CHAPTER Ten
From his study, Thomas Wharton watched the messenger’s horse trot up the path to the manor. The clench in his gut told him the man either bore news from Master Denton, still in London, or news as to the whereabouts of his bride.
Samuel entered and cleared his throat. “A missive has arrived, my lord.”
“Good God, man. Don’t hover. Show the messenger in.”
“Right away, my lord.” Samuel beckoned with a wave of his hand. “Mr. Elliot from Edinburgh.”
Wearing a pair of leather breeches with a matching doublet and feathered cap, Elliot looked to be an aspiring gentleman. “I was told to deliver this with haste, my lord.”
Wharton snatched the parchment and examined the note. By the crumpled edges, the missive was well traveled. He held the seal up to the light. Damn, a blank. “How did you come by this?”
“A rather gruff Highlander paid me quite handsomely. Said I was to return with your reply.”
“You hail from Edinburgh?”
“Aye.”
Wharton ran his thumb under the seal and stared at the black scrawl—the terms of his wife’s ransom. “Blast the bastards to hell.” He slammed the missive on his desk and eyed the messenger.
Mr. Elliot removed his cap and held it in both hands. “The…the Highlander told me to pay an Englishman to deliver it to you, but I thought it would be expedient to deliver it myself.”
Wharton smirked. A Lowlander, eh? He’d probably pocketed the money intended for the English runner. But that didn’t matter. Aside from a few shillings, he’d have no loyalty to the man who paid him. Wharton moved to his sideboard. “Would you care for a tot of brandy?”
“That would be too kind, milord.”
“Not at all.” Wharton gestured to the red velvet divan. “Please, have a seat. I’ve a business proposition for you.”
***
Isabelle, the little girl who Anne had picked up and carried into the keep the first day she arrived, hung on Anne’s every word. She and a handful of other children sat wide eyed at a table in the hall while Anne pointed to a parchment upon which she’d drawn the alphabet.
“Repeat after me. A is for apple.”
The children repeated with a lilting Scottish burr.
“B is for ball, and what does C stand for?”
“Calum!”
Bran pushed through the oak doors and ran up to Anne, his brown curls jostling. “Lady Anne, are ye ready to go falconing with the laird?”
“Bran? You should be attending these lessons. It is important for a young squire to read.”
Bran glanced at the parchment. “Och aye, but no’ today. Calum’s waiting for ye in the stable.”
“He’s finally ready to go find a fledgling?”
“Aye, and I’ll be yer chaperone.” His hands flew to his hips as freckles bunched around his nose with his grin.
Anne smiled at the boy’s exuberance. She wondered if he understood the importance of his role. “Will you protect me from evil lurkers?”
“Evil what?” Bran furrowed his brow. “I don’t think we’ve any evil lookers on Raasay.”
She opened her mouth to correct him, but changed her mind. “Very well, I’ll fetch my cloak and be down momentarily.”
Anne dismissed the children and skipped up the stairs, thrilled to be getting out of the keep and into some fresh air. She bundled her hair into a forest green snood which matched her dress, and donned a pair of brown leather gloves. At last she would be able to see more of this isle in the wild north.
Calum met them outside the stables with a devilish grin lighting up his face. “Would ye like to see me island, milady?”
She clapped her hands together. “I could think of nothing more invigorating on this lovely day.”
He even had a sorrel mare fitted with a sidesaddle, bridled and waiting. He stepped up and placed a hand upon her waist. With a gasp, Anne scooted back. The touch of his fingers sent sparks across her skin—right there in broad daylight.
“Apologies, milady. May I assist ye to mount yer pony?”
She looked for Bran. The lad was already in his saddle and had started up the trail. Fine chaperone he would be. “Yes, of course, but I’d prefer to use the mounting block.”
Calum held out his hand and she climbed the two steps. Once they were both mounted, Calum led her to the trail head at a slow walk.
“What about Bran? He’s lengths ahead.”
“The lad kens where we’re going. If he doesna hold up, we’ll see him at the loch.”
She should insist they catch up with him, but she wanted to enjoy the day. Following Calum at a leisurely gait, Anne walked her pony up the rocky path that led north and west of Brochel Castle. “My, ’tis rugged country.”
“Aye. The growing season is short and we’ve no’ much in the way of good soil for crops, but we’re making a go of it.”
Anne thought of the Flying Swan. “Do you think there will come a time when you no longer need to plunder English ships?”
“English? Aye.” Calum arched an eyebrow. “I hope we dunna have to do that again, honestly.”
“’Tis good to hear.”
“I’ll no’ give a promise for the Spaniards, though. Word has it Captain Hawkins is the only one plundering the silver Spain’s taking from the Americas. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that.”
Anne smirked. “Is that the way of the world? The natives mine the silver, Spain steals it, and England takes it from them?”
“Perhaps so. Even the crusades were more about conquering people and pillaging their lands than it was about freeing the Holy Land.”
“Hmm. My father had a silver urn handed down through generations. He said our ancestors brought it back from Tunis during the crusades.”
“It must be something—growing up under the roof of an earl.”
“I suppose. We never wanted for anything.” Anne ran the reins through her gloved hands. “But Father’s death was a tragedy all the same.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“A year after I was born, King Henry appointed father principal secretary of state. After, Mother said she would conceive every time he came home from court. He was rarely around, but Mother always managed to be with child.”
“So you have a large family?”
“Three brothers and four sisters, though two of the boys died in infancy. I’m the second sister. Elizabeth, the eldest, wed Thomas Radcliffe.” Anne looked at Calum to see if he recognized the name. “He’s the third Earl of Sussex.”
Calum let out a high-pitched whistle. “An earl for yer sister and a baron for you, aye?”
The same old musket hole stretched Anne’s heart again. “Elizabeth actually had the pleasure of being courted.”
“And why no’ you? Were ye no’ presented at court?”
“Alas, no. Father passed before I came of age and then I was needed in Southampton. Aside from Elizabeth, I am the eldest living child. My brother, Henry, was sent to my uncle for his fostering and I remained behind to ensure the estate prospered.”
“Was that the same uncle who arranged yer marriage?”
A lump stuck in her throat. “Yes.” Anne tapped her heel against the pony, urging the mare into a canter. With the wind in her face she let herself laugh. For the first time in months, she felt free. She didn’t want to think about the future and she didn’t want to think about pirates or barons or a sister who had married a fetching young earl.
Calum cantered up beside her. “Ye handle your mount well.”
“Did you think I would not?”
“Nay. Being born on the mainland, ye would have had a need to ride.” He pointed. “Bran’s up ahead. There’s a clearing that looks over an inland loch.”
“I’ll race you.” Anne grasped her riding crop and slapped it against the mare’s hindquarters. She laughed as her mount lurched forward, giving her a head start. Calum dashed up beside her on his bay stallion, but slowed his pace to match hers. They pulled the ponies to a stop. “You let me win.”
Calum ran his hand along the coarse neck of his Highland steed. “Did I?”
She now understood why Bran had ridden ahead. He’d spread a blanket over the grass and in the center sat a lovely basket, a flagon and three brass goblets. Beyond it, the slope opened to a pool of water, edged by ferns and willow trees.
Calum jumped down from his mount and raised his arms up to Anne. “May I help ye dismount?”
His eyes sparkled like blue crystals in the sunlight. Her tongue flicked out and tapped her teeth. With a stutter of her heart, she reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders.
Calum’s fingers clamped around her waist and he drew her to him. Anne gasped when her breasts pressed against his hard chest. He held her there for a moment while he took in a deep breath, then slid her down his body until Anne’s feet touched ground.
She slipped her hands to his upper arms, as firm as granite under her grasp. Wanting to touch more of him, she squeezed his muscles tighter.
Calum’s hands tightened around her waist.
She glanced at the blanket and food awaiting them. “If I didn’t know better, I would guess you sent young Bran ahead so the luncheon would be ready when we arrived.”
“Aye, of course he did milady,” Bran said before Calum could defend himself.
Calum released her and stepped back. “It made sense to me to have the picnic all ready when ye got here—and who better to prepare it than the chaperone?”
Rather than take issue with his specious reasoning, Anne sat on the blanket. It would have been inconvenient for Calum to ask someone appropriate, such as Friar Pat, to escort them. The friar wouldn’t bend to Calum’s whims. But Bran, on the other hand, would do anything to find favor with his laird.
“How old were you when you came to Raasay?” Anne asked.
Calum reclined on his elbow while Bran found a seat on a nearby rock. “One and twenty.”
“What was it like? Did you strut onto the beach, stick your pennant into the ground, and tell the clan you were their chieftain?”
“Something like that, but I had an entourage from Lewis. Me da and me older brother were with me.”
“Did the people accept you or did you have to earn their trust?”
“Och, I had to earn it right enough.” Calum uncorked the flagon and poured a goblet of for Anne and then one for Bran and another for himself. “But me da’s gift of the Sea Dragon softened them a bit. Once we started rebuilding the keep, everyone came ’round.”
Anne pulled the cloth off the basket, reached in for a parcel and unwrapped it. Smoked herring—a staple for the MacLeod’s. She broke the bread and they ate.
As daintily as possible, she swirled the herring in her mouth and muted the fishy taste with a bite of bread. Anne fidgeted as Calum’s gaze never strayed from her face. She needed a diversion from the yearning his attentions stirred.
Looking up at the sky, she searched for birds and heard the screech before she spotted its source. A magnificent golden eagle soared over the rocky terrain. “Look—there’s an eagle.”
Calum sat up and followed her line of sight. “I kent we’d see them.” He flicked his wrist at Bran. “Go follow it lad, and see if ye can find its nest.”
Bran’s face fell. “But I haven’t finished me luncheon.”
“Ye can take it along.”
Bran groused under his breath as he shoved a handful of herring in his mouth and washed it down with a hearty gulp of ale. Then he headed off.
“There’s a good lad,” Calum called after him.
Anne tapped a finger to her lips. “You drive the boy awfully hard.”
“Aye? With his da gone, someone has to ensure he grows up to be a MacLeod. No milk-livered men will last in this clan.”
Anne eyed his firm jawline and trailed her gaze down Calum’s sturdy neck. She had little doubt his words rang true. Raasay was no place for the faint of heart.
He inched toward her and ran a finger over the back of her hand. Anne’s skin tingled. How could the hands of such a vigorous man be so gentle? She’d watched him wield his claymore with forceful power, and no man on the island could best him, yet with her he could be so tender. She closed her eyes, giving in to the thrill of his touch. How she wished she’d never attended the queen’s coronation.
“How did yer uncle become mixed up with the likes of Wharton?” Calum asked, as if he’d heard her thoughts.
Anne’s eyes flew open. “I don’t pretend to know what goes on between the dealings of men, but they’re both members of the House of Lords. I imagine they met there.”
Calum straightened the blanket, and gazed to the dark blue loch that pooled at the bottom of the hill.
Anne leaned into him. “I thought Uncle had forgotten about me—at least I hoped he had. I assumed myself too valuable to the estate. And Mother needed me. I-I could have died when I was called to the parlor and he presented me with the decree.”
“Ye weren’t even consulted?”
“No. Upon my father’s death, the king granted my uncle full power over me—all the children. The same plight could befall my younger sisters.”
“But couldna ye say no?”
“And suffer the wrath of my queen…Put in jeopardy my family’s name?”
His finger resumed its light caressing. “’Tis an unsettled world in which we live.”
Anne bent forward and pressed the heel of her free hand against her forehead. “Yes, and it seems a mere maid is of no significance in it.”
Calum sat up and cupped her face in his hands. “Ye cannot say that. Ye are no mere lass. Ye are tender hearted—Look how ye’ve helped with the keep and the children. You’re the most beautiful and caring woman I have ever laid eyes upon.”
His gaze bore through to her soul, the connection so intense, a yearning swelled from her breasts to her core. In a blink, Calum’s eyes lowered to her lips.
Anne’s breath quickened. Oh how deeply she wished to feel his mouth over hers. “I cannot sleep at night, for the memory of your lips upon mine is burned into my heart.”
Calum brushed his lips across hers. Anne moaned as his tongue entered her mouth. Tasting spicy male, her heart raced. She laced her fingers through his silken hair, and Calum leaned into her. Heart thundering in her ears, Anne pushed into his kisses with unbridled passion. This could be the only chance she would ever have to feel the caress of a young, virile man, to be held by conditioned arms that could fight for her, protect her.
With his hand supporting her back, he laid her down. “Nor can I sleep for the memory of ye, milady.”
Anne relaxed into the blanket. Calum’s feathery kisses cascaded down the length of her neck. Then lower. Anne arched her back. He parted her cloak and swirled his tongue over the flesh above her bodice. Her breathing ragged, her heart racing, all that existed was Calum’s seducing lips. Her breasts filled with longing, then his finger dipped below her bodice and stroked a taut nipple. She wanted to cry out with the tingling that rippled across her skin.
“No, Calum.” Somehow she forced an ill-timed, throaty whisper.
An unwanted tickle in the back of her mind chimed a warning. Kissing, yes, but she should not allow this. She took in a deep breath and pressed against his chest. “We cannot.”
Calum pulled away, his brow furrowed and his eyes dark and drawn as if she’d plunged her father’s dagger into his heart. “But why? I ken ye like it by the way ye respond.”
She sat up and scooted away. “’Tis not a question of how my body responds.” If only he would understand. “I want to kiss you and lock away the memory in my heart for all the years I’ll be cloistered with a man old enough to be my grandfather.”
He fingered her veil. “I promise I will no’ take your innocence, but let me show you love.”
Anne stared into his eyes. The honesty there assured her his words were true. She wanted this—wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She let him pull her into his embrace and met his lips while the raging storm in her loins coiled with a fire so intense, she feared restlessness had taken up permanent residence.
Bran crashed through the woods and skidded onto the blanket. “I found the nest—but we’ll have a difficult time reaching it. I think we need wings.”
Calum quickly pulled away, and Anne brushed her fingers across her mouth looking anywhere but at their chaperone. The memory of Calum’s lips singed her flesh as if they were still upon her. She closed her eyes and wished they did not have to stop. Whatever it was that continually sparked between them stirred a desire neither could resist. But Calum had vowed not to take her innocence, and she fully trusted the laird to honor his word.
***
Calum never should have kissed her breasts. Every time they were alone, he lost control. If Bran had not arrived when he did, Calum would have had Anne’s skirts up around her waist. His wayward urgings be damned. How often did he need to remind himself she was never meant to be his?
“Bran—Help Lady Anne mount her pony.”
Both the lad and Anne gaped at him, but Calum turned his attention to adjusting his stallion’s girth. “Me saddle was slipping a bit.” It was a fib, but a necessary one to regain his composure.
Calum couldn’t bring himself to place his hands on the lady’s waist just now. Images of her stuttered breathing and flushed skin beneath his lips were too vivid and raw. His lips still burned with the sensation of her silken skin, ripe and yielding to his kisses.
He watched Bran try to lift her by the waist. Though a strapping lad, he had nowhere near enough strength, and Anne caught herself on his shoulders before they both sprawled over backwards. Calum resisted his urge to dash to her side and sweep her into his arms. Red as a cherry, Bran brushed himself off. He resorted to cupping his hands while he bent down to give her a leg up—like he should have done in the first place.
Once in the saddle, Anne shot Calum a look that cut his heartstrings. She snapped her head forward and whipped her cloak over her shoulder. Calum clamped his fist around his reins and held his pony back. “Lead on, Bran.” He’d bring up the rear for a time until his blood cooled.
With the wind at his face, it wasn’t long before the lump in his stomach eased. He hoped they would find this fledgling. It would provide amusement for Lady Anne, and with so many birds nesting on the island, using raptors to hunt would offer yet another source of food for his clan.
Bran trotted his horse faster and pointed to a rocky crag. “Up there.”
The rock was high and jagged. Calum could see the white excrement staining the cliff, a telltale sign of a nesting bird. He rode in beside Bran and studied the cliff. “If we can climb to that ledge, ye might be able to reach it if ye stand on me shoulders.”
Anne let out a soft whistle. “It looks rather dangerous to me.”
“Bran and I can do it, but ye’ll need to stay with the ponies.”
“What if you fall?”
Calum couldn’t resist a wink. “Well now, I’ll no longer have cause to be dragging meself through a bog of guilt every time me wayward eyes glance yer way.”
Bran gave him a crooked smile. Anne looked at her hands. He didn’t think she’d come up with a quick rebuke—but she did. “I’ll not have you risk your neck for me or for a fledgling.”
“Very well, I’ll risk my neck for me then.” Calum hopped off his mount and took a step to help Anne, but she slid off her mare on her own. He hobbled the ponies and started up toward crag. “Come, Bran.”
With Calum’s first step, rocks crumbled beneath his foot. He stood back and examined his intended path. “Mayhap if we circle around the side, we’ll find better footing.”
They hiked over to the spot Calum had seen. Unfortunately, the ancient rock crumbled there too. He glanced down the hill toward Anne. She shaded her eyes with her hand and watched them.
Calum ground his back molars. He was going to climb this rock if it took the rest of the afternoon.
Once they got started, Calum found footholds with relative ease but they ran into an impasse once they climbed to the ledge. The lip jutted out, feet from his grasp. Calum drummed his fingers as he teetered on a boulder. He reached for his dirk. “The rock’s soft enough, I can chip out a few notches for me feet. I’ll climb the wall and hoist meself up on the ledge, then I’ll hang over and pull ye up.”
“Are ye sure, Calum?” Bran looked up at him from below, his face smudged with dirt. “Ye could fall.”
Calum palmed his dirk. “Yer like a fat, lazy MacKenzie with yer bellyaching. Och, ye climb the rigging up to the crow’s nest. ’Tis no’ much different to this bit ‘o rock.”
“Beg yer pardon. The stone just doesna seem as forgiving as a netted rope.”
Calum slammed the dirk into the stone. “Silence yer tongue. I’ll catch that fledgling if I have to do it alone.”
“Given all this effort, I hope the wee bird hasn’t flown the nest.”
Calum shot the boy a glare. With the little naysayer below and the sharp-tongued lassie watching, he must find a way up to that ledge, no question.