My Reckless Love

by Melissa Limoges

  “See to Tomas, then we’re leaving.”

  Distance—he needed it desperately. Otherwise, he’d bellow at her until she wept like a bairn. Seething in anger, he stomped into the forest, desperate to regain his waning composure. He slashed his sword at offending branches and undergrowth as he stalked through the dense wood.

  What the devil was the matter with her? The blasted lass was a hazard to her own health, placing herself directly in the path of danger. Christ, he could not endure much more of her recklessness. Just the thought of that impudent cur holding a dagger to her throat incited his anger all over again, and his temper bubbled over.

  Growling out his rage, he gripped the hilt of his sword in both hands and lashed out at a tree stump blocking his path. With vicious strokes, he hacked at the innocent stub of wood, removing several large chucks. A flurry of tree bark flew through the air, pelting him in the face, but he continued to chop and slash, desperate to destroy something—anything.

  When hardly anything remained of the stump, he ceased his assault and dropped his strained arms, letting the sword rest lax against his leg. As his chest heaved from his labors, he surveyed the damage and shook his head in disgust.

  Hell, he couldn’t decide which was more pitiful—the hunk of wood or him?

  Annoyed with the childish display, he dragged his feet to a nearby tree, propped his arm against the rough surface, and lowered his forehead onto the coarse bark in defeat. His once-prized composure had deserted him, and damned if he did not blame Arabella for the loss.

  How had Iain possessed the patience to deal with her? By God, if she were his…

  The unfinished thought hit him like a blow to the chest. She could be. If he accepted Fraser’s request. But could he handle a lifetime of her, or would she drive him to an early grave?

  Truth be told, a part of him was livid for her lack of care, but another admired her spirit and cunning. He rode a fine line between turning her over his knee and offering her praise. Christ, what was he to do with the brave, reckless woman?

  Over his shoulder, leaves rustled as someone approached.

  Arabella.

  He knew it as sure as he’d draw his next breath. Sending up a quick prayer, he beseeched the heavens to lend him strength. In his present state of mind, he dared not trust his sour mood.

  “Calum?”

  When he did not respond, she moved close enough he felt the heat of her body. She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes.

  “I’m truly sorry for my behavior, but I do not regret my actions. Please understand. I could not stomach you or your men coming to harm because of me. I just…I cannot be helpless any longer, Calum. Please, do not be wroth with me.”

  Saints, he did not wish to forgive her. He wanted to hang on to his anger, to rail at her for her recklessness, but his ire crumbled into a fine dust, whether he wished it or not. He lifted his head and stared out at the forest. How could one small woman unman him with a slight touch and soft-spoken words? Was this how life would always be with her?

  Calum shifted to lean his back against the tree and searched her solemn features. Spying the blade’s mark on her neck, he raised his hand to her throat and brushed his thumb over the angry scratch. A comely shade of pink stained her cheeks, but she did not flinch away at his touch.

  He confessed, “I hated seeing that arse hurt you.”

  “I hated it, too.” She bit her bottom lip. “Thank you, Calum.”

  “For what?”

  “For saving me. Again.”

  He snorted. “You keep saving yourself, lass.”

  Arabella flashed him a playful grin. “Or getting myself in more trouble, you mean?”

  His gaze drifted from her vibrant eyes to the curve of her mouth. He itched to feel the press of those full lips to his. Unable to bear her nearness any longer, he hooked his other arm around her waist and hauled her flush against his chest. Her sharp intake of breath gave him pause. As he stared into her wide eyes, he permitted her a chance to reject him but, to his utter relief, she relaxed in his arms.

  Reassured, he moved his thumb from her throat to sweep over her plump, bottom lip. Finally, he yielded to the urge that had plagued him since he’d first set eyes on her. He leaned forward and captured her mouth with a chaste kiss.

  Arabella trembled in his arms. She gathered the material of his tunic in her small fists. He released her lips and shifted to pull away, but she tugged at the material.

  “Do not stop,” she breathed against his mouth. “Please.”

  The blood in his head rushed straight to his groin at her innocent plea. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

  “You never have to beg me for a thing, Arabella.” He would gladly give anything she asked of him. He tipped her head closer. “Open for me, Sweetness.”

  She timidly parted her lips and he eased his tongue inside to explore her mouth. At his leisure, he deepened the kiss, sampling her taste. A rich, spiced honey, the unique flavor slipped into his senses.

  Christ, she was sweet.

  As soon as her shy tongue moved with his, he sank deeper in her lush warmth, drinking her in. Desperate for more, he drew her closer until the curve of her belly cushioned his hardened length. A low moan rose from the back of her throat, sending a tremor of white-hot lust through his frame. ’Twas a mercy his good sense nudged at him before he surrendered to his male urges. He had to stop before he continued with something Arabella might come to regret.

  Calum bit back a groan and forced himself to withdraw. He licked his lips, savoring the lingering spice of her, and gazed down at her flushed face. Passion darkened her eyes a deep emerald, while her kiss-swollen lips tempted him to steal another taste. Unable to resist, he bent forward and gave her a quick but thorough kiss. Holding her tight in his arms, he rested his chin atop her head and soaked up the feel of her lithe body tucked against his.

  Once their breathing evened out, he set her away from him. He caressed her soft cheek. “We’ve tarried too long, Sweetness. We should return before the men come looking for us.”

  Arabella nodded absently and fingered her lips, lost in her own thoughts. Barely suppressing a satisfied grin, he placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her through the wood. Despite his apprehension and fears, Calum arrived at a decision on the short walk back to camp. As soon as they returned home, Fraser would have his answer.

  Chapter Nine

  Arabella patted Devlin’s neck, thankful the end of their journey drew near. For days, she’d followed the steady pace Calum set. Even after they passed the Scots border, the men remained vigilant, always on their guards, keeping one eye forward and one at their backs. Left with little else to distract her, she rode along in silence which was just as well since her thoughts were otherwise occupied. A jumbled mess was more apt.

  In spite of everything—Iain’s death, losing Penswyck, leaving Maggie and Dougal behind, the attack on their camp—’twas Calum’s kiss that’d left her wading in a sea of doubt. Perhaps not entirely the kiss, but most assuredly his manner afterward.

  Her first kiss.

  Arabella lifted her hand and brushed her fingers over her lips. She’d no notion a man’s touch could awaken such feelings inside her. Pleasure had hummed through her, sparking some foreign, restless ache deep in her belly. For the first time in her life, she experienced desire. Briefly, she floated in a state of bliss. That is, until she and Calum returned to camp and he dumped her astride her mount without another word.

  Since then, the blasted man remained remote and brooding, barely sparing her a glance. All manner of speech between them had ceased. For the duration of the journey, Liam and Tomas, the Highlander who’d taken a sword to his side, stuck close to her. Calum’s orders, she guessed. She huffed a frustrated sigh, perplexed by the man’s behavior.

  Why? The question burned in her mind. Was he still furious with her? Or did he regret kissing her? Why hold her close one moment, then cast her aside the
next? Weary and travel-worn, she lacked the courage to confront him with the matter. One thing was certain though, his actions stung. Not that she would ever admit such to him.

  “Ah, ’tis good to be home.”

  Liam’s exclamation pulled her from her idle thoughts. She tugged Devlin to a halt and took in her surroundings.

  In the distance, white clouds dotted an expanse of blue sky. A modest stone keep rose from the peak of a knoll. From the outer curtain walls, a small village of thatch-roofed cottages stretched into the valley below. To the east, farmers labored in fields, gathering the last of the season’s harvest. Specks of grazing cattle and sheep in the meadows lined their stomachs with the last bits of green pasture before winter’s approach. To the west, a dark, stagnant loch reflected a thick patch of adjoining forest. Faint scents of heather hung in the frigid air. The charming view nearly lulled her into a state of relief until one significant detail struck her.

  She glanced at Liam. “This is not my uncle’s keep.”

  “I should think not.” His laughter rang out in the valley as they nudged their mounts onward. “This has been MacGregor land for generations.”

  “Liam.” She shot him a dark scowl. “I thought I was to be taken to my uncle’s?”

  He shrugged. “Calum decided we should stop here to rest. He sent Anthony and Symon ahead to inform the clan and Fraser. So he’ll be along soon.”

  Irritated, Arabella sought out Calum among the riders. Sitting proud atop his stallion, he faced ahead, ignorant of the hard look she aimed at him. The big-headed giant had the wretched habit of forcing her to do his bidding, as if she should bow to his every command without question. He glanced in her direction as though he sensed her glare, and she narrowed her eyes in displeasure. Rather than pay him any more attention, she lifted her chin in the air and diverted her gaze.

  As they rode through the village, clansmen and women paused in their daily chores, stepping out of cottages or work areas to welcome their laird and his men’s return. Smiles fastened on their faces, the villagers raised hands or called out in greeting. As the procession of horses passed, curious stares lingered on her. Uncomfortable with the notice, she clenched Devlin’s reins in a white-knuckled grip.

  Once their group stopped near the stables in the outer courtyard, Arabella moved to dismount but Calum was at her side, plucking her from the saddle. Without a word, he placed her on the ground, wrapped his arm around her middle, and guided her toward his clan.

  There he went again, expecting her to submit to his commands, spoken or not. Her earlier annoyance unraveled and she slammed to a halt, refusing to take another step forward. Determined to speak her peace, she lifted her gaze to his and opened her mouth, but the words hung in her throat.

  Concern reflected in his clear eyes. He grasped her hand. “Is something amiss?”

  The soft-spoken question, coupled with the warmth of his callused hand, smothered her irritation. Every single instance she wished to rail at him for some offense or another, he simply need look at her, speak a kind word or offer a warm touch, and her thoughts ran away from her altogether. How did the blasted man do it?

  Suddenly, the notion of never setting eyes on him again spurred an unsettling tightness in her chest. Would this be the last she saw of him?

  Arabella laid her hand over his and managed to find her tongue. “Calum—”

  “Calum! You’re home!” A shrill feminine squeal rose from the gathering MacGregors.

  Wrenching his head toward the speaker, he shifted away, leaving Arabella to grasp naught but air. He searched over his clansmen and a huge grin split his face. Frowning, she followed his line of sight and her jaw grew lax.

  A tall, raven-haired female pushed her way through the men and horses and threw herself into Calum’s waiting arms. Their laughter rang out in the courtyard as he swung her around in a tight embrace. The buxom woman planted a kiss on his cheek and dropped back to her feet. Her bright eyes brimmed with a depth of love visible for all to see.

  Arabella’s pounding heart plummeted to her feet in a dizzying rush. Now she understood why Calum avoided her the past few days. The deceitful rogue was married!

  Shame sank its greedy teeth in and her cheeks burned with heat. Her stomach twisted in painful knots. The knowledge she behaved so wantonly with another woman’s husband fanned the flames of her humiliation. If only the ground would split open and swallow her whole.

  She backed away and wheeled around, desperate to escape the sight of the happy pair. As she passed Liam, he winked at her and she grappled with the urge to push him on his arse. The grinning idiot might’ve told her of his cousin’s wedded state, but he had not muttered a word. Tears threatened to spill over, and she bit her bottom lip to withhold a sob. She refused to cry now and, most assuredly, not in front of Calum or his wife.

  Arabella hastened around Devlin’s side, out of the clan’s sights, and rested her forehead against her gelding’s sturdy neck. At least he’d never make a fool of her.

  Well, not on purpose.

  Closing her eyes, she lifted her hand to stroke Devlin’s velvety muzzle. By the Saints, she could not leave quick enough for her liking. The sooner her uncle arrived, the sooner she could get away from this place and away from Calum for good.

  Just as she reached for Devlin’s reins and started for the stables, strong hands grabbed Arabella from behind and whirled her around with a swiftness that made her head spin. A full head taller, Calum’s wife stood in front of her wearing a dazzling smile. Silken tresses curled around her shoulders, adding to her beauty. Arabella narrowed her eyes and battled an overwhelming desire to lunge up over the woman’s ample bosom and strike her perfectly-formed nose.

  Before Arabella could react, the giant female enveloped her in a warm embrace. Stunned, she stood wrapped in the lady’s arms as her own hung limp at her sides. After a rather long, uncomfortable moment, the woman released her and offered another infectious grin.

  “I’m Mairi, Calum’s sister. We’re so glad to have you here, Arabella.”

  Sister?

  Despite the gaping void in her mind, she managed to stammer. “H-his s-sister?”

  “Aye, who else would I be?” Mairi’s lilting voice chimed in Arabella’s ears, drowning out the pounding of her own heart.

  Her shoulders sagged and the breath she held rushed out of her. She parted her lips to speak, but could not manage a word. Baffled, she darted her gaze left and right and, to her dismay, the entire clan closed in around her.

  “Er…I—”

  “Oh, I’m so happy you’re here.” Mairi yanked her into another constricting hug. “You must be weary. Come, I’ll see you inside and into a hot bath.”

  When she stepped away, Arabella caught the shrewd glimmer in the other woman’s eyes. The vise squeezing her heart loosened. Somehow, Calum’s sister understood her plight and spared her embarrassment, to her utter relief. The sudden impulse to tug the woman into a fierce embrace of her own struck Arabella.

  Calum approached and laid a hand on Arabella’s shoulder. “I’ve some matters to attend, but Mairi’ll see you settled in.”

  Arabella met his gaze, and her heart thumped a quick pace. The gentle press of his hand spread warmth down the length of her arm.

  “I’ll see you at the evening meal.” He offered her one last reassuring smile and turned away, headed for the stables with his stallion trailing after him.

  Bewitched by the taut lines of his broad shoulders and back, she would’ve lingered there, watching his strong form, until he disappeared from sight, but Mairi tugged her through the courtyard and up the keep’s front steps. The woman had strength. Arabella would give her that.

  Once inside, Mairi paused in the entryway of the great hall to murmur to a servant, and Arabella took the opportunity to look over the vast chamber. Long, oak, trestle tables and benches lined the room in neat rows. The chamber smelled of the fresh herb rushes scattered over the stone floor. A collection of daunting weaponry hung f
rom the far wall over the hearth. Throughout the hall, servants hurried to and from the kitchens as they prepared for the evening meal. The aroma of roasting meat hung heavy in the air, pulling a growl from her empty stomach.

  “Has Calum been feeding you?” Mairi frowned. “He’d better have, or I’ll have words with him. Once you’ve had a bath, I’ll send Florie up with a bite to nibble on, if you like.”

  “Nay, I do not wish to be a bother. I imagine I’ll leave with my uncle as soon as he arrives.” Arabella shrugged.

  Mouth agape, Calum’s sister stared at her as if she sprouted a third eye. “But…I thought…are you not…”

  For an awkward moment, Arabella frowned at the woman, at a loss.

  Mairi shook her head and grabbed Arabella’s arm to tug her up a broad stairway. “Well, we shall figure it out once Hammish arrives. Come, let’s get you in the bath for now.”

  ’Twas not as though Arabella would argue. After days of travel, a hot bath sounded divine.

  Mairi rushed her down a long, tapestry-strewn passageway, pausing only when they reached the end of the west hall and stood in front of a solid, wooden door.

  “Here we are.” She shoved open the heavy oak and strode inside. “I had this chamber readied as soon as I knew you’d arrive.”

  Arabella narrowed her eyes as Mairi flitted around the room, grabbing fresh linens. Just how long had the woman known? She wagered ’twas long before Symon and Anthony had ridden through the front gate a few hours past but, for now, she’d bide her time and seek answers later.

  She stepped over the threshold and took in the austere furnishings in the chamber. A massive bed piled high with furs dominated the room. Aside from a large wooden chest, a high-backed chair, stool and bedside table, the chamber held little in the way of personal belongings. After a full sweep of the room, her gaze settled on a bathing tub filled with steaming water in the far corner.

  As she covetously eyed the welcoming sight, her feet moved closer of their own accord. Though Calum afforded her a chance to wash in a handful of cold streams and lochs during their journey, she yearned to rest her weary bones in hot water.