Highland Chieftain (15 page)

Triona laughed. “I do the same. How does it feel to meet your father?”

“Odd. I dinnae blame him for anything, if that is your worry. My mother made the mistake, lost the only way to reach him and couldnae e'en recall what he wrote. It hurts a wee bit to say it but she truly wasnae verra sharp of wit. 'Tis why she ne'er once thought to leave, ne'er thought to help any of the lads Kerr brought home.” Bethoc grimaced. “She truly did live in her dreams. Brett was her prince.” She was startled when Triona collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“I am sorry.” Triona finally got herself under control, wiped her eyes, and sat up. “Your mother's story is so sad yet Brett as a prince, weel, she was young. She was ill, I think. Ill in her mind. Mayhap only a little at first then more and more so as time went on.”

“Aye, she was. She was so bonnie and so brittle. A sad woman who met a sad death.” Bethoc saw Triona frown. “'Tis better than some of the other things I have thought o'er the years.”

Triona patted her on the back. “Families. None are perfect. Ye are now part of ours so ye will discover that soon enough.”

Her laughter followed her out of the room. Bethoc had to smile and shook her head as she dug her night shift out of her pack. As she dressed, she thought on the man she had the right to call Father. He certainly was good-looking, strong, and a laird. His wife was both wise and charming. What left her a little stunned was how he welcomed her, never questioning her claim. She rather wished she had been able to greet him with more warmth, then shook her head. Bethoc would just let things happen, no planning, and no fretting, which would please Callum.

Tugging on her night shift after having a quick wash in the still-warm water left by the maids, Bethoc got into bed. She groaned with pleasure as the soft mattress cradled her body and her hand was settled nicely against the soft feather pillows. This was luxury, she thought, and she would not allow it to spoil her.

* * *

“She isnae sure,” said Brett after the women were gone. “Nay about me or about having a father.”

“Weel, she is a grown woman. I dinnae think she e'er expected to meet the mon who fathered her.”

“She has her mother's eyes.”

“Ye can recall the lass?”

“She was my first. I was hers. Aye, I recall her. I recall, too, that she was delicate, in body and, I think, in mind. Bethoc is similar to her in body but nay in mind. 'Tis hard to think of the life my child has led because her mother lost my letter.”

“It was hard, nay question about that, but it didnae break her. It honed her.” Callum smiled faintly.

“And ye mean to have her.”

Callum was stunned by Brett's words and unsure of how he should reply.

Brett shook his head. “Ye look as if I just punched ye in the head. The lass is a grown woman. I have had naught to do with her raising. All I ken is that she has spent her life raised by a hard mon and cares for a lot of bairns that are nay hers. Her mother was nay help to her, lost in misery and dreams as she was. What I am trying to spit out here is that I dinnae have the right to demand anything of ye. I will ask though that ye dinnae hurt her. She has had enough hurt in her life.”

“I would ne'er hurt her.”

“Ye ken what I mean. Ye are keeping her close and ye ken what a lass can see in that.”

“Aye,” Callum admitted. “Do ye want the truth?”

“Always better.”

“I dinnae ken what the hell I want.” He frowned when Brett laughed. “'Tis true. I cannae say I love her. What do I ken about such things? Yet I cannae see nay having her about. When I saw that sheriff on top of her, I threw him into a wall and if she hadnae needed me to untie her, I would have broken him into pieces. I dinnae e'en care if she drags all the little ones with her if she comes with me to Whytemont. And I already ken I willnae heed a nay when I say she should come with me.
Jesu
, 'tis a confusion.”

Brett laughed. “All I ask is that ye dinnae hurt her. I may have seeded her but I am nay a father to her. She is a grown woman. Who kens? If we see each other from time to time that bond will grow. But I am nay going to tell ye what to do. All I can think of saying, again, is just dinnae hurt her. She has had enough hurt in her life.”

“Fair enough. Ye do believe ye sired her though, aye?”

“Oh, aye, nay question of it. Proud to call such a bonnie lass my daughter. But nay a bond. That must come with time and kenning each other. I look forward to it.”

“Then we shall be sure there is regular visiting done.”

“Ye ken where your bedchamber is?”

Callum nodded and left the room as fast as he could without looking as if he was running. His bedchamber was right next to Bethoc's and he had no intention of sleeping in that bed. That was not something he was comfortable revealing to her father, even one who said there was no bond yet. Once inside his room, he stripped off his clothes and washed up. He then threw on his plaid. Realizing he was intensely anticipating spending a full night in a bed with Bethoc, he grinned and slipped off to the bedchamber.

* * *

Bethoc woke to a hand on her breast. An instant of panic came and went quickly as she recognized the scent of Callum and even recognized his hand. She tried to push back against him but found the covers and turned to see him on top of them.

“What are ye doing out there?” she asked.

“Waking ye up.” He stood up, shed his plaid, and climbed into bed.

Bethoc caught her breath when he shed his kilt. It was only a brief glimpse of his naked form but it was more than enough to set her heart pounding. The man was perfection as far as she could see. He was all smooth skin and taut muscle. The hair at his groin and on his legs was more than enough to be manly and darker than the hair on his head, but it was the glimpse of what rose up from those reddish-brown curls at his groin that truly took her breath away. As he took her into his arms, she idly wondered what would happen if she touched it. He touched her between her legs, she mused, so it ought to be fine for her to return the caress.

Then Callum pulled her into his arms and sighed. Bethoc could not help herself: She laughed. It was such a happy sound.

“What is so funny?” he asked, kissing her shoulder.

“Ye sounded so content. I have heard the boys and Margaret make that same sound at times when they found something they think they lost.”

“Ah, weel, my skin against yours makes me verra happy.”

Bethoc relaxed in his arms, running her hand over his chest. Resting her cheek against his chest she inched her hand down to caress his taut belly. A moment later she gave in to her curiosity and went farther. When she clasped him in her hand, his whole body tensed. Afraid she had erred, she released him, only to have him take her by the hand and put it back.

“I thought I had hurt you,” she whispered.

“Nay, just surprised me.”

As she lightly stroked him he kissed her. He was hot silk in her hands, hard yet soft. It was obvious he liked her touching him. Even as she stroked him, she lost herself in the pleasure of his kiss and the fire he spread inside her with his own stroking hands.

Callum moved so that Bethoc was sprawled beneath him. Her hand fell away from him as she reached out to grab hold of him. He kissed her as he eased their bodies together. Resting his forehead against hers, he went still, savoring the feel of her heat surrounding him, the silk of her skin against his. He ran his hands over her legs when she crossed them over his back. Gently he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her nose.

“Ye are nay moving,” Bethoc whispered.

“I ken it. I was making certain I kenned the right plan of attack.”

“Attack?”

“Weel, there is a part of me that truly wants to go verra slow, to make it last as long as it can. Mayhap even hours.”

“Hours?” She swallowed hard.

“Or”—he brushed a kiss over her mouth—“mayhap fast would be better.”

“Or somewhere in between?” she asked even as he began to slowly move inside her.

Bethoc closed her eyes and savored the feel of him moving lazily, their skin brushing against each other's with every thrust of his body. It was not long before he began to move faster, his kiss growing fiercer. She felt her desire soar until it shattered and washed her in intense pleasure. Callum quickly joined her, her name a soft groan on his lips. Bethoc held him close until he left her, holding her curled up in his arms when he flopped onto his back.

Callum kissed the top of her head. “Still not ready for the slow.”

She laughed. “Is it important to ye?”

“Aye and nay. I just want to give ye the most pleasure I can, to show ye all the things we can share. But, as long as my body is so greedy for ye, that is a difficult goal.” He kissed her forehead. “And I ken ye dinnae understand what I am talking about but someday soon I will show ye.”

Bethoc thought on that as she relaxed beneath his hand, which was idly rubbing her back. It certainly sounded interesting. She smiled a little and she started to give in to sleep, wondering what it would take to help Callum not be so greedy. Then she decided she did not want to dim that greed at all.

Chapter Fifteen

Standing on the walls next to Sir Brett, Bethoc stared out at the lands surrounding it. He had told her of all the trouble they had had in trying to keep it, but it was certainly land worth fighting for. The fact that it was not very accessible to the outside world appealed to her.

“'Tis beautiful, sir,” she said and he smiled proudly.

“Aye, 'tis. It will grow more so.” He turned round and leaned against the wall. “Ye can call me Father.”

“Oh.” She struggled to think of something to say when he laughed.

“I ken 'tis hard but Triona says we should do it. Until that gets set in our minds. Ye ken, when I was told about ye, I was both happy and sad. Happy to find a child I didnae ken about and sad about your mother. Then ye came here and ye were nay a child. I kenned how long ago ye were born but”—he shrugged—“occasionally the mind goes its own way. Dinnae ken what to do about that.”

Bethoc smiled. “Aye, I understand that,
Father.
Mayhap Triona has a good idea.”

“She often does. So, has Callum told ye about himself?”

She frowned. “Weel, I ken he had a hard childhood, a bad mon held him for a while, and that he took a vow to protect children. Then he met his family, became a MacMillan, and is now a laird. It isnae really verra much, is it,” she murmured as she thought about it.

“Nay, but more than I had expected. He was horribly abused,” he said. “And I tell ye this because I think ye need to ken. He can get, weel, enraged about certain things which might make ye wonder.”

“I rather assumed that was what he meant. I ken 'tis something that can linger and leave scars. My mother had many so I understand how such things can mark a person. I have seen little of that in Callum although I do believe if my father had lived there would have come a moment that could have been a concern.”

“'Tis good, then. Payton did what he could for the lad, gave him pride, skills, found his clan so that he had a name and kinsmen, but I do wonder sometimes if anyone can ever truly get past such things. Get past that anger.”

“I have nay met Payton but he did a wondrous job. I ken what a constant simmering anger looks like in a mon. I have lived with it all my life. I ken that rage that bursts to life and strikes out for no rational reason. There is none of that in Callum.”

“Weel,
Daughter,
that eases my mind. Naught like the word of an expert to soothe a worry.” He caught her by the hand, tugged her close, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Howbeit,” she said, “I wouldnae hit my wife or child if he is close at hand.”

“That goes without saying,” he said as he started to lead her down from the walls, “although I am thinking I would be more afeared of what my wife might do.”

Bethoc laughed.

* * *

It was shortly after noon when Callum and Bethoc prepared to leave. She hugged Triona and kissed the children before turning to her father. Before she could decide what was the best thing to do, Brett hugged her. Something stirred inside of her and she realized it was a sense of belonging. There was also some sadness for all she had missed.

Callum left Brett with a promise of letters and visits, and Bethoc wondered how he could promise such things for her. She made no complaint though for she had already promised Triona letters. Then the ride took up all her attention.

They rode until the threatening night stopped them. Aside from a few rests for the horses, it had been hours, and Bethoc was feeling every single one of them as she dismounted. Home was not far away but neither of them wanted to ride in the dark and her backside desperately needed a rest. She rode very little and it was costing her now. Once the horses were settled she cautiously sat down before the fire Callum built and helped herself to some of the food he had set out.

“Ye are sore, arenae ye?” Callum asked.

Since the part of her that was sore was not one she wished to discuss, Bethoc blushed. “Aye, a bit. I can ride but I dinnae do it often.”

“Weel, be sure to have a walk ere ye lie down for the night or ye will be worse in the morning.”

Bethoc was not quite sure how she could be worse but she nodded in agreement. As they ate he spoke of Whytemont and she knew she would have to go there. How long she might stay was all that was in doubt. It was not that he was commanding her to go, but the way he spoke of her seeing his home that swayed her. He so obviously wanted her to see the place, wanted to show her things he had, and pretty places there, that she simply could not say no.

Callum spread out a place for them to sleep as she cleared away the remains of the food. Then he caught her by the hand, pulled her to her feet, and began to take her on a walk. Bethoc could already feel her muscles stiffening up and prayed this would help.

“Poor lass, I fear ye will be a bit sore in the morning,” Callum said as he put his arm around her shoulder.

“Aye, but I will be able to finish the ride.”

“Just need a rest between this one and the next, aye?”

“That would be nice.”

“So, tell me what ye have decided about Brett.”

“I havenae decided much at all. Oh, we did agree to call each other Father and Daughter. Triona felt that would be good, would help us in building something. She thought it would work to make us recognize what we are and the rest will follow.”

“That makes sense, actually. If ye both just keep saying ‘sir' or ‘miss' the realization that ye are more isnae settling in.” He nodded. “Very clever woman is Triona.”

“Aye, I think she is.” Bethoc sighed as they returned to the bed Callum had spread out.

“Take off your gown and lie down on your stomach. I have some cream I can rub on ye that will help.”

Bethoc did as he asked but was startled when he lifted her chemise and tugged off her braies. “Callum, I . . .”

“Dinnae worry, love, that is nay what I am thinking of. Where did ye think I would put the cream?”

A moment later he was rubbing cream into her backside and the top of her legs. The twinge of embarrassment she had suffered faded fast as the ache eased. She closed her eyes and listened to Callum wash his hands before joining her on the pallet he had set up. Then she realized there was still the feel of air wafting over her backside.

“Callum?” She started to reach back but he caught her hand.

“Nay, leave it for a while. Ye go covering everything up now and it will take off the cream. I will just lie here and admire your pretty backside until the cream has dried.”

She groaned. “Ye are a rogue, Callum.”

“Go to sleep, Bethoc. Ye need your rest. Dinnae fret”—he bent down and kissed her cheek and she could feel him smiling against her skin—“I will be sure to cover ye up properly before I go to sleep.”

Since she was half asleep already, she made no argument, although she fully intended to make him pay for this later.

* * *

The ride to her house was nowhere as near as long as the one the day before and Bethoc was highly grateful for that. The cream had helped but it was not perfect and she badly wished to get out of the saddle. Then she noticed Callum had stopped and was looking not at her house but up the trail to the cave.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nay,” he answered. “'Tis just that there is only one horse at your house, which means the others are at the cave.”

“And ye wish to have a word with them.”

“Well, aye, just a wee talk to plan the ride home.”

“Go,” she said. “I will go to the house and see how the boys and Margaret are.”

“They might be at the cave too.”

“Then Robbie's horse wouldnae be there. He would only stay if one of the children did.”

“Ah, true. All right then, I will go up to the cave and have a talk with the others. Ye can send Robbie up there if he wishes it or I will see ye in a while.”

To her surprise, he gave her a kiss farewell before he rode off. Touching her mouth, she then shook her head and rode toward the house. It concerned her a little when no one came out to greet her as she rode up.

Bethoc dismounted and cautiously walked into the house. Then she saw Robbie. She was relieved until she saw that he was tied to a chair. Frantically, she looked around but could not see any of the children.

“Run,” Robbie said.

“I should free you.”

“Run.”

The urgency in the soft word finally reached her and she spun around. She was running for the door when a shadowy figure stepped into the doorway. Stopping quickly, she wondered which way to run next and wondered who she was running from. The rancid smell assaulting her nose told her she was about to face someone very dangerous.

“Weel, weel, look who has come home.”

Shock almost stole her ability to move as the man stepped into the light, but sheer determination to survive kept her backing up until the next step back would land her in poor Robbie's lap. Angus Keddie looked wretched. His clothes were filthy, his hair was a snarled, dirty mess, and he smelled as if he had not bathed since they last saw him. It did not hide the smell of rot in him, however. There was a look in his eyes that terrified her. She knew it was madness.

“I thought ye would be hanged or in jail now,” she said, desperately trying to decide where to run and if there was any way she could help Robbie.

“That is where I have been,” he replied. “In jail. But I grew weary of it. Ye shouldnae have put me there.”

“Ye put yourself there. Ye killed men and women who had done naught wrong.”

“Do ye ken what it is to be the youngest of four sons? Ye get naught. Ye are always the last to be thought of. Weel, I decided I deserved something as much as my brothers did and I went after it.”

Oh, good, she thought frantically, he wanted to talk and she wondered how long she could keep him talking. “So ye decided to steal it all from innocent people.”

“Why should they have pieces of my father's lands while I get nothing?”

“Because they paid for it?”

“They had no right. No right at all.”

“So how did ye decide on who to kill and who to leave alone?”

“Curious little thing, arenae ye. Weel, it willnae matter what ye learn for ye and that big idiot in the chair will soon be dead.”

“So tell me.”

“First I found out who had been gifted land. 'Tis astonishing how much my grandfather gave away. So generous, people said he was. He was a fool! Ye dinnae hand land out to peasants as if it was a treat for being a good servant. So what if someone saved his son. So he should! That is their job!” He shook his head. “There were several other
gifts
I meant to retrieve but I couldnae kill the fools.”

“They didnae trust ye or your minions?”

“They were ne'er alone.”

“Ye didnae have to kill the wives.”

“Oh, my dear, but of course I did. They would have been widows. I found out a long time back that they dinnae sell out just because they are alone now. And I needed someone to be the killer.”

He sounded so calm, so eminently reasonable as he talked of his mad plan. It was as if he considered the people who had been gifted with Keddie land or bought it nothing but thieves. He could talk all he wanted and Bethoc knew she would never fully understand. Innocent people had been killed because he was disappointed in what he would receive from his father when the older man died.

Somehow she had to get away from the man but she had no idea how. Nor did she know how to get Robbie free yet she could not leave him behind. She was looking around the room as cautiously as she could when she caught sight of a movement beneath her bed. Her heart pounding with the fear that it might be one of the children, she tried to keep a watch on it without appearing to.

“Ye never said how ye got out of jail,” she said.

“What does
that
matter? Weel, if ye must ken, it was my brother Keith's fault.” He smiled and held his knife out as if pointing at her. “Came to visit me. Keith was always a fool. Big of heart, short on wit. Couldnae believe I could do what was said, wanted me to deny it or tell him why. Told him I didnae ken.” He laughed and it made Bethoc feel cold. “Then acted all broken and sorry. Acted like I was trying to cut my wrist open on the bedpost, which was iron then picked up a piece of wood and was trying to stab myself. The fool thought I was really trying to kill myself.” He laughed again and Bethoc prayed nothing would amuse him again for it was a horrible sound. “Fool bent o'er me and I caught him in my legs then strangled him. So here I am. Here to finish a wee bit of business before I run.”

“Ye killed your own brother?” She chanced a glance under the bed but saw nothing and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Aye, and now I mean to kill ye and that big fool in the chair.”

“Wait! What did ye do with the children of the people ye killed?”

“Dumped them on the streets of the next village. Probably too young to survive but”—he shrugged—“stupid people breed like bloody rabbits.”

“They were just bairns!”

Bethoc blinked and tried not to look at Robbie when she heard those whispered words. “Nay a kill to be proud of,” she said, struggling to think of a way to get him in the position she assumed Robbie wanted. “Just toss them aside and let nature do the work for ye.” If the narrow-eyed look he was giving her was any indication, she had succeeded in getting his mind off how many ways he could boast of his cleverness.

He lunged for her and she darted out of the way. The knife he held was long and looked sharp but she tried not to be distracted by it. As she waited for him to make his next lunge she tried to think of how many more times she needed him to move then decided it was useless. She could not plan what move he would take. He lunged again as she barely got out of the way in time, the knife slicing her skirts. For a moment he actually chased her but finally stopped. As she faced him again she realized she finally had him with his back to Robbie but was he close enough? To her surprise she discovered the fool was winded from the short chase.