Highland Magic

by K. E. Saxon

  Reys gave her an appraising look. “No. I don’t.” Then: “Know you where my sister is staying?”

  Jesslyn brightened. “Aye, I do. She is well and living at our allies’, the MacGregors’, holding.”

  Reys leapt to his feet. “That is good news!” he shouted.

  Alyson sat forward, smiling at her husband’s joy. She was so very pleased that he had found—or, nearly found—his sister alive. “Will we travel to the MacGregors then, Reys?” she asked softly.

  “Yes,” he answered and turned to Jesslyn. “I do not want to delay any longer than I must. I thank you for your generosity, but we must leave at first light on the morrow.”

  Jesslyn nodded, smiling. “I will have the steward give you the direction.”

  * * *

  Jesslyn met Reys and Alyson in the courtyard the next morn and stood with them as they waited for their mounts to be readied for the journey. “Reys,” she said, “I’ve been deliberating whether to tell you this before you leave, or allow you to find out when you reach the MacGregor holding....”

  “Aye, what do you wish to tell me?”

  “Your sister is betrothed to Callum MacGregor, the laird’s nephew and Lady Maclean’s grandson.”

  Reys was silent for a long minute as he digested this bit of news. If his sister wed a Highlander, she would not return with him to Cambria. And, if she did not return with him to Cambria, their princely cousin might be rather peeved. “I see,” he said at last. “And when, pray, is the event to take place?”

  “As soon after Samhainn as possible. It rests on the priest’s schedule to give the blessing, I understand. Maryn and I are to be informed of the day in time to attend.”

  Alyson’s eyes went wide with apprehension. What if her brother found out? What would he do to Branwenn? She would have to find some way to speak to her husband about those missives. She only wished now that she had shown them to him before, but she had just been too afraid that her brother would find out, and ‘twas well before she’d grown so good with the bow and arrow that she’d received the last one.

  Thank heavens, her brother had no idea where they were. She’d made sure of that. For, tho’ Reys had misled the servants that remained at the keep, giving them a false destination, as Prince Llywelyn had decreed, she’d also lied in her letter to her father that they were bound for one of the Prince’s holdings. And since neither her brother, nor her father, wanted any dealing with that man, she knew they’d do naught to verify it.

  Reys nodded. “My thanks to you for telling me, I know ‘twas not an easy thing to reveal.”

  “Aye, but now that I’ve done so, I know ‘twas the right thing to do.

  The stablemen brought their mounts to them and Reys took a moment to help Alyson get settled in the saddle before turning back to Jesslyn. “Good day to you, my lady.”

  “Yes,” Alyson said shyly, “Good day, Lady Maclean. My thanks for the lovely chamber you provided.”

  Jesslyn smiled warmly at the young lass. She was such a shy wee thing. But lovely! My, how lovely she was. And she clearly felt uncomfortable using Jesslyn’s first name. “You are most welcome, Lady Gryffyd,” Jesslyn replied kindly, mirroring the lass’s formality. The dimple that came into prominence when the lass smiled, as well as the warm blush that suffused her cheeks, told Jesslyn that she had not been called by that title yet, but was pleased to hear it.

  On the third morning after their departure, they arrived at the MacGregor holding.

  * * *

  Gaiallard made camp in the wood not far from the village at the base of the Maclean fortress. Snow had fallen earlier, coating the ground, the trees, and blocking the entrance to a small cave he’d found. It took him several hours to dig the snow away and then find enough dry wood to start a fire. He carried his own kindling box, so starting the thing was of little moment. ‘Twas keeping it going that would be the challenge. Why the hell did it have to snow today? Why could it not have waited until the morrow, after he’d had time to get enough firewood? ‘Twas all his sister’s fault. All his bad luck had started with her, that night that Branwenn had charged into Alyson’s chamber after hearing the mewling, puling girl crying like a babe. And over what? If she’d just given him what he’d wanted of her, he’d have had done with her and then she’d not have received his fist. Tho’, truth be told, he did enjoy the struggle. It made the winning much more pleasurable.

  But, his fortunes had changed for the worse that night, and he’d not rest until he not only had his prize—the land, and the bride he’d been promised—but he’d had his vengeance on his sister and that Welsh troubadour she’d wed.

  The trick would be to remain just far enough behind the two that they would never guess he tracked them, but close enough that he would not lose their trail.

  * * *

  Branwenn was just descending the stairs when she heard a familiar male voice coming from somewhere below say, “Your wife told me I’d find my sister here. May I see her?”

  Reys! He’d found her. She bit her lip and, very stealthily, took another two steps down the stairs.

  “You mean, of course, my sister, Branwenn?” she heard Bao reply.

  “May I see her?”

  Branwenn silently took several more steps down, her left hand skimming the cold stone of the curving wall and her neck craning forward, trying to see around the last curve into the antechamber just inside the entry of the keep.

  All at once, she saw him. And Alyson, as well, surprisingly. Had he wed her then, as he’d sworn to do? “I’m here,” she called out and trotted down the last four stairsteps into the antechamber. “Reys, ‘tis so good to see you,” she said, though her heart pounded with both pleasure and dread. She would have given him a kiss on the cheek in greeting, but had no desire to hurt Bao with such a show of affection in his presence. So, instead, she made a brief courtesy to Reys and then to his companion, who shyly returned the gesture. “Lady Alyson, ‘tis so good to see you again. You are looking lovely.” She darted a glance at her brother-germane, before adding, “And quite content, as well. That pleases me.”

  Alyson’s cheeks pinkened, “My thanks, my lady. And you are looking the same.”

  Branwenn widened her smile. “You must surely be parched and in need of a rest. Come into the great hall and settle by the hearth. We will have some refreshment arranged for you.”

  Alyson’s eyes settled briefly on Reys before turning once more to Branwenn. “My thanks, my lady.”

  Bao’s eyes never left Reys’s countenance. “Aye, Branwenn, settle the lass in the great hall for a time. Reys and I have much to discuss, and I believe my brother, cousin and uncle will want to meet with the man as well.”

  Reys, who was now in less hurry to speak with his sister, as it was plain that she was well and had survived the shipwreck with no permanent damage, met Bao’s angry mien with a cocked brow and a slight smirk. “I look forward to the discussion, I assure you.”

  The two ladies made a hasty retreat out of the antechamber and when the room was at last left to only the two men, Reys said, “Your wife also gave me the tidings that my sister has been betrothed to your cousin, and without my consent. This, I’m sure you understand, makes the contract void, as I and Prince Llywelyn are her legal guardians.”

  Bao, stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his stance wide. “Aye, void the contract if you wish to have a Highlander bastard born to your ward.”

  Reys’s spine shot ramrod straight and, with fisted hands, took a step toward Bao, “You allowed your cousin to meddle with my sweet, innocent sister so that she’s now forced to wed the cur?! I’ll kill the lot of you for this!”

  Bao grinned at him. Relaxing his stance, he said more calmly, “Good. You do care for my sister.” In a more somber tone, he said, “Calm yourself, Reys. ‘Tis not like that at all. ‘Tis a love match, you shall see.” He turned in the direction of the entrance to the keep. “Come, let us meet in one of the guard tower chambers, ‘twill have no likelihoo
d of feminine ears o’erhearing our talk. And there’s plenty of ale stashed there as well.”

  Reys eyed Bao suspiciously, but followed him out. Was his sister carrying the Highlander cousin’s bastard, as Bao had said? And if so, what would be the retribution meted out by his princely cousin for such an offense? He’d still had plans for using her as barter in his ongoing campaign to gain power and ground in his native land. And part of that plan was to have Branwenn back safe, still chaste and unwed, with her family in Anglesea before word of her whereabouts reached Norman ears.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Callum, having spent much of the morning hearing Reys’s side of the tale of Branwenn’s hasty flight from her betrothal to the Norman, and then convincing the man to accept Branwenn’s—and his own—desire to wed and allow the match to take place, even without the Cambrian prince’s knowledge, was in desperate need of some time alone with his love. And this time, he’d not be thwarted, waylaid, or distracted from that goal.

  As he walked in the direction of the garden in the north bailey where a maid had told him Branwenn could be found, his thoughts turned once more to his earlier conversation with Reys. He knew that, by making the match outside the knowledge of her royal guardian, he was setting them up for war, but his stepfather had backed him, saying that they’d gather every ally they had and beat the army back, if the man wanted to fight. Even William, King of Scots, no doubt, would send soldiers to join the fray, as he owed Chalmers a favor, and Bao had been one of the king’s best fighting men for years during his time at the court at Perth.

  But he hoped the prince would be pleased enough with the bride price Callum would give for her to accept the union without threatening siege. For, ‘twas a fortune in gold coins accumulated and inherited and would leave him only with just enough to begin building the manor he’d planned on that small tract of land between the MacGregor and Grant land that had been the subject of contention the two clans had nearly gone to war over. But, with Lara’s ignoble death, Laird Grant had at last forfeited his claim on the property that horrid night of Callum’s humiliating poisoning by pig gong and Callum’s stepfather had signed the tract over to Callum as a gift for his labor in bringing about a negotiation and in being the means by which the two clans had settled their disagreement.

  * * *

  Branwenn worried her lip with her teeth as she stood with her head bowed staring blankly at the ground. “So Prince Llywelyn is wanting to use me as a pawn in his empire-building game of chess once again?” She turned to her brother-germane and gave him a pleading look. “Can you not simply return to Gwynedd and tell him that you did not find me? That you believe I perished in the wreck?”

  Reys sighed and shook his head, his eyes sad. “No, I cannot. ‘Twas much too easy for me to track how you came to be here in the Highlands—and that being three moons after the wreck. ‘Tis no use, our princely cousin will find you out. And then I will be hanged from a gibbet for my part in the deception. No, ‘tis better that you wed your Callum and we face the wrath of Llywelyn straight on, as I, your brother, do have a bit more of a say in whom you wed.” He looked away from her, scrubbing the back of his neck with his hand and shaking his head. “‘Tis tricky, even dangerous, but not completely traitorous.” Resting his gaze upon her once more, he said, “And, with the generous bride price Callum is expecting to bestow upon him, ‘twill lessen the sting considerably. ‘Tis enough gold to fund many more campaigns against the Normans, as well as the other Cambrian princes he battles against in his pursuit of power and land.”

  Branwenn walked over to the bench and sat down, her hands clasped in her lap. “Was he very angry when you gave him our plan the next morn? Was there violence?”

  Reys smiled and settled on the bench beside her. Taking her hand in his he lifted it and gave the back of it an affectionate kiss. “No, ‘twas not as terrible as you imagine. In fact, our cousin was pleased to settle me upon the lady Alyson instead and have you far from Gaiallard’s clutches, once he was informed of the man’s true nature.” He rested both of their hands on his knee. “Whatever you may believe of our cousin, know you this: He does not desire to have you wed to a beast, even for the sake of building his empire.”

  Branwenn nodded and looked away. After a moment, she straightened and turned back to Reys, saying, “And the lady Alyson? Do you think you may love her in time?” This, Branwenn now realized more than ever before, was the key to a happy life, and she wished it above all else for this brother of hers that had sacrificed so much for her.

  Reys shrugged. “I can—and do—care for the girl. But love her as a man loves a woman?” It was his turn to look away as he pondered the question. He shook his head. “No, I confess, I see the girl as more of friend, almost as a younger sibling. I cannot see myself ever feeling for her the love I felt for my wife.” He turned back to her then, a sheepish look upon his countenance. “Pardon, my past wife.”

  Branwenn sat forward and clasped her hand a bit tighter around his. “But, Reys, she is so lovely, so kind! Surely, in time, after your grief is less acute, you will see her differently. At least I pray so, for, if you desire an heir, you will have to bed the lass to get one.”

  Reys bristled. “Branwenn! Do not speak of—”

  “Nay, hear me, please. I know I should not speak of such to you—or anyone—as it isn’t proper, but I have now with Callum what you had with your past wife and all I want for you is joy. I know that you believe lady Alyson is too young—and surely not ready for such with you now in any case, with the horror she was subjected to at her brother’s hands—but, in time, I hope that you two can help to heal each other.” She gave him a sad smile. “And, ‘tis wrong for you to begin this marriage thinking of the lass as a sibling. ‘Twill surely only make it harder for you to make that heir you crave with those thoughts flitting through your mind the entire time.”

  Reys studied Branwenn for a moment. “You are a wise one for your young age, Sister. And, you are right. I will no longer allow myself to think of the lady in that way.” He straightened and took in a deep breath. “No, from now on, she will be in my thoughts only as my mate—and my dear friend. For, that, she has truly become in these past sennights.”

  * * *

  Reys was just stepping through the arched stone entry of the garden when he saw Callum coming toward him. “Ho! Were you looking for me? Have you something else to discuss?”

  Callum shook his head and grinned. “Nay, I’m on a much different quest.” He tipped his head in the direction of the garden. “Is Branwenn still in there?”

  Reys’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” he said slowly. “What, pray, is your intent?”

  Callum shrugged. “Oh, this and that. You know.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Reys nodded, “Yes, I fear I do know. Exactly, as a matter of fact.”

  “Nay, ‘tis naught like that,” Callum replied, still set on keeping the gossip to a minimum—and his jaw in working order. “I just need to speak with Branwenn about...” He thought quickly. “…the gown she’s having made for our wedding.”

  Reys’s eyes narrowed even further. “The gown? That Branwenn will be wed in?” He laughed then. “Yes, do, go speak with my sister about her gown. May I join you?”

  Callum’s eyes widened. “Nay, um, Branwenn is set on keeping the design a secret from all but, um, me and, um, my mother and grandmother—oh! And Lady Isobail, also. My pardon.” Callum shot around Reys and continued through the entry.

  “I’ll give you a quarter hour!” Reys called to him. Frowning, he shook his head. He should have given only five minutes, for, an anxious soon-to-be bridegroom could get the entire deed done in a quarter-hour. Hell, even five minutes was no doubt time enough for this particular groom, for Reys had seen an inferno in the other man’s eyes as he passed him just then.

  Callum didn’t acknowledge the comment but continued on his course toward his betrothed. He’d have to be quick, but thorough. Could he do it? Aye, definitely. He grin
ned.

  * * *

  Branwenn looked up when she heard her brother’s voice call out to someone, something about a quarter-hour.

  Godamercy! Callum! And he was only a few paces from her. They’d be mating in minutes—a thing she was determined not to do again until their wedding night. She must escape. She leapt from her seat and dashed to her right, hoping to make a sharp curve up ahead and get around him to the entrance. “Nay! Go away, Callum! I’ve told you, not until we’re wed!” She heard the sound of male laughter and the pounding of feet behind her and, suddenly, she was in his arms.

  “You cannot get away from me this time, my sweet fey Mai. I won’t allow it. And, why must we wait when we can enjoy each other now?” His mouth swooped down on hers and, in the next instant, she was falling swiftly into the deep abyss of her own passion for him.

  Callum wrapped his arms around his love, holding her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head and the other clamped on her firmly rounded left derrière cheek. He lifted her up so that his manhood was nestled snugly into the crevassed triangle that her mons and pressed-together inner thighs made. He rocked against her, knowing the friction was teasing that hidden nub of pleasure beneath her skirts and labia lips. “It’s been too long,” he said raggedly against her mouth. “God! I just want to be inside you. Now. Forever.”

  Branwenn was beyond thought, she nodded dazedly and pressed her opened lips to his once more, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and tasting the nectar of the essence that was Callum. “Mmmm...” Her love. Her life. And soon—oh! please let it be soon!—her husband.

  Somehow Callum managed to scuttle them onto the bench and lie on top of her, his hand caressing her naked inner thigh before trailing up to tease the damp curls that covered the opening of her canal. His finger had just entered her slightly when the sound of someone clearing his throat—very loudly—seeped into her consciousness.

  They both turned their heads toward the noise at the same time.

  “Ohmygod!” she squealed. ‘Twas her brothers—all three of them—standing, like towering stairsteps, just inside the entrance to the garden, their arms crossed over their chests, their stances wide, and (she would think this much later, after the embarrassment had worn off) the most comical expressions of amusement guised as anger she’d ever seen.