by Temple Hogan
Suddenly tongued tied, a rare occurrence for her, Cailla remained silent as people milled about, exchanging news with the newcomers.
“Did you have any trouble rescuing my mother?” Logan asked.
“A little. We met up with Lundy and his men before we reached Cluny and Scotty was captured. We had agreed no matter what happened, whoever was left must go rescue Lady Jean. So I took the rest of our men to Cluny. From that point on, it was surprisingly easy. Most of the castle guards were loyal to the MacPhersons. We didn’t go in as a large force. I crept into the castle and made my way to Lady Jean’s room. She was well prepared with wagons and a coach packed and hidden some distance away. All we had to do was whisk her away from the castle and hitch up the horses. Most of the castle guards and servants came with us.”
“You escaped then, Scotty?” Logan said, clamping the man’s shoulders.
“Aye, and I’ve some information that might help in planning our attack against Lundy. He doesn’t have the manpower we thought. And with the servants and guards deserting him, he’ll be even more vulnerable.”
“Good, we’ll talk about it later. Good job, lads,” Logan said and strode among the rest of the clan greeting them.
Cailla looked at the gathering of people and saw women and children had traveled with them as well.
“Set up camps along the ridge there,” Logan said. “We already have a large gathering. Clansmen have been arriving daily.”
“Aye, ‘tis good,” Jaimie said, looking around with bright expectant eyes.
When his gaze fell on Maggie, he smiled at her. She tossed her head and turned away as if she hadn’t been watching him all along. The throng of people began to bustle around as if with some shared knowledge of what they must do. The wagons were emptied and pulled into place near the byre. Makeshift tents were set up along the river that flowed on the edge of the property. Women built campfires and arranged tripods to hold kettles of bubbling stew.
Children ran about, exploring and generally getting in the way. No one yelled at them, but tolerated their antics good-heartedly. Logan, despite his injuries, was everywhere, supervising and directing. Lady Jean was showed the room she would share with Maggie and generally made herself at home. She even set about making stacks of oatmeal bread rounds.
“Come and help me,” she’d insisted and Cailla settled to the unaccustomed task.
“I’m not practiced in wifely arts,” she said apologetically, seeing how deftly the noblewoman turned the bannocks.
“Can you handle a claymore or shoot an arrow straight enough to kill a man and protect your home?” Lady Jean asked.
“Yes, I can,” Cailla replied.
‘I can’t do that,” Jean said. “My mother taught me to be a proper lady, which nearly left me useless.”
“I doubt that,” Cailla replied.
“Well, I resolved myself to be something more,” Jean said and flipped another bannock onto a platter. “I wanted my husband to be proud of me. And he was.” Her eyes dimmed. “Aye, he was a fearsome man, handsome and tall. No man dared cross him. He was the chief and he led our clan well. Logan is like that. He will always do the things other men haven’t the heart to do.” She glanced at Cailla.
“Do you love him very much?”
Cailla paused at her chores and glanced at Logan’s mother. “I don’t know,” she replied softly. “Too much has happened over the last few days. I haven’t examined such feelings. I’ve only reacted.”
Jean frowned. “He’s a good man is my son. He’ll be a good husband and a good father.”
“I’m sure of that,” Cailla said and stared out the window at him.
His face was pale and he looked haggard, yet he still moved as if unaffected by his wounds. She thought of his body against hers during the night, of his hands brushing over her skin, of his cock, hard and urgent inside her and glanced away. Jean’s knowing glance rested on her.
“Aye, so that’s the way of it,” she said. “Many a marriage has started as yours. Once all this trouble is past and we have a clergyman, we will have the proper words said. We’ll have a wonderful celebration.”
“You’re very kind,” Cailla said, grateful the conversation hadn’t dwelled on her nights with Logan.
The day passed quickly. Logan had secured another beef cattle from Tam. As before, it had been slaughtered and roasted over coals until the air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat. Stew pots simmered with boiled haggis, oatmeal and other grains. An air of levity had overtaken the newly formed campsite. Men sat in bunches, plotting the battles they must engage in the next few days. Women put tired children to bed and went to sit quietly by their husbands.
Someone started up a tune on some bagpipes and someone joined in with a flute. Soon the tempo picked up and couples began to dance. Cailla sat beside Jean on the back of a wagon and watched the gaiety. She could see Jaimie and Maggie among the dancers. The girl was positively radiant and Jaimie couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. Logan left the group of men around him and came to the wagon. At once, he embraced his mother, then turned to Cailla, pulling her close, and gave her a lingering kiss. Jean’s laughter rang out.
“You’ve made me most happy, my son,” she said and began to clap to the beat of the music.
“Would you care to dance, Cailla?” Logan asked.
“Your wounds,” she protested.
“Are better,” he said and, taking her hand, pulled her into the bobbing dancers.
He was light-footed as he led her through the steps. She forgot the grimness of the past week or so and matched her step to his. Laughter bubbled within her and filled the air. It felt good to laugh, good to remember she was a young woman who loved to dance. Never mind that she wore the tattered, rough garb of a guardsman. She felt as beautiful and feminine as if she wore fine slippers and the richest of gowns. They danced again until she noticed the white line around his mouth and insisted she was far too tired to continue. They sat in contentment, watching the others twirl about. Logan’s arm was around her and she sank against him, enjoying his warmth and masculine scent. Soon, though, her head was nodding.
“It’s time we retired,” Logan said finally. “Mother, you’re yawning. It’s been a long day for us all. Tomorrow will be longer.”
“Aye, when do you leave?” Jean asked.
“After midnight,” Logan replied.
“Where are you going?” Cailla asked, looking at him in surprise.
“We begin our raids tomorrow,” he answered.
“I’m going, too,” she stated quickly.
“No, you will stay here.”
“No.”
“You are my wife. You’ll do as I say.”
“I am your wife, m’laird, but I will not do as you say until it’s what I want, too.”
“Sometimes, it is best to listen to your wife,” Jean said lightly then having done her damage to his argument, she strolled away.
Cailla met his furious gaze with one of her own. “Did you forget I’m my father’s daughter? Gowain MacLaren would never sit back while someone else fought a battle. He’d be there side by side with the others.”
“But he was a man, a courageous, skillful warrior—”
“And I’m a woman, still a courageous, skillful warrior. Have I not proven that to you?” She waited for his reaction, prepared to launch a rebuttal should he object further, but he sighed and shook his head.
“Once I dreamed of a wife who was soft and womanly, who never argued with me and better yet, never won the argument. One who would bear me beautiful daughters and brave sons.”
“And so I shall, that is if you do your part, but you also have a wife who will stand beside you in fighting our enemies.”
“Ah, Cailla,” he said, taking her hand. “Show me again the wife who will bear me children and I will do what I must,” he answered with a gleam in his eye.
Cailla giggled despite herself and rose, tugging at him. “You must try very hard,” she said softly
and now it was his turn to let out a hoot of laughter.
They cast a quick glance over their shoulders, then made their way through the shadows to their borrowed room and shut the door behind them.
Once undressed, they reached for each other with an urgency that belied their real hunger. Tomorrow would bring fighting and Logan’s wounds had not healed from their last encounter with Lundy’s men. Awareness that they would be facing danger with a formidable adversary sharpened their need. They touched each other with a tenderness that made Cailla’s heart ache. Logan’s caresses grew more intimate, stroking her in places only he knew and her arousal became more intense. He suckled her breasts, rolling her nipples between his tongue and teeth so she gasped.
He blazed a fiery path to her crotch where he laved her clitoris endlessly, dipping his tongue deep inside her. She whimpered with pleasure but made no effort to hurry him. Instead her hands fluttered over his broad shoulders, down his curved back to the dips above his buttocks and to the fullness of his cheeks. They were smooth and soft, the only soft place she could find on his body. Then a hunger took hold of her and a need to hurry, to race toward that exquisite summit of desire and fulfillment. He rose above her, sliding his hard cock into her moist channel. Buried deep within her, he seemed to feel the same desire as she. He plunged and withdrew with a mounting passion that drove them both over the edge. His shout of completion mingled with her screams. They fell back against the mattress, spent and gasping for air. Sleep claimed them. Much later, they roused themselves and made love again with the same devastating end. Afterward, Cailla lay cradled in Logan’s arms.
“Are you worried about tomorrow?” she asked, running her hands over the muscles of his arms.
“A wise man always worries before a battle,” he answered quietly. “Lundy is wily and never to be trusted.”
“Why has he set himself against you like this? Your mother told me he once lived in your home. He was like a brother to you.”
“Nay, my mother has it wrong. It is what she wished to have happen, that Lundy and I would become close since she was unable to give my father another son.”
“She must have been saddened by that inability.”
“Aye, she was and when it was arranged that Lundy would come to us for his learning years, as is often the custom among the clans, then she was happy and began to plan. She treated him like a son as did my father, but Lundy wasn’t beholden to them for their support. Behind their backs, he made fun of them as he did his own father. He was jealous and bitter of any advantage he thought another had over him.”
“So he was jealous of you?” Cailla guessed.
“Aye,” Logan nodded. “He set about trying to best me in everything, wielding the claymore, riding, battles, everything. He had a terrible temper and he wasn’t shy of letting it get the best of him, especially with our clansmen. As he grew older, he had even less scruples in dealing with our clansmen and their families. Many a young lass was impregnated and abandoned by him, sometimes against their will.”
“The bastard!” Cailla cried. “My father would have killed such a man.”
“Remember, Lundy was at our castle to be groomed as the chief of his own clan. None dared tell him nay for anything. Even the girls he molested were afraid to make accusations. Their father’s quietly found husbands for them, sometimes not of the same caliber they would have had if they’d still been virgins.”
“He’s too good for killing.”
“He reached a point where he wanted what I had. Our holdings were greater than that of his clan and he thought to gain Cluny through treachery. With me dead, he guessed he might become the heir to Cluny. He tried to kill me, but Jaimie found out his plot and stopped him. My father banished him from Cluny and sent word to his father of all that had happened.” He paused and took a breath.
“We never learned of what was said in that meeting between Lundy and his father, but word came back to us that Laird MacAuley had been killed. No one knew by whom or why, but my father and I guessed it was at the hands of his son.”
He paused again and Cailla felt his body stiffen. She sat up and looked at him, her hand splayed across his chest.
“What is it?” she urged. “Tell me.”
“My father was killed a fortnight later and I believe it was by Lundy as revenge for having been banned from Cluny.”
Cailla stared at him for a long moment then finally lay back against him.
“Tomorrow we begin to take back what is yours. I shall seek him out and send my blade deep into his heart or at least where his heart should be.”
“You will do nothing of the sort,” Logan said roughly and pushed her away so he could take hold of her shoulders and shake her. His eyes were black. “He’s a very dangerous man and he would not hesitate to kill you, especially if you’re dressed as a guard.”
“I won’t let him get close to me,” she said stubbornly. “I’ll kill him with my bow and arrow.”
“Promise me you’ll stay away from Lundy tomorrow or by the gods, I’ll have my men tie you up and leave you behind. Besides, I want the privilege of seeing Lundy dead. I have many wrongs to right.”
Cailla’s shoulders sagged. His was the one argument she could not ignore.
“I’ll do as you say,” she said finally and he drew her back against his chest.
She planted tiny kisses on his skin until her head dipped and she took one of his nipples into her mouth. She heard his gasp and applied her tongue, rasping across his nipple. Then she suckled the other and began a slow tortuous path down his flat abdomen to the hard cock that bobbled against her cheek.
“What have we here?” she asked.
He laughed until her mouth closed over him, then laughter turned to moans. She ran her tongue around the base of his bulb, while her hands moved against him. His hand settled on her head, holding her in place while she used every imaginable move to bring him pleasure. His semen was hot and salty erupting into her mouth. She swallowed it and moved up along his body then straddled him.
“I hope you left something for me,” she said softly and took him inside herself.
She felt his cock grow and harden yet again. This time, his hands settled on her hips while his own hips pounded against her. She widened her spread legs and moved against him, each thrust reaching closer to that special place inside her. They came together, their cries hoarse, their bodies racked with ripples of completion. They seemed frozen in time, their muscles clenched in the final throes of ecstasy, then slowly, so slowly it was like a pain, they released. Cailla fell across Logan’s chest, whimpering. He caressed her cheek, her hair and any part of her body he could reach without moving. They fell asleep with her sprawled across him, their bodies as connected as their hearts were. The danger of tomorrow was forgotten.
Chapter Twelve
The mist wrapped around them with icy fingers that chilled to the bone. Cailla tried not to shiver. The men around her, clad only in their kilts and shirts, wrapped in their tartans never moved a muscle while they waited for the moment to strike. They’d done this many times in their fight against Lundy. They waited, some on horseback, most on foot. They had run swiftly along the hilly ledges and finally to the valley where Cluny lay quiet and dark. Only an occasional dog barked a complaint or warning, but no one roused to investigate. They were too certain of their impregnability.
“Go quiet now, lads.” Logan gave the command. “Take your positions until I get the gate open.”
No one answered. They simply began to move as one body down the slope to the quiet black stones of Cluny. Logan glanced at Cailla.
“I suppose it will do no good to tell you to wait here,” he whispered.
Like his men, she made no answer, but moved forward, guiding Balvenie with her knees. She didn’t stop to ask herself why she always insisted on coming on these raids. She only knew she couldn’t stay behind, not when there were so many wrongs to right. She had begun her fight to regain Cluny and would end it when Tioram was re
turned to her.
They were well in place before the first streaks of color stained the distant horizon. Logan dismounted and along with Jaimie made his way to the north end of the castle wall. Quiet lay over all and the waiting seemed interminable. Had Logan and Jaimie fallen into a trap? Cailla prayed, barely breathing, then the first sounds of the chains clanking at the front gate came to them and slowly the bridge began to descend. Shouts sounded along the wall. Now, now would be the dangerous time for Logan, when the gate was not yet lowered and he and Jaimie alone must fight off Lundy’s guards.
The MacPherson clansmen crowded the bridge, leaping up on it before it had fully settled across the moat. With a wild highland cry, they ran toward the open gate, their claymores raised. The sound of battle raged around them. In the meantime, mounted men swarmed from the castle to meet the force that surrounded the castle walls. The battle was fierce and Cailla joined in without hesitation, sending her arrows into the melee. When the enemy soldiers surrounded her, she took out her sword and met them head on. Her cries were as ferocious as those of the MacPherson clansmen. She seemed surrounded by a protective shield, for no one could touch her, yet her blade cut down more than one enemy.
In the midst of the fighting, she came face to face with William Moncrieffe. He looked startled and hesitated until her blade cut through his sleeve leaving a thin red line behind, then he bellowed with rage and engaged her in battle. Their blades flashed and his heavier claymore gave the advantage. Her blade shuddered in her hands each time she parried his strike. Her arm tired and she thought she might lose this battle. Briefly, she wondered where Logan was, but could spare no time to look. She set herself to take the power of each stroke. She might die this night. Then William opened himself up. His shield slipped and her sword was there, deadly and accurate, striking him high in his shoulder. His shirt was soon drenched with his blood. It flowed down his arm and he dropped his shield.