‘He did not tell me,’ said Tara as an awful sense of betrayal took root in her heart.
‘Aye, and to sweeten the deal, he threw in your honour.’
‘That is a horrible thing to say.’ She turned to him with tears in her eyes. ‘My Uncle has always protected me. He wouldn’t do something like that.’
Callum laughed bitterly, his lip curling. ‘Who is to say what a man will do when he has hit the end of his endurance. Your uncle is enslaved to drink and gaming and thinks only of his own survival. And when he is in his cups, his tongue flaps to all who would listen. Oh, your uncle has recounted his burdens to many in the taverns – the debt on Braecaple, his failed speculations in the south. Most of all, he laments that you have not yet found a wealthy husband to keep him in comfort in his dotage. Tara, you may love your uncle, but he does not have your best interests at heart, and it is time to see him as he really is.’
‘I cannot think such a vile thing of him,’ she cried.
‘Why not? Because I am just an ignorant ruffian who lies?’
‘Because it would make my situation unbearable.’ Tara put her hands to her face. ‘I cannot stand it – all these weeks of toil and hardship, the uncertainty of living on a knife edge, the aching loneliness of this cottage, and now this betrayal, if it is true. I am dissolving, becoming less, bit by bit, day by day. I cannot stop it.’
Callum was in turmoil. His heart believed her distress, yet his head screamed at him that her innocence could all be an act. Was she playing the lamb sent to slaughter, or was she part of the scheme? How could he know a woman’s secrets? His judgement was always clouded with desire. Yet, despite his misgivings, he had to comfort her. Tara jumped when Callum put his hands on her shoulders, and he made his voice gentler as he said, ‘I know you must doubt my motives, but I am just looking out for you. I do not like to see you living like this, and I fear what you will become.’
His thumbs rubbed her shoulders. He was too close. The sweetness of her perfume, the feel of her fragile bones under his hands, and her big teary eyes all conspired to shift his anger to a more dangerous direction – tenderness.
‘Why do you care what becomes of me, Callum? You barely know me,’ she sniffed.
‘And yet I do care, most deeply. How does that happen, lass?’
She was silent, tears swimming in those big brown eyes.
‘Do you have no other family to whom you could turn for help?’
‘No, my father died several years ago, and Uncle Ralph became my guardian. I have no one save him.’ She gazed up at him with desperation. ‘I wish that my father were here now. He would tell me what to do.’
‘What was he like, lass?’ said Callum, trying to soothe her.
‘Oh, he was wonderful – kind, honourable. He loved life and people too, and he was the best of men.’
Callum’s thoughts turned to Ralph Hennaut and all his bluster and arrogance. He pitied Tara such a guardian.
‘My own father was a quiet, contemplative man, lass, given to melancholic episodes where he shunned company for months at a time. My mother died when I was but a lad, and folk have told me she took my father’s good spirits with her. We were not given to having company or hosting fine gatherings likes the Gordons.’
Why was he rattling on about his dead father like a weak fool? Why roll over and show his belly? Was it to keep Tara talking because he couldn’t bear to leave her.
Tara wiped her nose with the back of her hand, a childish action which made his heart break for her. ‘When did he pass, Callum?’
‘Just last year. Few folk come to Raigmoor since his death, not that there had been many over the years, and I live in a huge, gloomy castle, whose vast chambers echoed back at me in mockery, for I seem to have no one and nothing to strive for, save my clansmen.’
‘And are you content with that?’ she said.
‘No, and since I have met you, my thoughts cannot be turned from what you might bring to that life.’
‘I don’t understand.’ She was all innocence and softness. The savage in Callum wanted to rip it all away from her, and expose her for what she was, while the honourable side wanted to protect and comfort her. Desire was like a fever come upon him, ripe with folly and shame but overpowering his good sense.
‘Of course, you don’t, lass. How could you? I doubt you give me a second thought whereas I….’
With his body at war with his mind, Callum drew closer, their breaths mingling in the cold air. Riven by desire and jealousy, Callum pulled Tara up against his chest, slid his hand into her hair and bent his lips to hers. There was no resistance. Tara let him kiss her slowly, deeply and passionately. Callum took her mouth with his own, and at first, she was passive in his arms. But when she melted against him and gave a little moan, it stoked his tenderness to breaking point. She felt so right in his arms, so small and fragile and in need of protection. All he could think of was to cherish her, hold her, and keep her safe.
His tongue found hers, and it was delicious, forbidden, sensual. A part of him had gone inside the lass he craved, and triumph swelled in his breast. Encouraged, his hand slid from her hair, tracing the line of her jaw and down her smooth neck to her chest. As their kiss became more heated, her tongue flicking against his, Callum’s cock ripened to bursting point. Why should Hew take what was his?
He pulled Tara to him so that her belly was pressed to it, and she gave a little yelp of surprise against his mouth. Tara’s hands clutched onto his shoulders. His hand slid lower, over the peak of one pert breast and down, until it found a silky nipple. It puckered under his eager fingers, and, for a moment, she seemed lost to lust as much as him. Callum groaned, sinking his head into her neck, inhaling the perfume in her hair. ‘I want you, lass. Since the first moment I laid eyes on you, I have wanted you.’
She squirmed in his arms as his eyes lit on the bed in the corner. ‘Callum…I cannot…you should not….’ she panted as they staggered over to the bed.
‘You are safe with me,’ he growled. ‘I would never hurt you, I swear.’