to.
“Why not?” she demanded, sitting up, and he pushed himself back from the blanket, away from her and all that she tempted him with. “I am a grown woman. I can do what I wish. If I did not want you with me here, then you wouldn’t be.”
“Ah, Victoria. You’re too good for me, love.”
“Is that it? You think I’m too good for you?” She wrinkled her nose, clearly agitated as he picked up the blanket to cover her with it once more.
“That’s not all,” he said, unable to meet her gaze. “Your life is here now. Mine is back in Scotland.”
“I could — I could come with you,” she said hesitatingly as she moved to her knees.
“No, lass,” he said with a slow shake of his head, trying to picture her back home at Galbury Castle. His family would love her — anyone would, truly — but she was so alive here, so happy to finally be with family, that he knew she wouldn’t be happy anywhere else. Not anymore. ”Life back in the Highlands is not for a woman like you. People are hungry, with nowhere to work, nowhere to live, losing their culture, and an Englishwoman in their midst would not be kindly treated.”
Callum’s Vow: The Victorian Highlanders Page 12