Heart in the Highlands by Heidi Kimball

Chapter Thirty-Three

Callum was caught. Captured. Shrouded in a moment where time had slowed, moving beneath a gentle haze. Katie reached out and took his hand, settling it beneath her collarbone, where he could feel the pounding of her heart. “My heart is yours, Callum.” The pulsing beneath his palm was proof of the truth of her words.

What did a man say when he was offered all he’d ever wanted? He couldn’t speak. His chest expanded with hope, but he couldn’t let her confession go un-answered. “And my heart is yours, Katie. Broken and bent as it is, it beats only for ye.”

Their breath mingled, the fraction of space between them knit with promise. Her arm went around his neck; his hand found a resting place on her waist. He fitted his lips to hers, infusing every bit of his touch with the depth of his feelings. She sighed against him, her lips half parted. He covered the bow of her lips with a gentle passion, pulling her fully into his arms.

The moment seemed more dream than reality. Katie tasted silky sweet, the velvet of her lips a balm to his soul. She melted against his chest, and all space between them disappeared. But it was more than physical proximity. They shared the same pulsing heartbeat, as if her very soul was being woven through his.

She was heaven and light and goodness. All that he’d ever needed and more than he’d ever imagined could be his. He cupped her face in his hands, anchoring her in place. He’d never let her go. His kisses were hungry, a man starving for tenderness and affection, and she reciprocated freely, her hands in his hair, around his neck, pulling him closer.

He tasted the salt of her tears, or perhaps they were his own. But it was not enough. They’d traveled this path once before, but as much as he wanted her, much as he hungered for the brush of her lips against his and the tangle of her hair beneath his hand, he wouldn’t go down it again without making his vows afresh.

He pressed one last gentle kiss to her lips and then pulled back, his breath ragged.

Kate gulped in air, trying to make sense of why Callum was pulling away . . . again. Her heart plummeted into her stomach, stopping only as he reached for her hand.

He blinked, his features as earnest as she’d ever seen them. “Katie, I can only endeavor to deserve ye, which is why, before we go on, I want to make ye promises ye’ll never have cause to doubt.” He looked around, reaching for the cord he’d set beside him. He took her hand in his. “A handfast,” he said, his voice low.

“A . . . handfast?” She blinked, wide-eyed, her heart still unsteady. Her hand trembled in his as he looped the cord around their wrists. The cord chafed a bit as he tightened it, but she savored the strength of his fingers around hers.

“Aye. We bind our hands together, like so, and now I’ll speak my vows. Ye deserve to hear me repledge myself to the promises I made ye when we married. Ones I’ll never break. I do not know the exact words, but I can supply my own.”

“Wait,” Kate pleaded, her stomach twisting. She couldn’t let him go on. Not yet. She stared at the cord that bound their hands together, unable to look him in the eye. Much as she wanted to hear his vows, she would not let him speak another word until she’d confessed the truth. When they made promises to each other this time, there would be no secrets between them.

“Katie?” he asked. “What is it? Please look at me.”

She lifted her gaze slowly, tears pooling in her eyes. “There is something I must tell you . . . about Charlotte’s birth.”

“Charlotte’s birth?” he echoed, confusion rimming his words.

He looked askance at her, but she forged ahead, giving way to agony as the truth spilled from her tongue. “Charlotte was a twin.” The admission tore something free, and her heart bled anew. “First came a boy. Silent and blue.”

A strangled sound, one of shock, came from Callum’s throat. She didn’t look up.

“I named him Callum.” A breath. “Because he left me too.” Her pain was growing at a fevered pitch, her voice shaking. “I thought my heart would never beat again. My soul felt black. Though I’d never said it out loud, I’d resented the baby that had grown in my womb—a reminder of our one night together. But he was dead. Had been for some time. It was my fault. Somehow, I’d cursed our son.” Her voice broke. She glanced over to where Charlotte lay, afraid of waking her, but Charlotte didn’t stir.

Callum’s face twisted with pain. He leaned away from her, distancing himself from the sting of her words.

“I was in such agony. I waited to die,” she continued. “I hoped for it. But the doctor told me another baby was coming, that I needed to push again. A few minutes later, Charlotte appeared, tiny but squalling and pink. A miracle.” She wiped away some tears with the back of her free hand, the other still tied to Callum’s. “When Harriet placed her in my arms, my heart started beating once more.”

“Why didn’t ye tell me?” he asked, the edge of his voice blade-sharp.

He deserved an answer, but if she didn’t finish now, she’d lose her nerve. “I began to bleed, heavily. The doctor did what he could, but there wasn’t much time . . .” Her voice trailed off. “There will be no more children.” Her heart squeezed as she finally said the words out loud. “No heir. I’m sorry, Callum. So very sorry.”

“No more . . .” He glanced at Charlotte. The haunted look in his eyes went all the way to Kate’s soul. His fingers had gone cold, and all at once he was pulling at the cord that bound them together and ripping his hand free of hers.

“Ye kept the truth from me?” It was half question, half accusation. Kate’s stomach spiraled downward at the tormented look on his face. His eyes had turned grim. “I’m sorry, but I cannae . . .” He pushed himself to his feet, reaching out toward the wall of the shed to steady himself, and shook his head in a swift, savage motion. “I cannae.”

And without glancing back, he stalked into the night, leaving Kate and Charlotte very much alone.