Celtic Fury

by Ria Cantrell

  Caleb sighed heavily and asked, “Does he know?”

  The old one shook her head and said, “Nay. She needs to tell him herself.”

  “That willna’ go well. Mother of God, does it always have to be like this? First the Englishman for our Bronnie and now this? Dear God! Gabrielle Campbell, sister to those Satan’s spawns. Morag, he is not going to handle this well.”

  Morag eyed the man she had grown to respect from watching him tend to the clan MacCollum as their laird all these years. He was an imposing man. Hell, all the MacCollums were, but for all his bluster and size, he did not scare her.

  She planted her hands on her hips and she said, “Ye’ are NOT to tell him, Caleb MacCollum. It must come from the girl. Oft times true mates happen thus. But she must be the one to tell him. She has been broken in ways, not just from the carriage accident. She knows who Ruiri is and I am sure she is terrified of his reaction. She asked me about the Wolf of the Highlands.” Caleb shook his head again and he sighed almost painfully, knowing how Rory hated that analogy.

  “Christ! Gabrielle Campbell! Why did Rory have to find her?”

  “Because, she is his mate.”

  “I fear when he learns the truth, it will destroy him.” Morag placed a hand on the Laird’s arm.

  “It may heal him. T’is time Ruiri faced the demons of his own. This girl isna’ like those two. She is good and kind. She has an untapped strength that Ruiri will be able to use when things turn dark for him. Even though she knows about the Wolf, she is not terrified of him. She is afraid, but I think it is just because of his masculine power. She will be Ruiri’s salvation. I am sure of it…that is, if she survives her injuries. She is very sick, Caleb. Despite her strength, her spirit has been battered too, no doubt from those devil’s sons you spoke of. It may take the love of a man like Ruiri to help her draw on her own strength. Ruiri has not left her side. They will be each other’s salvation.”

  Caleb shook his head in disbelief, his silver hair falling forward. He pushed it away in dismay and said, “Ruiri takes to demoiselles in distress ever since he lost Caitlyn. When Bronwyn married, he decided to stay on to be sure his sister was happy and not alone in a strange land. Morag, ye are not confusing his good nature with love…” Morag cut him off.

  “She is the one, Caleb. You know I am not wrong about these things.” A muscle worked in the laird’s cheek, so much like his son’s had a tendency to do when he was troubled.

  “Then ye must do everything to help heal her. God forbid she dies, we will lose Ruiri forever.” Morag sighed heavily.

  “I have done what I could. I dunna’ know if she has injuries inside…or what will happen from the gash to her head. She is bruised from head to toe and I couldna’ bring her temperature up.”

  “Well, let’s go see about relieving Ruiri of his vigil.” Morag nodded.

  Upon entering the chamber, Caleb was stunned to see Ruiri in bed with the girl. Startled, Ruiri woke and nearly leapt from the bed.

  He stammered, “I…only thought to warm her…she was so very cold…”

  Caleb and Morag exchanged glances, as the understanding of what Morag had foretold was verified. Morag went to the girl, who slept still.

  She touched her and said, “She is warmer Caleb, and she is sleeping peacefully.” Turning to a sheepish looking Rory, Caleb said, “Son, go on and rest in yer own bed for a while. Ye look as if ye barely slept at all. I will sit with her.”

  “No, Da, I dunna’ want to leave her.”

  “She is resting well now. At least go and get something to eat. Ye’ missed supper and if ye’ want to be a help to the girl, ye will need to take care of yerself. Go on with ye’.”

  Morag gently took Ruiri’s arm and she said, “Go, boy. I need to check her anyway. Go on and do as yer da says. I promise if there is anything to report, I will fetch ye.”

  Ruiri kissed the old woman’s papery cheek, grateful for her help. She still treated him like he was a young boy, but she was like a mother to him and he knew she would do everything to help the girl. He left the chamber and went to the great hall, as he was bidden. Sometimes it was easier to comply than inflict his warrior’s will.

  Morag made a quick examination of the girl and found her to be normal in temperature. She seemed to be sleeping naturally. By now, the herbal draught had worn off. Morag thought about how Rory had naturally helped her. She was certain that his unconfirmed love had helped the girl more than any herbal remedies she could provide. Morag rearranged the covers around the girl and left. Caleb said he would take a turn keeping an eye on Brielle so to relieve Ruiri for just a little while. Caleb looked at the sleeping girl and he was moved to pity. She was badly injured, but still he could see she was a lovely lass. She would suit Ruiri, it was true. Except for the fact that she was a Campbell, Caleb could see she and Ruiri indeed already shared a bond of sorts. Only, she was a Campbell and that fact didn’t bode well for the trust Rory needed to secure.

  As if Caleb's thoughts had roused her, Brielle’s eyes opened and she started in seeing the obvious sire of her handsome saving angel sitting before her.

  Caleb said gently, “Easy lass. I will na’ hurt ye. I am Ruiri’s father. I came to sit with ye’ for a spell. How are ye feelin’?”

  “Better, thank you,” she said weakly. Caleb nodded and said, “Good. Is there something I can do fer ye?” She shook her head, “no”.

  Caleb cleared his throat and said, “I knew yer grandfather, Gabrielle.” He watched fear cross her expression and Caleb soothed, “It’s alright. No one here will hurt ye.”

  “How did ye learn who I was,” she asked suddenly terrified of his reaction.”

  “Yer plaid, Lass. Morag found it amid yer things. I remembered there was a young girl grandchild living with Gavin Campbell, but I hadna’ heard what became of her at his passing. I didna’ realize ye were that child and that ye had grown into the young woman ye are.”

  “Rory hates all Campbells. While we were riding, I thought I heard him declare it.”

  “Aye lass, he does, but he doesna’ know you are a Campbell.”

  “Why does he hate my kin so deeply? I mean, I know about blood feuds between clans, but why…”

  Caleb considered hiding the truth from her, but if he wanted her to be truthful to Ruiri, he needed to be truthful to her.

  “He does not hate ye, lass. He does not know ye are part of the Campbell clan.” Caleb took a deep breath to steady himself to give her the truth. “Ruiri’s betrothed was killed during a raid by the Campbells. They had been on their way to their wedding.”

  Brielle gasped. Tears welled up in her pretty eyes and she said, “No, Laird MacCollum, it can’t be so.”

  “I am afraid it is so, lass. When she died, I think a part of Ruiri broke beyond repair.” So, that was why she sensed his brokenness.

  “Was…was it my brothers,” she asked, unconsciously fingering the scar; tracing it from her chin to her neck. Caleb noticed the gesture and he was certain it had been become a habit born from a terrible memory; that even mentioning her brothers caused.

  “It may well have been, Lass. Some of the men were cut down that day, but two got away.” Brielle’s voice became very soft and she said, “They are my brothers and because they are kin, I still call them brothers. But they are cruel and mean in ways I dunna’ understand. Please…I dunna’ want to go back there.”

  Caleb saw her fear, in fact, he felt it deeply. It was like a palpable thing. She was terrified. She also had slipped back into speaking with the inflection of the Highlands.

  “I have no intention of sending ye back to them. Besides, lass, ye need to get well afore’ ye travel anywhere.”

  Brielle looked down and said in a voice barely above a whisper, “Ye said ye knew my grandfather. I thought Campbell and MacCollum were always at war.”

  “Not always, lass. I remember yer grandfather to have been a good man.”

  “He was so kind to me. He was a safe haven from my brothers. When
he passed, I felt like I lost the only person I had ever truly loved.”

  “Well, lass, I am very sorry fer yer’ loss.” A lone tear crept down her face.

  Caleb patted her hand and said, “I know ye have had many losses of late. I am sorry about yer’ husband, too.” Brielle didn’t answer, but just nodded. She felt very little sorrow for the loss of her husband compared to the loss of her grandfather.

  “Ye are safe here. We will not make ye go back to yer brothers. Ye’ have my word, lass.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She stole a glance at the laird of the MacCollum clan. At second glance, she could see he was younger than her grandfather. He was more the age of her own Da’ and t’was only his silver hair that made her think him older. He was still a handsome man of strength and power.

  Despite being a powerful Laird of a strong Highland clan, she could see he had a look of kindness about him. Somehow she knew no harm would befall her. That was until Rory learned who she really was. That thought made her sick inside. Ruiri had lost his betrothed by her brothers’ hands. Beautiful, kind Ruiri; her angel of mercy; her savior and rescuer…When she had first seen Rory, she thought she had never seen a more handsome man in all her days. Even injured and foggy, his presence made her jittery. She knew Ruiri would never look at a plain woman like herself, but oh, he was such a fine man. She knew she shouldn’t confuse his kindness for anything else, but the way he had treated her inspired warm feelings inside. No man had ever treated her so kindly aside from her Grandfather. She knew she should not even allow thoughts of fancy to form where Ruiri MacCollum was concerned. Her brain must have been addled from the bump she had gotten.

  It was not like her to take a fancy to a man. Her years isolated in the Campbell estates made her options limited. She supposed that her deceased husband was her only chance to be paired with a man. Besides, if she wasn’t ugly before, she was certain that her injuries made her abhorrent. A man like Ruiri was probably used to pretty lasses and why would he look at a girl like Brielle? Only, Ruiri did not look at her with disgust. He looked at her with the tenderness of a man who saw beyond physical ugliness. He didn’t make her feel ugly. In fact, his golden gazes made her feel like somehow she had become beautiful. He looked at her like a man who saw her as beautiful, bruised or not. She wondered why that was. Ruiri was a man like no other she had ever known. He was a fierce warrior; big and imposing and yet, he was capable of such tenderness. Even though she had been drugged with the herbal draft Morag had given her, Brielle was convinced Rory had held her while she slept, keeping her warm, when she couldn’t find warmth even with all the furs piled upon her. Again Brielle thought that besides all of that, Rory MacCollum was the most handsome man she had ever encountered. Even weak from her ordeal, her heart would flutter like a maelstrom in her chest when he was near.

  Caleb watched the gamut of emotions that passed over Brielle’s face. She seemed lost in some sort of deep contemplation. His voice brought her out of her reverie.

  “Ye’ need to tell him, Lass.”

  She looked stricken and she said, “Nay, I cannot!”

  “He deserves to learn the truth. He should hear it from ye.”

  “I gave up my Campbell name when I was wed to Marcus Val Cour. Nothing left of Campbell exists in me now.”

  Caleb knew that this girl had suffered greatly at the hands of her brothers. He said softly, “Lass, ye canna’ change who ye’ are.”

  “There is nothing left of the girl I was. Please don’t make me tell him.” Caleb took her hand and patted it again.

  “Lass, I saw Ruiri tending you. Do you fancy yourself in love with my son?”

  She swallowed down the bitter truth. She had felt so drawn to Ruiri in so short a time. How was it possible? She just met him the day past. She did not know anything really about him. She certainly didn’t know enough about love to call it that. Perhaps, she believed, it was just because he represented salvation on so many levels to her.

  “He …he has been so kind to me.”

  “Aye, I know that, but that is not what I asked ye. Are ye’ in love with Ruiri?”

  “I don’t know enough about that kind of love, Laird.”

  “But ye were married.”

  “I was married, but I knew no love in that. T’was a business arrangement bartered by my brothers.”

  Caleb thought on that. It wasn’t uncommon for arranged marriages. In fact, Bronwyn’s marriage almost had been carefully arranged, but luckily she got to marry the man of her own choosing. That was how it was for him and his beloved wife. All his children so far had chosen their own mates. He actually did not know how being married to someone without love could be bearable. He thought on his own marriage and how passionate their romance had been before she was taken so young from fever.

  “How long were ye married, lass?”

  “Near, two moons all total.” Caleb was horrified. Two moons, and she was already widowed! He realized her marriage and loss was nothing like his own, having lost the love of his life, but still this was a hard reality for the poor girl. He suspected this girl was as much a salvation to Ruiri as he had become to her.

  “If ye care at all for Ruiri, ye must tell him.”

  “And have those golden eyes look at me in hatred and disgust? I dunna think I can bear it.”

  “Alright, lassie, ye will know when to tell him, but dunna’ wait too long. The longer ye keep this from him, the harder it will be for him to swallow when he finally learns the truth.” Patting her hand a final time, Caleb said, “Rest now. I will send up something fer ye’ to eat. Do ye feel like yer’ up to eating a little something?” She nodded. “Good, t’is a sign ye are going to get well soon.”

  Chapter Eight

  Morag watched the recovery of the girl over the next few weeks taking place. It bordered on being miraculous. Within a few days she had been able to leave her bed for short periods of time, where she would bathe and sit by the fire. She still tired easily and had a good deal of pain, but the bruises were fading and she was eating well. The natural color had returned to her face.

  Seeing her recovery, Rory spent less time hovering over the lass. He would sit with her when she was up and about, take tea with her or play a game of chess, but she was having a strange effect on him and he didn’t like it at all. She invaded his thoughts all through out the day. And his dreams, Och! They plagued him worse than his waking thoughts. He would wake with images of her making love to him and so vivid were they, they would leave him hard and aching for release for hours. When he was with her, he would oft times lose the game because he could not stop thinking about kissing her. He knew that would be completely improper. She was newly widowed and still in mourning. It was just that kissing was the most innocent of his thoughts when it came to Brielle.

  Then there was the way she looked at him. Oh, Rory had seen it before. Though she was in mourning, Rory was certain she had developed a crush on him and he thought it was probably because he had rescued her. If she knew about him, and the darkness within, she would run from him, rather than look at him with a burgeoning desire. Nay, it was not good to encourage her, especially since he was having those dreams about her. He liked her very much, maybe too much.

  He was glad to see she was getting better daily; her health improving steadily. He would try to spend less time with her, now that she was on the road to good health. It was better that way for all involved. Love was for the worthy, he repeated like a mantra to dispel the effect she had on him.

  Strangely, he thought he heard the soft of voice of Caitlyn in his head reply, “No one is more worthy than you, my love.” He shook his head, thinking the darkness was turning to madness. Imagine him hearing the ghost of his beloved Caitlyn promoting him to start a relationship with this girl! It was madness. He would pull back from the draw and lure of the girl he had rescued. It was for the best for both of them.

  Chapter Nine

  By spending less time with Brielle, Rory, was certain she was losi
ng interest in him. In fact, he noticed that perhaps she had taken a fancy to his Da’ and many times he would come upon them drinking tea and chatting. At those times, Caleb would give him the strangest look, pat the girl’s hand and take his immediate leave. Rory wondered if his Da was developing a fondness for the lassie. She was so lovely, and his Da had never been taken with a woman since his Ma had passed. Stranger things have happened, he thought. Rory knew his father was as virile a man as one his own age. The only sign of age was his silver hair, which still hung thick past his broad shoulders. While Rory liked the girl very much, he would not stand in the way of his father.

  Besides, he had decided that his attraction to the girl was most unwise and better left unexplored. T’was about time his Da quit mourning his mother. It was time to move on. As Rory said those words in his head another voice sounded, “Yer’ one to talk. Yer ma’ has been gone near as long as Caitlyn and still yer’ heart remains closed.”

  It was his own voice of course, but he shook the thought from his mind and decided tonight he would once again seek out one of the lassies that never denied him. Perhaps that would dispel the attraction he had for Brielle and the effects she had on his thoughts, for try as he might, he could not get her out of his mind, not to mention his dreams. Rory's dreams left him more randy than a goat. Still, he needed to see if Brielle was attracted to his father. He would try to learn the truth by spending a little time with her to ask pointed questions aimed at learning the nature of Caleb’s relationship with her and to learn where her heart was. Rory did not want his father to be hurt by unrequited love after all this time being alone.

  Brielle was settled comfortably in the hall. She tried not to think too much about Rory, who had been making himself scarce of late. She tried not to hope too hard for a glimpse of him, for even the smallest of glances, sent her heart pounding madly in her chest. She sighed. She felt silly for having those romantic musings reserved for young untried girls. She was far from a girl…although she was still untried. She often found herself imagining what it would be like to kiss him. She passed her days wondering what he was doing or if she would be able to see him even for a little while.