Heart of Stone by Rebecca Ruger
Chapter Eighteen
When they dined latethat afternoon inside Blackwood’s hall, Calum sat at the head table with Gabriel Jamison, a place of honor reserved for noble or valued guests. Julianna sat at the trestle table with the MacKinnon men and the lasses, and purposefully with her back to Calum and the head table. She didn’t trust herself to not ogle him with a renewed sense of wonder at what had transpired today. She still couldn’t wrap her brain around the whole of it and paid but scant attention to the conversation at the table, which mostly had Marta pestering Artur and Finn with a barrage of questions about their new circumstance.
She ignored all this, and ate perfunctorily, without tasting a thing, all the while ignoring for the most part the animated chatter all around her. When the meal was finished, Calum sought her out. She might not have expected his coming but for the sudden quiet of those at the table. When this lower volume raised her gaze to Brida and Helen and Tomag across from her, she saw that their eyes were lifted over her head that she was then not surprised when two warm and large hands settled on her shoulders. For just a moment, she closed her eyes at this sensation, that so simple a gesture could produce so heightened an awareness and so much longing for more.
“Take a walk with me, Julianna.”
She nodded and stood, climbing over the back off the bench, Calum’s hand now holding hers.
“I want to go, too,” Marta said.
Artur spoke up, saving Julianna from having to disappoint the lass, as she wanted to be alone with Calum.
“Ye’re going to stay right here with me and finish those mushrooms, Sister Marta.”
Marta’s giggle and Finn’s cheery admonishment of, “Back before sunrise, lambs,” chased Calum and Julianna from the hall. The yard of Blackwood was lit by the golden flames of the wall-mounted torches. Calum led her away from the brightest light and around to the rear of the keep where he mounted a narrow set of stone steps that lifted them onto the battlements. He announced their presence to the closest guard and at that youth’s nod, Calum brought Julianna to a darker spot, where they were treated to the last of any color in the sky, the distant horizon painted in purples and red clouds where the sun had set a while ago.
“Gabriel received some news today from Wallace.”
“Has he left the country?”
“On his way to the coast now.” Calum sighed. “Everything is different since Falkirk. Wallace is different. And I dinna believe his star has fallen or that he’s no’ the man to make the strongest stand, to most effectively rouse the terrified patriots, but for now he’s no’ exactly well-received by our own nobles.” But he waved this off, adding, “Be that as it may, he still has eyes and ears everywhere. So he’d written to Gabriel because he knew he could get word to me. Seems Wallace had received some intelligence that Domhnall is but playing at any allegiance to Scotland—lying to me even in more ways than known—that in fact, he’s partly responsible for the influx of Welsh mercenaries bound for England’s armies, among other crimes against his own country.”
“Oh, Calum.” Her heart broke for him, his own flesh and blood being a traitor to his beloved Scotland.
“Aye, it sits unwell with me. I’m beginning to think there’s no getting around the other monstrous truth, that Domhnall must have been the one to send the coin down to your uncle.”
“Because you would have objected strenuously—forcefully—if he’d come right out and admitted what he was about, and with whom his loyalties resided?”
“He ken it irked me—more than that—what he was doing, playing both sides.”
“I’m so sorry, Calum. It isn’t right, we shouldn’t be betrayed by our own kin.”
He considered her, naught but a foot away, chewing the inside of his cheek, the pale moonlight showed. “And ye ken a bit about that yourself, aye?”
“My stepfather didn’t so much betray me as the promise he made to my mother, that he would take care of her daughters.” She gave a short and mirthless laugh. “But then, he did practice a certain treachery by firing even after I’d made my presence known outside the gate.”
“What did you say that day?” Calum wanted to know.
“When?”
“You came running from the west side of the keep when we rode up to Kinclaven, and you faced the wall, your arms flung wide, and you called something up to those on the wall.”
“My stepfather was scolding me to get back inside.” She shrugged. “I asked him if he would dare to go through with his plan with me below. I may have used a curse word.”
The left side of Calum’s mouth quirked until he said with a fresh soberness, “You live all your life in that place, at Kinclaven. You’re gently bred, use a noble tongue, likely sketch and embroider and sing sweetly—though I ken you dinna cook. From where comes the bravery, lass? How are you more courageous than so many men I ken?”
“That is not bravery, Calum. That was first and foremost, recklessness, and then, naught but a violent anger, that one person should so cavalierly say another should die. It isn’t right. Disease and old age and mayhap accidents and broken hearts—those should kill people. Not one person hungry for power or presuming his will trumps that of all others.” When he only stared at her for her fairly impassioned speech, she added, “You would never behave so. You wouldn’t arbitrarily decree that a person should die, simply to advance your own worth or standing.”
Calum blew out a breath. “But I would. I will.”
“What do you mean?”
“Domhnall.”
Julianna’s lips parted. Oh, how frightful for him. “Calum, that is not at all the same. If it comes to that, it would not be you seeking wealth or power. Domhnall, if we’re right about him, is a murderer, same as if he’d fired the arrows himself. Never mind his betrayal of Scotland, the man is responsible for Rory’s death. And, if he’s capable of arranging the murder of his own kin, his nephew, then in all probability, it’s safe to assume he has killed before in a likewise nefarious and self-seeking manner.”
He nodded but then flattened his hands over his face, rubbing them vigorously over his eyes and brows. When he lowered his hands, he set them on his hips and shifted his weight to his left side. “Aye, and now I’m bound to see this through, find all the truths regarding my uncle. But Julianna, I canna bring you to Caerhayes, straight into a bluidy family feud. Christ, but I have done nothing—no’ one damn thing—right since the day we met. I’m going to lay the blame all at your feet, lass, and you’re just going to have to deal with it. You’re a wee bit too distracting. I canna think straight. I’m torn, this way and that. I want you with me, I want you safe. I dinna want you within ten feet of Domhnall, dinna trust him. I can’t let you out of my sight.”
Her breathing became jagged. “Good grief. Are you changing your mind again? Are you—”
“Nae, Julianna. Nae, not at all. Ye ken I’ve still to go to Caerhayes, but I ken you’ll be safe here at Blackwood while I do. I’m thinking out loud, is all, giving it some thought how I’ve waffled back and forth, this plan, that decision—it’s a wonder you’re no’ batty, or thinking I am.”
“But...is it because you’re not accustomed to it?”
“What’s that?”
“Um...having feelings for someone.”
He tilted his head but said nothing, possibly was only considering her hypothesis.
Julianna said nothing, let him sort it all out in his mind, waiting.
To her relief, he came to terms with it fairly quickly. And when he began to nod, she said, “I might imagine that the responsibility you have to your men is different than what you imagine it is to me. But Calum, if I choose to be by your side,” she said and swallowed, “and I do, that must alleviate some of the burden. The choice was mine.”
“It does no’. If something should happen to you—”
Julianna shook her head. “My mother used to say that worry would pilfer all the joy, if we let it.”
A slow and reflective smile came to him. “Sounds like my mam. She’d say the price of worry was only the happiness stolen.”
“Mayhap our dear mothers knew a thing or two that we do not yet.”
“There’s much to be settled yet,” he reminded her.
“And settle it we will,” she declared. “One day at a time.” She gave only a passing thought that their roles just now were reversed. Calum was showing uneasiness and doubt, and she’d been compelled to reassure him. How strange.
“We should marry, lass.”
And just like that, their original roles were resumed. Julianna gawked at him, filled with wonder at the very idea. But then she said, without an ounce of cleverness, “What?” True, he’d asked her to share a home with him, but he’d made no mention of marriage. At the time, and since, Julianna had been overcome with joy at his request that she’d not truly given thought to anything further but that he wanted her with him. Whatever little niggling of unease she’d known at how vague this morning’s revelation had been—he’d mentioned only that he wanted her with him but hadn’t stated anything that had hinted at any permanency—was quashed by the fact that the days of adhering to strict propriety and living above reproach had been proven impractical and futile since the instant she’d met Calum and had been taken from Kinclaven, forced to spend her time with six men who were not in any way related to her. Still befuddled, she thought to lessen the harsh and thoughtless question with an unhelpful, “Why?”
He grinned. “I’ve a keen yearning for bairns with magnificent green eyes. I’d no’ ask you to abide with me without the benefit of a wedding, lass. Aye, and I want to bury myself in you, want to make love to you, want my hands to touch every inch of your body.”
She whimpered at his unexpected and fervent words, seduced so effortlessly.
“Julianna, I want you with me, all my days, until they’re done.”
And suddenly the why of it seemed unimportant. Julianna was overcome by a tightness at the back of her throat and in her chest and the tears gathering in her eyes, that all she could do was nod.
Calum showed her a grin, a sincerely pleased one that instantly melted her heart.
“A man speaks of wedding, lass, and I’m thinking a spoken aye might serve us well,” he teased.
“A request and not a decree might also have been lovely,” she was quick to point out, though her argument emerged shaky and breathless. But oh, her heart was light.
A beautiful chuckle filled the night air. “That’s right, lass. Dinna let me get away with that.”
He closed the space between them with one stride and took her into his arms, his mouth warm and possessive as it covered hers. There was no calm to shatter, her heart having begun to race at the very idea of becoming his wife, but it wasn’t long before she was completely undone, his tongue sending shivers of desire throughout every inch of her body.
Sadly, and as he’d done before—too many times for her liking—he stopped, taking his mouth from her, though he stayed close, bending his forehead to her.
“You will wed me, aye, Julianna?”
She smiled, closing her eyes at the sweetness of the ache in his voice.
“Aye, Calum, I will,” she said and tucked her face into his neck. His arms circled her again, warm and secure even as he was so careful of her back. “But, Calum,” she said into his neck, “the next time you kiss me like this, please don’t stop.”
She felt his lips press against her hair. “Julianna, the next time I kiss you like that, we will be wed, and God Himself and all the armies of all the world will no’ be able to stop me.”
***
THE NEXT FEW DAYS,they would later recall, passed by in a wee bit of a blur. There were crofts to build and a wedding to arrange. The very first supper after Calum had said they would wed, Gabriel Jamison invited Julianna to share the meal at the head table, giving a fine toast to Calum, and proving rather diplomatic when addressing Julianna, as he did not know her at all.
“Aye, he’s a good friend of many years, a fine patriot, truer than any other, and all you Blackwood folk ken him from all his visits over the years as an honorable man. But aye, that’s too much about him. The bride is bonnier and makes a far better subject.” He paused here and sent a wink in Julianna’s direction. “She is Julianna Elliot, if you dinna ken as of yet, and I hear from Calum’s captain, Finn, that she spins a good yarn and is possessed of a pure heart, and we ken those are rare and fine. And I’ll be asking you to welcome the wee sprites, the ones with the bright eyes and eager smiles. Good folk, every one of them, so we welcome them all to Blackwood and we toast to the upcoming nuptials.” And with that, he raised his tankard and pronounced, “To Calum and Julianna.”
The very next morning Calum ran into Julianna in the upstairs corridor. He’d been on his way to seek her out and she was apparently just leaving her chambers.
He adored the way her eyes lit up when she noticed him, from the top of the stairs, waiting for her, as he’d spied her before she had him. She slowed her walk and offered him a sweet good morning.
“I’m thinking, lass, you might rather say good morning with your lips,” he teased, crooking his finger at her.
To his eternal delight, she did not demur, but closed the remaining distance and sank into him, tilting her face up for his kiss. Sadly, as he’d promised her that there would be no ravishment until they were wed, he was forced to keep it brief. That, however, did not mean he was unaffected by her willingness or the sweet taste of her.
“Your ideas, since the day I met you,” she said with an innocently seductive grin, “have improved dramatically.”
He could not suppress a chuckle here but allowed, “I would imagine that is bound to happen when a man keeps good company.”
“That’s a clever response.”
“I thought so.”
“Calum, Marta bounded into my chambers not ten minutes ago and said we’re being wed in two days’ time. Is this true?”
His grin remained for her sudden and obvious anxiety over this. He held her hand yet, tracing a pattern back and forth over her soft skin.
“Blackwood’s cleric is gone down to Perth for the month that we have the choice of waiting until he returns or handfasting here and now. I dinna want to wait a month, Julianna. I want to be wed and settle into the crofts and get the business at Caerhayes done. Aye, I told Gabriel we’d handfast here and soon. But if ye want something grander or to—”
She started shaking her head, leaning into him again that she was all but draped against his chest. “A handfasting so soon is fine so long as you do not expect your bride to be strolling into the ceremony wearing anything but what Blackwood has kindly afforded me.”
“You can stroll in wearing the gray sack from Murkle for all I care. You ken it’s no’ about that.” He shook her hand gently then and said, “Aye, but that’s what I’ve come to fetch you about. We’re off to Kildrummy, thought you and the girls would like to visit the market with us.” As ever, her expression answered before her words came. Her bright smile made him glad he’d thought to include her and the girls. But then her brows wrinkled.
“That sounds lovely, but I must decline if we would be gone too long,” she said. “Calum, I cannot expect Blackwood to give us a wedding without helping out in some fashion.”
“Aye, we’ll be but a few hours. And Julianna, we’re no’ exactly flush with coin, but I think we can manage to find you a frock for the handfasting.”
This gave her greater pause. “Calum, how are we going to afford to build these crofts?”
A fair question. “Gabriel has given us leave to take what we need from the forest up to the site. It’s less about buying than gathering and building. The lads and I have already started, felling trees, laying the foundations for the first two houses. Gabriel lent us his carpenter and his apprentice and their tools for as long as we need, and we’re hoping to have the big house finished within a week.”
“How exciting,” she said, seeming genuinely delighted. Her eyes widened again. “Oh, that reminds me. Yesterday, the girls and I helped Fenella all afternoon. We scrubbed the entire hall, refreshed the rushes and even scoured the stone of the hearth and the trestle tables and benches. And in return, though she needn’t have given us anything, she gifted us with a huge iron kettle and two smaller pans, and several ladles and spoons. And there we are, already we have some basics for our kitchen.”
“You’re a good person, Julianna,” he said. Mayhap there would be many moments like this, that he was ever astounded by her resilience, that she only and always bounced back from whatever life thrust at her, that she marched on, determined to rise above what might waylay a lesser person.
“It was the least we could do for how kind Fenella has been to us. And really, Calum, the girls are superb, nary a complaint, even as they might have expected to have left all that laboring behind at Murkle.”
“Aye, they’re fine lasses indeed. C’mon then, let’s get to the market.”
“What is it you seek at the market?” She asked as they made their way down the steps.
“Gabriel had said there were itinerant masons and larger carpenter outfits set up outside Kildrummy, working on the repairs to the cathedral there. We’re hoping to find larger planks of wood for the west and north walls of the crofts to stand against the weather.”
They met Finn and Peadar in the hall and were informed that everyone else waited outside. A cart stood at the ready, with Peadar upon the gig’s seat, managing the reins. The girls were strewn all about; Marta was chasing a hound round the yard while Booth and Barbara had their heads together, as it appeared the lad was showing her something about a pine cone in his hand; Brida’s back was leaned against the side rails of the wagon, talking quietly with Finn; and Helen was standing beside the mounted Tomag, the lad smiling at whatever she was saying to him.
Calum grinned at this picture and called out, “Aye, and we’re off,” so that everyone made ready while he collected the leads to his horse from the stable lad. The girls shuffled a bit, all but Marta choosing to ride in the bed of the wagon. Instead, she ran toward Artur and raised her wee hand to be drawn up onto his tall horse.
Selfishly, Calum did not give Julianna the option of where she preferred to ride but lifted her up on the back of his big red and in the next minute they brought up the rear, as Finn and Tomag led the party away from Blackwood.
Calum advised Julianna that the ride to Kildrummy would take a little over thirty minutes if they kept up a good pace. But then they didn’t travel so swiftly that it precluded conversation. And Calum needed one more question answered.
“Julianna, did they force you to have your hair shorn?”
She sighed in front of him but sounded not too put out when she responded.
“They tried in the first few days, saying it was expected, but I’d returned a promise of bodily harm to any who dared but that night, me and the girls were sneaking into the abbess’s chamber to steal something.”
While he somehow wasn’t entirely surprised by this, he entertained a new respect for her daring. “Steal what?”
She turned toward him, her response slow in coming, wincing as if she expected his reaction to be severe. “They’d—she, Lady Agnes—had stolen your plaid, wouldn’t let me have it.” And with more bravado, she announced, “But it was mine and I was bent on getting it back.”
Calum hid his reaction, which was a considerable amount of pride in her, the lass who’d claimed she was not brave. “And you might have been discovered trying?” He guessed.
She nodded, lowering her face.
“Julianna, why would you take that risk?”
Softly, she said, “It was all I had of you.”
In that moment, with that revelation, Calum learned that was how hearts were broken or melted, or whatever his was doing inside his chest right now.
Calum had only been through Kildrummy a handful of times. He’d not ever had cause to stop as Nairn and Caerhayes were but a half day away. It was large enough to provide more than one inn, and so many of the buildings on the high street were of two stories, the ground floor being a merchant’s storefront while the top floor usually was reserved as their dwelling. Even a few of the one story homes had flung open their shutters to indicate that they had wares to sell as well.
They cast their steeds and the wagon aside at the edge of town, and Calum directed Julianna to walk along one side of the main road, the side with so many shutters thrown open. He’d spied near the center of town where the road widened several makeshift booths erected that might also provide opportunity to come upon a kirtle for her. As a natural course of action, the MacKinnon men rather fanned out, creating a perimeter around Julianna and the girls, Finn and Booth in the lead now. The first cottage offering wares sold honey wine, likely watered down, and the next offered a selection of dried herbs, their use and origin questionable. After that, they passed a home where inside sat a man and woman, equally woeful looking, their leather goods not any cheerier. Soon, Calum picked up the scent of baked goods and grinned to himself, thinking he might be putting out as much coin to please Julianna’s appetite as he would to clothe her suitably for their handfasting. He might have liked to stroll through Kildrummy with her hand in his, but she was surrounded closely by the lasses, even as at any given time, one or more of them might scoot away to peer into the shops and stalls. Calum chuckled outright when Julianna stopped suddenly and tipped her nose upward, sniffing the air.
Even more entertaining, he noticed that Helen and Marta, at the same time, had picked up the scent of baked goods as well.
From directly behind them, Tomag laughed as well. “Took her about three minutes longer than I’d have suspected.”
Artur chimed in, “And it seems the wee sprites have the same keen sense for sweets.”
Julianna turned her face over her shoulder to grin at Tomag, which showed Calum also the full effect of her smile. It would likely be a very long time, if ever, that his breath was not caught by how exquisite she was.
“But do I smell sweet breads, Tomag?”
“Aye, ye do.”
“Do you think they might have some with raisins or other fruits baked inside them?” Barbara wondered.
“Blood relations, those two, no’ just in theory,” Finn said in front of them, laughter in his tone as well.
Calum had to assume he referred to the fact that Barbara apparently had the same sweet tooth as did Julianna.
Julianna paused then, and cautioned the girls, “Oh, but we’re here for lumber, girls, and not to satisfy our bellies.” She stopped, and bit her lip, glancing back at Calum. “We’re here for wood planks and not foodstuffs, correct?” She squinted up at him, pursing her lips with those last words, all her desire put into that face hoping that she was not, in fact, correct.
“We’ve coin enough to appease your hunger, lass.”
“No man has that much coin,” Finn teased.
Julianna asked, “Well, how much coin do you—we—have?”
“And so it begins.” Obviously, Finn had heard her quiet query.
Calum grinned, his face relaxed, not even the slightest crinkle of a frown in sight. “We’ve enough to get the lumber and mayhap a decent kirtle for you, and aye, even the sweetbreads.”
She let him see her joy at this and moved even closer to him, threading her arm around his now. “I’d actually forgo the new gown that the girls and I might have the sweets and that we get all the planks needed.” And then with some seriousness, “Truly, Calum, I can wear this frock if you don’t mind.”
Before he might have responded, Helen asked, “Are you really to be handfasted?”
“We are.”
Apparently, all the MacKinnon men, as they walked before and behind Calum and Julianna and the girls, were listening to everything that was being said.
“We should buy some of the wine, then,” Artur sounded out. “Make for a better feast.”
Calum had a thought. “Julianna, will you be sorry that you’ll no’ have your family—your sisters—with you for your wedding?”
“Och,” grumbled Finn. “I hadn’t thought about that. A lass needs her family when she gives and takes her vows.”
Not a moment’s hesitation preceded her response, which was given with true kindness. “I have my family just here. All my sisters,” she said, smiling at the girls, “and my...brothers and my Uncle Artur.” Finn had stopped ahead of them and turned, that she put her hand gently on his forearm and added with saccharine sweetness, “And my dear grandfather.”
A merry round of giggling spewed from the girls while deeper chortles sounded from the men.
Finn’s jaw dropped. “Now, ye listen here, lass—”
“Calm down, Poppy,” Julianna teased, ducking behind Calum’s arm as she did.
Finn shook his head at her and laughed along with the others.