Celtic Fury Page 9

  Maggie didn’t care about his black moods. It always meant for a lustier romp. She was a randy girl and liked it when Rory visited her. She liked it best when Rory was in one of his moods. Only tonight, she could not please him. It wasn’t that he had nearly drunk himself sick. It was a restlessness that filled him. Despite every attempt, Rory couldn’t find the release he had hoped to find in order to banish the lust that surged through him for that girl. Long after Maggie had fallen asleep, Rory stayed awake. Images of the past and present collided till he felt as if he would go insane. He wished the whiskey would have dulled his thoughts but some how it made the images of her more intense. Damn her, he cursed. Why was he the one to find her broken and battered on the road? Why did he have to find her so beautiful? Why did she get under his skin the way she had? Why did she have to be a hated Campbell? Damn her and her entire cursed clan!

  ~Rory stood in a glen near a crystal pond. The swirling mist caused a chill to pass over his heated flesh. The trees seemed to whisper her name and then he saw her. His beloved Caitlyn stepped from the mist holding out her hand to him. She was smiling and real. He was sure he could touch her. He stepped closer to her, feeling her presence before he even reached her.

  Her honeyed voice said his name, “Ruiri…” She did not look like a ghost. Her lips were pink as he remembered they were in life.

  “Caitlyn…dunna’ leave me.”

  “Ruiri, it grieves my heart, Beloved, that ye’ let love pass ye’. Yer’ heart is too pure to not fill it with love.”

  “I only love ye,’ Caitlyn.”

  “I know ye’ love me…but Ruiri, ye’ must let me go. It was na’ meant to be fer’ ye’ and me.” Rory shook his head, no.

  “If only I had protected ye…if only…”

  “Hush, my beloved Ruiri. T’was never yer’ fault. It was my time, love. But now Ye have another chance, Ruiri.” She swept her hand toward the bank of the pond where Brielle sat there weeping.

  “Nay, not her, Caitlyn. She is a Campbell…I could not dishonor ye’ by being with the likes of her.”

  “She is a Campbell, t’is true, but she is as much a victim by the hands of those who shot those arrows so long ago, as I was. Only she can heal ye,’ Ruiri. I sent her to ye…so ye’ can love again. I was there the day you found her broken and hurt. Dunna’ blame her. Love her…make peace with the war in yer heart.” Caitlyn held her arms around Rory’s ribs and she said, “Love again, my beloved Ruiri. Dunna’ grieve me any more.”

  Rory held her tightly and said, “No! I will never stop loving ye.’ I canna’ love another…I canna’ ever love that one.”

  “I am but a memory, Ruiri. I belong to the land of dreams now. But she is real. She is life.” As Ruiri held Caitlyn in his arms, never wishing her to go, she vanished. The mist lifted and all that was left was the weeping girl on the bank, oblivious to his presence.

  “Caitlyn!” Rory’s voice roared in the quiet of the glen, more the sound of that dreaded animal he didn’t want to be than human. It was a sound born from despair and grief. ~

  Rory woke with a start. He was bathed in sweat. The girl lying beside him stirred and said sleepily, “Are ye’ alright Rory?”

  He left the bed and said, “Aye, Maggie. Sorry to have disturbed ye’.”

  “Come back to bed.” He shook his head.

  “I need to go, lass. Go back to sleep.” She yawned prettily and said, “Alright. Will ye’ come back, later?”

  “Perhaps, Maggie, girl, perhaps.” He gave her a quick kiss and dressed. He didn’t know where he was going but he knew where he wasn’t going to go and that was back to the keep. He murmured, “I’m sorry Caitlyn, I canna’ be with that one. Ye sent me the wrong girl.” He left, riding into the cold crisp air of the night.

  Brielle had finally cried herself into a fitful sleep. Her dreams would not allow her much rest as she dreamed things that tore at her soul as much as Rory had after they had shared those few passionate kisses.

  ~Brielle sat weeping on the shore of the crystal pond. She was once again in that enchanted glen. The swirling mist caused a chill to surround her. When she looked up, there was a beautiful lady dressed in white standing before her.

  “Are ye’ an angel,” she asked.

  “Nay, Brielle. I am here to help Ruiri.” Brielle stood and moved closer to the young woman. She had seen her before, when Ruiri found her bleeding on the road.

  “Who…are you?”

  “I am Ruiri’s past and while he clings to me I remain forever caught between the world of dreams. But Ruiri is in terrible danger.” This was Ruiri's woman. Brielle suddenly felt terrified.

  She stammered, “I am so sorry for what my brothers did.”

  “It was an accident. I dunna' think they even knew I was hiding in the brush. It was my time, Brielle. But as I am Ruiri’s past, ye are his future, and unless ye’ help him; he will never escape his past. He will be lost forever, for I am just dreams, but Ruiri sinks closer to the land of the dying everyday he canna' leave his past behind him.” Brielle hung her head and said, “Ruiri does not want me. T’is as if I shot the arrows myself.”

  “Brielle, please listen to me…t’is almost morning and I must go. Ye will have thought this to be just a dream, but it is not. My time here grows short. You must heed my words. Ruiri blames himself and while he does, he closes his heart. Ye’ are needed to open his heart; fill it back with love…save him…save him…”

  “But, how? He has rejected me. Tell me, Lady, what I should do.”

  “Love him. Dunna’ give up on him. He is not just my Ruiri, now. He is ours. Ye must save him.”

  “But I dunna’ know…”

  “Dunna’ give up on Ruiri,” the lady said again, sliding into the mists before vanishing from Brielle’s sight.

  “Wait…dunna’ go. Please wait.” Brielle was left in the glen at the pool’s edge. ~

  Brielle woke with a start, crying out for Ruiri.

  Morag’s soothing voice said, “There child. T’was only a dream.”

  “What are ye doing here, m’lady?”

  “I came to see if ye’ were alright. I worried ye’ were not and when I did, ye were weeping.”

  “I . . . I saw her.”

  “Who, Lass?”

  “The lady. Ruiri’s lady.” Morag looked startled. “Ye’ saw Caitlyn?”

  “Aye.” Morag was horrified.

  “Nay, t’is not possible.”

  “She said she lives in the world of dreams now because Ruiri clings to her.”

  “Oh, dear. That does not bode well.”

  “She asked me to help Ruiri, only I dunna’ know what I can do to help him.”

  “Ye’ love him, girl. T’is what will help him. Follow yer’ heart. Surely that will unlock the prison Ruiri has created for himself…and for Caitlyn, too, apparently.”

  “She did not seek help for herself; only for Ruiri. She said she was his past and I am his future. She said he belongs to us both now.”

  Morag pondered Brielle’s words. This was bigger than she had guessed. “She doesna’ blame Ruiri…or even my brothers.”

  Morag sighed. “She was such a sweet child. It doesna' surprise me that she still looks after Ruiri, even beyond her grave. I sense that same gentleness of heart and devotion in ye’, lass. Did she look…tormented?”

  “Nay. She was beautiful. She seemed only to be worried for Ruiri. I saw her once before. She was standing behind Ruiri when he found me. I didn’t know who she was at the time and I thought I had dreamed her…or imagined her from the shock of the accident. Remember? I asked ye’ about her.” Morag eyes widened at the memory.

  “So ye’ did, child. So ye’ did. Try to rest and sleep now, Brielle. Ye still have much healing to do, and if ye are to help our Ruiri, ye need all yer’ strength to do so.” Morag didn’t want to alarm Brielle, but she was concerned about this revelation.

  Morag being one of the Old Ones, she did not like that the spirit world was so close to the living a
s it was this night. The girl had indeed mentioned seeing that woman and Morag thought it was from the extent of the injury to the poor lassie’s skull. There were powerful forces at work. Taking a calming breath, Morag saw Brielle settled.

  She looked up at the old woman who had been so kind to her and she said, “I want to help Ruiri. I really do, Morag. I fear I do love him.”

  “I know. Ye’ will. Rest now, t’is almost morning.” Morag turned to leave to allow the girl to rest, but Brielle called her back.

  “Lady Morag…she said Ruiri is in danger.”

  “Aye, he has been for quite some time.” The two women’s eye met in understanding.

  “He is the kindest man I know, besides Caleb. I will do everything to help him.”

  “Aye,” and with a smile, Morag said, “and it doesn’t hurt that Ruiri is a fine looking man.” That remark actually made Brielle smile.

  “Ruiri is the most beautiful man I have ever rested my eyes on.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rory finally returned to the keep shortly before morning. He hunkered down next to the fire and settled into a large chair there. He was tired and chilled to the bone. Rory had spent the remainder of the night riding through the MacCollum lands. He finally wrapped himself in his plaid when exhaustion claimed him and slept on the cold hard earth, sheltered beneath the boughs of a huge fir. He brooded, while stretching his long legs in front of him. He didn’t dare go up to his chambers because that girl was lodged next to his room by his own decree. He was going to do everything possible to avoid her. He was going to move on to Edinburgh as he had originally planned when the Spring Court was in house and so he would just have to bide his time for a few more weeks. Damn, he felt stiff, but he closed his eyes and tried to catch a few winks before morning light.

  As the keep came alive with activity, Rory woke. He was in a pretty fowl mood. He grumbled to one of the serving maids to have a bath drawn in the solar for him. That was what his aching bones needed, he thought. A good steaming bath with a pretty maid to tend him and he would feel right as rain in no time.

  Morag helped the girl dress. Each day her health improved. She knew the girl had not had the best night’s rest, but all in all the lassie looked well. She said, “Brielle, he is back. He requested a bath. Do ye think ye feel well enough to tend him?”

  Brielle nodded, “I can do that.”

  Morag smiled and said, “Good. Now he is going to throw a bit of temper, but I dunna’ think he will hurt ye’, Lass. Can ye’ get past his bluster?”

  Passing her fingers down her scar, unconsciously, Brielle said, “Aye.”

  “Dunna’ let him bully ye, lass. Once he is settled in his bath, lock the door behind ye. Put the key in yer’ pocket. He’ll not fight ye fer’ it, but he may yell.”

  Brielle listened to Morag’s instructions and after carefully considering what she said, Brielle said, “Aye, I will tend him in his bath.”

  “Alright, lass. Go to him. Be strong, Brielle. Let yer’ love fer’ him guide ye.”

  Brielle let herself into the solar. He was already soaking in the steaming vat. He had a cloth over his eyes and he actually appeared to be sleeping. Her mouth went dry. He was the most handsome man she had ever beheld. If he was beautiful when dressed, he was devastating in his nakedness. His skin was bronzed and golden. His shoulders were so wide and strong. Sculpted muscles defined his strong arms. His left arm bore a tattooed Celtic band, marking him one of his clan. His hair hung loosely about his shoulders. While she had tended men in their baths before, never had one affected her so as this one had. She willed her legs to stop shaking and she approached the vat. She took the bar of soap and began to rub it into his shoulders.

  He groaned in satisfaction and he said, “There’s a good lass…I am stiff this morn. Harder please.”

  Brielle massaged his shoulders, squeezing and applying the pressure he craved. She could feel him relax under her touch. Feeling him beneath her fingers was both a treat and a torture. It made her weak in the knees, but oh, it was so wonderful to touch him. As her fingers seemed to work magic on him, she grew bolder. She took a cloth and rubbed it over his chest. She used it to rinse the soap from his shoulders. As she reached around him and gently bathed his chest, his hand shot out and clasped around her wrist.

  He tipped his head back and teased, “How about a kiss.”

  Her heart slammed against her ribs in a mixture of excitement and ire. It was obvious he kissed the serving girls frequently and while she was no serving wench, she decided to acquiesce. She leaned over him and touched her lips to his. She didn’t know if the others kissed him, but she was pretty sure they would never deny him and neither would she. While leaning over him, her mouth was reverse to his, but still she kissed him in this strange position. As her lips parted against his, she felt him go rigid. He tore the cloth away from his eyes, slapping it in the water, which caused a splash to wet her.

  “Bloody feckin’ hell!”

  She stepped back, startled at his outburst, but she planted her hands on her hips and said, “Watch yer’ mouth Ruiri MacCollum. I am still a lady and I willna' have yer' vile tirade.”

  “Like hell ye are! Get the hell out of here!”

  “I am afraid I canna’ do that. For ye see, I have nowhere to go, so I have asked to be put to use here. This is my first task given so, I may earn my keep.”

  “Find another task as long as it is far away from me.”

  “This is the task I was given. Ye’ know I still canna’ do much, but it would seem that helping ye with yer bath was easy enough.”

  “Find ye’ someone else to bathe, leave me alone!” He bellowed. His golden eyes flashed as he raised his voice more so to intimidate her, but she was undaunted.

  “Even though I have done nothing to ye’, ye’ wish to think me the most vile of women. That is fine, Ruiri, but I owe yer’ Da,’ Morag and even ye’ for the kindness shown me here. I promised to help and do my share and I am going to.” Rory sighed heavily.

  “Fine lass, just go help someone else. I dunna’ need yer help.”

  “I am not going, Ruiri and ye will stay and listen. I have things that must be said; things, ye must hear.” His eyes flashed again and he fairly growled through gritted teeth, “Find someone else. I am not the man ye think I am.”

  “Apparently not! The Ruiri I imagined ye to be was kind and gentle. He cared for me in my wounded state. He saved my life. I imaged him to not be stupid to shun a chance to have a girl love him, even an ugly girl like me.”

  “Ye are not ugly,” he grumbled miserably.

  “What?”

  “I dunna’ like being called stupid.” Brielle stared at the brooding man who had just said she wasn’t ugly.

  “Well stupid is a man who shuns the mere thought of love.”

  “Well stupider still is a woman who thinks herself ugly, but who is beautiful beyond reason. And stupid is a woman who loves a man like me.” The insult was lost on Brielle.

  She stammered, “Ye, ye…think I am beautiful? Me, beautiful?” Brielle’s eyes welled with tears.

  No man had made her feel beautiful; certainly none had ever said it. She stepped closer to the vat and leaned down to kiss him again. At first, she felt him respond; his tongue lifting against hers as he nearly forgot his anger. He forgot it long enough to realize how good it felt to kiss her and taste her again. But as he felt her kissing him more deeply, he remembered who she was. He pushed her away roughly; causing her to bump her hip against the vat. She cried out in pain because she was still sore in places from her bruises. He had not mean to hurt her. She was still healing and he forgot how small she was.

  “I’m sorry,” he said brusquely. “Are ye alright?”

  Brielle nodded, looking into his eyes. Damned girl! Unshed tears clung to her long lashes and it was all he could do to not kiss them away.

  “Dunna’ do that again, Brielle, for I am still a man. Campbell or no, I will still react as most men would. I canna' promis
e honor if you provoke me.”

  As color rose in her face at his admonishment, she said softly, “I canna’ help being a Campbell any more than ye can help being MacCollum. I would ne’er hurt anyone Ruiri. Certainly, not yer Caitlyn.”

  His expression changed drastically. He was quickly losing control of his temper. Through clenched teeth he said, “I told ye’ not to say her name.”

  Brielle knew she was treading in very dangerous waters, because this was his dark past, still she forged ahead.

  “She had a name and ye’ dishonor her memory by refusing to speak of her, yet ye hold onto her and let the past keep ye from yer’ future. Ye hold onto a hatred that has naught to do with me.”

  “Dunna’ say another word, Brielle. I am warning ye. Ye dunna’ know what ye are starting.” She knew, but she had to help him and not releasing that darkness was scarier than the darkness itself.

  “Oh nay? Big, dark brooding warrior with a heart of stone! Bah! The legendary Highland Wolf, indeed! Yer’ heart is so tender you tend a broken girl ye dunna’ know and personally see to nursing her back to health even to the point of using yer body to assure her warmth.”

  Flinching at hearing her call him that horrid name, Rory looked at her. He hadn’t been certain she was truly aware of him that night he held her to keep her warm. He thought that night she was pretty out of sorts. He wasn’t sure she even remembered him being there, as she never made another mention of it, and he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her by reminding her.