by Annis, Dawn
He spoke haltingly. He hadn’t wanted to talk about his life but gave her enough to satisfy her curiosity. She asked questions, and he answered them.
“I have a grumpy butler. He goes out o’ his way to vex me. He makes sport o’ lockin’ me out o’ my own home in the middle o’ the night.”
Thea giggled.
“Ah, ye think ’tis funny. When the weather is damp and cold and I am climbin’ through a window ’tis no.” Callum stopped. He then added, “’Tis always the second story window he leaves unlatched for me.”
Thea laughed, clutching her stomach. Callum joined in. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed until his gut hurt.
Their laughter died down, renewing each time they looked at one another. Finally, wiping tears from her eyes, Thea checked the sun.
“’Tis time I get home. My da will be worried. I have been gone too long.”
“Aye, ye should,” Callum said, sorry to have their visit come to an end. “I have an appointment with yer da. We should get along.”
Callum stood and offered his hand to Thea. They walked down the incline. Callum reached the bottom first and turned in time to see Thea trip on her own feet and lose her balance. Arms flailing, she stumbled toward him, her half boots scraping on the graveled path. She gave a startled cry, and Callum quickly caught her as she fell headlong into his arms.
Callum planted his foot behind him, keeping them from moving any farther along the path. His head was surrounded by the sweet smell of lavender as he embraced Thea’s body against his own. He delayed putting her back on her feet, holding onto her to drink in her scent. The pain of longing was so intense as he steadied Thea, he had trouble letting her go. He moved one hand up her shoulder to rest along her soft white neck, his thumb tracing her jawline.
“The first time I saw ye, I forgot to breathe.” Their eyes met before Callum’s lips found hers. Lips softer than he’d imagined. His tongue gently teased them apart, and his conquering soul was thrilled at her acquiescence.
Callum brought Thea back down to earth, anchoring her. He tilted his head as he studied her face. Thea opened her eyes, meeting his. Her fingers touched her parted lips as she gazed at him.
Callum stopped cold. Here was not a lonely widow or an unhappily married wife. Here was an innocent. Her family had warned him in their own way they were watching him. Gathering his feelings, seeking the same for his body, he steadied Thea. He helped her down the incline and let go as soon as he could.
“Ah. The first time ye saw me, ye mayhap been unable to breathe because ye were laughin’ at me if ye recall.”
Callum bowed to her. “For that I am truly sorry. Ye must admit ye were a muddy sight.”
“I will give ye that one, but we will no be havin’ anymore o’ yer laughter at my sake, will we?”
At the bottom of the hill, Callum retrieved their horses. He set Thea on her horse. Destiny for his part stood patiently while Callum took up the reins and handed them to Thea.
“Nay, we will no be havin’ anymore.” Callum pulled up beside her, grinning.
“Well, we had better get back before every brother I have comes huntin’ for me,” Thea said with a teasing smile.
“Right ye are.”
They did not speak on the way to the stronghold until Callum broke the silence when the manor was in sight. He reached over and took Thea’s hand. “I enjoyed our afternoon.”
As they rode into the courtyard together, Michael greeted them.
Callum helped Thea down from her horse. He set her feet on the ground but was quick to release her in the presence of her family. He wasn’t ready for her brothers’ protective natures.
“Did ye enjoy yer ride? I see ye brought a straggler home with ye. Have ye come for supper?”
“Nay, only to speak with yer da for a bit,” Callum replied.
As they were talking, Michael touched Thea’s face. “Yer blushin’,” he teased.
“Nay. ’Tis from the sun.” Thea quickly turned, bobbed a curtsy to Callum and led Destiny away.
Callum’s thoughts were distracted when he saw a man, his arms crossed and leaning against the side of one of the stables. The man’s eyes followed Thea, and he flashed a cold smile when she glimpsed his way.
Callum returned his attention to Michael. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder and said, “Who is that man? He looks familiar.”
“John Fendrel. He’s been spendin’ time with Thea.”
Callum looked over his shoulder. Well, that will no be happenin’ agin.
Chapter 6
“Come with me. We are sure to find Da in his study.”
Thea led the way into the manor house and to the study door. Her eyes full of mischief, she left him with a sidelong glance. At Callum’s knock, a gruff reply to “enter” gave him permission to proceed into the room.
Anthol looked up from his estate accounts.
“I dinna think ye would make our appointment. My sons’ heads are sore and their tongues are thick this day. I thought yer own to be the same,” Anthol said with a chuckle as he shook Callum’s hand. “I am surprised to see ye.”
Callum sat in the chair indicated by Anthol. “I felt my own pain this morn but thought to get up and out and no let it get the better o’ me. The fresh air has done me well.”
“Ah, there’s a good lad.” Anthol amended his comment, “Yer the MacLeod now. I guess I shouldna be callin’ ye a lad any longer.”
“Auld habits. ’Twill take me a bit to get used to the new name as well. I hope I can live up to it.”
“If I had any doubt, I wouldna have endorsed ye,” the old man said. “So, now yer here. What is on yer mind?”
“I thought to take ye up on yer offer to show me the way things are run.”
“Happy to. Well, let us see . . .” Anthol held his chin in his hand for a brief moment. “The first place to start, as far as I can tell, is the books and accounts for the cattle. Allow me get Michael in here. He kens them better than I.”
Anthol crossed to the far side of the room, opened a door, and called out, “Michael, come in here for a moment and bring the accountin’ o’ the cattle”—he paused—“and Timothy’s books.”
Michael appeared in the doorway. He lifted his hand in greeting.
Callum raised his own and smiled.
“Michael. I want ye to show the MacLeod our success with the cattle.”
“Well, if ’tis the case, let me do it proper. I will get several more ledgers, so ye can see the progress over a number o’ years. I will be only a moment.”
“The lad can tell ye straight,” Anthol said, his pride evident.
Michael disappeared and returned with three more ledgers. “D’ye want to ken the whole o’ it?”
“Aye, the more ye can tell me the better,” Callum said.
“Then ye will have it.” Michael took in a breath. “Breedin’ cattle generally focuses on three main methods o’ selection o’ the animal. These are progeny, family, and pedigree. We take all three methods into account.
“Progeny is what the name suggests. We looked at the descendants o’ animals with the qualities we desire. Geoffrey travels across Scotland in search o’ cattle with traits we find admirable and attempts to buy no the offspring . . .” Michael shook his head. “Nay, the sire or heifer is what we are after. Ye can ’bout bet ’tis hard to come by. No many clans want to give up a prize bull. Ye can get the heifers but rarely the bulls. As ye can guess this type o’ breedin’ has its drawbacks. ’Tis slow and requires careful attention to develop specific traits in the cattle herd.”
“’Tis no to say he hasn’t tried.” Anthol laughed.
Michael smiled at his father. He was passionate, and in his element. Callum had always suspected Michael to have a sharp mind behind the qu
iet manner.
“Have we had any luck in obtainin’ a bull bringin’ in those qualities?” Callum asked as he scratched his leg.
“Over the years we have had a bit o’ luck.”
“I am interested in being there when it comes time to pick animals for breedin’.”
“O’ course. Be glad to have ye,” Michael said.
Callum listened as Michael talked. He asked few questions— he didn’t want to interrupt the flow of Michael’s thoughts. When Michael finally slowed and seemed to come to an end of his presentation, Callum shook his hand.
“I mind there is a finesse to raisin’ cattle. I am impressed by yer knowledge, Michael.”
Michael shrugged. “Let us move on to Timothy’s accounts.”
Callum agreed.
Michael open the books. “Ye must understand ’tis Timothy who kens them best. If ye would rather, I can fetch him,” Michael said, waiting.
Callum considered a moment. “Nay, go ahead. If we need to clarify a point, we will call Timothy, otherwise all I need is a general overview, no every detail accounted for.”
“’Tis good. We will go on.” Michael shared the plans for the future the men had come up with to increase the wealth at hand. He talked of yields, production, and results. Michael flipped through the book. He pushed the accounting toward Callum and pointed to the last several entries.
“Here ye will find the totals o’ production for the last month. Timothy keeps track on a daily basis, totals his results here.” Michael pointed to the last line.
Callum studied the figures. “So, Timothy tracks each type o’ fruits and vegetables, meat, eggs, even the materials required to make finished products like buckets, harnesses, and fabric. I am amazed ’tis so complex.” Callum held his chin in his hand. “Does he track figures for MacLeod and MacCrimmon as well?”
“Aye. ’Tis the MacLeod clan as a whole. ’Tis quite detailed. One does no think o’ all that goes into runnin’ a clan such as ours smoothly,” Michael said with a rare grin.
“I am impressed,” Callum said sincerely. “I am impressed at the yields and at the detail to which ’tis recorded. I thank ye.”
Callum stood to stretch his legs, stiff from sitting so long. Anthol and Michael rose along with him. Anthol reached for glasses and a decanter of whiskey on the table next to them. He poured four fingers in each glass and handed one to Callum.
“A bit o’ the hair o’ the dog?”
Callum accepted the glass and took a swallow. He studied his glass for a moment, raised his eyes, glancing at Anthol, then Michael. The enormity of his decision to stay began to set in. Could he be the MacLeod? Did he want to? He’d made the commitment last night. Would he stick with his decision, or would he dash out of here as fast as a horse would take him?
“Yer operation is smooth and well-oiled. I only hope to find the MacCrimmon in a like manner.”
“Ye will. Them there brew whiskey. Dinna ye realize they ken what’s what?” Anthol gave him a wink.
“They brew whiskey? I dinna ken. I thought they were pipers.”
“O’ course, they be pipers, but ye dinna think they spent the whole o’ the day pipin’, did ye?” Anthol snorted and slapped Callum on the back. “Yer sippin’ some o’ their finest. So much for yer first day. Learnin’ all manner o’ things, are ye no?”
Callum chuckled and looked into his glass. “I guess as a lad, I dinna think o’ where the whiskey came from.”
Anthol and Michael laughed.
The men were casually discussing the clans and the responsibility of each when Geoffrey burst into the room.
“Da, ye wouldna believe what has happened. Och man, ’tis good, MacLeod, ye are here.”
“What is it?” Anthol grabbed a fourth glass and poured whiskey for his son.
Geoffrey removed his riding jacket and flung it onto a chair by the fire.
Accepting the glass from his father, Geoffrey paced the floor. Moving between the desk and the large windows framing the blooming flower gardens, he gulped the fiery liquid without so much as a pause.
“I went down to the other side o’ the island to the MacKinnons. The lads over there were tellin’ me somethin’ I found hard to believe.”
“Well, out with it, lad,” Anthol said.
Geoffrey took another swallow. “Jawin’ with the lads, they told me Bonnie Prince Charlie, The Young Pretender, has decided to overthrow the crown. He has already garnered the support o’ many clans on the mainland and will soon be on the Isle o’ Skye. The Camerons, the Chisholms, the MacLeans, the list goes on.” Geoffrey emptied the glass and held it out to his father for more. “Includin’ Flora and the bunch o’ thieves she calls a clan, the MacDonalds.”
“Hold on, lad. Are ye sure ’tis the Young Pretender and no the auld king?” Anthol stopped his son.
“Nay, Da, ’tis Prince Charlie. The young one. The lads told me their laird is over with the Cameron discussin’ it right now. They assumed we were joinin’ him and told me to get home quick so ye dinna miss out on the fun.” Geoffrey took another drink. His eyes darted from Callum to his da. “Well, I headed home quick. Rode hard.”
Anthol’s eyes widened. “Ye did right, lad.” He stood over his desk and thumped it with his fist. “’Tis serious, indeed.”
He turned to Callum. “MacLeod, I will follow where my laird and war chieftain takes me, but the Stuarts efforts to regain the throne have led many good Scots to their deaths. On this I must declare I believe ’tis a mistake to fight this fight.” Anthol’s eyes were wet and intense.
“Anthol, I havena intention o’ sidin’ with the usurper Prince Charlie. I had a wee bit o’ dealings with him in France. He is no a man to be followed.”
Callum grabbed the decanter. He poured everyone more whiskey, his eyes serious as he glanced around the room. He sat down in a chair next to the fire, having suddenly gotten a chill down his spine.
“What could the MacDonald be thinkin’? Throwin’ her lot in with Prince Charlie is dangerous business.”
The Clan MacDonald was led by a woman, Dame Flora MacDonald. The MacKinnons were a small clan and followed Dame Flora in most of the foolishness she got herself and her clan into.
A woman could lead a clan as well as a man. She was a mighty force to be reckoned with. The fact she had chosen to follow Prince Charlie brought the situation to their backyard.
There had been strife between the MacLeods and MacDonalds since time began. Enemies. Culminating on occasion to all-out war.
The MacLeod and his clans would not join the fray. Charlie would get them all killed, and Callum wasn’t willing to risk his clan to follow the Young Pretender. Charlie and his followers were going against what the MacLeod believed. King George II was the rightful ruler of Great Britain.
“The situation bears some discussion,” Callum said calmly.
“Well, the discussion needs to happen fairly soon,” Geoffrey said. “Prince Charles Stuart himself will come to our shores in no time. ’Tis said he expects a warm welcome, a hot meal, and a place to rest his noble head. I havena use for the man after meetin’ him as well in France.” Geoffrey was his father’s son to go when it became necessary to make trips for the clan abroad.
Michael snorted. “His arse will be in hell before that happens.”
“Let us ponder before we get too far down the road.” Callum stood.
“What d’ye mean, MacLeod?” Anthol bellowed. “Ye meant what ye said. Ye dinna mean to follow the bastard, d’ye?”
“Nay,” Callum said firmly, waving Anthol into his chair. “I say we wait. Flora and her brood will be down on us quick as a blink if she thinks she has to defend the prince.”
There were nods and murmurs of agreement around the room.
“Can ye send a runner to the MacCrimm
ons and tell them what is happenin’?” Callum asked, looking at Anthol. “Tell them to keep to themselves over the next days and no take any whiskey o’ theirs to anyone for now.”
“I will go m’self. They will agree if ’tis ye askin’.” Anthol gulped the last of his whiskey.
Anthol sent a clansman to gather the clan for the evening meal. Together, he and Callum told the clan the news of Prince Charlie’s intentions. Callum’s gaze rested on Thea occasionally throughout the meeting. She would glance at him with concern and even fear in her eyes. He wanted to stand by her, to put his arm around her and offer comfort. But he did not. With such a threat hanging over them, his duty was clear.
During his speech, she’d gathered the women to stand behind her as if protecting her chicks from an invading fox. She’d spoken with each, listened to their feelings, and raised their questions to him and her father. Thea comforted, bolstered, and clenched frightened people firmly in her hands, raising confidence that she would never let them go.
He had watched her from the corner of his eye, impressed. Callum mingled throughout the hall, shaking hands and reassuring his clansmen. He spied Thea near the fireplace talking with a group of women.
Thea was beautiful and sweet. She was smart, funny, and courageous. Scared but determined. He was proud of her.
He’d had different plans for tonight. He would have asked her father if he and Thea could perhaps go for a stroll. But that was not to be. Instead they discussed Prince Charlie and his bid for the throne, and how it would affect them all. This was serious, possibly life threatening, possible war. He had a foreboding feeling Charlie would lead them into an impossible situation regardless of the outcome of his folly. And folly it would be.
He is no more a king than I am. And we will rue the day he set foot on our shores.
Callum would protect Thea with his very life.
He left the MacNichol’s as soon as the protestations and vows of retribution had died. He and Anthol rode the moonlit road together, him headed home, Anthol to the MacCrimmons.