Celtic Fury (9 page)

Chapter Nine

By spending less time with Brielle, Rory, was certain she was losing interest in him. In fact, he noticed that perhaps she had taken a fancy to his Da’ and many times he would come upon them drinking tea and chatting. At those times, Caleb would give him the strangest look, pat the girl’s hand and take his immediate leave. Rory wondered if his Da was developing a fondness for the lassie. She was so lovely, and his Da had never been taken with a woman since his Ma had passed. Stranger things have happened, he thought. Rory knew his father was as virile a man as one his own age. The only sign of age was his silver hair, which still hung thick past his broad shoulders. While Rory liked the girl very much, he would not stand in the way of his father.

Besides, he had decided that his attraction to the girl was most unwise and better left unexplored. T’was about time his Da quit mourning his mother. It was time to move on. As Rory said those words in his head another voice sounded, “
Y
er’ one to talk. Yer ma’ has been gone near as long as Caitlyn and still yer’ heart remains closed.”

It was his own voice of course, but he shook the thought from his mind and decided tonight he would once again seek out one of the lassies that never denied him. Perhaps that would dispel the attraction he had for Brielle and the effects she had on his thoughts, for try as he might, he could not get her out of his mind, not to mention his dreams. Rory's dreams left him
more randy
than a goat. Still, he needed to see if Brielle was attracted to his father. He would try to learn the truth by spending a little time with her to ask pointed questions aimed at learning the nature of Caleb’s relationship with her and to learn where her heart was. Rory did not want his father to be hurt by unrequited love after all this time being alone.

Brielle was settled comfortably in the hall. She tried not to think too much about Rory, who had been making himself scarce of late. She tried not to hope too hard for a glimpse of him, for even the smallest of glances, sent her heart pounding madly in her chest. She sighed. She felt silly for having those romantic musings reserved for young untried girls. She was far from a girl…although she was still untried. She often found herself imagining what it would be like to kiss him. She passed her days wondering what he was doing or if she would be able to see him even for a little while.

Brielle knew she should put those thoughts out of her mind. Rory obviously was not interested in her. It was becoming clearer each passing day as she continued to heal her physical wounds; she had seen Rory less and less. She looked over at the man who she was playing chess with. She had grown so fond of Caleb. He was like a father to her and Morag mothered her. Morag also helped her dress and arrange her hair. Morag did not force her to wear her widow’s weeds, which she was very grateful for. Those garments made her feel dead inside; as dead as Marcus Val ‘Cour. Instead, Morag helped her dress in some of the gowns that were retrieved from the trunk at the wreck site. They had been part of her dowry, so they were English in style. Brielle would have loved to don Scottish attire, feeling the most comfortable dressed in highland fashion, but being a Campbell, she had none that wouldn’t offend. Her plaid marked her clearly Campbell. Even though Caleb and Morag knew the truth, it was much too dangerous to claim her birthright and admit she was once part of the clan that was the most hated by the MacCollums. She still had not explained that fact to Rory yet, although now that she was getting better and he was spending less time with her, she almost thought it was something that he need never know. It was Rory that she feared admitting her clan ties the most. Perhaps it was better that he was leaving her be. Perhaps he need never know that it was her brothers who murdered his betrothed. There would never be a good or proper time to tell him that.

Brielle had been grateful for his help in getting her to safety, but every time he entered the room she would get that fluttery feeling in her stomach. Not to mention her dreams, “Oh My!” she thought. They were completely improper. She felt the blush rushing to her face when she thought of those dreams. She should not think of those dreams especially if Rory was clearly done with his obligatory tending of her. Brielle was lost in her thoughts when Caleb finally said, “Lass, it’s your move.” He watched the blush deepen in her face. Ruiri again! Caleb knew Brielle had been daydreaming about his son once again. The lass was positively smitten. While it did his heart good to know it, Caleb saw how lately Rory was making himself less and less available since Brielle was gaining health daily. Wasn’t that so like his son? Still Caleb could see the way Rory looked at Brielle when he thought no one else would notice. There was such raw hunger in his eyes. Caleb wanted to knock his son to his senses. He was so obviously as smitten with the girl as she was with Rory, but if these two would not face their attraction and admit it to each other, Caleb would never see them wed.

Morag was so right about Brielle being the “one” for Ruiri. Caleb hadn’t seen that sort of hunger or desire in his son’s eyes since he was betrothed to Caitlyn. In fact, this attraction seemed even stronger than that bond. Ruiri was a youth at the time of his betrothal to Caitlyn. Now he was a man…with the needs and desires of a man. Caleb suppressed a grin. Morag was less obvious about trying to get them together. Each day, she would help Brielle dress and fix her hair to accentuate her natural beauty. What Brielle didn’t know was that Morag was secretly and gradually lowering the neckline of Brielle's gowns to show her décolletage to a perfect advantage. Caleb grinned to himself. That old woman had a positively evil streak. No man could deny Brielle’s beauty and assets as they were, and surely Ruiri was not immune to them, much less with the tempting allure of her feminine silhouette from the wicked help Morag was doing to her gowns.

When Rory entered the room where his father and Brielle were seated, he stopped in his tracks at the now familiar scene of Brielle and his father playing chess. Rory’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The gown Brielle was wearing was beautiful but the neckline was almost scandalous. Another inch or so and he was certain he would see her nipples peaking from the top of her dress. Rory’s eyes raked over her and he felt that familiar surge of desire take hold of him. He glanced at his father, and although his father was smiling, Caleb didn’t seem to notice the delicious swell of Brielle’s breasts at the low neckline of her gown. Was Brielle actually trying to seduce his father? Even as he had vowed not to stand in his father’s way, that particular thought made Rory feel like he had taken a punch to his gut. Rory did not want to admit that he felt a deep attraction to this girl. Besides, he was not a lad with his first crush. He shut the voice out of his mind that taunted, aye, but she makes ye feel that way. Rory did not want to admit how many times he thought about Brielle during the day. That would be admitting to a dangerous obsession that would only bode badly in the end. He had been giving himself tasks to do just to get a glimpse of Brielle, though he did not make his presence known. Now, though, as Rory approached, Brielle’s eyes met his briefly. She flushed nearly scarlet and looked away. Had he interrupted something? Caleb stood and patted Brielle's hand.

“My dear, we will finish our game later. I actually have some business to attend in the village. Why don't you visit with my son for a while?” Caleb stood and clapped Rory on the back and said, “Doesn’t the Lady Brielle look lovely today, Son?”
She did look lovely, but what did his Da’ mean?
 

“Aye she is positively beautiful this day. I am glad to see ye’ are recovering, Brielle.”

Brielle blushed deeper at his words, knowing Rory was just being a gentleman to compliment her. She whispered a response of thank you.

“Well, I shall be back later.”

Caleb left with a wink to Brielle. That old dear was so obvious and she loved him for it. He knew how she felt about Rory. She had all but admitted it and she was certain he approved, despite knowing who she was. It was almost like he was encouraging the two of them to draw to one another.

Rory saw his father wink at Brielle and again, he felt that sick feeling. So, it was true. It seemed that his father was indeed falling in love with Brielle. While he wanted his father to be happy, Rory could not help feeling a twinge of sadness at that revelation. He knew it was really just as well, for he could not offer Brielle anything. He knew his heart was that place where the darkness dw
elled. It was best not to let a
lass too close to that place. It was just that as the girl was recovering and her bruises fading, her beauty was becoming more apparent. The soft peaches and cream complexion of her skin was perfectly offset by those fathomless lilac eyes. Her hair was left unbound, and it cascaded nearly to her waist in soft sable waves. His hands itched to sift through those thick, silken locks. Her lips were just full enough and they begged to be kissed. Bloody Hell! And those gowns she wore made Rory hard almost immediately! What the hell was wrong with him? He had made it a point to be with Maggie from the tavern last night in attempts to quell his attraction to Brielle, but all he had succeeded in doing was to make him long for Brielle more. Now, it was more important than ever, in light of his father’s feelings for the girl. Yet, here he was, rising hard again; lust washing through him, like a wave of liquid heat. He had to put a stop to this immediately, especially for his father’s sake.

Rory noticed Brielle was still blushing as he pulled up a chair to talk to her. She stole a glance at him, not wanting to look at him directly, knowing that he elicited strong feelings within her. As she glanced at him, her violet eyes captivated him. Her heart pounded furiously as he drew closer to her. His clean masculine scent of sandalwood and leather assailed her, as he was a mere few inches from her. He was wearing his clan plaid again now that he was home and it made her heart whirr in her chest for two reasons; one, it reminded her of his clan affiliation; enemy to the Campbell and two, a finer man she had not ever seen. Though he wore a cotton leine, she could see the steel bands of muscles across his wide chest. Her teeth drew on her lower lip, imagining his honed muscles rippling to his washboard flat stomach. She almost was afraid to look up into his face, knowing that his corded neck columned beneath the sculpted perfection of his jaw.

Even now, midday, she could see the shadow of a few hours of growth of a beard, which followed the handsome contours of his face. His muscled legs were powerful. His thighs emerged from the bottom of his kilt. In her dreams she was oft nestled between those strong thighs. A little gasp caught in her throat as she thought of those dreams. They were positively scandalous.

In her innocence, she had not known how it would feel, but she had witnessed men in their nakedness. She knew what to expect for it had not been odd for her to stumble upon her brothers rutting some poor girl. Somehow, Brielle could not see Ruiri in the vulgar and brutal act she had witnessed her brothers doing with women. Most of them seemed not too happy about those dalliances. Rather, Brielle thought, those poor unfortunate women were no better than ones that had been raped.

The acts she witnessed seemed so violent and horrible. She always felt disgusted and ill when she would come across either one of her brothers grunting over some poor girl, like a porcine beast. They had no shame or reserve about doing it where anyone might see them. At the thought of those two odious louts, Brielle felt her stomach tighten. Surely, it would be different with Ruiri.

Ruiri had so tenderly cared for her when she was in so much pain. Surely, he would not be so rough with the women he bedded. Ruiri was a man of passion; that was evident. She imagined that a man like Ruiri would not lack prowess in love making as much as he would, perhaps on the battlefield. Only, Brielle was certain that tenderness would be at the forefront when he was with a woman. In fact, Brielle thought that it was probably pretty wonderful to be made love to by a man like Ruiri MacCollum.

She had noticed several of the serving maids flirt with him, and if he would cast a lucky one his smile, the maid would leave giggling and elated. Brielle did not want to think about that right now, because it made her feel sick inside to imagine Rory sharing intimate pleasures with one of these serving girls. Even if he was not interested in her, she still did not want to have the image of him with some other woman right now. Somehow, that thought hurt her heart, more than she wanted to admit.

Rory heard the soft sound escape her throat and he wondered at it. Not to mention the deepening blush; which only seemed to increase at his very presence. She blushed like a maiden and he pondered on why she would have that reaction to him. After all, she was no
t a
maiden. And there was the fact that he had held her all night that first night that he had found her. He had tended to her wounds and been more familiar with her body than was proper. Perhaps she was embarrassed about that. Perhaps that was why the blush fired her cheeks.

Well, he would not embarrass her further by even mentioning it. It was best to leave it buried, now. Rory cleared his throat and asked about her health. She told him she was feeling so much better these days. Rory was indeed glad for her returning health. These trite discourses were really bothering Rory. He never fancied himself a conversationalist of unimportant fancy. He prided himself on being direct. Rory did not think he could go on with these silly trivialities. He knew he had to cut to the chase.

He steeled himself for her response when he said, “My da seems very taken with ye’.”