Highland Chieftain (17 page)

“I ken I have only smelled it once as 'tis so rare and expensive, but, aye. Cinnamon at certain times.”

“What times?”

“Weel, like now.”

“Ah, when I am feeling amorous. Do ye think everyone smells different at such times?”

“How would I ken that?” she asked, her words muffled as he yanked off her chemise. “I have ne'er done it before ye, ne'er even kissed, and certainly ne'er seen any others doing it.”

“Ah, of course. Still, 'tis an interesting thought. An intriguing question.”

“One I believe I could go a verra long time without answering.”

She realized their clothing was now scattered about the room. Callum got up to pull down the covers on the bed. Bethoc was so fascinated by watching his naked form as he moved, he was in bed and watching her while she still perched on top of the covers. Also naked, she realized in shock, and scrambled to get beneath the covers.

“Like watching me naked, eh?” Callum teased as he pulled her into his arms.

“Of course not. I am just continually astonished at your utter lack of modesty.”

He laughed and kissed her. Bethoc clung to him as he skillfully stole her wits with his kiss. It was something she hoped he never discovered.

She stretched luxuriously as he kissed his way down her body. For a time he honored her breasts with his hands and mouth. She clutched at his shoulders when he took her nipple deep into his mouth and sucked, then lightly nipped it. The feel of that light pain shot straight to the core of her.

Bethoc lost herself in the pleasure he gave her, in the delight she felt as she caressed his back, the sides of his hips, and even his buttocks. The stroke of his hands warmed her. His kisses made her heart race and her body ache for him. The heady scent of cinnamon soon surrounded her.

Then his kisses reached that spot between her legs and she tensed. She reached down to grab his hair and pull him away but in the time it took her to do that, the shock that had briefly checked her passion faded and her desire rose so fast it left her dizzy. Bethoc wove her fingers into his hair and held him where he was.

She became aware of him running his hands over her legs. Strangely that touch soothed even as what he was doing with his mouth drove her wild. When he slid two fingers inside her, he then did something with his tongue that caused her raging desire to rapidly erupt and she cried out his name as pleasure swept her away.

Callum gave her no time to catch her breath. He kissed his way back up her body, his fingers still teasing her. Bethoc was stunned by how swiftly her passion stirred back to life. She was trembling with need by the time he touched his mouth to hers.

“Bethoc,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek. “Mine.”

“And are ye mine?” she asked quietly, amazed she was able to form words.

“I do believe I am,” he said as he slowly joined their bodies. “So, are ye mine?”

Bethoc tensed briefly at his question then relaxed, wrapping her arms and legs around him. “Aye, I rather thought I said so by coming here.” He was moving so leisurely she was astonished to feel her desire sparking into full life, especially after it had been satisfied so recently and thoroughly.

“Such bonnie breasts,” he murmured before kissing them.

His soft flattery made her blush even as his hands and mouth roused the need she had thought had gone quiet. She slid her hands down to cup his buttocks, enjoying the feel of them flexing as he moved. Then he slipped his hand between their bodies and touched her, lightly stroked that part of her that made her crazed.

Callum watched as Bethoc struggled to hang on and then fell. He felt her body tighten around him and swiftly joined her in that blissful descent, his release so powerful it left him shaking. For a long moment he held himself steady over her, kissed her, and struggled to regain his senses. When he finally left her, he rolled onto his back and pulled her limp, panting body into his arms. He had lasted longer this time, he thought with a smile.

“Ah, lass, ye are going to make me old before my time,” he teased and she laughed, warming his chest with her breath.

Bethoc kissed his chest and said, “Weel, at least ye will have a verra elegant walking stick.”

He lightly slapped her bottom. “Wretch. So, how do ye like my rooms?”

Propping herself up on one arm and resting her chin on her hand, she looked around the room and then back at him. “They are quite grand.”

“I thought so too, when I first came here. Had a moment of panic.”

She laughed. “So did I.” She looked around again. “So rich and large.”

“Aye. So I thought. And when my grandfather died and I realized he had named me his heir”—he shook his head—“it took all I could muster nay to hide under this grand bed, hide from everyone who was now looking to me, to Callum the street brat, to be their laird.”

“There is nay wrong with a street brat. 'Tis just a child tossed aside most times.”

Callum took a deep breath. He had to tell her. She had a right to know what kind of man she was with, he thought as he slowly let that breath out, reaching for calm. There were times when it affected his behavior, though not as often as it used to. There were times when the dreams would come and he would wake to find himself trembling and hiding in some small, dark place. He still checked for places to hide or escape through whenever he visited a place. His rage could sometimes swamp him when he found a broken child, one who had suffered as he had.

Then there were the knives. She had not noticed yet because he was careful to remove them when there was even the smallest chance she would be close enough for her to know he had them. It was not normal to carry so many knives.

He grimaced. The ones who had beaten him had taken his knives but he had gotten most of them back. That was the moment he had started wearing them again.

“Bethoc, ye do ken I was a bit more than just a street rat, aye?” he said.

“I ken something bad happened after the mon ye mentioned, the bad one, took ye in.”

“He liked young boys.” The way she caught her breath, lifting her head even as her eyes widened, told him she had quickly grasped what he meant. “He got them when they were small, from the streets, from some trusting parents who thought to give their bairn a better life, and from an orphanage. Then he trained them to, weel, accept his ways. Punishment was harsh. E'en for his wife. And when they got too old, he often just killed them.”

“That is why ye look hard at any who want one of your ‘lambs' as Uven called them.”

“Aye, verra hard. Some who come here have already suffered so I have to be verra careful placing them.”

She stroked his cheek. “But ye got away.”

“Aye, thanks to Kirstie and Payton Murray. They fought for us, for me, Robbie, Simon, and the others. It was a long hard fight, too. Then I found my grandfather and all this.”

“Did they kill him?” she asked in a hard voice. “Did they kill the mon who hurt so many children?”

“Aye, we killed him. Actually Simon did. He was only twelve but we dinnae think he suffered much for it. The mon had killed his father, beaten him and threatened his wee sister—Brenda.”

“Your cook?”

He grinned. “Aye. She loves cooking so I let her be ours when the old cook died.”

“I am glad it all turned out weel but I am verra glad Simon killed the mon. I suspicion he would have smelled terrible. Probably like rotting meat.”

“Aye. But, Bethoc, I am telling ye this because ye have the right to ken what kind of mon ye have accepted into your bed.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Weel, I am soiled. I am nay all this but a feral child, abused and . . .” He halted when she clapped her hand over his mouth.

“What ye being right now is an idiot. Ye are Callum. Aye, ye were a street lad and all that other horror, but ye are nay now. Ye have become Callum who rescues the wee ones who need it, some women, too, and tries to find them homes and a good life. Ye are a laird and e'en in this short time I can see that the people here like ye in that place just fine. I grieve for that child ye were but ye are nay him now.”

He moved her hand. “He slips back,” he confessed softly. “I carry a lot of knives on me at all times. I can get blindly angry. I wake from dreams, nightmares of my time with him and am hiding in a small, dark place, trembling like a wee bairn. Not as much as I used to but it could still happen.”

“Then when ye feel those dreams grab ye, ye just grab me and hold on.”

He just stared at her. Her eyes held nothing but softness and, he thought, as much understanding as anyone who had not suffered as he had could have, and acceptance. Callum felt a stinging in his eyes that told him he was close to weeping like a woman and smiled.

“Aye, I will do that,” he said, and hugged her.

Chapter Seventeen

Wiping the sweat from her face, Bethoc studied the garden she and the boys had finally finished. It was too late to plant anything but a good area was ready for the spring. She was just not sure if they would be at Whytemont then, or might be ready to leave it. The chill of fall was already in the air too often.

“'Tis a fine garden,” said Liam as he sat down beside her. “'Tis a shame it cannae be planted yet. I am a wee bit surprised they didnae have one.”

“It fell into disuse when the laird took ill. By the time he died, and the old cook soon followed him, it was gone, and no one had much interest in bringing it back when they could get all they needed in the village.” She frowned. “I didnae think, but this could cost the villagers. They must be making a nice profit from the manor.”

“And they still will,” said Callum as he moved next to Bethoc and crouched down beside her. “We have a lot of mouths to feed. My cook, Brenda, is verra pleased to see this, and has a lot of ideas about what she would like to see planted.”

After hasty excuses, the boys ran off to the kitchen to speak to Brenda and Bethoc turned to Callum. “Are ye certain?”

“Oh, aye.” He sat down beside her. “I suspicion by spring she will have more than enough for the boys to plant. 'Tis verra precise,” he murmured, looking at the neatly raised garden beds with neat paths running between them. “They like doing this sort of thing, dinnae they.”

“Aye, more than they have e'er liked working in the fields. 'Tis why I asked if we could do it. I could sense they missed the work. They like working in the dirt, making something, weel, pretty. They saw this at a monastery they snuck into and liked it. The monk that found them creeping about told them a lot, once he realized their interest. He e'en came to the house a few times to see what they were doing.”

“Boys that like to make gardens,” he murmured, and shook his head. “They want to be farmers?”

“I dinnae ken but I dinnae think so. As I said, they dinnae really like working in the big fields. Yet . . .” She frowned. “Liam smells like the earth a bit.”

“Only a bit? What of the other lads?”

“Too young. I dinnae feel or smell anything about a person until they are an adult. Weel, unless there is something verra wrong with them.” Then she noticed his legs. “Ye took Colin's boot off.”

“Aye. Leg is fine, just a wee bit weak.” He stretched his legs out. “Looks better though.”

Bethoc took a minute to quickly check the area where his bone had been broken, then sat back down. “I believe it is healed but I suspicion 'tis a wee bit weak. Ye should still be cautious with it, I think.”

“I am and will be. I just remind myself how I hated sitting round or trying to hobble about on one leg. Nay a thing I want to do again.”

“Callum!” Simon hurried over. “That fool Graham is back wanting his grandson.”

Callum cursed and got to his feet. He took Bethoc's hand and tugged her up after him. Not only did he not want Graham at Whytemont, the man had just ruined his plans to get Bethoc alone for a while. He marched off with Simon, belatedly realizing he was towing Bethoc with him. Just as he was about to apologize for that he recalled her strange ability and decided she might well prove a help.

Bethoc stared at the large man being held at sword point by two of Callum's guards. He was at least fifty, probably older, but his body held as much muscle as fat. His face was square with small eyes, or ones made so by the anger he made no effort to hide, and his mouth had a cruel twist to it. The look the man gave Callum chilled her for it told her he would like nothing more than running Cathan through with a sword. She stepped closer to Callum, a little afraid for him.

“Ye have nay right to keep my grandson from me,” said the man, his voice coldly calm, which made Bethoc even more afraid.

“His mother is here with him,” said Callum. “She is the one who has chosen to stay away from ye.”

“Stupid cow,” he snapped. “She kills my son . . .”

“Now, Graham, that is nay what I heard. Heard your son didnae want ye coming round to his cottage and ye beat him. T'was those kicks to the head ye gave him after he was down that killed him. Ye are lucky ye havenae been hanged. Ye would be if I had more than a little boy and a woman to speak out against ye.”

“She made him say those things! She also lies. I didnae kick him in the head, either.”

“Ah, my mistake. Ye stomped on his head all the while yelling how he wouldnae look like his mother anymore. When she tried to stop ye, ye knocked her into a wall. She and the boy ran to me. So, nay, ye will nay see the boy or his mother. If for no other reason than that she still grieves for your son. A true shame that. Ye actually had something good and ye killed it.”

The man lunged at Callum only to be halted by the swords of his guards. “Ye may be the laird here but ye still have nay right to keep that boy from me.”

“I do. His mother has sought shelter here and the boy is with her.”

Graham stepped closer and Bethoc could not stop herself from softly gagging. Callum glanced her way but she had her hand over her mouth and nose. Her face revealed nothing that was telling concerning her emotions. This was not a situation that would leave her looking so placid.

Noticing that his guards were arguing with the man, Callum leaned closer to Bethoc and whispered, “A smell?”

“Like a rotting corpse but it could be that he is ill,” she whispered back.

“Bad smell, bad mon.”

“Aye, and I do, desperately, want to run away from him.”

She huddled closer to him when he put his arm around her. Callum stood, frowning in thought, his gaze suddenly fixing on the stables. Bethoc looked that way to see what had caught his attention and could see what appeared to be a woman peering out. Callum moved his arm and, after a quick glance at Graham, made a shooing motion at the woman.

Bethoc looked back at Graham while Callum had a silent argument with the woman and Simon started to head over to her. At that moment the man abruptly overpowered the guard. She opened her mouth to say something only to see the man snatch up a sword from one of the guards and lunge for Callum.

“Nay!” Bethoc cried as she moved to shove Callum out of the way even as he started to turn.

Callum reached for Bethoc just as Graham finished his lunge, his sword penetrating Bethoc's side. He caught her in his arms as Simon stepped past them. Callum watched his friend take one swing of his sword, neatly separating Graham's head from his body.

“Bethoc!” Callum said, suddenly afraid he had misjudged the place where the sword struck her.

“I have been stabbed!” she said and, despite the weakness in her voice, she sounded outraged.

He picked her up, wincing when she cried out in pain. His hand was beneath the wound and he could feel her blood soaking through. “We will get ye fixed up first,” he promised, sighing with relief when he saw several women rushing after him as he hurried up the stairs to his bedchamber.

“Oh, nay!” she cried, coming awake as he was about to lay her down on the bed. “I will bleed on it.”

“Here, I have something to put under her.” Brenda bustled over to lay down a thick layer of dark blankets. “Now set her down.”

Callum did so and then frowned at Brenda. “Ye are the cook.”

“I ken it but I was a healer for these people ere that. Worked with a good one before that, too.” She sliced Bethoc's gown on her wounded side and parted the material. “Having any trouble breathing, Bethoc?” she asked.

“Nay.” She took several breaths and let them out. “None.”

“Then he didnae get your lung. Didnae poke your heart, either, or ye would be bleeding out right now.”

“How do ye ken that?”

“Simon had the thought of going to war. Couldnae allow him to go alone, aye? Saw a lot of different wounds. Remembered them all. Now, afraid what comes next is going to hurt.” Brenda stood up and went to wash her hands.

“Bethoc, what were ye thinking?” Callum asked as he sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand.

“That ye were about to be stabbed in the heart from behind?”

He glanced down at her wound. “Actually, I suspicion he was aiming lower. My liver, mayhap.”

Brenda showed up beside Callum and nudged him away. “That wound would have taken your liver or cut into your innards. Bad wound. Bad death. Now, Bethoc, do ye want something to bite on?”

Bethoc glanced up at Callum who nodded, so she nodded at Brenda. A thick piece of leather was put between her teeth. She glanced at the band on her wrist and then at Callum as he sat down beside her. He smiled faintly and, as soon as Brenda urged her onto her side so her wound was facing upward, he clasped her hand. Then Brenda began to work and Bethoc was aware of nothing but the pain until she tumbled into darkness.

“Ah. Good. She has passed out. How did that old fool get a sword?” demanded Brenda as she began to stitch the wound.

“I dinnae ken. The guards were knocked down and then he was lunging for me, sword in hand. I was just turning and, if I had done so, if Bethoc hadnae knocked me out of the way, I could have been gutted. Then Simon arrived and lopped off the fool's head.”

“Ah, mercy.” Brenda sighed. “He had to kill again.”

“He has been in a battle or two, Brenda.”

“I ken it but 'tis different when ye are in the midst of men all fighting to survive.”

He sighed. “Aye, true enough. But I dinnae think Simon will be too troubled by this. The mon did have a sword in his hand, had just stabbed Bethoc, and was still looking to stab me e'en as I sat on the ground with her in my arms.”

“I hope ye are right.” She tied off her stitches, bathed the wound again, and then bandaged it.

“Thank ye, Brenda.”

“Fah, 'tis nay a bother. Fact is, had to near fight the other lassies to get here. She has a big heart, ye ken, and is free with it. When are ye going to wed with her?”

“I should, shouldnae I.” With Brenda's help, he began to undress Bethoc.

“Ye dinnae love her?”

“I dinnae ken. What do I ken of love?” He shrugged and lightly stroked Bethoc's hand.

“Oh, Callum.” She hurried over to the washbowl to clean her hands. “Ye ken a lot. Ye just dinnae ken it. Ye take in women and bairns, ye collect the lost children and find them good homes, and look at the people ye gather round you. Me, Simon, Uven, Robbie. We are nay here just because ye have a bonnie face.” She walked back to the bed in time to help him tuck Bethoc in. “And then there is this lass. Her and her four lads, two back at her home. And that wee verra determined lass. Bethoc came with ye e'en though ye offered her naught but a bed.”

“Weel, mayhap she really likes that bed.”

She shook her head and patted him on the back. “Idiot male. Mayhap ye ought to visit with Payton and Kirstie. There are two people who ken a lot about love and loving.”

Brenda headed to the door but stopped before leaving, looking back at Callum. “Is Robbie e'er coming back?”

“I dinnae ken. There is this lass he fancies and he hopes to win,” he replied, then started and turned to stare at her. “Ye werenae . . .”

“Nay! Oh, I do like him. He has always been there, hasnae he. Always saying ‘I will go with ye,” always watching out for people. I just realized, if he doesnae come back, I will sorely miss him. Is she a good lass?”

“Oh, aye, but she was in prison when Bethoc was and the sheriff and his guards used her harshly.”

“Poor lass. Is she bonnie? Big as he is, Robbie is a fine-looking mon. He deserves a bonnie lass.”

Callum could not help it; he grinned. “Oh, aye, she is bonnie. The kind of bonnie to make a mon stupid. Just made Robbie determined to stay and try his wiles on her.”

“Wiles? Robbie doesnae have any wiles.”

“Nay, and, with this lass, that will work in his favor. Dinnae worry about him, Brenda. It was actually looking good for him before we left.”

Brenda smiled and hurried out. Callum breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there he had been very afraid Brenda had cared for Robbie as more than a friend. He was pleased to avoid that entanglement, more than pleased that Brenda's concern had been no more than that of a friend who wanted Robbie to be happy.

Bethoc made a noise and he took her hand in his again. She did not wake, though, and he studied her carefully. She was pale but that was to be expected. There had been a lot of blood loss but he was no judge as to whether it was too much or not. Callum just wished she was not so small, almost too delicate. He bent over and kissed her forehead.

He was wondering what to do with himself when the door opened and Margaret ran over to him. She climbed up on his lap and stared at Bethoc. Callum wondered just how much he should tell the child.

“Fix?” Margaret said, clutching his hand.

“Brenda fixed her, love. She is just sleeping now.”

“Mon dead.” She ran a finger across her throat and made a grotesque face complete with her tongue hanging out and to the side.

“Aye,” he replied after forcing down the urge to laugh. “He was trying to stab me but Bethoc pushed me out of the way.”

“Bethoc save ye.”

“She did, aye.”

“Good.”

They sat quietly together watching Bethoc sleep. She asked no questions and he decided she knew all she felt she had to. A slight shift in Margaret's weight made him look down at her and he realized she had gone to sleep as well. After debating with himself for a while, he moved to settle the child on Bethoc's unwounded side. Sitting back down, he smiled faintly when Margaret curled up against Bethoc and, even though still sleeping, she put an arm around the child.