The Eternal Highlander (11 page)

“I ken it. I was moved enough to have to make love to her there and then. Tis probably why Edmee was able to sneak up on us.”

“It may have helped her, but, then again, Edmee was always good at that. Go, Cousin, and soothe your wife’s feelings. Ye dinnae wish to lose this one. She is good for ye, good for all of us. And, for sweet Mary’s sake, since ye
do
feel the need, get the mating done.”

“Aye,” agreed Cathal as he got up and started for the door. “Tis time. I but need to plan it out a wee bit. Something a wee bit special. After all, ’twill be as if we are marrying again.”

Cathal stepped into his bedchamber and looked at his wife. She stood in her shift before the fire brushing out her hair. The brief look she sent him was not welcoming. He sighed and went to stand behind her.

“I dinnae ken why ye thought it, but I ne’er once considered ending our marriage. Nay, not e’en when I feared Jankyn was about to tell me that he had discovered ye had MacNachton blood.” He took courage in the fact that, after only a brief hesitation, she let him take the brush from her hand and brush her hair. “Considering all I have asked ye to accept, how I held ye here just to get ye to marry me, and all I hid from ye until after the vows were said, ye are right in saying that I have no right to scold ye about having a secret.” He set the brush down on the table, took her by the shoulders and turned her round to face him. “That was the only secret ye are keeping, isnae it?”

Bridget did not know whether to laugh or hit him. However, since there was one secret she was still keeping, she did neither. Her first attempt to have a special place and time to discuss this mating business and the child she carried had been brutally ruined, but she was already preparing another. She would not try to have that last exchange of secrets now.

“Nay, that was the only one,” she replied, telling herself she was not truly lying, just making a small delay in telling the truth.

“So, ye have a wee bit of the cat in ye,” he murmured as he pulled her into his arms. “I should have guessed. Ye purr. No one purrs.”

“Tisnae such a strange sound,” she said as she undid his plaid. “I suspect I could make ye purr.”

“Ha! Men dinnae purr.” He helped her remove his shirt and quickly tugged off her shift before pulling her back into his arms. “They make monly sounds.”

His eyes widened slightly as Bridget kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. She was always free with her passion, but she had never made the first move before. Cathal forced himself to let her continue to take the lead. He quickly decided it might prove to be one of the hardest things he had ever done as she kissed her way down to his stomach. A shudder went through him when her silken hair brushed against his groin as she kissed and gently nipped at his thighs.

The soft warm touch of her mouth against his erection sent such a wave of pleasure through him that he jerked and cried out. She started to pull away from him and he finally moved. Threading his fingers through her hair, he tugged her back, growling his delighted approval as she stroked him with her tongue. When the moist heat of her mouth enclosed him, Cathal knew he would not be able to enjoy this delight for very long. It was but moments before he knew he had to be inside her. Yanking her up into his arms, he raced to the bed, tossed her down on it, and fell on top of her. Her soft husky laugh echoed in his ears as he thrust himself inside her.

Bridget idly combed her fingers through Cathal’s hair as she slowly recovered from his lovemaking. He had not even nipped at her neck this time, but buried his face in the pillow as his release tore through him. She was not sure if she was pleased by the way he had clung to that last thread of control or not. There was no doubt in her mind that she had made him crazed with desire and she wondered if, in some small part of her, she had been trying to push him to just do it. Now they still had to dicuss the matter and he was proving very reluctant to do so. When he raised his head to look at her, she smiled at him.

“Ye purred,” she said, “just like a big tomcat.” She laughed softly at the way he scowled at her despite the laughter brightening his eyes.

“It wasnae a purr,” he said. “It was a verra monly growl.”

Bridget laughed again as she slid out of bed and hastily donned her shift. “Weel, there will soon be some verra loud growling coming from me if I dinnae get some food.”

Cathal realized that it was time for the evening meal and got out of bed. As he dressed and then helped Bridget, he swore that he would see the trouble with Scymynd and the rebellious Purebloods ended soon. He wanted all that behind him so that he could turn all of his attention to his wife and his marriage. He loved her. He knew that now. A part of him suspected she cared deeply for him, might already love him, but she was as secretive about that as he was. Once he cleared away the last of their troubles, rid them of the last threat to their peace and safety, he intended to woo his wife as unrelentingly and avidly as any man had ever wooed a woman. She gave him passion and laughter with ease. Before too much longer he was determined that she would give him her love as well.

“This will do perfectly,” said Bridget as she looked around the bedchamber.

“I dinnae ken why ye must do all this just to talk to the mon,” said Mora as she quickly wiped off the wine goblets and set them back on the table.

Bridget sighed. “What Cathal and I must speak about is verra important, to both of us. This, weel, this is also to give us a sense of celebration to what will be said and done and shared between us. He will finally make me his mate and I will tell him that he is to become a father. I waited ten days after Edmee’s attack on us to see if Scymynd would do something. I didnae want this momentous occasion interrupted or ruined. Weel, Scymynd hasnae done anything and I cannae wait any longer.”

“Nay, ye cannae. If naught else, the laird might finally realize that ye havenae had your woman’s time since ye were married. Any fool kens weel what that means and ye dinnae want him guessing the truth.”

“Och, nay, certainly not. Especially since he will quickly suspect that I have kenned it for a while and wonder why I didnae tell him. I might be able to talk my way round that, but I would just as soon nay have to try.” She took one last look around the room, at the softly burning candles, the food and wine, the new pale blue draperies, and the vast profusion of bed furs. “Just give me some time to get into my lovely night shift and then send my victim up here.”

Mora rolled her eyes. “He sees ye in that night shift and I suspicion it will be a while ere ye do any talking.”

“That is the plan.”

“Tis the middle of the day!”

“I expect this to take a while. Best to start early.”

Shaking her head, Mora left. The moment the door shut behind Mora, Bridget giggled. The woman had looked a little scandalized. It probably was a little scandalous to be planning a long afternoon of lovemaking, but Bridget was determined to clear away the last little secrets in her marriage. She also wanted Cathal to make her his mate. It meant a great deal to him and she knew their marriage would not be complete in his mind until that last step was taken.

Just as she reached for the delicate night shift she intended to entice her husband with, Bridget sensed that she was no longer alone. She started to turn around and was quickly caught up in a pair of strong arms. The feel and scent of the man who held her was not one she recognized. Before she could cry out, a hand was clasped so tightly over her mouth she was sure she would have bruises. She tried to fight her captor’s grasp, but the arm wrapped around her ribs tightened until she was struggling for each breath she took.

“Be still, ye wee bitch,” snarled a voice in her ear. “Dinnae e’er forget. I could snap your wee neck in a heartbeat.”

Scymynd, her mind screamed as he walked toward an opening in the wall. Their enemy had finally made his move. She frantically wondered if she was inadvertently cursing herself when she prepared these little celebrations, then decided the lack of air and fear were making her daft. When he stepped through the door, pulling it shut behind them, she tried to make use of that brief moment his hold was eased to wriggle free, but he was quicker. He held her even tighter and Bridget feared she would soon lose conciousness. As he started down a dark, narrow stairway, she had to wonder if that would be such a bad thing after all.

“Ah, there ye are, m’laird,” said Mora as she hurried across the great hall to where Cathal sat at the laird’s table with Jankyn.

“Ye need to speak with me, Mora?” Cathal asked, idly wondering why Bridget had not yet appeared for the meal that was being set out.

“My lady would like ye to join her in your chambers for a meal.”

“Oh? Is she feeling ill?”

“Nay, m’laird,” Mora replied, blushing deeply.

Cathal lightly punched a snickering Jankyn on the arm. “Thank ye, Mora. I will join her there in a few minutes.”

“Why are ye waiting a few minutes?” asked Jankyn the moment Mora left the room.

“Anticipation.”

“Yours or hers?”

“A wee bit of both I hope.”

“Lucky mon.” Jankyn frowned as a MacMartin came running into the great hall and headed straight for them. “Trouble, I wonder?”

“M’laird,” the man cried as he stumbled to a halt near Cathal’s chair. “We have visitors.”

“I can see that,” Cathal murmured as he studied the group of people who now filled the doorway to his great hall.

It was Bridget’s family, of that he had no doubt. Three men stood to the fore of the group and their similarities to her were more numerous than their differences. Hair in varying shades of tawny gold, eyes slightly slanted, and, although they were all much taller than she, the same lean graceful forms. There was a plump older woman with them and what appeared to be a rather small, bone-thin man hiding behind her skirts. Suddenly a dainty girl who was obviously on the cusp of womanhood, shoved her way to the fore of the group and scowled at him.

“Where is my sister?” demanded the girl, shoving a stray lock of honey gold hair from her small face.

“Ah, ye must be Effie,” said Cathal. “Your sister is fine. Come, there is ample food and drink here. Since Bridget is not here to do the honors, might I ask ye to introduce yourselves?”

The tallest of the three men strode toward the table, the rest of the group falling into step behind him. Now Cathal could see the subtle differences in the shades of hair and eyes. Duncan had hair and eyes the color of amber, his twin brothers, Kenneth and Osgar, had hair a shade darker than Bridget’s and eyes more green than blue. Efrica was beautiful, despite the scowl she wore as she studied him with blatant mistrust easy to read in her soft amber eyes. When Duncan introduced Nan, Cathal moved to kiss the woman’s hand, causing the skinny little man behind her to come forward and demand he release his wife.

“And the wee skinny mon is her husband,” said Duncan. “He found her where the thieves had left her for dead and, whilst they robbed the dead men, Malcolm here got our Nan out of their reach. Once Nan woke to find herself residing in a cottage alone with a man, she knew she had to marry him.”

It was difficult, but Cathal fought back the urge to grin over that introduction, all slowly drawled out in a bland tone of voice that completely belied the high gleam of laughter in the man’s eyes. “Please, sit.” He signaled to one of the MacMartins as he retook his seat. “Have someone fetch your lady to the hall. Tell her she has visitors.”

“I could go and get her,” said Effie even as the servant hurried away. “Ye tell me where she is and I will go to her.”

“Sit down,” Duncan ordered his sister even as he and the others sat down. “I should have left ye to rot in that trunk.”

“Trunk?” asked Jankyn, briefly glancing at Effie as she sat down next to him.

“I thought I was bringing Bridget some of her belongings,” replied Duncan. “Instead, I was bringing this wretched torment. I still cannae understand how she managed to stay quiet in there for two days.” He glared at Effie. “When I heard the rapping, I ignored it for a wee while. I kenned it was her and I was that angry. I should have stayed angry.”

“M’laird!” cried Mora as she raced into the hall. “The lass is gone!”

Mora’s cry had not ceased echoing in the great hall, before Cathal was up and racing toward his bedchamber. He could hear others behind him, but paid them no heed. He strode into his bedchamber and looked around. There was no sign of a struggle. It looked as if all was readied for the private meal Bridget had invited him to. He touched the lovely linen night shift on the bed and fought down a surge of fear. He had to think clearly.

“Scymynd,” hissed Jankyn.

“Aye, so I think, but how would he get hold of her? She wouldnae go with him willingly.”

“There must be a way for him to get into this room.”

“My laird,” panted Mora as she stumbled into the room. “Ye didnae wait for me to give ye the note I found.”

Cathal urged Mora into a seat by the fire to rest and took the note she held clutched in her hand. It was simple and to the point. He was to go into the caves and meet with Scymynd if he wanted his wife back. He cursed as Jankyn took the note from him and read it.

“Ye willnae go alone,” said Jankyn. “It doesnae say ye must. I dinnae trust Scymynd to act with honor.”

“Who has my sister and where?” demanded Duncan as he stepped up to Cathal. “E’en better—why? Have ye put her in the path of your enemies?”

“Aye, although I ne’er thought it would go this far.” Cathal shook his head. “If naught else, this mon thinks of your kind as nay better than the animals we kill for food.”

“Then we had best go get her. I ken that ye are aware of where she is, and with whom.”

The thought of Bridget’s brother going down into the caves, of getting a very clear view of all of Cambrun’s dark secrets, was a chilling one. The man would see things down there which would have him dragging Bridget out of Cambrun as fast as he could. He had thought the Callans’s past would shelter him from criticism, but had never anticipated this.

“I ken the who, the where, and the why. There is nay need for ye to come with us.”

“Allow me to be the judge of that. Where ye go, I follow.”

“I cannae protect ye where we must go. It isnae something ye should see.”

“All the more reason to look at it.” Duncan stepped close to Cathal and said in a soft, hard voice. “I ken who ye are, what ye are. I am thinking ye ken who we are, what we are. Ye have been with my sister too long and too closely nay to have grown curious. And what little I have seen of Cambrun has only confirmed what I learned of the MacNachtons. We are alike in that we both must keep our secrets. Ye will keep ours and I will keep yours. I
will
go with ye to fetch my sister back.” Duncan stepped back and brushed off the front of his doublet. “I will, of course, allow ye the privilege of killing him.”

“E’en if ye didnae wish to, I would insist. Ye may think ye ken what we are, but ye cannae imagine what sort of fight ye would be caught in, and lose, where we are going.” His eyes widened slightly when Duncan pulled his dagger and smiled in a surprisingly chilling way for such a fair, handsome man.

“I may nay have the teeth for the job, Sir Cathal, but I am verra good with this. And, nay matter what ye may be, your heart is in the same place as mine.”

Cathal nearly echoed Jankyn’s soft whistle. It seemed that his new brother knew a great deal indeed about the MacNachtons. Later, he would have to find out how that could be, for the MacNachton secrets were not easily uncovered.

“Then come, but only ye.” He turned to Jankyn as Duncan told his brothers to stay behind and tie their sister Effie down if they had to to keep her from following. “Find out how he got into this room, for I am certain he took her from here.”

It did not take long for Jankyn to find the doorway Scymynd had used. Cathal had a strong feeling that the man had undoubtedly been spying on him for a long time. If he survived this confrontation, he was going to hunt out every door like this and make sure it was secured from his side. He was sure they had been built for escape, not spying and treachery. Just as he, Duncan, and Jankyn prepared to enter the narrow passage behind the door, Raibeart hurried into the room. Cathal silently nodded his gratitude for the man’s support and entered the passage. As he made his way down the narrow steps, he prayed Bridget was safe, that she was only being used as bait. It calmed him only a little for he knew he could not trust Scymynd’s word. He vowed he would make the man pay for every bruise Bridget had suffered and, this time, there would be no truce, no tolerance, and no mercy.

Bridget bit back a cry of pain when Scymynd tossed her onto a flat rock jutting out from the smooth stone wall of a large cavern. She sat up and looked around. It was probably a great hall of some sort for there were tables and benches pushed to the side. She suspected every Pureblood of Cambrun was gathered there and they were all staring at her.

Slowly, Bridget looked from face to beautiful face. A few held the same look of contempt and dislike she had seen on Edmee’s face and Scymynd’s. Some had little expression at all. Too few looked uneasy, revealing their reluctance to go along with this latest act of betrayal against their laird. The opinions and loyalties of this crowd were not easily read and Bridget sighed. There might be some allies amongst this crowd, but it would take more than a look to guess who they were. She did not have the time for anything else, however.

“Do ye think he will come for her?” asked a man as he held a bowl of water for Scymynd to wash his hands in.

The implication that he needed to wash after touching her, made Bridget so angry that a little of her fear was burned away.

“Aye,” replied Scymynd. “He will be here soon. The silly wench had sent for him just before I took her. Considering how our great laird has been chasing after her skirts since before they were married, I believe he would answer any summons from her with a pathetic speed.”

She felt her fists clench as she fought the urge to strike the man. Bridget knew that would give her only a very small moment of satisfaction. After that, she would be very lucky if Scymynd allowed her to live. She was not so sure he intended to do so anyway.

“Edmee would have liked to see this,” Scymynd said, sounding almost tender. “She had hungered for his humiliation and the Outsider’s destruction since the first moment the little bitch stumbled into Cambrun. It is still difficult to believe that halfling had the strength to kill her, but he will pay for her murder.”