by Raina Wilde
“This is wrong.” She whispered, more for herself than anything.
“There’s nothing wrong about this.” Greum’s voice was smooth and calming. Or, it should have been calming but had little effect on the rolling emotions that were overwhelming Catríona by the minute.
Greum leaned forward and kissed her. The already empty garden faded into silence in the back of her mind. Catríona restrained herself for only a moment before giving in to the abandon of her desires. Her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, her fingers buried themselves into the black curls at the base of his neck, and Catríona felt herself pulled resolutely onto Greum’s lap.
She had been chastely kissed by a man before, but never like this. His mouth roamed over hers, guiding and prying from Catríona a response that she would never have thought possible. She wanted more, a dangerous thought for a woman who had guarded her virginity so fiercely all her life.
Her hands found themselves at the front ties of his neck, rapidly pulling the laces from their holes. She wanted to feel the skin she had glimpsed only one time before. To run her fingers over the contours had she had previously imagined. Greum’s hands were hungrily roaming over the exterior of her dress. His hand hooked on the back of her knee as he pulled her closer, shifting them each into a more comfortable position. It followed her skirt up the length of her leg, over her hip, and eventually came to rest near its counterpart at her waist. Greum’s large hands nearly encircled Catríona’s trim waist, the contrast between his strength and her petite frame exhilarated them both.
A loud noise in the distance startled Catríona. The war horn was sounding yet again. With a sigh Greum shifted Cat back to the ground beside him. He stood, adjusted his shirt and kilt before coming to crouch in front of her. Greum stared at her face as if he could read every thought in her mind. Catríona blushed in hope that he could not.
He did not say anything, merely placed a finger under her chin to turn her face up toward his, planted a soft kiss on her lips, and spun briskly away to answer the call of the horn.
Catríona lay back in the grass and covered her face with her hands. What had she been thinking? She shook her head back and forth as she chastised herself for once again falling into his embrace. Finally, she rolled to her stomach and released a quiet groan into the ground. She allowed herself a small tantrum, kicking her feet as if the act would remind her to keep her wits about her next time.
Once, she felt that she had effectively collected herself, Catríona rose and gathered her things. She would be expected in the courtyard with the other women. This time, she told herself, she would be staying for the stories.
Catríona sprinted through the hallway to catch up with Deirdre, who had just left her rooms. She tossed her bag inside her own and caught up with the other woman.
Deirdre glanced at Cat with a knowing grin. They walked together in silence toward the courtyard. As they waited for the great doors to open before them, Deirdre turned to Catríona and picked a blade of grass from her braid.
“My brother looked similarly disheveled upon leaving the castle.” She stated bluntly. Catríona was too panicked to answer. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks but did not respond.
Deirdre linked her arm through Cat’s.
“You know,” She leaned against Catríona’s shoulder and pressed their heads together conspiratorially, “I think I quite like you.” Catríona allowed herself to release the breath that she had been holding. Without another word on the subject, they entered the courtyard to join the townsfolk gathered below.
The gathering this time was substantially different. Having been welcomed by The MacConaill and his family, Catriona was now treated as another, welcome member of the clan. The women joked and laughed with her, shared their food and drink, and teased her like one of their own.
As they all gathered around the fire a child shouted, “Tell the tale!”
“No,” His mother whispered. “Mistress Catlin need not be bored with such tales.”
Deirdre stood and placed a hand upon Cat’s shoulder.
“She’s seen the black bear.” Deirdre announced. A hush fell over the crowd. “It’s time she hear the tale.” Deirdre looked down at Cat with piercing green eyes and a knowing grin. “If you’re going to stay, which I’d wager you will, its time you learn what stayin’ means.”
The children gathered in a half circle around the oldest woman in the crowd. She covered her hair with a tartan scarf and settled onto a stool to tell her tale to the waiting ears.
It was a long time ago when Clan MacConaill came to these lands. Long before any of the others arrived to state their claim. The woods were filled with spirits and sprites. Druids roamed freely, bringing help or misery as they saw fit.
Cat smiled and held her hands over the fire. Each clan had their own magical tale and she always enjoyed hearing the many versions. Clan Sutharlainn’s tale told of a great army of birds that flew in search of the most beautiful land they could find. When they settled in the highlands, they decided never to fly away again. They asked a druid to give them legs and arms to work the land and build their homes, and so the clan came to give up their wings for the love of the highlands. Every spring a great flock of birds flew over the Sutharlainn lands, a reminder from the druid of their great gift.
It was a time of magic and mystery, danger…. And love. The MacConaills crossed the land searching for the perfect land to settle.
Upon their journey, a young druid fell in love with the son of the Laird, but he would not have her. The druid cursed Clan MacConaill for to mend her broken heart.
She called upon her magic, and turned the men into raging beasts of the forest. Great bears, not much different than those that roam our lands today.
The MacConaill women were distraught. They were never to hold or speak to their husbands and sons again. Those who were already with child gave birth to beastly sons. The cubs ran into the forest to join their wild kin. And the mothers were left alone.
One day the druid found herself in trouble. An army of men had gathered around her hut, wishing her ill and harm. But the bears MacConaill showed up and tore them to pieces, saving the young druid’s life.
She was so grateful that she wished to remove the curse that she had placed upon them. But the call of the beast had already taken root in their hearts.
As repayment for their deeds she did what she could. She allowed the bears to return to their human forms. To return to their mothers, and wives, and daughters.
But the call of the bear was still with them, still in the hearts of the men MacConaill, who could shift between forms as they please, whether to roam wild as their hearts desired, or protect our lands with their beastly fury.
And so it is, that ours remains the only clan whose bond still ties them to nature. For the druid promised to never again tamper with beast or man.
And so the men MacConaill are neither bear nor man, but both beasts live inside of them.
Catríona clapped her hands with the rest of the crowd at the beautiful retelling of the clan tale. She now understood why the black bear was a favorite of the locals, a protected pet allowed to roam their land without fear. She smiled to herself as she remembered Kenzie’s words. She wondered if that was why Greum wandered into the forest.
The women kept vigil until the men returned in the late morning. This time they were all too tired to engage in much of a celebration. Catríona and Deirdre retired to their chambers after a brief assurance that Deirdre’s brothers were safe and alive. Catríona failed to meet Greum’s eyes, the memory of their last encounter playing much too vividly in her mind.
The next morning, Cat woke to see, from her lofty window, Greum passing through the castle gate. She looked at the low sun, barely breaking the line of the horizon and knew Deirdre would not wake for a few more hours. Greum was going to see the bear. Catríona just knew it. She was too afraid to approach it on her own, but if she could only see Greum do it, it might ease her fears.
She threw her thick traveling cloak around her shoulders, not bothering with anything more than her shift and shoes beneath it. There was not time to dress properly if she were to catch up to Greum. It was not as if she were going to allow him to see her anyway. She would observe, she told herself, from a safe distance.
Catríona slipped out of the castle and through the outlying village with simple nods at the people she passed. She watched Greum cross into the woods as she jogged, once again, across the wet field. This time, she could see him ahead of her in the trees, picking his way carefully through the forest.
She followed him up the side of the hill that she recognized from her last encounter with the bear. She chewed her lip in anticipation. She could not imagine how such a monstrous creature could be tame.
When she reached the top of the hill she saw… nothing. She scanned the forest below her. She could no longer see Greum. She did not see the bear.
It was then that she heard the low rumble behind her.
Catríona spun around to face a snarling wolf across the clearing. He had approached the hill from the side and was slowly making his way toward her. Catríona’s heart sank. This was a truly wild animal and she knew it. It occurred to her that the dagger she normally kept tied to her ankle was sitting uselessly on the table beside her bed.
To her left, another wolf revealed itself through the tall bramble.
The first wolf made a snarling lunge and Catríona released a frightened shriek. The move had brought him within a stone’s throw of Catríona. There were three wolves now, and they were closing in on her.
She was afraid to turn her back on the beasts and run, the movement would surely encourage an attack. Not, she reminded herself, as if there were any other potential result. The way she had come was now barred by the dripping fangs of a she-wolf. The way Greum had gone, clear, but she worried if it only led deeper into the forest. She needed to reach the clearing around the castle. Only then, could she hope that the clansmen would arrive in time to save her life. Catríona shook as she estimated how fast a wolf could run in comparison to a small female woman, and she did not like her odds.
She had almost resigned herself to the inevitable when a monstrous roar erupted from behind her. The black bear lumbered up the hill toward her. The wolves, appearing like small dogs beside the enormous bear, braced themselves but did not retreat.
She was shaking from head to foot. Catríona felt a tear slip down her cheek as the bear lumbered past her and placed himself between Cat and the wolves. Would he eat her after finishing with the pack? She wondered.
The bear raised itself onto its hind legs and stood at its full height. He roared at the wolves, the sound raising the hairs on the back of Catríona’s neck and causing a chill to sweep through her body. They were too far away from the castle to be heard and Greum, if he was smart, would remain hidden.
The she-wolf launched herself at the bear, who batted her away like a small toy. She rolled limply down the hill and then ran away with a whimper. The two remaining wolves considered an attack before turning tail and running off after their companion.
Catríona sank to her knees on the ground. Her face was streaked with tears and her vision blurred. She heard the bear turn toward her and she covered her face with her hands, her entire body shaking as she sat crumpled at its feet.
Before she realized it she was being pulled into the warm embrace of distinctly human arms. Her head rested on a shoulder and gentle hands smoothed her hair and roamed her body in search of injuries.
“Cat, tell me you’re alright.” Greum spoke into her ear. She nodded through her tears and allowed him to comfort her. When she had collected herself, she raised her head slightly to look for the bear behind him. But the hill was empty.
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 yo
u.” 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.