Calum lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “He was in love with the maiden, so he cared not what she truly was.”
Arabella sighed in relief and sank down on her heels.
“Oh, but there’s more to the tale.” He grinned. “During one of their trysts, the Queen of the Fae discovered the pair locked in an intimate embrace. ’Twas forbidden for the Fae to reveal their true natures to mortals. Enraged one of her subjects had broken this sacred law, she ordered the warrior’s death at once.”
Arabella gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “He died?”
“I’m getting to that.” Calum stifled a yawn. “The maiden pleaded with the queen, begging her to spare her lover. She offered her life in place of the warrior’s, but the warrior would have none of it. Instead, he freely submitted his life to the queen under the condition the maiden would never come to harm. Moved by the pair’s devotion, the Queen of the Fae chose mercy. She gave them two choices. The maiden could return to her own realm, forever abandoning her warrior, and he would have no memory of her. Or, she could choose to live by her warrior’s side as a mortal, severing her ties with the Fae forever.”
Arabella waited for him to continue as long moments of silence spanned. He lay motionless with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. Had he fallen asleep? Perturbed, she poked him hard in the side with her stick. He rumbled out a laugh, no doubt pleased to have tricked her.
“Finish the tale,” she huffed. “What did the maiden choose?”
“She chose a life with her warrior, of course.”
She sighed, pleased the pair had found their happy ending. Curiosity made her ask, “What would you have chosen?”
One eye cracked open, peering up at her. His shoulders lifted in a semblance of a shrug. “How should I know? I’ve never been a Fae.”
With a sound of annoyance, she tossed the stick at his head.
Laughing, he moved quickly and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. “I do not believe in such tales, so ’tis of no consequence.”
Irritated, she snatched a leaf from the ground. “Then what do you believe in?”
“Honor, respect, loyalty.” He glanced at her. “And what of you? What do you believe in?”
“Much the same, I suppose.” She tossed the leaf aside and wiped her hands on her gown. “Calum, do you believe in love?”
His lips curved with a soft smile. “I do. I witnessed it firsthand from my mother and father.”
Arabella bit her lip and studied his profile. “Have you ever been in love?”
His eyebrows rose, as though the question surprised him. “Nay, I’ve never found the right woman.”
“I’m astounded you admit such freely.” She laughed. “Iain would’ve coughed and sputtered, then denied.”
Calum snorted. “I’ve no doubt he would’ve. Truth is, all men desire love, whether they admit so or not. Many complain ’tis naught but a weakness, but I do not believe that. With the right woman, how could love be anything but a strength?”
’Twas her turn to raise her brows. She’d never heard a man speak of love with such open honesty and sensible reasoning. He was unlike any man she’d known.
“I have a question for you.” He cocked his head to peer at her. “Why are you not wed yet? You’re clever, comely, wise for your years.”
“Perhaps, like you, I’ve not found the right man.” She glanced away. “A few have sought my hand, but those men merely desired an alliance with my family name or gold to fill their coffers. Aye, I know, I know. ’Tis a woman’s lot in life, but Iain did not believe so. He said I should be allowed a say in the matter and I loved him dearly for permitting me the freedom to choose, even if ’twas a foolish notion.”
The back of his finger grazed her cheek, and she curved her neck to gaze at him.
“’Tis not foolish, Arabella.”
He tipped his head and brushed his mouth over hers. She melted under the tender pressure and sighed against his lips. She’d never tire of his kisses. Unlike his others, this one was gentle and achingly sweet. She leaned into him, but he pulled away too soon, nearly causing her to topple over.
His thumb swept over her bottom lip. “My restraint flees whenever I’m around you.”
“Is that so bad?” Despite the heat in her cheeks, Arabella placed her hand over his heart, the steady beat thumping beneath her palm.
“’Tis very bad, Sweetness.”
He moved away from her and she regretted the loss.
Frustrated and ashamed of her forward behavior, she rose to her feet and paced to the pool’s edge. The threat of tears burned in her eyes. She could not understand the man, the constant push and pull. One moment, he wanted her. The next, he held her at arm’s length.
Holy Mother, what was she thinking? There could be naught between them in the first place.
In no time, he stirred behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Look at me.”
She stiffened but continued to stare at the waterfall.
“Please, Arabella.”
Against her better judgement, she turned and peered at the lacing of his tunic.
“I do not understand you,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
He nudged her chin, but she refused to meet his gaze.
“What do you not understand?”
Annoyed with him and herself, she flapped an arm out. “This back and forth that you do. One moment, you hold me close. The next, you push me away. Why? What do you want, Calum MacGregor?”
His brows knitted together. “You.”
The single word drew her gaze to his. The depth of emotion in his eyes jumbled her thoughts.
His thumb brushed her cheek. “You and I—this is a matter we will speak on when I return.”
Return? “Where do you go?”
“A few of the men and I need to ride the borders before the first snowfall. ’Tis my duty to see to the clan living outside the village. Make sure they’re clothed and have a store of food for the winter.”
She nodded. “When do you leave?”
“On the morrow at first light.”
“You’ll return soon?” She could’ve pinched herself for the eagerness in her voice.
A soft smile curled his lips. “Aye, in a few days. We’ll have our talk on my return, all right?”
She replied in a flat tone. “As you wish, Calum.”
“I do wish, Arabella. For many things.” His mouth hovered above hers long enough she thought he might kiss her once more. “We should get back to the keep before darkness falls.”
As he stepped away, she battled the inclination to shout at him to make up his mind. His back and forth moods drove her mad. How much more could she bear?
She spun around and stomped to her horse. That did it. Upon his return, she intended to pry the truth of his feelings out of him. She would accept no less.
Chapter Fifteen
Despite the ache in his sore muscles, Calum urged his mount onward through the village with one thought in mind—seeing Arabella.
After their outing in the glade, he’d ridden out the following morn with Liam and a handful of his clansmen, but not before he sent a missive to Fraser demanding his return. How could the old fool have left his niece without a care for her safety? Not that Arabella’s welfare had been in question with his absence. In fact, Calum assigned two of his best men to shadow her every step. Until the matter with Longford was resolved, he would accept no less.
The last three days he’d thrown himself into his work, distributing food, firewood, and supplies to the clan living outside the village. He and his men repaired cottages to withstand the approaching winter and secured the borders, checking for any disturbances. Even as he toiled hard during the long, exhausting days, his mind often drifted to thoughts of Arabella, or rather, his failings where she was concerned.
Too much hung over his head like a dark cloud—his growing desire for the lass, the words he’d left unspoken between them, a missed o
pportunity to tell her of their upcoming vows, the bride price Fraser bribed him with. Guilt ate at his conscience. Why had he not simply announced his feelings and his intention to wed her?
’Twas cowardice, fear she’d outright spurn him. Especially after she spoke of her desires to choose a husband and wed for love. How, in God’s name, could he tell her of the agreement he’d struck with her uncle? As matters stood, everyone knew of the wedding but her. Thanks to Fraser, a fact Calum was not likely to forget any time soon.
As for the dowry, he wanted naught of it. He would not have Arabella believe he sought her wealth as others had done. Nay, Fraser could keep the land. Calum and his clan had managed this long without it.
He rode through the bailey and into the stables. The sight of Fraser settling his horse in a stall grabbed his attention, and his anger rose in a swift peak. Days had passed, and the man just now returned?
Calum barked out, “Where’ve you been?”
Fraser ignored his question and retreated from the enclosure without a backward glance.
Not easily hindered, he threw a leg over his stallion and dismounted. Rushing after the other man, he grabbed the man’s shoulder, but Fraser lurched from his hold. He spun around to face Calum with a fierce scowl plastered across his ruddy features.
The stench of soured whisky assailed Calum’s nostrils. For as long as he remembered, his ally had sworn off drink. At present, the man smelled as if he’d swam in a dram of it.
He frowned. “What the devil’s the matter with you?”
“Leave me be,” Fraser muttered. His bloodshot eyes stared over Calum’s shoulder.
“Leave you be?” he asked in affronted surprise. “You take your leave without a word—”
“I said leave me be.” Fraser slurred and feebly pushed at his chest.
His temper riled, Calum struck back, shoving him in return. Unsteady on his feet, the older man staggered a few steps and fell backward, landing on his backside. Calum glared down at the pitiful mess of a man at his feet—the same man he owed his life.
“I damned well will not let you be, you stubborn arse. And what of your niece? Did you give any thought to her welfare before you crawled into the bottom of a barrel?” He shook his head. “Look, I do not know what’s going on with you and my aunt. Frankly, I do not care. But have a care for Arabella, will you?”
He offered his hand, but Fraser knocked it away and managed to stand on his own.
“To hell with Elena.” He waved his hand. “As for Arabella…she’s no longer my concern.”
Calum blinked at the careless words, stunned by Fraser’s indifference. Not a fortnight before, the man would’ve invaded England to see his beloved niece freed. Sure, he was crude, spoke his mind, and cared for little else other than those closest to him, but he’d never behaved in such a shameful manner.
Their gazes met and Fraser curled his lip. “Have you told my niece of the wedding yet?”
Unwilling to admit the truth, Calum narrowed his eyes.
Fraser sneered. “’Tis as I thought. What’re you waiting for? To plant a bairn in her belly first?”
The insult caught Calum unaware, allowing Fraser a chance to push around him. The man knocked into Calum’s shoulder as he stormed from the stables.
Christ’s bones, he should’ve rushed after Fraser and rebuked him for disparaging Arabella in such a manner. Instead, he scrubbed a hand over his scruffy face, at his wit’s end with the infuriating mess. Did he not have enough to worry over without this trouble with Fraser, too?
He grabbed his saddlebag, tossed the sack over his shoulder, and started from the stables. He’d sort out the matter with Fraser later. For now, a dip in the loch would cool his temper. Especially before he set eyes on Arabella once more.
Once he reached the loch on the edge of the forest, he pulled off his soiled clothing, grabbed a cake of soap from his bag, and eased into the chilled water. He ran the soap over his body, scrubbing away the sweat, dust, and grime from his labors. Dunking his head beneath the surface, he welcomed the initial sting of the frigid water.
As the sun gave way to the moon, he waded onshore and redressed in fresh clothes from his pack. Finished with the chore, he gathered his belongings but paused a moment to stare into the darkening forest just beyond the loch.
The time for stalling was over. This eve, he’d tell Arabella of their upcoming wedding and hope for the best. ’Twas little else to do but hope.
Inside the keep, he passed off his saddlebag to a servant and strode into the great hall. Several head nods, raised hands, and words of greeting from the clan met his entrance. Of course, his step faltered when he caught sight of Fraser, slouched at the high table with a tankard of ale in his hand and his face set with a deep scowl.
Clenching his teeth, Calum proceeded to his usual seat at the center of the high table. He waved over a servant to fill his goblet with ale. Given his frayed wits, the brew would calm his burgeoning temper.
More of the clan filed into the hall for the eve’s meal—save Elena and Arabella. Though his cousin and sister heeded the open hostility between him and Fraser, the pair wisely chose the safety of silence. In fact, most of the hall sensed the tension rife in the air and spoke in hushed tones or murmurs.
As he sipped his ale, his gaze swept over the chamber and, to his annoyance, landed on the dour laird seated three trenchers to his right. Saints help him. He’d had enough.
“If my hall displeases you so, you’re free to take your leave.”
Fraser slammed his tankard on the table, rattling trenchers and drawing the uneasy stares of clan members. Gripping the chair arms, Calum sat forward and opened his mouth to reprimand the man, but a shuffle of feet at the hall entrance gained his attention. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of Arabella, comely as ever.
A frown marred her features. She worried her bottom lip and glanced around the quiet chamber. He rose from his chair and the legs scraped over the stone floor, drawing her gaze. Once their eyes met, she rushed toward him without hesitation. As he settled her beside him, he allowed his hand to linger on her arm. The heat of her skin beneath her sleeve warmed his fingertips.
Long moments lapsed before Arabella broke through the wall of tension. With a shy smile, she peered from him to her uncle. “I’m pleased you both have returned.”
Fraser dipped his head but remained quiet.
Though Calum did not speak, he reached beneath the table and grasped her hand. For days, he’d craved her touch. For now, this small concession would have to do.
Aside from the clatter of trenchers and hushed babble, much of the meal passed in relative silence. ’Twas apparent everyone in the hall guarded the mounting enmity between Fraser and Calum.
“Please, excuse me,”—Arabella disentangled their hands and stood—“I wish to retire for the eve.”
Left to grasp naught but air, Calum lifted his goblet to keep from reaching for her. Inwardly, he cursed himself for letting another opportunity slip through his fingers.
When she drew near the entrance, Fraser clumsily rose from his chair and beckoned after her. “Wait, girl.”
The hair at Calum’s neck stood on end. A sick foreboding swept down his spine to settle in his gut. He swallowed against the lump suddenly lodged in his throat.
Arabella paused and turned to her uncle. A questioning look creased her features.
Despite the swift thump in his neck, time slowed as Fraser lifted his tankard and swung to face him.
“Allow me to be the first to offer a toast on your choice of bride, MacGregor. ’Tis far past time you’ve chosen a wife.”
Calum heard her faint gasp over the ringing in his ears, and his heart dove to the floor beneath his seat. His gaze flew to her wide, green eyes. He leaped to his feet. “Arabella.”
She spun on her heel and fled the hall.
Fury burned in his blood. He sprang to his right and clouted Fraser soundly in the jaw, knocking the arse off his feet. Heedless of the startle
d stares of his clan and the cursing old fool laid out amongst the rushes, Calum rounded the table and quit the hall in search of Arabella.
He rushed outside the keep’s opened front doors and lifted his chin at a one of the guards posted. “Which way did the lass go?”
The guard tipped his head. “The stables, Laird.”
Alarmed, Calum took off at a run. Saints, he had to find her before she saddled her horse and bolted to God only knew where.
Fortunately, he found her alone inside, leaned against her mount’s stall. She buried her face in the crook of her arm while she stroked her gelding’s muzzle. The beast nudged her shoulder, blowing strands of red hair with each breath. Her muffled sobs tore at Calum.
Moving closer, he reached for her, but she shook off his grasp and that infernal beast of hers tried to bite him. Another time, he might’ve applauded the animal’s protection of his mistress. In his current mood, not so much. He glared at the gelding and reached for her once more.
“Leave me alone,” she croaked, swiping at the tears in her eyes.
“We must talk.” Calum grabbed her hand, but she wrenched free and spun to face him.
“Were you ever going to tell me you’d chosen a wife?”
“Arabella—”
“You made me believe that you…” She shook her head. “Saints, I’ve been such a fool.”
Christ, he should’ve told her sooner and spared her the anguish. “I’m not.”
“You’re not what?” she shouted.
He swallowed. “Wedding another.” Why the blasted hell could he not just say it?
Her brilliant eyes hurled daggers at him. “My uncle just said so.”
Damnation. ’Twas not how he wished to bear the news. At a loss, he lifted a hand to rub the tingling at the base of his neck. Finally, he simply blurted the truth. “’Tis you. You’re the wife I’ve chosen.”
She stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “W-what do you mean?”
Calum blew out a breath. “I agreed to wed you on our return from England.”
Arabella blinked at the information and her brows furrowed, a frown tugging at her lips.
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