“Ah, Marsaili,” the earl boomed. “I’m glad to see you before I have to take my leave.”
Elation burst within her. “I did nae ken ye had to quit our company so soon,” she said, hoping her voice did not reveal her happiness at the news. Perhaps she had failed to sway the earl to her as her father had wished. She sent a quick prayer up that this was so.
“One of my men arrived late in the night with an urgent message from my physician that my wife is finally dying.” She sucked in her breath as his callousness. His gaze widened fractionally, and he said, “You cannot imagine what it has been like for me, Marsaili, married since my youth to a woman who has always been ill. She’s never had vigor nor beauty as you do.”
“My lord, please,” she said, disgusted that he could talk so about his wife.
“I see my compliments make you blush,” he said, running a hand down her cheek. “I very much like your modesty, Marsaili.”
“I blush,” she said, through clenched teeth, “because I am disheartened to hear ye speak of yer wife in such a cold manner.”
A dark scowl swept his face. “Don’t be, my dear. If you knew her, you would understand. She revels in being a burden, but soon I will be done with her. You are the exact sort of woman I always wished to have for a wife.”
“I’m certain I am nae,” she replied, desperate to change his mind.
“See,” he said, smiling, “this is what I told your father this morning when I formally asked to make you my mistress and wed you once my wife is dead. You are modest about your own attributes.”
“My lord, I fear ye are mistaken about me. I have spent a great deal of time in the penance cell for my stubbornness.”
“Yes,” the earl said, a twisted smile coming to his lips. “Your father told me. I rather like the idea of punishing you if you cross me.”
The earl’s eagerness at the prospect of punishing her made her cringe. Her father had to know the sort of man the earl was but simply did not care.
“With my wife,” the earl continued, “I had to fear reprisal from her father, but from your father, I have no such fear. We will suit perfectly, Marsaili. If my wife should not breathe her last breath within a sennight, I will settle the nuisance in the country and send for you. I’m finished waiting patiently for her to die.” With that, he pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his in a wet, sloppy kiss. He broke it as abruptly as he had started it, mounted his horse, and waved for his men to depart. She was left trembling with rage and disgust in the empty courtyard.
Her thoughts tripped over themselves, and in time, her mind settled on one: seeing Callum. She rushed to the stream, disappointed to find that Callum was not there, yet she clung to the hope that he would appear. As the sun shone down on her, she removed her slippers and sat in front of the water, listening to the wind rustle the trees and the trickling of the stream. After a long while, her certainty that Callum would come began to fade, and that’s when a twig snapped behind her. She turned as he kneeled, his warm gaze assessing her. “I was starting to think ye would nae come,” she admitted.
“A legion of warriors could nae have kept me away, though yer sister did delay me,” he replied as he sat next to her.
His thigh pressed against hers, but she did not move. She reveled in the strength his powerful legs displayed. Her belly tightened, and her breath quickened.Thiswas desire. She knew it instinctually. She welcomed it, even if it was sinful. This could well be her only chance to ever experience it.
Still, she frowned. “My sister? What did she want with ye?”
Callum looked suddenly uncomfortable, and Marsaili’s cheeks flamed. She knew Helena well. She was a born seductress, and men succumbed willingly to her desires. She was beautiful whereas Marsaili was plain.
“I see,” Marsaili said slowly, jealousy burning within her. “If my sister wishes yer attention, I’m surprised ye’re here.”
“Ye should nae be,” he said. His gaze glittered as he studied her. “Yer sister has a skin-deep beauty. It will fade. It dunnae reach her soul.” He gently rubbed his thumb against her right temple. “In yer eyes, I see goodness, kindness, and courage. I see beauty that will nae fade and reaches all the way into ye to envelop ye.” He brought her untried senses to life, and the very air around them suddenly was buzzing, as if a storm were approaching. Yet it was not a storm; it was possibility and hope.
“I want to kiss ye,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“I want ye to, as well,” she whispered. His hands cupped her face, and a delicious shudder heated her body. As he brought his lips to hers, the thudding of her heart drowned out the wind and the stream. The touch of his mouth to hers was velvety and warm. He deepened the kiss, and she responded with every ounce of desire that he had brought to life within her.
His ragged groan filled her ears as his lips became more insistent, more searching. She parted her mouth, wanting to taste more of him, to become one with him. Their tongues met and circled as he possessed her with demanding mastery. When they finally pulled apart, her breaths came in short gasps, and it pleased her to hear he was affected the same way.
Without a word, he held his hand out to her, and she slipped her palm into his, interlacing their fingers. “Ye will be mine,” he said simply.
Her heart clenched with joy. “I believe I shall,” she replied, willing it to be so.
The Gathering was to span two fortnights, planned this way by her father so there would not only be time to talk politics and pledges but for the men to go on lengthy, overnight hunts. When Callum was at her home and not away on an excursion, they met at the stream at first, and then they began to meet in a secret spot that Marsaili had discovered long ago where a cliff overlooked the loch, surrounded by thick brush. Purple heather encircled the grass on that spot and took her breath away every time she went there. It was the perfect place for her and Callum to become acquainted without fear of her father discovering what was occurring.
Each time a messenger arrived at the castle, she feared it would be a summons from the earl, but so far, no word had come. She considered it as a blessing from God, who she decided had finally remembered her and was giving her time with Callum. Time to know each other, time to forge a possible future before it was too late.
Every moment they shared strengthened the invisible bond between them, and it was this ever-growing bond that stirred guilt in her that she had not confessed to him her father’s plans regarding the earl, plans that may well affect Callum’s clan if her father decided to declare the Grants an enemy, which would most assuredly occur if she and Callum were to run off together. Of course, he had not asked her to wed him, but she hoped he would.
Then one night, while Callum was away on a four-day hunt, a letter arrived from the earl. His wife had still failed to succumb. Those were his exact words. He still intended to settle her in the country, but he had been called to his father, King Edward. He expected a delay of a fortnight, perhaps two, before he could carry out his plans. Marsaili was ecstatic. There was still a chance they could change the course of the future.
The morning Callum returned from the hunt, she raced to their secret spot on the faint hope he would be there. When she reached the top of the ledge and saw him looking out over the loch, her heart rejoiced. He turned toward her, face bronzed from the sun and dark stubble on his cheeks and chin. He was even more alluring than he had been four days before.
