Heart of Stone by Rebecca Ruger

Chapter Seven

Julianna slammed hereyes shut, turning her face even further from the water and the man between her and it. Immediately, she had some suspicion that he’d done it with intent, that there really was no reason that he couldn’t have entrusted one of his men with the chore of guarding her. He wanted to shock her or frustrate her. She vowed to be indifferent—not remain, as that was not how it had started. When he’d pulled his tunic over his head, Julianna had gasped with some combination of awe and reluctant fascination. She’d known he was well-built and large, but she wasn’t prepared for how magnificently sculpted he was. Before she’d snapped her eyes closed, she’d caught sight of his bare back, sun-colored and filled with corded muscles that shifted and rolled with primal splendor.

The sounds of the nearby camp faded, of the men’s bare chatter and preparations, as did the birdsong she’d taken particular note of only moments ago. She heard nothing but the sound of water, splashing and dripping. For several minutes she managed to stay completely still, her eyes clamped tight. But then she heard the long, satisfied rumble of a sigh escape him and she lost the will to feign indifference. Julianna lifted one eye, angling her face toward the pond. She only peeked though, watching as he rose from the depths, standing waist deep, his arms lifted to sluice water from his hair. He dunked his head again, straightening once more and scrubbing his fingers over his scalp. His actions rumpled his close-cropped mane, standing it on end, and teased her again with the play of rippling muscles across his bare back.

The startling and raw beauty of Calum MacKinnon alarmed her sufficiently that she squeezed her eyes closed again.

When she’d been very young, she and her sisters at times had been unruly and her dear mother would have to take them in hand. Charlotte Elliot would seat them within her small parlor, forcing them to listen to her recite pages and pages from her precious psalter. As far as punishments went, it had been weak and with more a nod toward calming their rowdiness than penalizing them. It had also been tedious, however, that Julianna had taken to closing her eyes, pretending to listen, but instead reciting in her head the songs heard round the keep. Kinclaven’s gardener, with whom Julianna and Alice had spent much time, sang the prettiest songs.

Winter clouds are all around; see the leaves lie on the ground. Pretty robin here he comes, seeking for his daily crumbs,she sang in her head. Sweet robin soon will leave this space; other birds will take his place. See the tit-mouse, pretty-thing, under the sparrow’s lovely wing. Julianna began to hum, having forgotten the rest of the verses, and kept her eyes shuttered until Calum’s deep voice disturbed her.

“You can open your eyes, lass.”

Julianna peeped through a slit in one eye. He’d donned fresh hose and breeches but was yet shirtless, which pinched her eyes tightly once again. She despised his satisfied chuckle.

He continued to dress, she surmised by the sounds, hating that she was made to feel awkward and unsophisticated. With some determination then, she opened her eyes, staring straight ahead, hoping she presented only an aloof picture. She managed some success, she thought, until he began to walk toward her again. She felt every nerve in her body rise with awareness and for the life of her, could not prevent herself from turning toward him.

He was shirtless still. Julianna’s breath held. He had yet to don his tunic and she was forced to acknowledge that his bare chest posed an even greater threat than his back had. Gracious, was he made of chiseled stone? Lean, sinewy muscles surged and rolled as he strode toward her. Short, black hair was scattered sparsely over the middle of his chest, thinning out over his abdomen. His bare arms were wider than her own thighs, wickedly carved and lined with ropey veins.

He worked on the knot behind her and then stretched around her as he’d done before, to unwind the thick string of hemp from the tree.

She had no choice now but to hold her breath, lest his closeness allow him to know how affected she was. His skin was smooth and damp yet, shimmering darkly in the shadows of the gorge. Julianna’s eyes bent to his shoulder as he put that part of him under her nose. A smattering of sun-spots congregated there, where his collarbone met the top of his arm.

He shifted, switching the looped rope from his right hand to his left as he unwound it.

Julianna closed her eyes and her mouth now.

He stopped, standing directly in front of her, mere inches away, and did not move.

Somewhere inside, she whimpered.

“I canna say I’ve ever known such a reaction to near-nakedness, lass.”

Julianna absolutely abhorred the snicker in his tone.

Her eyes flashed open, her brows lowered. Pertly, her gaze fixed on the lump in his throat, she said, “Yes, you’re very handsome, and likely no one knows it more than you. I was only thinking that you’re using it wrong—as an executioner.”

His lack of response compelled Julianna to lift her gaze to his. He blinked once, but the expression in his glacial green eyes was inscrutable.

“Aye, but my original plans—as a husband—dinna come to fruition.”

She would be wise to ignore this provocation, she knew. But then she could not disregard his next statement.

He grinned first, the effect bedeviling. “In truth, I assumed the surely painful pinching of your eyes meant you did no’ like what you saw, so I am pleased that you’ve set the matter straight for me.”

When Julianna’s jaw dropped at how she’ been snared, Calum MacKinnon leaned forward and covered her mouth with his. Her eyes expanded as his lips ground against hers, but her arms were yet unfree that she could not push him away. His kiss was hard, forcing the back of her head against the scaly tree trunk, and yet she sensed his control, gauged by the measured cadence of his harsh breathing. ’Twas not her first kiss, but for certain it was unexpected, and she understood instantly this was nothing like the indelicate and sloppy kiss her rabid curiosity had demanded she suffer through with Geoffrey Blair last year.

Calum MacKinnon was clearly no untried, unskilled player in this arena. With relative ease, he coaxed her acceptance, if not her willing participation. His mouth was firm and warm, sweeping across hers with undeniable persuasion. He molded his lips to her, moved them back and forth, shattering what little calm she’d clung to. When he forced his tongue inside her mouth, Julianna panicked, jerking her face away.

He lifted his hands, placing his palms against her cheeks, gently turning her face toward him again.

“Just a taste,” was murmured against her lips. The words could not sway her, would not have been effective by themselves, but his voice and tone, husky and so near to pleading, lowered Julianna’s defenses.

She sagged against the tree and him. He’d moved closer at some point so that his thighs and midsection were leaned into her. Unconsciously, her hands, suspended once with fright at her middle, lifted now. She let them touch him, splayed them against him. Her hands met with the waistband of his breeches, her fingers touching the bare skin of his rock hard abdomen above. Calum kissed her again, took her mouth with so much finesse and devilry that she was lost. When he stroked her tongue with his own, a moan escaped Julianna. And God help her, she responded, searching with her own tongue, wanting to learn him, and know this.

He will still have me executed.

A larger cry came, gulped back into her throat as she spun her face away again, into his palm.

For a long moment he did not move, but stayed very close, his breath on her cheek. “I ken you want more,” he whispered finally, his voice gravelly and seductive.

“I do not,” she insisted, though it was stated so pitifully as to be unbelieved. Julianna maintained her downcast posture, wishing him away. She declared with grave accusation, lifting her now fiery gaze to him. “So fine of you to steal a kiss when I am unable to escape, tethered as I am.”

His grin was both seductive and imperious. He backed up just enough that all the coiled rope, which he had obviously finished unraveling from the tree, fell into a pile at their feet.

Julianna gasped.

“I dinna need to tie up a lass to have a kiss. And ah, Julianna, you can no’ tell me you dinna like it.”

“I did not.”

“I did. Very much. I’m wanting another, more.”

She gave no credence to the brutal ache she imagined she heard, passing it off as only contrived. She shook her head slowly. “You do not. You want to see me dead, remember?”

This moved him. He pushed back gruffly from Julianna and the tree.

She stared at him now, struck by the sudden hostility in his heated gaze.

“Be done with your games to humiliate and torment me,” she said, brimming with pride for her level and unforgiving tone. “Be done with all of it. Either kill me or leave me be.”

If he might have responded, she would never know. Julianna snarled her frustration and scooped up the pile of rope—as one end of it was still knotted around her wrist—and stalked away, off toward the camp. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised that he allowed her to leave or that he didn’t follow so closely.

She took a seat away from the others but still near the fire, ignoring all of them, hating everything—herself, them, this wretched situation, how quickly she’d given into the persuasion of his kiss. Mayhap her discontent was sensed that she was not disturbed at all from her own private turmoil.

***

POSSIBLY, THE MACKINNONSwould only keep her as a prisoner. It wasn’t unheard of, Calum knew. A political prisoner, technically, he supposed she would be. He had to assume that the MacKinnons’ stalwart loyalty to Scotland pitted against Angus Faucht’s constant wavering might have been what had predicated the attack on him and his men. As a prisoner of consequence, and a female at that, she might be treated fairly, have her own quarters and duties, be allowed some freedoms—though she would not be permitted to leave Caerhayes. Not unless Angus Faucht could explain his despicable act or take responsibility for it himself. Calum harrumphed. While he’d yet to meet the man, Calum couldn’t imagine that turn of events. He’d learned all he needed of Angus Faucht without ever stepping within ten feet of the man. Julianna’s stepfather was a traitor and a coward.

He’d allowed her to completely ignore him the next morning, as much as was possible until he lifted her once again into his saddle when they left the camp. ’Twas no more than he deserved, her frosty disregard. What in the bluidy hell had he been thinking? Why, by all that was holy, had he kissed her? And, Christ, how was he ever supposed to put that out of his mind? He would guess he stood a better chance of single-handedly bringing England to its knees than disregarding the taste of Julianna Elliot or forgetting the tumult that had been that kiss.

Clearly untutored, she’d still managed to make a fine show of it, had enflamed and seduced him though it had been he who had kissed her. It had been the first time he’d touched her without industry, had touched only to feel, and he was not sure that the texture and sensation of her soft skin under his calloused hands was something that could be easily ignored.

At some point, he’d been contrarily but monumentally pissed off that she wasn’t to be his bride. But that upset had been brief and not fully examined, had indeed come to him very soon after the kiss, when all was still fresh. He’d since managed to push such untimely thoughts aside. She might well be bonny beyond compare, might be as innocent as she claimed, but Calum was resolute that any softening toward her was unacceptable—hence his self-derision for having stolen that kiss. She was the stepdaughter of Angus Elliot, the man who had betrayed the MacKinnons, the person responsible for Rory’s death. He and she could have—would have—no future.

Another sigh, this one disgruntled, wracked him. Before him, she lifted her hand to push a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The red welt circling her wrist did not escape his notice, and he was glad that he’d dispensed with the binds altogether. This came about partly because he’d been wakened this morning by his hand being tugged and lifted from the ground. Opening his eyes, Calum had realized that Julianna was on her feet already. His brain had unscrambled, recalling that he’d secured their wrists together after she’d fallen asleep last night. She’d wanted to be released, likely had to attend her morning ablutions. He’d somehow not been surprised that she was unknotting her own wrist at that moment, but then he hadn’t been concerned either. Groggy though he’d been, he’d realized the others were awake. She hadn’t been trying to escape, had in fact been talking to Tomag.

“We’ve the bread and cheese yet, when you come back,” Tomag had said.

“I won’t be but a few minutes, but I do want to wash my face,” she’d said as the rope had dropped next to Calum. The blue velvet of her skirt swished by him as she strode away.

They’d maintained the camp only long enough for Tomag and Artur and Booth to get in some hunting, proudly returning with six pheasants after a few hours, which was exactly as much as they’d hoped for today.

Now, as they were on the move again, and despite his rough night of little sleep and the memory of yesterday’s tragedy—as he’d begun to think of that kiss—he was actually looking forward to the day. They were scheduled to pay a visit to his cousin, Robbie, and his wife, Beitris. As Robbie had set up his humble croft between Uddingston and Nairn, Calum tried, as much as time and circumstance allowed, to call on the man who’d been like a brother to him for so long. The decision had actually been made prior to their departure from Caerhayes to collect his bride. As he and Finn had discussed weeks ago, it was a fine halfway point to allow his new wife a break in the journey. And Robbie and Beitris were ideal hosts, always eager for company in their solitary farmstead.

As Julianna had not spoken to him at all today, nor he her, Calum did not advise her of their scheduled stop. She would be exhausted by the time they did reach Robbie’s place though as she’d spent the entire day sitting so stiffly before him. He had some suspicion that her hackles had since settled and that she only perched so rigidly to keep herself from touching any part of him. She required less of his warmth, being wrapped now in his spare plaid, large enough that she’d folded it in half before draping it over herself as she might a shawl. Her blonde hair shone brighter against the blue and gray and black of the tartan.

The dastardly part of him very much wanted to force her against him, wanted to climb a steep hill that she could not fight gravity and was pushed back against him. He didn’t though, and the barren landscape that was their guide today offered no such opportunity.

He did, however, nudge his big black into greater speed when Robbie’s croft came into view. The small house was easy to overlook, tucked so discreetly at the base of one of the lesser hills of the Cairn Gorm mountains. No lane or trail led to the wood and stone croft that they jogged their steeds over a level meadow, scattering a long-legged hare into a zig-zagged departure.

Calum circled his arm around Julianna’s waist as he spurred the destrier even faster, his smile coming easily as the door to the croft was pulled open.

***

THE SIGHT OF THE LONEhouse snuggled against the backdrop of a steep pine-crusted hill came as a surprise to Julianna. She did not imagine that this was Caerhayes, the home of the MacKinnons, but rather was struck by how isolated the home was. All the earth before it was flat, peppered only sparsely with rock and heather. As far as the eye could see, there was no other life. Why would these people, whoever they might be, choose to live so desolate an existence?

The home was not large enough to house more than one family, she imagined, being long but not especially wide. Sheep grazed to the west of the croft, mayhap a dozen or so. A lone bull and only a few cows dotted the same pasture. The thatch of the roof was fresh, she noted, and the croft was generally well-kept, white-washed and complemented with neat shutters, which were pushed open today. To the left, and quite a distance away, stood another building, which looked to be a barn, but in truth, was larger than the croft.

Julianna sensed Calum’s excitement as he urged the horse faster. Finn and the others followed suit. She’d chosen to completely ignore Calum the entire day, despite their unfortunate proximity, but discovered that she was not immune to his enthusiasm when the door opened and he sped up even more, holding her tightly against him. She was then quite happy for the security his arm offered when he reined in so sharply. He dismounted swiftly and jogged to greet the people spilling out of the house. Julianna held on to the pommel and watched in some wonder as Calum engulfed the man of the house in a giant bear hug. Though his back faced her, she heard him laughing. She thought it was him, even as she could not reconcile such a glorious noise coming from Calum MacKinnon. The sound was rich and full-hearted, rather contagious for its beauty. Unconsciously, Julianna smiled.

“I canna believe it,” the man was saying. He was of a similar height as Calum but was not nearly as broad, was more the size of Finn, almost lanky. “I dinna expect you until the fall, if at all this year.”

They parted just as Calum said with an offhanded shrug, “We were passing by.” He turned then and took the woman in his embrace. She’d raised her arms in happy expectation, her smile pretty and pleased over Calum’s shoulder.

“This is a great and wonderful surprise,” she said, patting Calum’s back.

Children danced all around them, four dark-haired bairns possibly as old as twelve and as young as three. They were just as excited as their parents for Calum’s arrival. He scooped up the youngest, a lass with heavy dimples, and lifted her high in the air while she squealed with delight. And then, with such ease as to be befuddling, Calum settled the bairn on his hip and shook forearms with the two young lads. He touched his finger to the cheek of the oldest child, a lass with a smile so like her mother’s. The lass stared up at Calum with obvious and remarkable adoration.

Julianna was mesmerized.

Who was this Calum MacKinnon?

While Calum fussed with the children, their parents had moved away from the door to greet the others. It was evident how much these people cared for one another. Realizing her own awkward position—the only one still mounted—Julianna slid from the saddle. Putting her feet on the ground was not achieved without difficulty but she did manage to push her skirts back down before she turned and faced the group again.

“Och, sorry, lass,” she was surprised to hear Calum say, his mood enlivened and clearly unable to be dampened even by her presence. He strode toward her, the tiny bairn still in his arms. “I dinna so much as forget about you as was overcome by my excitement to see my kin.” He took her hand then and directed her toward the waiting couple. “This is Robbie and his wife, Beitris, a finer couple you’ll never ken.” Julianna’s surprise at his behavior—such delight!—was overwhelmed by curiosity, wondering how he might explain her identity or their circumstance. She was rewarded with an answer soon enough. “Cousin, meet Julianna Elliot.”

The woman, Beitris, slapped her hands to her cheeks but her smile could not be hidden. She was a stout woman, more sturdy than plump, and then more handsome than pretty, but for the generosity of her smile and the warmth of her eyes, which painted her quite lovely. “Your bride!” Beitris exclaimed. “Oh, how exciting!” Without preamble, she stepped forward and hugged Julianna tightly. “How very fine you are, and how pleased we are to receive you.”

Calum ruined the excellent welcome by giving the truth rather carelessly. “She’s no’ my bride—or no’ anymore. But that doesn’t need to all come out now.”

“Jesu,” was grumbled behind Julianna. She thought it might have been Artur.

To her credit, Beitris of the kind blue eyes, blinked only twice as she held Julianna’s hands at arms’ length. “No matter at all, and none of my business, I say. Ye’re as lovely as the sky is big and we’re happy to have ye.”

Relief flooded the distress that Calum’s truth had wrought, and Julianna squeezed Beitris’s hands. “You are very kind, madam. Thank you.”

When everyone had been acknowledged and happily greeted, Robbie and Beitris ushered the weary group inside. Tomag presented the pheasants to Beitris, who cooed happily at the gift, proclaiming she’d have a fine stew for them in no time. Calum kept hold of the smallest lass but had since released Julianna’s hand. She followed after Tomag, smiling at the oldest child, the dark-haired lass, who responded with a bashful grin.

“Sit, sit,” Beitris commanded, swiping a pile of fabrics and sewing notions from the long table in the center of this room. Julianna saw that this was not merely a one chamber structure as most crofts were but spied through a doorway at the end of the room not the expected pens for livestock, but the edge of a bed, draped with a colorful bed covering.

Though Robbie and the MacKinnons had been required to duck through the entry, the vaulted ceiling under the thatched roof allowed them to stand tall until they did take up seats around the table. The table was long and most certainly saw only this charming family usually sat all around it. Today, it was overrun with Calum and his men and Julianna, shrinking the table and the entire room. The children hovered, the older lass smiling timidly at Julianna whenever she met her eye, the lads scrunching up their faces with some curiosity, though their interest was more keen upon the huge warriors inside their home.

Beitris made herself busy in the kitchen area, working between a narrow counter set against the back wall of the home and the hearth that sat adjacent to it. From where she sat on the bench between Tomag and Peadar, Julianna glanced around, her eyes widening a bit as she spotted a cradle near the hearth. A smile came when a tiny hand was seen, raised and wobbling from inside the cradle.

Curious and delighted, Julianna climbed over the back of the bench seat, placing her hand on Tomag’s shoulder to steady herself, and approached the bairn’s bed. A plump infant face greeted her, his eyes fixing upon her with great steadiness, until he realized it was not his mother and a crooked pout began. Pivoting to Beitris, she begged, “May I?”

Beitris gave a hearty laugh. “By all means, lass. That’d be Lucas, nigh on a year.”

With some excitement, Julianna returned to the well-crafted cradle and picked up the fussing, but not yet crying bairn. It had been a while since she’d held one so small, but she’d ever had a soft spot for bairns, that she’d held many in her day. When Effie’s daughter had given birth, Julianna had likely become a nuisance for the amount of time she’d spent in Lisbeth’s croft.

The oldest child, the pretty-eyed lass, began to sidle over toward Julianna. Upon noticing this, Julianna smiled encouragingly at her that she took a few quick steps.

“You are the image of your mother,” Julianna said to her, which saw the girl skip the remainder of the distance that separated them. “Just as bonny and owning a smile to light a room.”

“I think you are very beautiful,” the girl gushed.

“I am Julianna.”

“Mairi,” the girl returned.

Julianna sighed with pleasure, though managed not to disrupt her rocking of the bairn. “Mairi. It’s absolutely perfect. Soft and pretty, as you are.”

Mairi received this with a pink blush and looked expectantly at Julianna, who was favored with some memory of being curious but not exactly possessed of any great ability to make conversation at Mairi’s age.

“You are, I would imagine, a great help to your mam, with the little ones,” Julianna said.

She nodded eagerly and proudly. “Most days, we dinna see da’ or the lads all day, they’re gone so long in the fields or with the hunting.” Glancing down, she said with no small amount of reverence, “Your gown is so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Mairi. Of course, I’ve worn nothing but this for three days, so it’s known better days, but it was always one of my favorites.”

“Are you going to marry Uncle Cal?” Her brows lifted nearly into her hairline.

Julianna made a moue. “I do not think I will. Or rather, he has decided he will not marry me.” At Mairi’s stricken look, Julianna added, “Neither his fault nor my own...it’s just the way it is.”

“I would be very sad if I’d been pledged to him and then he dinna want to wed me.”

“Mayhap if I’d known him at all before...well, everything. But I did not, and now it cannot be so.” Julianna frowned at her own words, wondering from where they’d come. “Now tell me what your day is like? You and your mam must be terribly busy every day for all the chores that need doing.”

They were interrupted by Finn calling out to her. “Julianna, what’s those rivers where Kinclaven sits? The two that meet there?” He made a motion with his hands, showing two things converging, his fingers connecting.

“The Tay and the Isla,” she answered mechanically, only a wee bit curious by what their conversation might be. Giving her regard to the table in general had shown that Calum’s gaze rested on her. Finn had returned his attention to Robbie and resumed speaking to him, but Calum let his dark and unfathomable contemplation stay with Julianna for another moment before turning away. Julianna could not define what the spark that lit his eyes might be even as she was determined that it should not affect her at all.

Blinking, Julianna faced Mairi again, intent on ignoring him. Mairi was yet staring at Calum, her bottom lip hanging open.

“What does that mean?” The lass asked in a whisper. “When he looks at you like that?”

So I did not imagine it!Julianna could not suppress a short and frustrated laugh. “Your guess, dear girl, is as fine as my own. I haven’t a clue.”

Though initially she appeared perplexed, Mairi did soon laugh as well.

She was surprised then by Robbie lifting his voice, arguing, “I dinna want my guests laboring away in my barn. The lads and I’ll get to it soon enough.”

“Six men here now,” Calum said with a tilt of his head. “We can get a lot of work done in a few days. Canna sit around the table jabbering all the while.”

Robbie waved a hand, but Calum and Finn were already getting to their feet.

“Let’s do it,” Finn said. “I’ll be getting lazy. If I canna swing a sword, give me a hammer or such.”

The others followed suit, rising from the table, and though Robbie gave a wee bit more resistance, he looked quite pleased for the offer of help.

Calum pivoted as the men filed out of the cottage, meeting Julianna’s gaze. He threw a thumb over his shoulder, pointing out of doors. “We’ll only be over at the barn.”

She gave a slight nod, not sure if he’d thought to inform her of this because it might have seemed rude to simply have left without saying anything, or if this should be taken as some warning that she shouldn’t try to run, as he would yet be fairly close.

He was gone but a minute, the lads having left as well that only the females and Lucas remained inside, when Beitris turned her face over her shoulder and asked of Julianna, “What did he mean, lass, when he said ye were to marry but now are no’?” She held an onion in her hands, continued to peel away its skin with her short kitchen knife without looking. “None of my business, if ye dinna want to say, but I’ll be telling ye I’m nearly daft with the curiosity.”

Julianna had to suppose that she might have been as well.

She sat at the empty table and settled the babe in her lap, lightly clapping his hands together to keep him amused. A weary sigh preceded her telling. “It’s a sorry happening and one that shames me but...” But when it came down to it, she couldn’t say the words, could not spill the tale of how treacherous her own stepfather had been. She wasn’t sure she could bear this woman’s censure, nor Mairi’s, if she were not believed again. She didn’t know what words she might give to explain the death of a lad named Rory. Her mouth moved but only tears threatened, the words unable to come. She, herself, was shocked by this and lifted a pleading gaze to Beitris, who showed some guilt in a wince for having inquired. Julianna said, “I—I...you will have to have the story from Calum himself. I’m sorry.”

Beitris and Mairi were both silent with their surprise. Mairi’s lips quivered, possibly in response to Julianna’s obvious upset and tears, but neither she nor her mother had any words to console her.