by K. E. Saxon
When she gave him an abbreviated nod of assent, he explained, “Just as the midnight bells begin to chime—in only one hour’s time—I shall expect you to be bare-skinned upon your bed, and thinking of all the sensitive, oh-so-sweet, places on your body that you would like to feel my hands, my mouth. And as you do so, I want you to slowly run your fingertips over your plump, pink lips and then suck them inside, wetting them with your tongue.”
Branwenn’s shivered.
“Afterward, you must trail them from the small shell of your ear, down your neck to that lovely, succulently sweet, freckled breast”—Branwenn’s cheeks flamed—“and spend a moment imagining the feast I shall be having tomorrow eve upon it. And then do the same to the other one.”
“Callum!” she whispered, shocked to the core, but tingling with awareness just the same.
He ignored her outburst. “When you have readied them for my mouth, I want you to run your fingers down over the soft skin of your midriff—for my tongue and teeth will take delight in that adorable place as well, know you this well. But do not tarry there for long, my sweet. Nay, those fingers of yours will be my tongue’s proxy, and they must move ever further south, to that feminine delta where I will finally be allowed to quench my thirst and at long last drive my barge.”
Branwenn’s limbs quivered. Her heart pounded with excitement—and not a little dread. He was asking—demanding, actually—that she touch herself—there!
Callum paused, his breath coming more rapidly now as a soft sheen of sweat cooled his overheated skin. And his betrothed was not so unmoved by his words, either, he noticed with satisfaction. For her breathing was ragged, as well.
“You must move your fingers over those lovely, scalloped inner lips, imagining that ‘tis my tongue there instead. Find that hidden jewel at their peak and tease it, tickle it, softly rub it until your delta trembles and quakes, sending waves of love tide gushing forth. And when that happens—oh, sweet heaven—when that happens, I want you to put two fingers inside yourself and feel what I feel when you come around me.”
Branwenn shook her head slightly. Absolutely not. Was he jesting? She certainly hoped so.
“Aye, you must, my love,” Callum urged. “And know you why? Because at that same moment, I shall be in a like condition upon my own lonely bed, finding my own release in the same way, imagining my hand is your perfect, snug little canal sending me to the stars.
He allowed his tone to turn pleading. “‘Tis the only way we can make love together until we are wed, and I cannot wait another night for you.” ‘Twas true. And tho’ it had not been his intent when he’d first come upon her, now that he’d gone through the entirety of the fantasy, he wanted badly for it to take place. He’d kept his hand upon her waist as he’d given her his erotic request. Now, he slowly stroked it up and down as he said, “Do you agree, my love?”
Branwenn nodded. What else could she do? She wanted to make love to him just as badly. And the knowledge that he would be thinking of her in that way at the same time thrilled her body and warmed her heart enough to give her the courage to do his bidding.
“Til midnight, then,” he said, his words a promise, and then he was gone before she had time to turn around.
* * *
CHAPTER 13
“You look so lovely, lass!” Grandmother Maclean exclaimed as she walked through the doorway of Branwenn’s bedchamber the next morn. “The pale lavender silk was a good choice, I trow.”
“Aye, tho’ the purple violets and pink roses that trim the neckline and sleeve were nearly the death of me!” Maggie chimed in. “But, seeing how lovely you are in the gown, makes the work well worth it.”
“The seamstress who made the gown did not do the needlework?” Jesslyn asked.
“Nay,” Branwenn answered for her soon-to-be mother-in-law. “I asked Aunt Maggie—pardon—Maggie to do the stitching, for her skill is unmatched, I trow.” She turned to Callum’s mother. “Beg pardon, I’m certain to someday learn to simply call you by your name.”
Maggie smiled at her and gave her hand a little squeeze.
“This filet will be lovely with the gown as well,” Maryn said. Turning the hair ornament in her hand, she stroked her fingertips over the filigreed design. “‘Tis truly exquisite. May I try it on?”
Branwenn shrugged and nodded. “Aye.” She tipped her head toward the corner table. “There is a looking glass over there, if you wish.”
Maryn walked over to the table and, taking off her own filet—she hated veils and rarely wore them—placed Branwenn’s on top of her auburn-haired head and studied the outcome. “‘Tis a bit small for me, but ‘tis beautiful!”
Maggie lifted Branwenn’s left hand. “And just look at the ring Callum’s given her. ‘Twas his father and Chalmer’s mother’s ring.”
“But, what ring will he give her later, then?” Maryn turned and asked.
“There’s another portion, just a small band, that will settle next to this one quite well. ‘Twas a set, I believe. Her betrothal and wedding ring, as I recall. His grandmother wanted Callum to have them to give to his bride.”
Branwenn yanked her hand back and looked more closely at the ring. This was something Callum had not told her. “Had he given this to Lara as well then?”
“Nay, lass!” Maggie said. “That union, as you should know by now, was just barely a marriage. Why, ‘twas more a bitter alliance than anything else. And her, carrying another man’s bairn the entire time!”
This reminded Branwenn of her own childing state and she nearly revealed the secret without meaning to when she lifted her hand to place it on her belly, but quickly caught the action and lifted her hand instead to her cheek and brushed her hair away from it. She’d awakened with the sickness again this morn, but was relieved that, after her initial purging, her stomach settled. God be praised, she seemed to only feel horrid upon waking.
Maggie shrugged. “Tho’ ‘tis thrilled I am to have Laire for granddaughter.” Sighing and patting Branwenn’s hand, she said, “Aye, it all turned out very well. Very well indeed.” She looked first at her mother and then at Branwenn. “Tho’ I would never have wished Lara the end she came to, ken me well on that.”
“Aye,” Lady Maclean agreed, “the lady was troubled, and she did cause a great deal of mischief during her time at our own holding.” She gave Jesslyn a pointed look, and a moment of understanding passed between them. For, Lara had tried hard to come between Jesslyn and Bao—had even lied to Jesslyn to make her believe that Bao had been unfaithful to her. Turning her eye once more to Branwenn, Lady Maclean walked over to her and began fussing with her gown, tugging the long, tight sleeves further down and rearranging the hem to settle more attractively about the bride-to-be’s feet. “There,” she said at last. “Now, we must hustle you down to the chapel to meet your anxious betrothed.”
* * *
“Did you do as I requested last night, love?” Callum said into Branwenn’s ear as they waited, facing each other, for the priest to come from behind the screen of the chancel and begin his oration. They were on their knees at the altar, her hand held lightly in his.
She felt the fire of her blush rush over her skin and settle like two hotly glowing coals on her cheeks. She nodded shyly. “Aye,” she whispered, barely audibly.
Callum grinned. He felt a bit of heat on his own cheeks, also. “I, as well.” He softly stroked his thumb over the top of her dainty fingers. “You look lovely in that gown. Beautiful. Tho’ I confess, I cannot wait to take it off you.”
“Of what are you two speaking?” Bao said, walking up beside them. He wanted a quick word with the priest once he came from behind the screen and before he gave his blessings to the couple, so he’d decided to wait near the altar.
“We were just speaking of your taste for rudely thrusting yourself into conversations that do not concern you. ‘Twas quite edifying,” Callum said.
Bao grinned and ruffled Callum’s hair. “That’s a good lad. Mayhap, after the priest
gives his blessing, we’ll spend the rest of the day on the lists?”
Callum swallowed a roar of indignation and combed his hair back down with his fingers. He would not punch his new brother-in-law in the nose. Not today at least. “You have an extremely rich fantasy life—do you not?”
Branwenn giggled. “Bao, what are you doing up here with us, for heaven’s sake? Go sit with your wife.”
Bao shrugged and cleared his throat. “I just wanted to speak to the priest a moment.”
The priest came from behind the screen just as the door to the chapel banged open.
All eyes turned toward it.
“Bishop Richard!” the Priest said.
“Halt the wedding! I’ve a letter that may prove it not to be a legal alliance!” The Bishop said, huffing and puffing his heavy, ornately covered weight toward them. There was a scroll in his right hand that he waved in front of him as he moved.
Chalmers rose from his seat on the bench and held his hand out toward the holy man, indicating that he should hand the letter over to him.
The priest stepped down from the altar and moved toward his superior.
In the next instant, Gaiallard de Montfort stepped through the door.
“Gaiallard!” Branwenn whispered on a harsh release of breath. A buzzing began in her ears and black spots swam before her eyes as she swayed slightly on her knees before falling into a never-ending well of darkness.
Reys leapt to his feet and turned, his hand settling protectively upon his young wife’s shoulder.
“Branwenn!” Callum hurtled to her prone side. He stroked his thumb over the rise of her pale cheek. “Branwenn,” he said again, more softly.
Bao rushed to Branwenn’s side and fell to his knees as well. “We must get her out of here. I’ll take her up to her chamber—you stay and find out what this outrage is all about.”
Callum nodded and rose to his feet at the same time Bao did, him holding his sister in his arms. When her brother began to walk away, Callum realized that he’d never released her hand and he forced himself to let go of it.
Bao barreled down the aisle toward the door and Daniel got in step behind him.
Reys leaned down and whispered in Alyson’s ear and in the next instant she was scurrying in Daniel’s wake.
Maryn nudged David, who sat beside her, telling him to go with Alyson.
When David began walking beside her, Alyson took the boy’s hand and continued her hurried exit.
The blond Norman, who stood in a wide stance with his arms crossed over his chest, stepped out of Bao’s way as he strode past him. Time to deal with that annoyance later, Bao thought.
Daniel stepped in front of his brother and held the door open for him. “Make haste, for ‘tis plain we may be about to hear the terms of siege,” he said in a low voice.
Bao gave him a short nod of understanding and continued on through the doorway.
When Daniel realized Alyson and David were directly behind him, he took Alyson by the elbow and escorted her and the lad out of the chapel as far as the steps then hurried back inside.
“This letter advises that Gaiallard de Montfort is legally betrothed to one Branwenn verch Gryffyd, otherwise known as Branwenn Maclean, daughter to Gryffyd Duy ap Kenneric and Gwenllian wreic Gryffyd of Penhros,” the Bishop explained to Chalmers.
Chalmers unrolled the scroll and studied it for long minutes. Reys came up behind his shoulder and Chalmers lifted the document up a bit so that Reys could better peruse the thing. “What think you? Could it be forgery?” Chalmers asked softly.
Reys shook his head and lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug. “I know not. It could be—or, it could be genuine.”
Chalmers turned back to the Bishop. “How did you get this?”
“I was given it by the Norman knight standing at the door. He came to my bishopric in Dunkeld late last night and asked that I do all that I could to stop this illegal wedding from taking place.”
Gaiallard, having heard his name spoken, as well as all the questions attached, strode forward. When he was several paces from Chalmers, he said, “I assure you, that is no forgery. King John has overridden my uncle’s decree that all has been settled with Reys ap Gryffyd’s marriage to my sister, and has assured me that I will receive all that was promised me when I bring Branwenn home as my wife.”
“But, the two have already had the civil ceremony, not an hour past, on the steps of the chapel,” Daniel said. “They’ve given their consent in front of the clan, the bride’s ring has been placed on her hand, and the land and monies to be exchanged have been openly promised before witnesses. ‘Tis only the blessing of the priest that has yet to be performed.” He turned his eye on Gaiallard. “My sister and Callum are wed, mayhap not in the eyes of the church, but certainly in the eyes of the law.”
“Yes, and I shall dispute that in the Scottish king’s court, should you force me to take the matter that far.”
“Aye, and the church will not bless the match until we hear the verdict of the king in the matter,” the Bishop warned.
Pointing to the scroll, Reys asked Gaiallard, “And, what has my cousin to say about this?”
“I assure you, he is in full agreement of any alliance he can make to further his power in Cambria. And with King John behind this match, he has no argument.”
Callum stepped forward. “But, you see, I do.”
Gaiallard turned to face him. “Ah, the thwarted bridegroom. And, what, pray, do you intend to do about it?”
“Fight you to the death, of course. Here. Now.” For ‘twas not just his heart’s survival for which he’d be fighting, but also the deep-seated need to rid this world of at least one of the deviants that would dare force himself upon a bairn—and this one had touched his own sister! An image of Lara flashed in his mind. Aye, Lara, he was convinced more than ever, had been ruined by such a one as this.
Gaiallard crossed his arms over his chest and scanned his eyes from Callum’s head to his feet. He snorted, clearly finding a lack in what he saw. “‘Tis a good plan, as I’m in need of a bit of exercise before my wedding night.”
Callum roared. “To the lists!” he commanded and took a step forward.
“Callum!” his grandmother exclaimed. She rose from her seat and hurried to stand in front of him. “Do not act in haste now,” she warned. “‘Tis passion talking, not reason. You’ve a daughter, have you forgotten?”
Callum looked at her for a long moment his shoulders rising and falling rapidly with the heavy breaths he took. “Aye, and she’s about to lose her mother to a Norman swine.” He took hold of his grandmother’s hand and squeezed it. “Branwenn cannot be allowed to go back with him, no matter what that missive states.”
Lady Maclean nodded. “Aye, you are right.” She turned and walked over to where her daughter was standing and took hold of her hand. Jesslyn and Maryn stood up as well and moved to stand with the other two women.
“Are we to meet on the field, or has the lady convinced you otherwise?” Gaiallard said to Callum.
Callum’s eyes narrowed. Daniel and Reys moved to stand behind him, their arms crossed over their chests and their expressions set in a determined mien. “Aye, we will meet. Let God decide.”
“But two days hence,” the Bishop rushed to say. “For the two of you must have a day of fasting and prayer—and you must give your confessions as well—before meeting in mortal combat. Now, the terms must be written and signed.”
* * *
Branwenn woke to the feel of a cool, damp cloth stroking lightly across her brow and cheek. She opened her eyes and looked directly into those of her betrothed—or was it husband? They’d said their vows, just not had the Priest’s blessing, nor repeated them in the chapel.
“How are you feeling?” Callum asked gently.
“Well, I think.” Her eyes widened and she tried to sit up, saying, “Where is Gaiallard?!”
Callum pressed her back onto the pillow. “Sshhh. Fret not, for he is no threat to us.
I swear this to you, my love. He is at the Gordon’s holding. Laird Gordon has agreed to house the bastard until two days hence when we meet on the lists and decide this thing for good.”
“What mean you, ‘meet on the lists?’” Branwenn sucked in her breath and sat up once more. “Callum!” She thrust his hands away when he tried to settle her again. “Has he challenged you to a trial by combat? Do not do it, I beg you!”
Callum lifted her tensed hand and brought it to his mouth. Softly, he kissed each fingertip before finally answering her. “‘Twas I who challenged him, my love. ‘Tis the only way to be rid of him, I trow, else he’s set to challenge our union at our King William’s court with a letter he holds signed by King John of England.”
“Let him challenge it! At least you will not risk your life.”
“Branwenn,” Callum chided gently, “you, who lived in Perth, so close to the court for many years, must know this could bode very ill for us, if our king should be of a mood to yield to him in order to better the alliance between us and England.”
She shrugged, keeping her gaze on their clasped hands.
“Do you not see? This is a noble challenge, one that neither king will dispute—for, in the end, ‘twill be God who decides the day.”
She threw her arms around his neck and held tight. “Do not die, I beg you.”
“I shall not, this I swear. God will not forsake me.”
After a moment, he pulled back and brushed away the damp tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Meet me in the cave tonight, after the chimes of midnight have rung.”
She nodded.
He took one of the keys from around his neck and gave it to her. Holding her face in his hands once more, he leaned down and kissed her mouth. “I love you. You are mine, never forget that,” he said after a moment, resting his forehead against her own.
“Aye. I’m yours. Oh, Callum! I love you, too!”
* * *
Alyson slipped the folded piece of parchment from its hiding place inside the sleeve of her gown. A servant had given it to her as she was leaving the great hall. She’d thought it a note from Reys, but when she saw her name, written in the familiar hand of her brother, scratched across the front, she’d tucked it into her sleeve and made haste to her bedchamber. With trembling fingers, she opened first one end and then the other before turning it so that the lettering was right-side up.