by Annis, Dawn
“Nay, he is home. ’Tis where he belongs. A maw who dinna ken the struggles her son is facin’ is no payin’ attention. I ken him well. He will stay and send her packin’. Ye wait it out. Go home,” Fiona urged. “Dinna put yerself through this.” Fiona brushed a curl from Thea’s wet face. “Let him wonder where ye are.”
Thea slipped out the back door and skirted around the edge of Dunvegan to the stables. Destiny stood with a bare back, munching on fresh hay. Thea opened the door to the stall, retrieved the harness and saddle to ready him, hoping she could leave with none but Fiona the wiser.
Once saddled, Thea climbed atop Destiny. Callum stood outside the kitchen door. He raised his hand as if for her to wait, but he let it drop. Thea turned her horse and rode flying for home.
She thought about going to Ship Rock to catch her breath and wipe her face of any trace of her heartache but decided against it.
She headed home, following the road. It would give her time. How could she have been such a fool? Men had their pasts Fiona had told her. Thea had been slapped upside the head with Callum’s. What if he chose Lady Monforte, Victoria he had called her? She could not bear it, not after all they had been through. What they meant to each other, well, what he meant to her. Thea doubled over, clutching her breast, the ache acute. She knew what she meant to him now.
Gaining control over herself, she guided Destiny into the courtyard of the MacNichol stronghold. Timothy raised a hand, waving her over. She lifted her hand in return and shook her head. She turned her horse toward the stables where Michael was grooming his own. Thea gave him a watery grin.
“What is wrong?” Michael hurried over and pulled her off her horse and into a strong embrace.
“I have been foolish. I have gone my own way with no council from my family, particularly yerself.”
“Let us go to our favorite spot. Ye can tell me yer troubles.”
“Nay, we canna go there.” Thea pulled from her brother. “He will find me. I dinna want to talk to him now.”
“Callum?” Michael asked.
“Aye.”
“We need to go somewhere. Timothy will soon seek ye out. He has had a mischievous grin on his face all mornin’. No doubt he will want ye to join in.”
Thea lowered her chin to her chest. “I canna.”
“Aye, I understand.” Michael strode over to his horse and saddled it. He led his mount and Destiny out the back portion of the line of stalls. Thea followed. Michael helped her onto Destiny, mounted his own horse, and they set the horses at a trot down the lane.
They rode for a mile or so, Thea berating herself. How could she be so daft? She wiped her tears.
Michael led the horses off the road into a small copse of trees and helped her dismount. He took a plaid he had tied to his saddle and a skin pouch filled with water, then settled her onto the blanket and handed her the pouch.
The clear, cool water felt good on her aching throat. She drank until she ran out of breath.
“Now, lass, tell me.” Michael sat with his ankles crossed and rested his arms on his knees.
“I canna.” Thea put her face in her hands.
“Aye, ye can. ‘Tis time to tell me the whole o’ it.”
“When Callum came home, I had never seen such a bonnie man.”
“Aye,” Michael said. “Ye said the last time we talked. I have seen ye growin’ closer. I ken yer experiences at Culloden brought ye closer still.”
“Aye, though I received an earful when he found me.”
“As ye should have. ’Twas a daft thing ye did, lass.”
Thea batted his words away with her hand. She didn’t want to talk about that now. “Callum shouted his displeasure. Da has done the same. I heard from Simon and Hadrian. Nay, I am speakin’ to ye as the one brother who dinna yell at me or bruise my bottom.”
Michael smiled, encouraging her to continue.
“I thought our journey together meant somethin’ to him. It dinna.”
Thea described the morning after her and Callum’s return when Michael had sent her off on a ride with Destiny. She had run into Callum. Thea told Michael the truth. Callum had made love to her. He’d taken her maidenhead. She’d freely given it to the man she loved. Her trust had been broken with a letter from this godforsaken woman whom Callum had left in England.
Michael winced and rolled up his sleeves. “I dinna need the details, but did he tell ye that he loved ye?”
Thea picked at her clothing. “Aye. Nay. I dinna ken.”
“Look at me.”
She looked at Michael. His face had turned red, and a vein pulsed alongside his forehead.
“When a man makes love to a woman, she kens he loves her. ’Tis no mayhap.”
“I ken,” Thea said, her voice low.
“Nay, ye dinna,” Michael said. He took several deep breaths. “Tell me the rest.”
“Now a ‘Lady Monforte’ has come.” Thea grabbed Michael’s hand for support. She had never seen him so angry but knew he would listen. “Callum calls her Victoria. Verra familiar, I believe. She stares at me like I am a stinkin’ pig in a dress.”
Michael straightened. “Nay, ye are no.” He squeezed her hand. “What did the MacLeod say to ye before ye left?”
“Nothin’. I rode home as fast as Destiny would take me.”
~ ~ ~
Callum had watched Thea ride out of the stables, the yard, the road at breakneck speed. He held his arms out to his sides and dropped his chin to his chest in tired frustration.
I have lost her.
Letting his arms fall, he turned and trudged back into the castle. Back to Victoria, a pain in his arse if there ever was one. He couldn’t ride after Thea; he had Victoria to deal with. He wouldn’t leave his mother and sister to handle her.
As he came through the door, his mother met him, her mouth set in a grim line. “We will be havin’ words, lad.”
“Aye, I ken, Maw. I canna boot her out on her arse. Help me get her settled in a bedchamber, and I will tell it all to ye.”
Fiona gave him a curt nod and led the way into the hall. “And I will be tellin’ ye who the arse is,” she said over her shoulder. Without a second glance, she marched ahead.
Callum’s stomach burned as he stepped into the room behind his mother. He was greeted with a pout.
“Callum, darling, where have you been? I have missed you.”
“Victoria, I was gone only a moment. Surely, ye canna have missed me verra long.”
Victoria’s laugh grated on his nerves. “Oh, men.” She glanced at Fiona. “Such silly creatures.”
Fiona’s smile was only a slash of lip across her face. He swallowed hard. He didn’t blame his mother for her anger. Angry as well, he thought Lady Victoria Bromley, Countess of Monforte, should have stayed home with her husband.
Victoria sipped her tea with her little finger in the air. Callum had noticed her sly gaze at Thea’s departing figure.
“Victoria.” Callum sat next to her, brooking no further argument. “I am no goin’ to come awa’ with ye. I should have answered yer letters, should have been honest with ye.”
How could he explain what he himself hadn’t known, if he would go or stay? How could he explain the indecision he had put himself through?
“Where does yer husband think ye are?”
Victoria giggled. “He thinks I am at a lawn party in the country. I told him I would be gone a fortnight. It took me some time to arrive here. You did not mention your family lived so far away, come to think of it.” Victoria put her finger to her chin. “You did not tell me anything about your family.” She winked at Fiona coyly.
“How did ye find me?” Callum stood and crossed his arms.
“Oh, a little bird told me.” Victoria batted her eyes.
“Victoria,” Callum said, his jaw clenched.
“Oh, all right. You really are a bear.” Victoria patted her tresses, and her dress rustled. “I knew you were from Scotland, obviously from that horrible accent of yours, and I inquired about your surname. The gentleman I talked to showed me on a map where your ‘clan’ lives. I made arrangements, and here I am.” Pointing to the door Thea had disappeared through, she added, “And it seems well timed.”
Fiona stood abruptly and announced it was time for bed, a murderous look on her face. “Allow me to show ye to yer chamber, m’lady.”
“So soon,” Victoria lamented. “I have grown so accustomed to London hours how shall I ever sleep?” She gave a suggestive wink to Callum.
With Callum in tow, Fiona took Victoria’s arm in her own and forced her to climb the stairs, all the while discussing the weather and the muddied roads. When they arrived at the guest chambers, his mother, unfazed, was determined to bed down the silly filly. She put her hand out to stop Callum. “Ye have chores to do elsewhere. Lady Monforte and I will get along right as rain.”
“Aye.” He turned to go.
“Oh pooh, do not go,” Victoria said. “I shall be afraid to sleep in this drafty castle by myself.”
Fiona gave her a gentle push into her chamber. “Ye will be sleepin’ alone tonight.” Her tone brooked no argument.
Callum headed to the hall. The skies had opened, and rain fell in sheets. He sat at a window with a mug of ale and waited for his mother.
Fiona appeared soon enough. The scowl on her face told Callum she wasn’t pleased with Victoria nor himself.
“Where in yer daft mind d’ye think ’tis all right to have a woman o’ her obvious loose morals to be welcome in our home?”
Callum bristled. “I dinna plan on her arrival. Ye heard her. She made the journey o’ her own accord.”
“’Tis obvious to me she thought she would be welcome.”
“Aye.” Callum averted his eyes in embarrassment. “I left England with no promises to her. The letters she wrote to me, I dinna answer.”
“A prime time to break yer relationship to her since ye dinna have the good sense to do it before ye left for home.”
“Aye.” The dressing down he received was no less than he deserved but stung just the same.
“To top off the mess, ye have gone and hurt Thea,” Fiona scolded. “I dinna ken what is goin’ on between ye, but I have eyes, and I can guess.”
“I am goin’ to bed,” Callum said glumly as he headed for the stairs.
“Nay, no up there.”
Callum looked askance at his mother.
“Ye sleep in the stable tonight with the other dogs.” Fiona pointed to the door. “She will be seekin’ ye out tonight, and she will no find ye out there, will she?”
Callum left the room, chastised and with a bruised ego.
“Nay, she will no.”
~ ~ ~
The next morning, Callum walked out of the stable. Michael MacNichol sat on his horse patiently waiting. Michael was a patient man. Soft-spoken. A fact that didn’t make him any less dangerous.
Callum approached his horse cautiously.
Michael tipped his hat, giving Callum his due as his laird. He dismounted and moved around the head of his horse.
“My sister tells me ye have a Lady Monforte come to stay from England.”
“Aye?” Callum said.
“Pardon me, my laird.”
Michael’s fist connected with Callum’s cheekbone and slid into his left eye socket. The force knocked Callum to the ground.
Michael stood above him. “Ye will no be sniffin’ around my sister agin, laird or no.”
“’Tis no what ye think.”
“Och, ’tis exactly. I have been listenin’ to my sister’s words and wipin’ her tears. She kens.”
“Nay, she dinna.”
Callum started to rise.
“Ye stay right where ye are, my laird. I dinna mind hittin’ ye twice.” Michael mounted his horse without a word and cantered down the road.
Callum had enough. He rose and stalked into the castle, through the kitchen, past the hall, ignoring Victoria’s irritating “good morn” and climbing the flight of stairs to the Faerie Tower. His place. His place to think. To work out his problems. This problem.
Ye daft prick.
Callum paced the stones, his eye throbbing and beginning to swell. Frustration coursed through his body. He rolled his tight shoulders. He placed his hands behind his head. Touching his eye gingerly, he thought about Victoria and the mess he’d made for himself. He needed to rid himself of Victoria, but in such a way she could go home and back to her husband, as ancient as he may be.
He wanted to show Thea he loved her and only her. He wanted desperately to marry his headstrong, stubborn, beautiful woman. His life held no future without her. He looked at the vista before him. The land he’d fought so hard against had become a part of him.
Callum would garner his mother’s help for his plan for Victoria. He hoped to God she would help him, for help he needed.
Thea. How could he convince her he and Victoria were finished? Victoria certainly wasn’t going to help, nor would he want her to.
Callum left the tower and sought out his mother. He found her in the kitchens kneading bread. She had once told him the kneading helped to ease her thoughts. Guilt washed over him. He was the cause of her distress. He hoped to remedy that soon.
“What d’ye do to yer eye?”
“’Tis nothin’ to worry about now, Maw. I need ye to do somethin’ for me. Ye will no like it.” Callum explained briefly.
Fiona wiped the dough and flour from her hands, then brushed the flour from her apron and hung it on a peg. She held his cheek in one hand, examining his eye. Callum shook his head. Fiona dropped her arm and made her way to the study.
He walked out to the great hall to deal with Victoria.
She was in a pout. Her lower lip stuck out, this time not so pretty. Her eyes welled of unshed tears he knew would never fall. Victoria knew how to play the game well. Her overly rouged cheeks were harsh in the morning light. She offered her hand to Callum as a sign she was waiting for his apology.
He folded it into his own as he sat next to her.
Fiona shuffled into the hall, paper in her hand.
“Victoria, our time together is over. My life is here. There is no room for ye, darlin’.”
Fiona’s eyebrows shot up at the endearment.
“My maw has written a fine letter explainin’ yer holiday with her and her lovely daughter, a friend ye havena seen for quite some time. She was so pleased and glad ye took the time to come. Ye will give said letter to yer husband to explain yer absence.” Callum placed his hands on each of Victoria’s arms. He squeezed hard enough to make his point. “Ye will no contact me in any way agin. I will no have it from ye, d’ye understand?”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed.
“Nay, we will no be havin’ one o’ yer hellish tantrums either. ’Tis done now.” Callum turned to his mother. “Will ye help Lady Monforte pack her things while I arrange the coach for her?”
Fiona gave Victoria a brittle smile. “O’ course. Why dinna ye leave all o’ the arrangements to me, lad?”
A man Callum had sent to watch the MacDonalds ran into the hall.
“A woman entered a coach, though no the like o’ a woman I have ever seen. She’s headed for the coast. I swear, MacLeod, that were no woman.”
Callum called for two other riders. They would go to the MacNichol and the MacCrimmon. He would have them meet quickly to discuss their next move regarding the prince from across the water.
Chapter 17
“’Tis true?” Anthol asked as he dismounted.
&nb
sp; “My man is reliable,” Callum assured him.
“Who could it be if no him?” Simon growled.
“We canna ken until we see for ourselves. We must go immediately,” Callum urged the men.
Anthol and his sons, along with the MacCrimmon men, mounted.
Callum, his horse dancing beneath him, took the time to glance back at his mother. She stood in the dooryard, shooing him along. She would handle any problem with ease, he had no doubt.
~ ~ ~
Callum, Anthol, and Henry MacCrimmon, with their men, arrived at the docks in time to see a ship sail out on the evening tide. A lone figure stood at the railing, waving a handkerchief.
“Yer too late,” Dame Flora MacDonald sneered. She cocked her head toward the ship. “He makes a lovely woman, dinna ye think?”
The MacDonald men surrounding her laughed.
“Aye, ye have gotten awa’ with a great feat, Flora, but ye mayhap signed our death warrants with this whole debacle,” Callum accused.
“The Sassenach will no touch us. They have wee interest in what goes on far north.” Dame MacDonald smirked.
“Aye, they will if ye let Charles Stuart escape,” Anthol argued.
“Bah, I dinna more than send an auld woman home.” She waved her hand toward the disappearing ship.
“Aye, ye did.” Disgusted, Callum turned to Anthol and Henry. “There is nothin’ we can do. He has made good his escape.”
The three turned and walked down the dock, occasionally turning to watch the ship grow tiny on the horizon.
Henry MacCrimmon asked, “D’ye think the Sassenach will no bother us this far north as she says?”
“’Tis hard to say. We can hope the MacDonald’s sin dinna spill over to us,” Callum said.