CHAPTER Thirty
Calum used the friar’s salve and wrapped his wounds before he slipped out of the chamber at dawn. No matter how much he wanted to, he could not lay abed all morning when there was so much work to be done. He knew the battle from the night before had not passed without losses. He must lead the effort to bury the dead.
Alone, he made it to the beach and stood with his hands on his hips. Most of the dead strewn across the stones were English, though the lead shepherd, Gordon MacLeod, lay nearest his feet. Calum gritted his teeth and forced back his tears. He would show the stoic face of a warrior this day. He bent down and lifted his clansman into his arms and carried him to higher ground where the beach met grass—where they buried their dead. He knelt down and lowered his friend’s body gently, ever so careful to cradle Gordon’s head.
Calum closed Gordon’s sightless eyes. He prayed for his friend’s soul that it would be delivered into the hands of God and this fearless warrior would be accepted through the gates of Heaven and exalted for his bravery. Calum prayed for his clan, for a quick recovery, and gave thanks for those who’d come to his aid. Finally, he thanked God for Anne’s safe return, and prayed for forgiveness that his love for her ran so deeply. A laird should keep himself above such heartfelt emotions, but Anne owned his mind, body and soul. She embodied his need for food, shelter, even his need to breathe the sweet air of Raasay.
When Calum raised his head, his guard had filed onto the beach. In silence they cleaned the carnage, just as they had after other battles, just as their forefathers had done before them. Then the wives came and their cries of agony sent chilled knives of remorse across Calum’s skin as he dug graves beside his men.
Friar Pat led a line of women down the hill. At first he didn’t recognize his Anne, but the golden blonde hair fluttering in the wind, made Calum’s heart skip a beat. She wore a blue kirtle over her shift—the dress of the women of Raasay. Anne carried a wooden bucket and ladle and Mara held a basket. Each woman carried something—baskets of food, shovels, peat, oils—all things they would need to finish the day’s work.
Anne stopped at each man and offered a drink, silently. No one spoke. They honored the dead. Anne stopped at Calum with her eyes lowered and offered him a ladle. His fingers brushed hers when he accepted it, and a flush spread across her cheeks. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but this was not the time. They had to care for the fallen first. Her eyes met his and her tears glistened in the sunlight. Calum wiped his mouth on his sleeve and handed her back the ladle with a nod of thanks. Anne bowed and continued on. Calum watched her. The kirtle hugged her body like a glove. Her hair hung loose down her back and swayed across her shapely bottom as she moved. Calum would speak to the friar when their work was done.
It was late afternoon when the beach was clean and the dead buried. Calum stood beside Anne as the friar chanted the funeral mass. When it was over, silence encapsulated them. The only sound was the rush of waves sliding on and off the beach—just as they had since the beginning of time. In silence, Friar Pat led the procession up the hill. They would mourn until the sun set, and then they would feast and celebrate their victory.
***
After the funeral, Anne needed time to gather her thoughts. She walked through the castle gardens, every step propelling her forward, yet the weight of two stones pressed down upon her shoulders. The terror of the battle, the intoxicating fervor of last night spent in Calum’s arms, and now her heart weighed heavy in her chest with the ever familiar musket hole.
Had she done the right thing? Thomas Wharton proved to be a greater tyrant than she’d imagined. Thank heavens, now that he was dead, no ill could pass to her family.
This is where God intended her to be. Calum loved her. She wanted to be with him. Forever.
Anne stopped when she came to Swan’s mews. For some reason she didn’t expect the bird to be there, but he hopped onto a limb near the door. He still had jesses tied to his legs. She pulled the long falconer’s gloves from the peg, and slipped them on. Reaching in, she sang her lullaby.
She grasped the short strap and Swan jumped onto her outstretched arm. The bird pecked her gloved fingers. Anne found his food in a barrel beside the cage and offered him a treat. Snatching it with his beak, he ate greedily. Anne sang, cooing to him.
The bird had now grown the full plumage of a young golden eagle, his tail and wings tipped with white. He stretched his wings and Anne marveled at the enormous span. “You are magnificent.”
“I thought I would find ye here.” Calum smiled, stretching the dark circles under his eyes.
“You’re tired.”
“I’ll sleep tonight.” Calum looked at the bird. “He’s missed ye.”
“I’m surprised he recognized me so quickly. I’ve been gone nearly a month.”
“And I never want to see ye leave again.” Calum opened the cage door and she placed Swan inside. The laird stood still and watched the bird for a moment.
When Calum turned, he grasped Anne’s hands to his chest and knelt. “Lady Anne, I haven’t much to offer ye, but me sword and a crumbling keep. I love ye more than life itself. I love ye more than the air I breathe, and I cannot live without ye. Would…would ye be me wife?”
Anne’s insides fluttered as if tickled by the feathers of a golden eagle. Calum knelt before her, with his broad shoulders and his auburn hair streaked copper in the sun. He had forgiven her, and now he opened his life to her. She wanted nothing more. “Yes.” She pulled him into her arms. “Yes. I would have it no other way. I will marry you, Calum MacLeod.”
Calum squeezed her until the air whooshed from her lungs. “Thank God. I dunna ken what I would have done if ye’d said no.”
“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t asked.”
“Should I send word to yer mother?”
Anne stood back. That was a sobering thought. “If you do, we may be facing a whole fleet of English ships.”
“That would be no, then.”
“Correct. No. At least not for some time. Possibly the word should come from me—perhaps when our first child is born.”
“Child?” Calum pressed his lips against her forehead. “That would be yet another miracle.” He grasped her hand. “Let us go see the friar.”
***
Anne wore her Scottish kirtle to the feast and took her seat beside her betrothed. Ruairi sat to Calum’s right and Rorie on Anne’s left. Dougal MacKenzie also sat at the laird’s table beside Norman and Friar Pat.
The smell of roasted meat wafted through the great hall and trenchers laden with food lined the tables. Calum stood and raised his tankard. “The sun has set, our dead have been mourned, ’tis now time to celebrate our victory.”
The hall echoed with a resounding, “Here, here!”
“I toast me brother, Ruairi, and me new friend, Rorie Douglas, and his guard who brought Lady Anne back to me—back to us. And to my close friend, Dougal MacKenzie, for taking up our fight and standing beside us to beat down the English!” Calum’s voice rose when he spoke the final word. Everyone stood and raised their tankards with a boisterous roar.
Calum held his hands out, asking for silence. “I have one last toast.” He turned to Lady Anne and held up his tankard. “To the woman who is known to us all, who brought organization to our keep, whose smile warms our hearts. To the woman who agreed to be me wife. Lady Anne.”
The hall erupted in a shout of praise and congratulations as people clapped and pounded the hilts of their dirks on the tables.
“Feast me friends and share in our success.”
Anne wrapped her hands around Calum’s arm and whispered in his ear, “And here’s to you, the strongest sword—a man who pulled me from the depths of the sea and took me soaring to heaven all in one night.”
Calum gave her a wicked grin and waggled his eyebrows with a promise of things to come.
When their bellies were full, the piper and the fiddler climbed up on the dais. Bran was the first to Anne’s table. “Will ye dance with me, Lady Anne?”
Anne shot an apologetic glance at Calum, but he gestured to the floor. “After him I’ll be next.”
Bran had heeded his lessons and spun Anne around the dance floor with practiced precision, and she threw her head back and laughed. Calum tapped him on the shoulder, and held her hands in anticipation of a reel. No one else existed as they danced the steps, but Anne was tired, as were the others. The hall emptied early.
Calum looked over her shoulder and tugged her hand. “Come. They’ll not miss us.”
Anne could hardly breathe as she followed.
Inside the laird’s chamber, her weariness fled. Calum bent down and kissed her neck as Anne attacked Calum’s clothing. How much easier things were to remove when their clothing was dry. They stood naked in front of the hearth and Anne explored every inch of his glorious body with fluttering kisses. She had him turn and paused while she examined his scarred back. She blew cool air on his skin traced her fingers over the pink scars. “Does this hurt?”
“With yer hands on me, nothing could hurt.”
His manhood stood proud from its copper curls. He took her hand and led her to the bed. She watched the pleasure in his eyes as she ran her fingers along the length of him. He reached down and brushed his fingers over her sex. “Are ye sore?”
“With you, I could never be too sore.”
A husky chuckle rumbled from his throat and he lay her down. He took his time and showered her body with kisses until Anne could take no more. “I want to feel you in me.”
He rolled to the side and stroked his member. “Ye want me to pleasure ye with this?”
“Aye.” Anne giggled at her use of the Scottish word.
He pushed her thighs apart and covered her. The heat in Anne’s loins rose so fast, she could not wait. She reached for his manhood and guided it inside, watching his eyes. They glazed and his body tensed. With a gush of air, his hips rocked. Anne latched on to his buttocks and rode their wave of ecstasy until her release burst and shuddered around him.
Three more deep thrusts and Calum cried out, his body quivering while his seed sewed inside her womb. He rested with his head on her chest and she ran her fingers through his thick hair. Calum closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. In sleep, he looked as peaceful and serene. Anne spooned her body against his and let sleep come as she floated on a cloud of happiness.