by Ria Cantrell
The young mother, Michaela, in seeing her sweet little babe in Rory’s arms, rushed to him and hugged him. Rory placed the wee bairn in the woman’s hold and he kissed her cheek gently. “There, Lass. He is back safe and sound.”
“Oh thank you, Sir. Thank you for saving my little child.”
Rory actually blushed and he said, “Ach, lassie, there is no thanks needed. Such a cute wee fellow. He is needing to be fed and cleaned, I reckon, but he is no worse for the wear.”
As the woman began to take the baby to be changed, he opened his little eyes and gazed on Rory. The baby cooed at Rory, and lifted his hand to grasp Rory’s finger.
“Ahh, Laddie, come see yer’ uncle Rory sometime. Grow up strong and happy.”
Turning back to his distraught sister, he said, “I need to talk to ye’ before Drew gets here. We nearly lost him, Angel. He has been through a lot. Can ye’ find it in yer’ heart to forgive him?”
“Forgive him? I need him to forgive me. I have been such a fool, Rory.”
“Aye, lass, that ye’ were. But ye’ have yer’ second chance now. Dunna’ waste it.”
Rory kissed his sister. She said, “Daria? What is to become of her?” A deep frown marred Rory’s handsome face. With a heartfelt and painful sigh he said, “She perished, lass.”
“Did…did Drew kill her?”
Bronwyn couldn’t even think about the possibility of that.
“Nay, Sweeting. Nay. She jumped to her death down a steep ravine. Drew tried to save her, but there was naught he could do. The ground gave way under him and we almost lost him too. Here he comes now. Go to him. Dunna’ make him pay anymore for his offenses.”
Bronwyn leapt to her feet. There in the doorway was the love of her life. He was streaked with dirt, and he was covered with bruises and scrapes, but she never knew him to look more beautiful. He stood looking at her, unable to speak. Would she reject him again?
In his heart he did not think she would, but still it was something he did not want to experience. Bronwyn hurried to him and throwing her arms around him, she kissed him fiercely. At once, they both were murmuring apologies and words of love, so that neither could hear what the other was trying to say. Finally Drew said, “Alright, alright, you first…”
“Drew I have been such a fool. I am so sorry. Can ye’ ever forgive me?”
“Aye, but only if you can forgive me. I am sorry I didn’t tell you about Daria’s plan to end up in my bed. I swear I never touched her since meeting you.”
“I know that now. I am so sorry to have doubted ye’. I love ye’ so much, Drew. I have been miserable without ye’. Ye’ canna’ know how much.”
“Oh, no? I can know for I have shared that misery in my own heart. It hurt so much to not hold you or love you.”
“That’s done now. I promise to never ….”
“Shhh. Don’t make promises that can’t be kept. Just promise to give me today. Promise to try again, tomorrow. Or the next day. Never and forever are promises that we will always fail to keep. But know this. You are the breath of my life. Without you, I cannot live. Without your love, I have no desire to live. Live with me now, Bronwyn.”
Drew pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. The passion smoldered as it always had and Bronwyn knew it always would. She touched his face and noticed the sound swelling on one side of his jaw. She kissed it and though it still stung, Drew sucked in his breath and let her. She said, “Rory told me about your terrible fall. Did you get this when ye’ fell?”
Drew glanced over toward Rory, who had a crooked smirk on his face. He wasn’t about to give up his Clan Brother who had saved his life. He just smiled and said, “Aye, it was from the fall. I must have smacked my face against some rock when I was trying to pull myself up on Rory’s arms.” It sure felt like it, anyway.
Bronwyn thought she heard Rory try to cover a laugh with a cough. She had a feeling that was not the entire truth of the matter, but she would let it drop for now. She wanted to tend to Drew and help clean his scrapes. She also had something important to tell him. Their destiny was sealed, as Morag had predicted so long ago. Now their future was sealed as well, with an addition to their little family. When she had felt the overpowering light and love that afternoon, she was aware of a different love. This one came from inside of her and she knew. She was with child. Rhianna confirmed it. She had felt it too.
Yes, there was much to talk about but for now that would have to wait. Drew had taken her hand, and he was leading her to his chambers. Rory looked skyward and pretended not to notice. Once in their quarters, Drew pulled Bronwyn into his arms and he kissed her passionately. She sank into his arms sure of one thing; and that was the love she had found with this man. It mattered not that he was English or that she was Scottish. All that mattered was that her heart was bound to his and that together the strength of their love could overcome any division.
Whether she deserved his love or not, Bronwyn still was not sure, but she knew for certain that she was going to spend her days fulfilling her destiny with this man she was given to love. Never again would she doubt the visions of her dreams from so long ago. Never again would she doubt the power of love and forgiveness and never again, would she turn her back on the lessons she learned from all those who had ever loved her. As she settled into Drew’s arms, Bronwyn knew that this was what love had prepared her for. This was what she was born for. It was not for her to deny, but to embrace. It was time to thank her lucky stars and to return the love to the man who kept the key to the other half of her heart.
**Epilogue**
Rory MacCollum waited with Andrew Brandham, his best friend and brother– in–law for news from the midwife. Andrew was not the calm father to be. His wife had been in labor for many hours and he was tired of sitting idly by. Whoever said that a husband’s place was not beside his wife’s at a time like this? His little son Ian kept asking when his baby was going to come.
Drew tried to explain to the little toddler that it should be soon, but as he heard the loud cry of his wife, he lost all sense of reason. Rory tried to stop him, but there was no amount of might that could prevent Drew from bounding up the stairs and pushing his way inside the chambers. Rory took his little nephew’s hand and led him to get a snack. At least he could comfort the three year old, even if he could not help his sister or Drew.
Drew stood at the foot of the bed and saw his wife was tired. The midwife tried to get him to leave but he would have none of it. He brushed his knuckles down the side of Bronwyn’s face and saw she needed his extra strength to help her finish her work. He whispered something to her in Gaelic, now as proficient in the language as his own. Smiling, Bronwyn answered. He was more like a Scot than not. Drew got onto the bed and sitting behind his wife, he rested her back against his chest. With each gripping pain, Drew gave his wife the ability to lean against him so that even though she was tired, she could muster through the next wave. When it came time to push, Drew held her and talked to her. It was almost done now. Holding his hands, Bronwyn gripped with all her might. With a final cry, Bronwyn pushed. Within minutes, her beautiful little daughter slid free from her body.
Exhausted, Bronwyn sagged against the powerful chest of the man she loved more than life itself; the man who had helped her bring this new life into the world.
The midwife cleaned the sweet baby girl and brought her to her parents. Drew said, “I lied to you, wife. I said I could never love another girl as much as I love you, but here is this one and I am already in love with her.”
Bronwyn cried happy tears. “That is a girl I am happy to share you with, husband.”
As thunder rumbled in the distance, Drew was glad his family was shuttered and safe against the approaching storm.
~~~~~
Bronwyn and Drew lived part of the time in England and part of the time in the manor house on the lands that belonged to Bronwyn. In marrying her, Drew was no longer a landless knight. They raised their children with love and taught them how
to be both English and Clan.
Rory stayed on in England until he was forced to seek his own destiny, but that is a story for another day.
Morag continued to instruct both Bronwyn and Drew in the Old Ways. It was her pleasure and joy to have more bairns to hold and spoil. It warmed her soul to be able to embrace that which she held so dear with the “daughter” of her heart.
Caleb was the ever doting grandfather and while it made him feel old at times, he was happy that his beautiful highland rose had found a man to love and cherish her, thorns and all.
Erik and Rhianna brought a brood of children into Ragnorsen of their own. In fact, it would only be a matter of days before Rhianna brought her fourth babe into the world. They continued enjoying spending summers with Bronwyn and Drew in the Highlands.
The king of England never again made mention of nullifying any of the unions that took place. He was too busy embroiled in political intrigue to take much more notice of one of his lesser knights and his lady. To say he had bigger fish to fry was an understatement.
~The End~
Celtic Fury
By
Ria Cantrell
*Prologue I*
1365 – Scotland – the Highlands
Ruiri MacCollum sat astride his warhorse and looked over at Caitlyn McLeod. She had agreed to wed him after very little persuading. He smiled, daydreaming about the pretty lass riding at his side. She was hopelessly in love with him and when he was with her, he felt like his life was complete. Like his brothers, he had grown up big. He thought a little lass like Caitlyn would fear a man of his size, but she loved him and made him feel like he was the most delicious thing she had ever feasted on. He was riding with her to set their banns. They would be wed within the month.
He thought, “T’is good we will wed soon.”
She told him only days ago that he was going to be a father. She thought he would be furious, but he was elated. He was young but his ma and da were young when they started their family. He loved Caitlyn and that was all that mattered now.
Two of his brothers flanked the sides of him and his bonnie wee lassie. The bridal party was making their way to Caitlyn’s birth home. She had lived on MacCollum land since her parents passed from a bout of fever; the same fever that claimed his own beloved mother. She had lived with her maternal grandparents, but now she would visit her elderly grandfather, and Rory and she would marry. Rory would forever regret those musings. His mind had wandered and he was not as alert to his surroundings as he should have been. He knew they were fast approaching Campbell lands.
The blood feud between the two clans was something Rory grew up knowing. It was part of his daily life. The clans were bitter enemies for as long as Rory remembered, but his romantic reverie had dulled his warrior's instincts to complacent premarital bliss. Mostly what was left of the Campbell forces in this area were known as rogues and renegades. The rest of the clan had moved on to the lowlands, but there was a faction of Campbells that were like rabid dogs. Rory should have been paying attention to his surroundings, when he was quickly reminded where he was, as an arrow buzzed past his head.
He leapt from his horse and pulled Caitlyn to the ground. His brothers were on their feet, instantly freeing their claymores from the scabbards on their backs.
Rory made Caitlyn crouch low next to a tree and he said, “Stay here, lass.”
Without looking back, he charged into the fray. It turned out, there were only six renegades bent more on robbery than on the actual blood feud. While the MacCollum boys were outnumbered two to one, they made a quick end of those bent on their own destruction.
The fighting was over quickly, and Rory returned to where he left Caitlyn. She was sitting very still and upon his approach, Rory was met with a grim reality. An arrow protruded luridly from his beloved Caitlyn’s chest.
He ran to her side and she said, “Ruiri…I am sorry…I stood up to see…if you were alright….”
Rory sank to his knees and gathered her into his arms. She was cold; unnaturally cold. Murmuring softly against her hair, Rory said, “Sshh, Sweeting. Be still. It’s going to be alright.”
Rory choked on his own sob as he forced the lie from his lips.
“Forgive me Ruiri….”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
But as he began to say they would get help, he felt her life slip away. In that instant, his hopes and dreams died along with the life of his bride and their unborn child. His roar of anguish split through the now silent trees; vibrating like a mournful knoll as his heart burst in his chest.
* Prologue II*
Rory sat perched on his war-horse, looking down on the battlefield below him. The raiders would no longer threaten his clan. He had made certain of that. From where he sat, he could still see the fallen raiders; locked in the horror of death where they fell. Their blood still pooled like crimson puddles beneath them. Blood and grime streaked the Wolf of the Highland’s face and arms. Only now was his heartbeat returning to normal. He had been lost to the blood lust that powered him through battles and made him nearly invincible. He clucked his tongue, turning his horse away from the bluff and joining his brothers and father as they mustered from the fray.
Once again their luck had held and not one of them had been lost. The raiders had been stealing their livestock for weeks and then they had abducted a young woman from her home. She was a new bride in the Clan MacCollum and that was reason enough for their forces to meet out the justice due to these renegade criminals. It was one thing to fight raiders of livestock, but to have to return a beaten bride to her home after unspeakable things had been done to her only fueled the bloodlust that fanned Rory’s need to be the legendary avenger. Highland Wolf; he heard the rumors and hated them, but his prowess on the battlefield had gotten him that name.
After Caitlyn had been murdered, he fought with a relentless fury that few could tame. The scene below him fortified that very legend. It certainly would not quell the stories or aid him in any way. While he never fought a battle unprovoked, if he was called to the fight, he fought to the death. Some said that when the Wolf of the Highlands did battle, he was like a feral beast that was unaware of the death he could meter. It was not true, of course. Rory was always aware of every cut inflicted by his sword or dirks.
Wiping the blood from his sword, he secured it across his back and saw to the woman they had fought to rescue. She was frightened and dazed. Poor thing, he thought. She would never be the same. Rory wondered if it would have been better had she not lived, for living with the memory of what had been done to her was as good as death. Caleb MacCollum, his father, was trying to comfort the girl, but Rory knew that look. She was broken beyond repair. She had suffered violation that damaged not only her body but her soul. No amount of vengeance could erase what had befallen her. Looking at this ravaged lass made Rory furious all over again. Neither his brothers nor father tried to stop him as he rode away in anger and despair.
Chapter One
-1375- England –
Bronwyn looked out into the bailey of the keep, scanning the men arriving back from their latest campaign. She lifted her little daughter in her arms and tried to still her small son who was excited to see his father and uncle return.
“Do ye’ see papa and Uncle Rory, mama,” he asked, barely able to restrain his happy anticipation.
“Not yet, Ian. Uncle Erik is back though, surely yer’ da and Uncle Rory are not far behind.”
“I wanna’ see, mama. I wanna’ see,” the adorable little three year old begged.
“Alright.” Bronwyn unfastened her plaid and she gently placed her baby on it. She hefted her wiry son up so he could see down into the bailey. Ian shouted down, “Uncle Erik…Uncle Erik” and he waved furiously to get Erik Ragnorsen’s attention.
The blond giant heard the call above the din in the bailey and he waved up to the excited little boy. He smiled up and pointed to the men arriving in the outer flanks of the approaching soldiers. Bronwyn’s
heart leapt with joy as she spotted her beloved husband and then her brother bringing up the rear of the formation. The men had only been gone two weeks, but it always felt like a lifetime.
Bronwyn busied herself with her babies while her men were away, but she was overjoyed to see them safe and hale and back home where they belonged. Seeing her beloved Drew sent that familiar longing through her. They had been married nearly four years and still she felt like a new bride whenever she looked at him.
Little Ian was shouting, “Da, Da…Uncle Rory.”
“Be still, Ian. Yer’ Da will be up soon.”
Bronwyn looked down from her spot on the castle wall and saw the solemn look on Rory’s face. Her heart broke every time she looked at her precious brother these days. He had stayed on in England after she had married Andrew, seemingly content to change his path in life. She had been overjoyed to have him close to her while she adjusted to married life in England, far from her Highland home. Rory and she had shared a close bond all their lives and she was happy to have him with her now. Besides her beautiful husband, Bronwyn thought Rory was the most handsome man of her clan. The women loved him. He was huge, with broad shoulders; muscled and toned, not like some of the men of her clan that had bulk, but in a rounded way.
Rory had eyes the color of golden wheat, flecked with green, which always made a person stop and notice. Those eyes earned him the name of the Highland Wolf…that and his legendary temper. How he hated that name! But Bronwyn had the utmost respect and love for her brother. While her own hair was chestnut and wavy, Rory’s hung straight to his shoulders; darker than hers and that only made his eyes more brilliant and striking. When he smiled, he could charm anyone. The children adored him.