My Reckless Love

by Melissa Limoges

  In the midst of the action, she caught sight of her uncle fighting amongst men half his age. Brawling with Calum’s first commander, he slammed into Marcus, knocking the other man to his knees. Marcus countered by sweeping Hammish’s legs from beneath him. She gasped as he landed with a solid oomph, flat on his back. Marcus helped him to rise, and then the pair cuffed each other’s shoulders before her uncle lumbered from the fields. He winked at her as he headed into the village.

  Shaking her head, she glanced over the other warriors, hoping to catch a glimpse of Calum. When she found him, her eyes nearly popped from their sockets. Clad in naught but braies and boots, he sparred with Liam.

  Sweat gleamed across his bare back. His muscles flexed with each swing of his sword as he advanced on his cousin. He defeated Liam with a swift, smooth move that left the tip of his weapon pointed at his kin’s neck. Liam spat out a harsh curse and Calum threw his head back, releasing a roar of laughter that rose from the men. He lowered his sword and extended his hand to his cousin, which Liam accepted with a laugh.

  Arabella grinned at the pair. At times, the two men acted as though they were naught more than young lads. Once Liam wandered off to find other sport, Calum ran the back of his arm over his damp brow, turned to leave the fields, and froze when he spotted her.

  Snared by the sight of his solid form, she took in the expanse of his bare skin. The marks on his face spanned down his neck to the side of his chest in a trail of angry, blemished flesh. Her breath caught with the thought of the pain he’d endured.

  Slowly, she let her gaze drift to the breadth of his massive chest and sprinkling of dark hair, damp from his labors. A track of black spanned his chest down to his lean belly, disappearing beneath his braies. As Arabella imagined where the path ended, moisture gathered in her mouth and a spark of heat lit deep in the pit of her belly. Her breath had quickened to the point she panted. The notion of glimpsing Calum’s manhood set her aflame. Her face heated, from her neck to the roots of her hair.

  Faith, what was the matter with her?

  She’d never paid heed to any man in such a manner. Why now? Why him? For the life of her, no matter how hard she tried, she could not dislodge her gaze from that vexing dark patch of hair.

  The bellow of her name shattered her focus and drowned out the sound of her own labored breaths. Startled, her gaze snapped to Calum’s, who stood a few feet from her.

  Holy Mother, when had he moved? Moreover, how long had she stood there eyeing him as he called her name?

  Arabella opened her mouth to force words past her lips, but naught came out. Instead, she stared at him, her mouth gaping open and her face burning from mortification.

  One dark eyebrow hitched upward. “I said, are you enjoying the view, lass?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “’Tis time we spoke, woman.”

  Elena’s hands curled into tight fists as dread swarmed throughout her limbs. She’d not expected his deep voice to ring out in her small, quiet work cottage.

  Nay, that was not entirely true. Truth was she’d awaited him. Even after all these years, she’d feared this day would come. No matter how she’d fought to prevent this very moment, she could not outrun her past—or him—any longer.

  Why the devil was he there, in her tiny cottage, prickling the hair at her nape? Saints above, after ages of bitter hatred and painstaking forced distance, why now?

  Reaching inside herself for a store of courage, she unclenched her hands and swept away the bits of herbs on the table in front of her. Afterward, she wiped her hands on her apron and slowly turned to face the man she’d eluded for nearly a score and eight years.

  There, in the doorway, leaned an arrogant, stubborn Hammish Fraser.

  Despite how he’d aged over the years, the sight of him still had the ability to affect her as when she’d been a young, foolish girl with her head in the clouds. With an air of indifference she did not quite feel, Elena lifted her chin. “Is that so?”

  He crossed the threshold and stalked closer. “You’ve put me off long enough. You bolt every time I get near you. You refuse to be alone in my company.” He lifted a mocking brow. “Why is that, do you suppose?”

  She moved to step around him, but he shook his head and threw out his arm, blocking her escape. “Nay, not this time, Elena. We’re finishing this. Here and now.”

  “You’re addled. There’s naught left to say.” She spun on her heel and busied herself, clearing off her work table.

  Hammish grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to face him once more. The firm grasp of his hand scalded her through the sleeve of her gown. She tried to wriggle free, but he tightened his hold.

  “You left me.” Anger darkened his ruddy face a deep crimson. “You married another man and left me to my own misery. How could you?” He spoke between clenched teeth. “You were supposed to be my wife.”

  The pain in his forceful words slammed into her, throwing her off balance, but she grabbed on to her composure just as quick. Marriage was all she’d ever wanted from him, but he’d cruelly rejected her. How dare he mention they were to marry when he’d refused to do so before? She yanked her arm free and backed away from him.

  “Your wife?” she spat out. “You made it perfectly clear that would never happen. Not with me.”

  Assailed anew by the betrayal and heartbreak, she rubbed at the old ache in her chest. On unsteady legs, she managed the short distance to the doorway, allowing the frame to support her weight.

  Rage swirled in the mossy green depths of his eyes. “Why?”

  “Because you did not want me!” The words flew from her mouth in a garbled rush.

  “I came for you, but you’d wed another!”

  The accusation roused her temper. “How fitting of you to only remember what you wish.” He stepped toward her and she threw up her hand to ward him off. “Do not come near me.”

  “Then tell me why,” he demanded. “I have to know. ’Tis a stain on my cursed soul not knowing. For years, Elena, years, I’ve lived with this. Tell me and be done with it.”

  A stain on his soul? What about hers? What of the secrets she’d kept? Guilt shadowed every day of her life. He wanted to know the truth? Then, so be it.

  “I was there, Hammish.”

  “What?” His brows furrowed. “Where?”

  “Outside my brother’s solar. When he asked if you intended to wed me.” A humorless laugh slid past her lips. “I suppose your words served as punishment for my spying on the two of you. Cormac was convinced you were besotted with me. How wrong both of us had been.”

  He crossed his arms over his barrel chest, and his gaze slid from hers to the window. “No doubt I was in my cups at the time.”

  “That I can believe,” she replied dryly. “There were few times you were not.”

  “I do not need the reminder,” he snapped. “I know what an arse I was in my youth, but you knew me better than anyone. You knew why.”

  Indeed, she did. Her heart gave a painful kick remembering him as the pitiful, bruised lad she’d befriended as a girl. Raised by a merciless, drunken father who’d beat him for naught but the sheer pleasure of it, he’d grown into a troubled man who sought solace in a dram of whisky far too often. He could no more change his past than she could the years between them now.

  She blew out a deep breath. “Cormac discovered us together.”

  The words had the desired effect. Hammish’s mouth sagged open.

  Elena continued, “Seems we were not as circumspect as you’d thought. He came to me and asked my true feelings for you. I confessed my love and he did what any good brother would do. He approached you with a match.”

  Hammish had the good grace to look uncomfortable. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he fidgeted with a stack of herbs on the table, plucking leaves from the bundle.

  “I stood outside of that chamber door, listening to you defame my character. A willing woman you called me, tossing my charms around to ensnare you into ma
rriage. You vowed to Cormac you’d never wed any wench. Especially a soiled bit of goods you’d sampled.”

  For flicker of a moment, Hammish closed his eyes and hung his head, but then he opened his eyes and aimed the force of his gaze at her. “Then you should’ve come to me. You should’ve called me out, you daft woman. Not invite the next blasted man that happened along into your bed like a whore.”

  The flood of fury burning in her belly stamped out the initial shock of his words and propelled her across the dirt floor. With more strength than she realized she possessed, she launched herself at him and delivered a sound crack to his cheek.

  “How dare you speak to me in such a manner?” She stood toe to toe with him. “Invite another to my bed…like a whore? You foolish, selfish arse. I was carrying your bairn!”

  The words hung in the stifling air. For once, he had no vulgar remark to fling at her. Silence reigned between them as he leaned weakly against her work table. His face had grown pallid as though he’d received a fatal blow. Though, his earnest surprise did not fill her with the satisfaction she’d imagined it would. Instead, regret welled inside her. And guilt. A bone-deep, gut-wrenching guilt for the child he’d never known was his own.

  Elena swallowed down the lump in her throat. “You had no wish to marry me, and my father would’ve cast me out of the clan. What was I to do? Where would I’ve gone? You did not want me, and I refused to shame myself anymore and beg you to wed me.” She edged away from him and the sorrow reflected in his gaze, putting much needed space between them. “How can you stand there and accuse me of spurning you when ’twas you who spurned me. Do not dare speak of dishonor to me. I’ve had more than enough from you to last a lifetime.”

  Her chest constricted with pain and she struggled to draw breath. She had to get away. Away from the small confines of the cottage and away from the man she’d once loved with her whole heart. Snatching her cloak from a hook on the wall beside the door, Elena fled before she did something foolish, such as run straight into Hammish’s arms and beg for his forgiveness.

  *

  Drenched in sweat, Calum stood a short distance from Arabella and considered her flushed features. When he’d noticed her across the field, her gaze moving over his wounds, fear invaded his senses and he’d almost retreated from her. Apprehension had frozen him in place in the blink of an eye. He’d never felt more exposed in his life, but he made the decision to meet the challenge head on. Should she recoil in distaste from him, then he would’ve swallowed his pride and dealt with the matter like the warrior he was. To his utter astonishment, her interest appeared to be drawn to what lay below his chest.

  With bolstered confidence, he could not help but tease her. If naught else but to see the becoming rosy hue darken her cheeks and the green jewels of her wide eyes. Then and there, he longed to kiss her before God and his clansmen in the training fields.

  “Arabella?” He grinned when she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.

  “Aye, Calum?” she whispered, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Will you join me for a ride on the morrow? There’s a place I wish to show you.”

  A shy smile formed on her lips. She plucked at an imaginary thread on her gown. “I would be happy to.”

  ’Tis truth it’d taken him most of the day to come up with the notion. Time alone with Arabella was what he needed. Away from his prying family.

  As if conjured from his thoughts, Mairi and Liam appeared at their sides with matching grins painted on their faces. Calum sighed in annoyance and glanced heavenward.

  “Oh ho, a ride, you say?” Liam asked with interest.

  “What a lovely idea, Calum.” Mairi clapped her hands together.

  “I’m sure Mairi and I would be glad to accompany you.” Liam sidled closer to Arabella and Calum fought the urge to pummel the man.

  “Oh, but we cannot, Liam. You’re to help me with a chore.” Mairi smiled prettily. “Surely you remember?”

  “Nay,” Liam replied blankly. “What chore?”

  Mairi, bless her, aimed a hard stare at their cousin. “I cannot believe you’ve forgotten. You promised me a sennight ago. How could you—”

  “All right. All right.” Liam held up his hands in surrender, unwilling to allow her to harp on.

  Exasperated with the conversation, Calum extended his hand to Arabella, willing her to accept. “The hour grows late. Let me escort you to the keep.”

  Without a second thought, she placed her delicate hand in his and he pulled her close to his side. Uncaring of his intrusive kin, he simply took a moment to gaze at her comely, upturned face. Each time she graced him with her bright smile, an odd tightness roiled in his stomach.

  All of a sudden, thundered shouts stretched across the fields and he swung his gaze to the source. Her face a spotty mess, Elena stomped toward them with Fraser following close on her heels. The scowl he wore was as dark as a thundercloud in a raging storm. His long strides ate up the ground between them.

  “Stop, you stubborn wench,” he bellowed.

  Elena whirled to face Fraser and pushed him with more strength than Calum imagined for a woman of her age, nearly sending Fraser sprawling to the ground.

  “Stay away from me!”

  Calum winced at the raw anguish in her raised voice. She spun away and ran for the front stairs, disappearing behind the safety of the keep’s wooden doors and stone walls.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. He swiveled in time to witness Liam prowl ahead toward Fraser. The face of a warrior ready to do battle replaced his usual, carefree grin.

  His glare fierce, he paused steps from Fraser. “What the devil did you do to my mother?”

  Fraser looked Liam over. “’Tis none of your damned concern, boy.”

  “Anything to do with my mother concerns me.” Liam took a measured step forward, his stance threatening. “I’ll only warn you once. Stay away from her, old man.”

  Surprised by the harshness in Liam’s tone, Calum held his body rigid, prepared to intercede should the two come to blows. Instead, his cousin and Fraser simply locked stares, their gazes challenging one another to make the first move. The first to relent, Fraser spat out a harsh curse, spun away from Liam, and stomped in the direction of the stables.

  Calum nudged Arabella toward his sister. “You and Mairi, go. See to Elena.”

  Dutifully, she nodded and grabbed Mairi’s hand, tugging her toward the keep. Once the two women scurried inside, he strode to Liam’s side. “What the devil was that about?”

  “Damned if I know. But you can be sure he shall not bother my mother again.”

  Calum did not respond, but he sincerely hoped Liam was right. He would hate to sever his alliance with Fraser, especially after all the man had done for him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Have you spoken with Elena?” Calum asked over his shoulder.

  Sitting astride her gelding, Arabella trailed after him as they rode through a thick patch of forest on the border of his lands. In some distant part of her head, she heard him speak, but her mind continually strayed to a single damning thought—that dark patch of hair she’d caught a glimpse of the day before. Try as she might, she could not dispel the image to save her soul.

  Calum cleared his throat and she glanced up to find him turned in the saddle, watching her. He lifted one ebony brow, as if awaiting an answer.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” Heat rushed to her cheeks and she looked away from his grinning face. Damn the man for catching her staring yet again.

  “I asked if you’d spoken to my aunt. Did she speak of what happened with Fraser?”

  Oh. “Nay, she locked herself in her chamber, and I have not seen my uncle since. Marcus said he departed not long after his fight with Elena.” She frowned. “I cannot believe he left without telling me.”

  Grunting, he faced forward. “He should’ve spoken with you before he took his leave. In truth, I’m surprised he did not. ’Tis not like
him at all.”

  Nay, not like him in the least, which troubled her. He’d left her at the mercy and goodwill of another clan—one she scarcely knew. Had the MacGregors not been as welcoming, then she would truly have cause to worry. Aside from her uncle’s clan, where else might she seek refuge?

  The church? ’Twas not a choice she wished to fathom unless forced.

  Shuddering at the grim notion, she tightened her grasp on Devlin’s reins and peered around the forest. “Where are you leading us, Calum?”

  “’Tis just a bit further.” He shifted in the saddle to glance at her, not quite meeting her gaze. “There’s a place ahead I wish to show you.”

  He faced forward once more, but not before she caught the flush of his cheek. Biting back a smile, she resisted the urge to tease him.

  At times, his character was at odds with his hardened exterior. No doubt he commanded obedience from his clan when necessary, but he was a kind man. A good man. One she’d grown rather fond of in their short acquaintance.

  After last eve’s failed attempts to draw Elena from her solitude, Mairi had joined her in her chamber to consider Calum’s purpose for their outing. His sister hazarded a guess he sought a bit of privacy to speak of marriage. Where she’d gotten the foolish notion was Arabella’s guess. But long after Mairi retired, she’d lain awake, pondering the other woman’s reasoning.

  A few years past, perhaps she’d longed for a life full of love and happiness, a husband who valued her, children to care for. Her brother had wished the same for her, allowing her a say in her choice of husband. With Iain gone, she realized the error of her thoughts. How silly she’d been to imagine she controlled her own fate.

  Despite her poor attempt to banish her girlish hopes, the notion of wedding Calum held a certain appeal.

  They continued to ride in silence until the wood parted, unveiling a lush glade tucked out of sight. At the heart lay a small crag of stones with a gurgling waterfall.