by TC Calligari
Greum’s shoulder was level with her eyes and, for the first time, she realized that he was shirtless. Catríona pulled away slightly to look at him and with wide eyes, realized that Greum MacConaill was crouched in front of her entirely nude. Her eyes shifted quickly from his face, to his manhood, and back again.
“What…” She began. She looked over his shoulder again. “Where’s the…?” Again she took in Greum’s clothes-less body. She clapped a hand over her mouth as her mind made the connection. She pointed her free hand from Greum to where the bear had stood only minutes before, and to Greum again. He watched her with bated breath, waiting for her reaction. Not denying her claim. She released a strangled sound and turned to quickly crawl away from him. Greum grabbed the back of her cloak to stop her. She instinctively released the clasp at her neck and took off at a run.
It did not take much effort for him to catch her.
“Cat, calm yourself.” He commanded. His hands on her arms spun her to face him, the warmth of his fingers seeping through the sheer fabric of her shift. Her breath was coming in great gasps as her mind tried to rationalize what she had just witnessed.
Finally she was able to look in his face with angry confusion. She could not say why she was mad, but her words were said through gritted teeth.
“You’re a bear?” she spat.
“Not entirely.” Greum laughed. “I’m a shapeshifter. All MacConaill men are.”
“You’re a bear.” She repeated, more calmly this time.
“Sure.” He conceded, allowing for whatever it took for her mind to take hold of the situation.
She slapped his hands away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She paced in front of him. He raised his eyebrows at her as if the answer was obvious. “Alright, that was a silly question.” She admitted.
Greum was laughing, clearly pleased that she was now aware of his secret.
“It is nice, now that you know.” He smiled.
“So, all the bears on MacConaill land…” she was talking herself through everything that was now beginning to make sense. “They’re the men.” She snapped her fingers at him, “And that’s why when you patrol the lands you don’t take horses or weapons.”
“Very good.” He acknowledged.
“And you’re the black bear I saw.” She whispered. Her fingers raised to touch the curls around his face. “Like your hair.”
“Yes.” He pressed his cheek against her palm. “Are you afraid?”
“A little.” She admitted. “But, you won’t harm me.” With absolute certainty she knew that this statement was true. The MacConaills were inherently peaceful. They defended their lands, defended their secret, but were not the brutes she had always thought them to be. She wondered then, what would make them harm her father?
Greum sighed when she stepped away from him. He was allowing her the chance to make sense of this on her own but she could tell that the process was causing him anxiety.
Finally, she turned toward him. She had one final question. One more, that was much more important to her than she had ever realized. The truth, she was discovering, was that she was in love with Greum MacConaill. But, if he played a role in her father’s death, she would be forced to kill the man she loved.
“Did you poison the Laird of Clan Sutharlainn because he found out about your… secret?”
“No.” Greum’s brows drew together. He could not understand her preoccupation with this issue. “The Sutharlainn knew about it from his wife. If they had borne a son he would have been a shifter. Their daughter might give birth to shifters, though I doubt it unless her husband shifts.” Greum stopped there, clearly hesitant to go on. “The Laird knew, and he welcomed us. We had nothing to hide from him. No reason to cause him harm.”
The breath rushed from Catríona’s lungs. She could not help it, but she believed him. Every word. Her father knew. She herself might carry the trait. If the Sutharlainns were about to have shifters among their ranks, they needed that bond with clan MacConaill. Why then, or whom, might want to prevent this? The answer was simple. Every other clan. Two clans of shifters, and clan Sutharlainn the largest landowners in the highlands. That would be a formidable pair.
“I believe you.” Cat whispered. She stepped into Greum’s waiting arms and pressed her lips against his. She still was not ready to share her own secret, not until she knew who was to blame, but she knew without a doubt that Greum and his clan were innocent. She knew, without a doubt, that she loved him.
Catríona’s hands roamed his bare chest in the way she had imagined so many times before. Each muscle stood out against the next. He was a canvas of never ending peaks and hollows. Her fingertips brushed over the pink scar where her stitches had once been.
He gasped as her hand dipped between them and grasped the impressive length of him. He spoke her name like a warning but the hardening in her hand told her not to stop the rhythmic stroking of her fingers. His breath was shaking with the effort of restraining himself.
“I’m yours, Greum MacConaill.” She spoke against his lips wanting him to know that there was no need for restraint.
Without further need for encouragement, Greum swept her into his arms and carried her to the edge of the hill, where her cloak lay sprawled over the mossy ground. He lay her down upon it, his body poised beside her. His mouth plied hers with renewed abandon as his fingers brushed over the thing covering of her shift. One large hand spread over her flat stomach. It inched its way upward, causing Catríona to arch against him until it covered her aching breast.
Cat threw propriety to the wind. It was this man, or none, her heart cried. Catríona tried to pull Greum’s massive bulk overtop of her, but it only elicited a laugh. She reached down and pulled her shift up to her waist, yet still he did not cease his tender attentions on the upper regions of her body. She grasped his manhood once more, firmly gripping the engorged length, and he finally paused his kisses to look at her with the very serious question in his eyes. She shifted on the cloak, spreading her legs to make room for him to lay above her. He swallowed deeply and complied.
Greum pressed himself against her and for a moment Catríona wondered how it was that he would fit inside of her. With aching slowness he entered her warmth. Cat closed her eyes in pleasure. It was the most singular feeling she had ever experienced. Suddenly he stopped.
“You’re a virgin?” he whispered. She knew that was extremely rare for a common girl, which he thought her to be. Cat hummed her acknowledgement. When she began to feel him pull away, her eyes snapped open and she grasped his hips to stop him. “I’m sorry, Cat. I won’t take…”
But before he could finish speaking, she thrust her hips upward and forced him past the thin barrier. She cried out as a sharp pain tore through her, but the sensation quickly retreated and was replaced once again by the glorious feeling of being connected to this man.
“Are you alright?” he sounded very concerned.
Catríona smiled back at him with a shy laugh. She wrapped her hands around the base of his neck and pulled his mouth down to meet hers. Only then, did he begin to move his hips against hers and Catríona allowed herself to be swept away into a sea of ecstasy.
Afterward, Greum retrieved his belongings from the forest and wrapped Catríona back in her thick cloak. Together, they walked back through the woods, toward the castle, touching and laughing as lovers will. Upon entering the clearing they witnessed a long line of horsemen riding through the village and entering the castle, the banners clearly displaying the soaring bird of Clan Sutharlainn. Greum pulled her across the field and together they sprinted through the empty streets of the village. The townsfolk would have gathered in the castle courtyard for protection in case the Sutharlainns came to wage war.
“Greum, there’s something I have to tell you.” She tugged on the sleeve of his shirt.
“Not now, love.” He kissed her forehead and began to shoo her toward the gate. “This needs to be handled. The Sutharlainns have been falsely accusing us for ye
ars and I won’t stand for them claiming we stole the lass.” He spun her away from him and pushed her through the doorway. “Go get dressed, and you might want to make yourself scarce in case it gets bloody.”
He sprinted away before Cat could reply. With a sigh she climbed the stairs into the castle. She would have to make herself presentable before seeing her uncle.
After Catríona had dressed she crept down the back stairway toward the great hall, from which a riot of shouting was to be heard.
“Silence!” Laird MacConaill shouted. “I’ve told you already Donnal, that we don’t have her.
“Of course you’d say that.” She heard her uncle growl, “You’ve been trying to get your claws into her since she was a bairn!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Came the angry reply. “The Sutharlainn approached us with the offer, not the other way around.”
“Yes, and then you went and murdered him.” Donnal spat.
“I’ve told you, we had no reason for doing so.” She heard the unmistakable sound of swords being drawn. “If you keep spreading that falsehood, I’ll have your head right here.”
Cat took a deep breath and stepped into the room full of aggressive men.
Not one took note of her arrival until she spoke.
“Uncle.” She walked quietly into the room, her hand signaling the men to put away their weapons. Her eyes shifted to Greum who, like all the men around him, was staring at her with open-faced awe. From somewhere in the crowd she heard Deirdre swear. “Clan MacConaill had no knowledge of my arrival. I travelled under false pretenses and name to discover their role in my father’s death.”
“Catríona.” Greum whispered. She now understood the awkward tension of watching another begin to put the puzzle together.
She continued as if she had not heard him. “They took no part in the deception. Of that, I am sure. I believe,” she spoke to all of the men of her clan that were gathered in the hall. “that we have done them a great injustice by breaking our promise of peace. I can only hope,” She turned to Greum’s father, “that we can repair that great misunderstanding.”
“Absolutely not!” her uncle shouted. There was a murmur through the crowd that Donnal would speak to the head of his own clan in such a way. Catríona was taken aback. Surely her uncle had acted as proxy Laird after the death of her father, but it was to Catríona that he was supposed to defer.
“Excuse me?” She replied calmly.
“I’ll not live to see the day you marry one of these beasts, whether your father promised it or not.” Donnal spat on the floor at the Laird’s feet. Deirdre was laughing quietly in the background, her mouth in the shape of an O as she stared back and forth between Catríona and Greum, who, despite Donnal’s efforts, had found each other on their own.
Her head began to spin. “What are you talking about?”
“My brother was going to marry you to one of these monsters, even invited them to the gathering to announce it. That was before they killed him, probably thinking they could take control of the clan through you straight away. But I saw them for what they were, filthy beasts.”
Greum’s arm shot out to hold back Aiden who had lunged forward.
“I’ll die before I see Clan Sutharlainn mix with the MacConaills. Even your mother should have stayed here.” The MacConaill men roared with anger. Catríona hoped they had the presence of mind to remain in their human forms. Her uncle had no idea the danger in which he stood.
A scene from the night of the gathering played across Catríona’s mind. Her father and her uncle arguing in the small chamber. Her uncle, shouting You’ll make that agreement over my dead body. Cat had not thought anything of it at the time, but she now looked at her uncle in an entirely new light.
“You seized control of the clan, after my father’s death.” She whispered. Her head was tilted to the side as she looked at him. “You told my father that he’d make the agreement over your dead body. I did not understand it until now, but what you really meant… was over his.” Pure hatred must have shown on Catríona’s face because as she accused her uncle of her father’s murder, ever sword of Clan Sutharlainn pointed directly at his heart. “You poisoned him, Uncle, didn’t you?”
Donnal grunted, but nothing more.
“If you wanted the clan, why not marry me off?” she wondered aloud. “Why not do away with me the first chance you had?”
“Because the Clan doesn’t follow Donnal, Lady Sutharlain.” Came a voice from the crowd. “We follow you.” A cheer rose from her kinsmen.
“And if I bore a child…” It all made sense now. So long as her uncle kept her as a figurehead, and prevented the birth of an heir, he could rule the Clan without opposition. If she died of old age without a child, the Lairdship would pass to Donnal’s own son, and his after that.
“Death to him!” Her clansmen shouted, but Catríona raised her hand for silence.
“Laird MacConaill.” She turned to address the proud man standing in front of her. “I apologize for my deception and must admit another falsehood.” She pulled the small vial from her pocket. “I brought this for you, and your sons, hoping to avenge the death of my father.” The room was painfully silent. “Upon learning the truth from your children, and your clansmen, I found no need for the poison.” Her eyes turned to Greum as he stared at the vial in her hand. She turned to the crowd at large, her voice strong and sure. “This death was meant for the man who killed my father. It has waited for the moment of justice.” She addressed the Laird and his sons, but her eyes focused solely on Greum. “I apologize, most heartily for believing that you took part in the murder. I ask now, that together we rid ourselves of this evil and begin anew.” She held the vial forward for the Laird to take, which he did.
He opened the vial and held out for a cup. A servant brought one immediately. The MacConaill emptied the vial into the cup and stepped down from the raised platform on which he stood. Without a word, he offered the cup to Donnal, who stood shaking with fear.
“Will no one speak for me?” he growled toward the men who used to defend him.
“A drink, to Clan MacConaill!” shouted a soldier from the midst of the Sutharlainn ranks.
“Cat,” her uncle turned to her with the cup shaking in his hands. “Cat, I raised you…”
“My father should have raised me.” She stared into the cold eyes of her kin. “Take him outside for his drink!” she shouted. “I have no wish to look upon him any longer.” And with that her uncle was dragged off through the crowd to his death.
When she turned back around Laird MacConaill was standing right beside her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You are a strong woman, Lady Catríona. I’m sure you’d like to return home now.” The old man leaned forward and placed a kiss on her brow. “You would have made a wonderful Daughter-in-law.”
“She still might.” Deirdre spoke from Cat’s other side. Catríona raise her eyes to Greum who had likewise approached.
“You were going to poison us?” he looked at her with laughing disbelief. It was clear that her audacity amused them. She was grateful that they were not angry.
“That was before I realized that I had entered the den of bears.” She smiled. Greum pulled her forward and kissed her there, in front of both clans. The entire room erupted with cheers.
“Why is it that the Laird is always the last to know everything?” she heard his father ask.
With a hearty laugh she threw her arms around the man she loved and allowed him to sweep her into the air. Catríona felt an overwhelming happiness that the dreams of her parents, to unite the clans, would finally be a reality. In that moment, she felt as if they were there, beside her.
THE END
Hunting For a Highland Husband
Skye Laramie, the willful young Highlander raised among a clan of bear shifters, has lived her whole life surrounded by men who wander and roam as they wish. Witnessing such freedom, yet never experiencing it herself, Skye wants nothing more th
an the right to make her own decisions and to construct the life that's right for her.
When her father vows to have the young huntress married as a proper Lady of the Highlands, Skye is granted the opportunity to choose a husband for herself. But when a visit to old friends brings her back into contact with a childhood acquaintance, Skye is forced to confront feelings that she did not know existed.
Aiden MacConaill, easygoing son of the Laird and close friend to Skye’s older brother, doesn’t take long to realize that Skye has grown into a fascinating young woman. But can he accept Skye for who she truly is? And what will it take for Skye to admit that Aiden is her perfect match?
Hunting for a Highland Husband
The doors to the great hall opened, flanking the entrants in a blinding glare of sunlight. Aiden MacConaill squinted against the view. Two burly men strode into the center of the room, a large gilded chest suspended between them. The Laramie crest was emblazoned on the lid alongside the distinctive bear claw of the MacConaill clan. Aiden felt his mouth curve into a half grin. The bonnet Laird Laramie and his family had always been favorites as banner men for Clan MacConaill. Aiden rose to his feet and quickly descended the steps of the dais to grasp hands with the third man who walked through the door.
“It is good to see you, Teirnan.” He clapped the grinning man on the back. Aiden and Teirnan had spent many summers exploring the MacConaill lands as they practiced shifting into their bear forms in their youth. He recalled waiting an entire night in the woods with his friend as the boy tried fruitlessly to return to his human form. It had not been until Teirnan’s younger sister had tromped into the woods in the early hours of the morning to calm her brother with soothing words, that he had been able to complete his transformation.
“We come bearing gifts for the newlyweds.” Teirnan spoke in his deep rumbling voice. Sitting together at the head table were Aiden’s elder brother Greum and his wife Lady Catríona. They rose and approached the chest with smiles and words of thanks.