Highland Chieftain

by Hannah Howell

  Looking at the man, Callum asked, “What do ye mean?”

  “Ye are thinking o’er everything, to nay use, like pretty mon says.” Connor ignored Payton’s scowl. “I at least had a good reason to do so much thinking. Couldnae appear weak, ye ken.”

  “Aye, of course.” Callum was not quite sure it all had to do with appearing weak but he had learned a long time ago not to even try to argue with Connor. “I dinnae worry o’er that.”

  “I ken it. Ye just worry about why am I doing this, or why am I doing that. Useless. Ye are doing it because ye have to. Accept that. Ye took her with ye because ye wanted to. Ye keep her with ye because ye want to. Ye just have to figure out why ye want to though it seems plain to me.” He poured himself some ale.

  “That is what I am doing. Trying to decide why I am doing such things.”

  Connor sighed. “I just told ye why. Ye want to. Tell me, when she got stabbed, how did ye feel?”

  “Terrified,” he answered without hesitation.

  “There ye go then.”

  Callum rested his hand against the back of the chair, ignored a grinning Payton, and sighed. “And where am I going?”

  Connor caught Callum’s stare and held it. “Mon doesnae get terrified over naught. Doesnae get terrified because a bed warmer got hurt nay matter how likable she is. Doesnae get terrified over a lass who saved his life.”

  One did not and he should have understood what that meant. Before he could say anything, however, Payton cursed and tossed an empty tankard at Connor. Connor smiled and calmly dodged it, then returned to drinking his ale.

  “Before the two of ye get into one of your long, winding arguments,” said Callum, “I believe I will retire. I have a woman to woo.”

  “Havenae done that yet?” asked Connor. “Ne’er thought ye a slow lad.”

  Laughing, Callum headed to the bedchamber. He would hear Payton and Connor trading jovial insults behind him. When he entered the bedchamber given him he sighed with satisfaction because Bethoc was tucked up in the bed. He suspected she had no idea they were sharing a room but hoped she would not be unpleasantly surprised.

  He was certain she was fully healed now. Just the thought of that was enough to make him hard and he silently cursed as he shed his clothes and washed up. Hastily turning back to the bed, he saw that she still slept and he smiled faintly, slipping under the covers as quietly as he was able before reaching for her.

  * * *

  Bethoc woke to the slow rise of desire in her belly. There was no fear of the hands running over her body because the air was scented with cinnamon. She turned in his arms and put her arms around his neck as she kissed him. Bethoc sank into the sweet, hot passion of his kiss.

  Callum slowly untied the laces on her night shift, kissing each newly bared patch of soft skin. He had already found the high slits on the sides allowed easy access to her slim legs. Whoever had made this night shift deserved a knighthood, he decided. Then Bethoc’s small hands slid over his belly and she curled the fingers of one hand around his erection.

  The feel of that soft hand intimately stroking him was like a kick in the gut and had his passion increasing in one giant lunge. If he did not escape that tormenting hold soon he would be spent before he even got inside her. Then he smiled against her breast. He knew one way to get away from that teasing touch without making her think she had done something wrong.

  Bethoc sighed with delight as he kissed his way down her body. She made a soft sound of disappointment when he slipped out of her reach but moved her hands to his back, then his hair. When he kissed the inside of her thighs she shivered with a mixture of desire and anticipation. Her cry when he finally kissed her where she so badly needed it was a mixture of shock and welcome. It was a shocking intimacy yet she welcomed it with only the briefest of hesitations. Passion ruled her and she let it.

  She was soon clutching at his arms, trying to pull him into hers. The ache of need was making her frantic with its demands and she wanted him joined with her. He kissed his way slowly back up her body until he was kissing her neck. She wrapped her legs around him, silently urging him to join with her. Then he did, so slowly she thought she would scream. He propped himself up on his arms and looked at her.

  “’Tis like coming home,” he said, barely moving, savoring the heated welcome of her body as long as he could.

  “I wasnae saying nay,” she said, surprised she was still able to talk.

  “Brenda did and ye dinnae argue with Brenda when it comes to healing. So I waited.”

  “And are waiting now.”

  “Trying to go slow. Been trying since I met ye,” he added in a disgruntled mumble.

  “Weel, ye are being annoyingly slow now.”

  His laughter cut off quickly when she scraped her nails over his backside then slid a hand between their bodies to stroke him just above where they were joined. She quickly wrapped her arms around him when he finally began to move. Bethoc clung to him, sharing greedy kisses, until they both found their release.

  As he left her, rolling to his side and pulling her into his arms, he said, “Still cannae do slow, make it last.”

  She rested her cheek against his chest as she struggled to catch her breath and idly stroked his chest. “I dinnae understand why ye think it so verra important.”

  “Ye will when I finally succeed.”

  She wondered why that sounded as much a threat as it did a promise.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Ye do ken that ye must be verra careful who ye let ken about your gift, aye?”

  Bethoc looked at Gillyanne as they walked out to where the horses waited and idly wondered if the Murray clan had any plain people among its members. “Aye. As I said, I told Kerr about it when I was still a small child and thought it something everyone could do and he reacted badly.” She grimaced. “Backed away as if I was a leper and said it was witchery. My mother was sensible that day and intervened saying it was a gift from the Murrays. I didnae ken what she meant then but he did. He knocked her down and then told me to never mention it to him again. I didnae.

  “I did try to understand why he was so upset from time to time and decided it was because he couldnae do it. It took me a long time to understand it was nay something everyone could do but then I was rarely out of the cottage. I think t’was the fact that nay one of the children said a word about how he smelled like soured milk.”

  Gillyanne laughed. “And they would have. But the way Kerr acted is, I fear, how many would act. ’Tis fear. Fear is a verra dangerous thing to cause in people as weel. So just be verra cautious.”

  “Oh, I shall be. There are times that I wish I didnae have this gift.”

  “When ye meet bad people?”

  “Aye.” Bethoc laughed. “The things they smell like are verra hard to endure. ’Tis also, weel, e’en though I ken it helps me to ken who I should avoid, it is upsetting to meet someone and abruptly realize he is wrong, deep down wrong.”

  “I can only imagine. ’Tis right up your nose. I dinnae ken how ye can nay reveal yourself.”

  “Weel, if ye e’er see me place my hand o’er my nose and mouth ’tis because whoe’er is near me is verra bad.”

  “How do ye do that without them kenning that ye are smelling something bad and asking what it is?”

  “Practice. I practiced it so that it just looks as if I make some wee feminine gesture that is of no consequence.” She smiled when Gillyanne laughed.

  “Ah, Callum looks ready to leave, and allow me to apologize for Kirstie nay coming to see ye off. She has difficulty in the morning and also gets very tired. I cannae think she truly believes Payton doesnae ken that. Oh dear, my husband is tormenting Payton again. I best go get him to be quiet.” She started toward Connor.

  Bethoc saw Margaret leave Callum’s side and hurry over to protect Sir Payton so she reached out to catch Gillyanne by the hand. “Nay. Wait. Margaret appears to have gone to protect Sir Payton.” She exchanged a grin with Gillyanne.


  Margaret put on her fierce face and shook her finger at Connor. “Nay! Bad mon. Bad, bad.” She then turned to Payton, took his hand in hers, and patted it, but when Connor tried to say something, she glared at him again and bellowed, “Hush!”

  Gillyanne was leaning against Bethoc, laughing so hard all the while struggling to be quiet about it. Bethoc had to struggle not to join her. She made a point of not looking at Callum who had turned as if to adjust his saddle, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

  “That child has no fear,” said Gillyanne, and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

  That Margaret had come out of the home run by Kerr Matheson and his fists with such boldness delighted Bethoc but she said, “And no manners.” She started after Margaret who was merrily chattering with Payton.

  “Ye must nay bellow at adults, Margaret,” she said as she picked the child up. “We must leave now, love.”

  “Kiss!” Margaret flung herself toward Payton, nearly unbalancing Bethoc.

  After Margaret kissed his cheek, Bethoc gave her a quick scold for grabbing the poor man by the ear and the nose to hold his cheek in place for that kiss. After reassuring her that no harm was done, she turned to find Connor presenting his cheek to Margaret. She had to choke back a laugh when the little girl sighed and then kissed him. Despite the somewhat insulting behavior of the child Connor was grinning as Bethoc hurried over to join Callum.

  They were soon on their way and Bethoc felt Margaret relax in sleep against her. Checking closely to be certain she was asleep and doubting it, she said to Callum, “I am pleased beyond words that there is such spirit in the child, that she was not with Kerr long enough to be cowed, but I believe the good manners lessons must begin, beyond the ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’”

  Callum laughed. “Dinnae be too strict. Connor and Payton are likely still laughing, especially over Connor being bellowed at. And at Payton having such a tiny, fierce protector.”

  “Pay—ton,” said Margaret sleepily, not bothering to open her eyes even though she smiled in Callum’s direction. “Pretty mon.”

  “Aye, lass. Verra pretty. The lassies have always liked Payton.”

  “Is that why Connor goads him?”

  “Nay.” He laughed. “Connor just finds amusement in irritating Payton. Does it whene’er he can. ’Tis an old game with them.”

  Bethoc rolled her eyes. “Men’s games.”

  “Aye, and verra enjoyable they can be.” He chuckled then asked quietly, “Was Gillyanne any help to ye?”

  “Oh, aye, she was, though she also had a good laugh. Seems she cannae think of another who has my gift. She did warn me of the need to be careful who I let ken about it, even explained why ’tis fear that makes it all so dangerous. That I understood. That was what I saw in Kerr’s face. It is frightening when ye ken it is something about ye that put that look of fear there.” She sighed and then frowned as she tried to think of how to explain her unease. “’Tis nay pleasant to be something that causes people to feel fear.”

  “Ye dinnae cause them fear, love. Their own blind stupidity does. ’Tis naught but a different skill ye have and I believe such things are God-given.”

  “I ken it. ’Tis just verra bothersome but I shall sort it out. How long a ride is it from here to my home?”

  “Be there on the morrow. Probably by late afternoon.”

  Bethoc nodded and tried not to think on how much riding she would have to do. She glanced down at Margaret and bit back a sigh. It would not be a romantic night under the stars for her. She suspected there would not even be a chance for them to slip away and steal some time for themselves. Although she loved Margaret dearly, loved all the boys as well, she found she was increasingly wanting them to somehow miraculously disappear for a while. It was a selfish thought yet she could not really feel ashamed for having it.

  Then she thought of Colin and Bean. It had been weeks since she had seen them and she was looking forward to that. She was curious to see if they had made any changes to the old house. They had often talked of things that could be changed, surprisingly clever ideas that would have made the house more like Laurel’s, a bit more elegant and comfortable. Considering it was harvest time though, she doubted they would have accomplished much at all yet.

  Perhaps she should just stay there and let Callum return to Whytemont on his own, she suddenly thought, and resisted the urge to rub at the ache in her heart such a thought caused. She desperately wanted to stay at his side. She was not sure, however, if that was the right thing to do. There had been no change in their relationship in all the time they had been together, no deepening of his feelings as far as she could tell, and no talk of what future he may have thought of for them.

  It was not her good name she was worried about. She was not a part of the society that would condemn her, had no need of them. It was her heart that she feared for. Bethoc knew she had already given it to him but she increasingly needed him to give back. Each day that passed that lack ate at her. She feared all they did share would soon end simply because she was too hurt and bitter to keep waiting for something he was not giving her. It would be much better to end it all before that could happen and taint all of her memories of their time together.

  Then she thought of the boys and realized she could not just stay at home and let him go. She had to go back and gather up her boys. By the time they were ready to leave her home she had to make up her mind, if for no other reason than to let Colin and Bean know she would be coming back. A part of her was ridiculously eager to stay with Callum but, too often, she could see the devastation she would suffer when he decided to leave her. She was not so naïve she did not know how easily a lover could be discarded. Kerr’s love of gossip had given her enough tales to see that hard truth. She knew, deep in her heart, it would be a good thing to leave him while everything was still good rather than linger until he lost all interest and cast her aside. At least with the former she would be able to cling to her pride, although it was not something that would keep her warm at night.

  Bethoc then forced all such thoughts from her head and turned her attention to where they were going. For someone who had rarely left her home except to escape to her cave, the journey was exciting even if the riding grew tedious. At least when she left him, she thought, she would know a lot more about the world than she had when she had dragged him out of the river. One day she might actually see that as a fair trade for the heartache she knew would come.

  * * *

  Glancing up at the sky, Bethoc realized it was very late in the day. She quickly covered a yawn. The inn they had spent the night in had been noisy and full. That and all she had been thinking on concerning her and Callum had kept her awake for most of the night. She had almost suggested they sleep outside somewhere for, at least then, she could have stared up at the stars while she thought. Then, just as she had been preparing to make the suggestion, the rain had started. So they had been stuck in a tiny room at the top of the narrow inn stairs, and the only one she suspected had slept well was Margaret, where she had been cozily tucked up between them.

  She was growing eager to see Colin and Bean. They had been the closest to her in age and they had always been the ones she had to talk with. They were her friends, not just her family.

  Her hope was that she would also see Laurel, Magnus, and Robbie. Knowing what Laurel had suffered in the jail, she wanted to see the woman happy, even settled, and knew Robbie would be a very good choice. She had passed the forty days of mourning so the gossips would be satisfied. It was time Laurel had a chance at a good life.

  “Almost there,” said Callum.

  “I ken it. I just saw the crooked tree.” She glanced toward the wind-contorted tree. “I hope there are no ill feelings because I left them for so long.”

  “Nay, not them. Verra practical boys they are.”

  “Aye. I just hate to think I may have hurt them.”

  Callum reached over and touched her arm. “Never. Ye will see.”

 
Suddenly, as he drew near to touch her arm, Bethoc knew exactly what he smelled like, even wondered how she could have not known before as it was something she was so familiar with. Callum smelled like an oak tree, a big old oak tree with roots that ran deep and had wide branches that could shelter or shade a lot of people. It suited him well, she decided, and smiled back at him.

  “Ye suddenly look verra pleased,” he said.

  “I just realized what ye smell like.”

  “What?”

  “A sturdy old oak tree. Deep roots, wide branches.” She pointed to the one they were about to pass. “Just like that one.”

  “An oak. That isnae so bad. An old gnarled one or a nice straight proud one, standing tall.”

  “The latter, of course.” She rolled her eyes over his training. “A sturdy big oak and nay sure about the age. And I willnae go about sniffing them in order to make sure which kind matches your scent.”

  He laughed. “Mayhap ye just need to sniff a lot of things.”

  She was about to tell him just what she thought of that, when it struck her that it was not such a stupid idea. It actually made sense. There was no need to be obvious, something that would undoubtedly have people thinking she was insane. Yet, she could still take the time to breathe in the scent of things as she came across them. She had thought on it before but never actually gotten around to doing anything about it in any serious way. It might mean pausing now and then, but it would help her to better use what she could do. What a person smelled like meant something and she needed to widen her knowledge so that she could better judge what certain smells meant. Bethoc decided Callum did not need to know all that, however.

  “Boys? See boys?”

  Bethoc looked down at a now wide-awake Margaret and smiled. “Aye, Margaret. We are going to see Colin and Bean and maybe Magnus.”

  “Good.”

  Stroking Margaret’s hair, Bethoc frowned. The child used a lot more words than she used to yet she was beginning to fear what others had occasionally implied might be true. There was no doubt in her mind that Margaret understood a great deal of what was said to her, if not all; it had been shown time and time again. Although there had been a lot of ugliness in her life, Bethoc had done her best not to let much of it touch Margaret. Now she wondered if she had not done as good a job as she had thought.