When a Scot Gives His Heart

by Julie Johnstone

  “Ye were?”

  “Aye. I kenned that she was greedy and nae particularly nice, but my clan needed the alliance.” Speaking of it out loud brought all the guilt he had been living with to the surface. “She still wanted the alliance. She was carrying another man’s child and told her father it was mine, that I had joined with her.”

  She frowned. “But ye had nae.”

  He shook his head. “Nay, but it did nae matter. My parents demanded I keep the alliance. The Gordon even threatened war because he said I had ruined Edina and shamed her with my lies. When my parents realized I would nae heed their demands, they pleaded, but I still refused.” The guilt swallowed him now. “I chose ye,” he said, knowing with a pulse-pounding certainty that he wanted her to understand he had loved her. If he could not have her now, if he could not tell her of his heart in this moment, he would tell her what had been in it. “I chose ye over my clan. I loved ye, and for my choices, for my greed, I plunged my clan into a war that cost my father his life and has weakened my clan greatly.”

  Tears streamed down her face. “Ye loved me.”

  It was a statement. She knew. She understood.

  “Aye,” he answered. “With all my heart.”

  “And what of now?” she asked, her voice a broken whisper.

  “I am laird, and I must make choices for the good of my clan.”

  “Ye will place what is good for yer clan above all…as I thought.” She nodded. “We should rest.”

  Marsaili turned her back to him and walked a few feet away. He watched her settle on the grass, shaking his plaid over herself. He found a spot against a boulder. The ground was hard, but it made no difference. He suspected sleep would be a long time coming.

  She shifted around restlessly, muttering to herself, which he found endearing. A few times, she leaned up on an elbow to push at his plaid. He had the overwhelming urge to go to her, pull her into his arms, and let her rest her head on his chest, but with each breath he took, he fought it. By the time, sleep finally claimed her, he let out a ragged exhalation, weary from the battle with himself. Just as Callum started to drift to sleep, Marsaili cried out, and his eyes flew open as he scrambled to her.

  “The bairn! The bairn,” she whimpered repeatedly.

  He shook her to wake her, but she batted at him. “Marsaili,” he tried, then tentatively reached toward her and brushed his hand across her forehead. She settled instantly and turned her cheek into this palm. Her need hurtled him beyond the point of return. With his heart beating hard, he lay beside her, offering her his warmth and his presence while she slept. But lying beside her put him at ease, too, and almost immediately, sleep claimed him.

  Eleven

  Marsaili awoke abruptly to rain, thunder, lightning, and Callum looming over her. She blinked the water out of her eyes and tried to clear her groggy mind.

  “We need to seek shelter,” he half shouted over the torrential downpour.

  Before she could answer him, she found herself swept into his arms, her legs dangling, and her shoulder pressed against his chest as he strode through the woods toward what appeared to be a cave in the distance.

  “Put me down,” she gasped, vexed at the immediate heat that flared within her for this man.

  “Nay,” he returned, grim faced. “I’ll nae take the chance of ye falling and hitting yer head on one of these rocks.”

  An odd warmth spread through her belly at his concern for her. She wasn’t helpless, by any means, but it was nice to feel that someone was there for her, if only for a moment. It was not true, but she indulged in the fantasy for a few breaths.

  When they got to the cave, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Now, ye may put me down.”

  He obliged by setting her on her feet. “Wait here,” he commanded, tossed his plaid at her, and shot out of the cave before she could say anything.

  With lightning illuminating the sky, she could track his progress to the tree where his destrier was tethered. He turned, reins in hand, but as he did, lightning struck a nearby tree and cracked it in half. The horse reared, kicking its legs very close to Callum’s head.

  “Callum!” she shouted, fear gripping her.

  He stepped to the side of the beast as its hooves struck the ground. He pulled sharply on the reins and then set a steadying hand on his horse. He leaned close and appeared to whisper in the beast’s ear. Then he led his wild-eyed destrier through the pouring rain and into the cave. He tethered the horse to a small boulder and turned to her.

  His hair dripped around his face, and when he reached up to slick it away, she found herself staring at his arms and the way his biceps moved. He was a powerful man, and not just physically. Everything about him commanded respect and notice. It always had.

  “We’ll have to wait out the storm here,” he said, waving a hand around the cave. “It’s too dangerous to travel in lightning.”

  “How long do ye think the storm will last?”

  “I dunnae,” he replied, glancing around the cave. “The winds are verra strong and the rain verra heavy. Hopefully nae more than a few hours, the day at most.”

  “The day!” she exclaimed, not wishing to be trapped in the cave that long with him, not when his words from last night rang in her head. He had loved her. She believed it. He might even love her still, but he had made it clear that this time he would choose his clan over her. Could she blame him? Look at what his previous choice had caused? His guilt had been clear in his voice and on his face.

  “Well, lass, ye certainly ken how to make a man feel wanted,” he teased. But she could do no more than stare at the two dimples that appeared in his cheeks. She’d forgotten he had dimples. Did their son? Did he have Callum’s brown eyes or her blue ones?

  Knots jumbled in her belly just thinking about the bairn. Really, he’d be more a young lad now at two summers. She turned from Callum, who was frowning at her, as tears pricked her eyes at the thought that she’d never held her son in her arms as an infant. And who had nursed him? Had he ever cried himself to sleep? Did he now?

  A sob escaped her, which she tried to muffle by slapping her palm over her mouth.

  Then Callum was behind her, so very close but not touching. “Marsaili?” The undeniable concern in his tone, almost undid her. “What is it, lass? What’s vexing ye? Are ye afraid? I’ll protect ye, dunnae fash yerself.”

  The emotions she’d been holding within her roiled. “Stop!” she barked, his concern shredding the invisible binds that held her together. “I kinnae—” She gulped. “I kinnae take yer kindness. I dunnae—” She shook her head, choking on her words. Gulping again, she continued, tears now streaming down her cheeks. “I dunnae ken what to think or what to do. Or what is truly right. I’m alone, all alone in this. I have to be strong.” She pressed her lips together on saying more, on saying too much.

  Suddenly, she was being turned around to face Callum. His hands felt like fire pokers on her skin. Or perhaps it was her? Was she feverish? Her heart pounded a desperate beat, and that same frenzied desperation sent her blood rushing through her veins to roar in her ears. Her stomach felt hollow, and as his gaze pierced her very soul, he said, “Let me help ye. Tell me what ye fear.”

  The truth clawed its way up, and she worried she’d not be able to hold it in, so she did the only thing she could. She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Her heart lurched as he stiffened. He was going to push her away! But a growl seemed to come from deep within him, and he delved his hands into her hair to cradle her head and slant his mouth over hers. The kiss tore through every defense she possessed. It was violent in its passion and blissful in the way it seared her from the inside out.

  Her hands had been clenched at her sides, but as his tongue slid inside her mouth and his heat consumed her, she could not hold back. She ran her hands up his thick arms to his shoulders and dug her fingers into the muscle there. Their tongues met, swirled, and retreated, as he ravished her mouth and her senses. Every memory she had worked so hard to rep
ress flooded her. Each touch they had shared. Each kiss. The moment they had become one. She whimpered, when his lips found her neck, and then he stilled and jerked away.

  She pressed her fingertips to her throbbing lips as she stared at him. He looked stricken, and in that instant, she knew he was thinking of his future wife. He was honorable. Maybe he’d not been—she honestly didn’t know what she thought anymore—but he was honorable now or self-loathing would not be twisting his face.

  “God’s blood.” He clasped his hands behind his head, inhaling a deep breath, and then swiped his open palms over his face. His whiskers scratched against his skin, and an acute memory flashed in her mind of those same whiskers tickling her inner thighs when he had long ago trailed kisses there.

  “Marsaili,” he said, his voice heavily laden with sorrow. “I should nae have kissed ye.”

  “Ye did nae,” she said, hearing her own flat tone. “I kissed ye, and I’m sorry I did.” When a scowl crossed his face, she rushed to continue. “I was swept up in feeling alone.” That was true, though it was but a paltry sliver of the truth. She had been swept up by the longing for him that still raged within her. She had been taken by memories of what was and what would never be, but the greatest thing that had moved her had been her desire to confess the truth to him.

  She could not chance it. She wanted to. God’s blood, she did. She knew he was honorable and good now, yet it was that very honor, that guilt he harbored over having once chosen her over his duty to his clan, that made her hold her tongue. It was that very honor she feared would compel him to take their son from her and raise him to be his heir with his soon-to-be new wife.

  As if he could hear her thoughts, he said, “I must marry Coira. I—God’s blood!” he thundered, the words bouncing off the walls of the cave. The horse neighed, and Marsaili flinched.

  “Dunnae make apologies. I did nae ask ye to.”

  “I ken ye did nae,” he growled, glaring at her. “Ye dunnae ask anything of me, and yet I want—” His words jerked to halt.

  He wanted what? She dared not ask, for fear he might say something that would have her spilling her secret to him. She could not take the information back once revealed. He clamped his jaw shut, and she was near enough to him that she thought she heard him grinding his teeth. Was that in an effort to stop speaking? She thought perhaps it was. Callum, she realized, had his own secrets he did not wish to reveal to her.

  They stood in silence, which stretched to the point that Marsaili thought she would scream. When her stomach growled, she seized the chance to think upon something other than the secret she was harboring. “I’m famished,” she announced, glancing toward the cave opening, where she could see the wind and rain coming down at a sharp angle—a sheet of white against the sky, now gray because dawn had broken.

  “I’ll get us something to eat and gather wood to start a fire.”

  “Ye gather the wood,” she said. “I’ll catch something to eat.”

  “Ye kinnae venture out there,” Callum said. “Ye could be struck by lightning.”

  “So could ye,” she shot back and stomped toward the entrance. She got one foot out into the rain when she was pulled back into the dryness of the cave.

  “Lass,” Callum growled, his hot breath tickling Marsaili’s nose. “Stay put and let me hunt the food and gather the wood.”

  She yanked her arm out of his hold. “I’ll nae sit here idle while ye risk life and limb for me. I am nae that sort of lass!” she fairly shouted. He glared at her, opened his mouth to argue, and then promptly threw back his head and laughed. “What?” she asked, poking him in his hard abdomen when he continued to roar with mirth. It took a few more minutes, but his laughter finally died to a quiet chuckle.

  “Ye’re most definitely nae the sort of lass to sit idle, but I’m nae the sort of man to allow my woman—I mean, to allow ye,” he corrected mid-sentence, “to risk yer life for me. I’m yer protector, or have ye forgotten?”

  “Ye are my temporary ally, nae my protector.”

  A long sigh rattled from him. “Ye’re the most stubborn and most braw lass I’ve ever met. Stick close to me, aye? If ye dunnae, I’ll throw ye over my shoulder and bring us both straight back into the cave. We’ll be wet with nae a morsel for our bellies, and we’ll lack a fire to warm our bones.”

  “I’ll stay by yer side,” she agreed, still reeling from the compliment he had given her. When he drew his weapon, she followed his lead and drew her own. He turned to her, his gaze impaling her. “Ye ken ye’re a lass, aye? And lasses are supposed to let the man, the protector, lead?”

  She chuckled. “I ken it, but I did nae ever have a protector until I was too old to need one. I learned good and well how to protect myself. And I did nae spend long enough with my MacLeod brothers to become truly accustomed to men who were sincerely interested in how I fared.”

  Callum scowled. “If yer Campbell brothers were alive, I’d kill them for how they made ye fearful. As for yer father, I vow—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “Dunnae make yerself more of an enemy to my father than ye already are. He would happily destroy ye, and he has the warriors to do it.”

  His hand cupped her cheek, his jaw twitching as if touching her pained him. She started to pull away, but his hand moved to the back of her neck lightning-quick and held her there. “Ye’re gutting me, Marsaili.” The word was cracked, and it strummed with untold agony.

  She inhaled a sharp breath. “I’m nae intending to.”

  He nodded, not speaking for a moment, simply staring at her. Finally, he said, “I thought I kenned ye.” His voice held awe. “And I did, but just the tip of ye.” The tic in his jaw had grown ferocious. “Ye deserve to be protected always.”

  Hot longing pierced her. She wished the past could be wiped clean, but such things were impossible. With that in mind, she untangled herself from his hold, noting that he did not stop her. He looked like he was at war with himself, and oddly, it gave her the strength to put space between them.

  When he took out his dagger and started out of the cave, she was glad to be given something to concentrate on besides the impossibility of the situation in which she found herself. They walked silently through the pouring rain side by side, weapons drawn. Callum killed a rabbit before she’d even seen it. As she watched him make quick work of skinning it, all she could think was that he should know their son and their son should know him. Fear and guilt raged within her, battling for dominance.

  “Will ye gather some brush?” he asked over the din of the rain pelting the now raw, red earth. She nodded, eager to be of use. “I’ll get the wood,” he continued, hooking the rabbit onto his dagger and standing. “Gather as much brush as ye can hold. We will need it to get the fire going since the wood is wet.”

  After they had gathered enough wood and made their way back to the cave, she plopped down to the ground in weariness. Her head was pounding, and she felt as if it were filled with mist. She pressed her fingertips to her temples to try to ease the pain, but a chill took her. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her knees, and laced her fingers together as she watched Callum build the fire.

  He worked silently with a furrowed brow as he struggled to get the wet wood to light. He muttered to himself, and Marsaili could not help but smile at how concentrated and determined he was. Finally, a spark appeared. And then another, and another. She let out a relieved sigh as delicious heat caressed her cold body and warmed her face and hands.

  Callum looked up, and his gaze stopped on her. “I’m sorry that took me so long.”

  “And I’m sorry I did nae help ye,” she said, her teeth chattering as she spoke.

  Callum circled the fire in a breath and kneeled down beside her. He touched his hand to her arm. “God’s blood! Ye’re freezing.”

  “Aye,” she agreed.

  He sat beside her, wrapped an arm around her back, and drew her into his side. “What are ye doing?” she asked wearily, but she wa
s too tired to move away.

  “I dunnae have any dry clothes to give ye or a blanket to wrap ye in, so I’m giving ye my body heat.”

  He was amazingly warm, so despite the fact that it was dangerous to be so close to him, she did not protest or make an effort to shove him back. “I’ll take it, but only because I’m so cold.”

  He chuckled at that, and they sat in silence for a long while, the fire crackling and flickering on the cave walls and the heat increasing until Marsaili finally quit shaking. Her head still ached and felt full of wool, but at least she was not fearful a chill would take her. “I’m warmer now,” she said.

  Callum glanced at her, and his rugged handsomeness made her breath catch in her throat. “Ye’re certain?” he asked, the concern from earlier still there.

  “Aye,” she replied.

  When he removed his arm and shoved over so they were no longer touching, she felt his absence acutely. She thought he might get up and start to cook the rabbit, but instead, he turned toward her once more.

  “Tell me how was it that ye came to find out ye had half brothers?”

  It was an innocent enough question, so she didn’t mind answering. “Well, ye recall Helena?” she teased.

  “Who?” he teased in return.

  Marsaili laughed at the lighthearted moment among all the heavy ones they had shared. “Oh, I’m certain ye recall my beautiful sister.”

  “If ye recall, I told ye back then that she did nae have yer inner, as well as outer, beauty.”

  “I remember,” Marsaili said. “She was enraged that she failed to seduce ye.”

  “She should nae have been. I could nae see her because of ye. Ye bewitched me,” he admitted. His voice had dropped low, his gaze as hot as the fire that blazed before them.

  She swallowed hard and licked her lips, trying to decide what to say. She thought he might be recalling the day they had joined. She knew she was.