Page 22 of Taming the Highland Beauty (Guardians of the Isles #7)

G ille and Callum stood facing each other on the shores of the loch while the others prepared for the pending celebration. Gille smiled when Callum, his muscles rippling beneath the thin fabric of his muslin shirt, held a wooden stick in his hands. She gripped a similar weapon. He would teach her to fight, but not with real weapons until he was certain of her skill. So, sticks would have to do.

“Remember,” Callum instructed, his voice firm but gentle, “it is not about brute strength. It is about using your agility and quickness to your advantage.”

Gille nodded, her eyes focused on Callum. She took a deep breath and lunged forward, her stick raised. Callum parried her attack with ease, his movements fluid and precise.

“You are being too predictable,” he said, smiling. “You need to vary your attacks.”

Gille tried again, this time feinting to the left before striking to the right. Callum blocked her attack, but she managed to slip past his guard and land a glancing blow to his chest.

“Good,” Callum praised. “Keep it up. You are lighter and more agile than any man—either fairy or human. Use that to your advantage.”

Many attempts later and as the moon climbed higher in the sky, casting long, dancing shadows across the loch, Gille felt a surge of confidence. Even with a stick and not a dagger, she might be able to at least distract the fairy king for a moment or two.

They continued to spar until Alastair and Gwendolyn came down to the beach to light the Beltane fire. In a moment of distraction as the flames licked hungrily at the dry wood, and a pop sounded and sent sparks flying, Gille managed to disarm Callum, leaving him momentarily defenceless. With a swift movement, she lunged forward and tackled him to the ground.

Callum laughed. “I am impressed. You have improved a lot,” he said, gaining his feet. “Keep practising, and you will be a formidable opponent.”

Gille smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. But as quickly as it had come, her smile slipped. All the while they had been practising, she had felt as though someone was watching from the shadows. Yet looking around the beach where the fire pushed back the darkness, she could see nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was Oberon, waiting in the shadows for the right moment to attack once more. For she knew without a doubt that the fairy king would try to stop her from breaking the curse later that night. At least she had a few new skills to help her when the moment arrived.

In the meanwhile, she could spend every moment from now until Minerva could transform worrying, or she could try to live in the moment and enjoy the festivities around her. Callum was with her, and soon the other MacLeods would be as well. If Oberon came for her, she would not be alone. Determined to find a sliver of joy in this night, Gille concentrated on the activity around her.

Once the fire had been lit, it seemed like the entire castle emptied onto the beach. Everyone from kitchen maids to stable hands mingled about the Beltane fire alongside the villagers, the castle’s warriors, and the MacLeods. All were celebrating that not only had the MacLeods triumphed over their enemy and the castle still stood, but only three of the warriors had been wounded. Those three were gathered around the fire with everyone else after Arabella had tended to their injuries with the skills she had learned from Lottie.

Alastair planted the Fairy Flag in the beach, its pole firmly rooted in the soil and rocks. The flag, a symbol of their victory, added to the festive atmosphere. After that, the cattle were brought out and paraded about the fire pit and the roaring flames, to protect them, the people who cared for them, and the crops that fed them, the next few hours could be spent indulging in frivolities.

In those precious hours, Gille would pretend to be like anyone else here on Beltane Eve, playing games, feasting, and seeking the protection the fires were said to ensure, such as warding off fairies. One particular fairy came to mind. Most of those gathered knew nothing of the challenge that lay ahead for Gille this evening, and she preferred it that way. She did not want others to look at her with sadness or pity if she failed.

Once more she forced her thoughts back to the moment, gazing at the tables from the great hall that had been carried down a path they had cleared through the rubble to the beach. The tables were laden and overflowing with roasted lamb, oat cakes, bread, cheese, and creamy custard as well as strawberries, apples, asparagus, and radishes. Jars of honey were interspersed between the platters, allowing the revellers to sweeten their own food. Ale was poured into tankards and shared liberally with the crowd. Off to the side of the tables was a May bough, a branch from a rowan tree, which had been decorated with yellow-gold marigolds, ribbons, and painted shells.

Gille inhaled deeply, the heavy night air filling her lungs. Darkness mixed with silver moonlight that was broken only by the red-gold flames that danced towards the sky. The wind carried the musical strains of bagpipes across the shore, blending the sound with the chatter of excited voices.

She closed her eyes and allowed the music and magic to wash over her, until she felt herself relaxing, swaying to the rhythmic beat of the pipers’ song. When the pipers’ song died down, Gille opened her eyes to see Callum reach for his mandolin. He played a traditional folk song with a lively tune. When the last note died away, those gathered clapped in appreciation. He set his mandolin aside and settled beside Gille once more. She smiled at Callum with a newfound appreciation. “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this night,” she said.

Callum returned her steady gaze. “It is I who should be thanking you,” he replied. “I have been to many Beltane celebrations, but this is the first one that means more than just drinking my fill of ale by the fire.”

As the pipers started another lively tune, the others laughed and raced to the fire, forming a giant ring around the flames then began dancing to the left before shifting to the right.

“Dance with me.”

When she nodded, instead of leading her to the dancers, Callum gave her a long, slow kiss that spoke the words he did not say aloud. It was enough for now. Perhaps someday he would tell her what she longed to hear.

He broke the kiss and took a hand, pulling her into the ring of dancers, locking his arm through hers. They moved to the left and then the right in rhythm to the music. When she missed a step, forcing Callum to do the same, a giggle worked its way up inside her.

With a mischievous grin, he quickened his steps. She matched him step for step until they were both laughing. The bonfire spun before her in a whirl of orange and red against the velvet backdrop of night.

Gille smiled as bittersweet joy filled her. Her situation was dire, her future unknown, and still she and Callum had found a way to live in the moment. She tipped her head back. A thousand stars glittered in the night sky. She said a silent prayer that she and Callum would be together longer than just a few more hours. Nothing would make her happier than spending every precious moment with him at her side.

After several songs, the pipers took a break and the dancing subsided. “It is time to decide who will jump the Beltane fire,” Tormod said.

“To leap across the fire three times is a custom as old as Beltane itself,” Callum explained as his brothers continued to playfully argue about who would jump this year.

“You got to jump last year,” Orrick said, with a laugh. “That should disqualify you tonight.”

Alastair and Keiran approached with tankards of ale in their hands. “Afraid of a little competition, Tormod?”

“Never from you,” Tormod blustered, and Alastair and Keiran laughed.

Callum and Gille watched as Gwendolyn gathered oat cakes, breaking them into as many pieces as there were people celebrating. When she was done, she placed them in a bonnet. Alastair carried one portion to the fire and set it amongst the coals near the edge of the fire until it burned black. When the task was complete, he removed it with a clam shell, then waited for it to cool before placing it in the bonnet along with the other pieces.

The revellers surged towards Alastair and Gwendolyn, eager to play the game. One by one they plunged their hands into the bonnet. Each unburned cake that came forth drew a relieved sigh or a groan of disappointment.

When Tormod dipped his hand inside the bonnet, it seemed as though everyone held their breath, until he pulled out an unburned portion then they cheered. “Ah, maybe next year.” Tormod waved Orrick forward. “Your turn this year.”

When Orrick reached for his lot, he also drew an unburned cake. “’Tis not to be this year. So, who will it be?”

Graeme and Aria, Rowena and Marcus all picked unburned cakes. Even Keiran, Alastair, and Gwendolyn came up with nothing to show for their efforts. When all had drawn their lot except for Callum and herself, a collective gaze shifted to the two of them.

“Shall we draw together?” Callum asked as his challenging gaze connected with hers.

She nodded, accepting his dare. As their hands dove into the bonnet, his brushed against hers while trying to find one of the two scraps inside. Warmth flared where his fingers touched. They both lingered there for a moment before pulling their pieces out.

Gille spread her palm to reveal an unburned cake, and her gaze flew to Callum’s hand. There on the flat of his palm was the black cake.

The crowd cheered, “The King of the May!” Tormod and Orrick swept in and lifted Callum onto their shoulders and paraded him around the fire. A heartbeat later, Gille gasped as she, too, found herself hoisted aloft, joining the parade. “To the king and queen of the night.” A second cheer went out as the pipers began to play a wild, spirited tune.

Gille and Callum found themselves thrust together and then parted again and again on their journey around the fire. Excitement bubbled up inside Gille, not just at the merrymaking, but at the sensual way Callum looked at her whenever they came together. And a responding honeyed heat flared within her.

Gille suddenly wished they were anywhere but here, alone and undisturbed. As if reading her thoughts, Callum reached for her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. The two of them were twirled about the fire, their gazes locked, the intimacy of their touch intensified by the swirling music and the heat of the flames.

The moment was broken as they were suddenly lowered to the ground, standing before the fire. A chant of “jump, jump, jump” echoed through the crowd, mirroring the pounding of Gille’s heart. Callum was pulled away, turned towards the flames. “You must show us how it is done, mighty King of the May,” the crowd chanted.

With a final look at Gille that spoke volumes of his regret, Callum parted the crowd, giving himself room to run. The fire had shifted from ravenous flames to a bed of coals, searching for a new source of fuel.

Gille held her breath as Callum coiled his body. Before he raced for the flames, he spared her one last look, a look that told her he did this for her, and her alone.

Gille’s heart stumbled in her chest as he raced forward and leapt over the fire, high above the flames. Then he turned and completed a second jump, then a third, and a cheer rose from the crowd. “The king is triumphant!” A mug of ale was pressed into his hand by Tormod as he and his brothers drew Callum away from the fire to celebrate his victory. Gwendolyn and Fiona came to stand beside Gille, watching the men as they made merry and sang to the pipers’ song.

“’Tis a rite of passage in this family—jumping the fire,” Gwendolyn said with a hint of laughter in her voice as she watched Alastair imitate the way Callum had set his face as he had accomplished the deed. “It has been hard for Alastair to see Callum as the man he now is. Tonight changed all that. You changed all that.” Gwendolyn’s gaze shifted to Gille. A gentle smile tugged at her lips.

“Only a blind man could not see the way the two of you look at each other. You care about Callum, do you not?” Fiona asked carefully.

“Aye,” Gille admitted. She had no reason to lie to the two women who had helped her so much since coming to Dunvegan. “Though I do not know if he feels the same way.” She brought her suddenly trembling fingers to her mouth, as if doing so would hold back a tide of emotions that suddenly swamped her.

Fiona and Gwendolyn’s gazes filled with compassion, as if they knew all the things Gille did not say, all her fears, all her hopes for a future that might never be hers.

Gwendolyn placed a hand on Gille’s arm, lending comfort. “The MacLeod men are warriors; their bodies are honed by years of training and battle. They are fierce and fearless, their courage a legend among their people. Yet beneath their hardened exteriors, they carry a depth of emotion that few dare to glimpse. Our husbands, and your Callum, feel things deeply, their hearts as tender as their muscles are strong. But expressing their emotions is a challenge, a vulnerability they are reluctant to expose. They have been taught to mask their feelings, to bury them deep within, to present a stoic facade to the world.”

“Until someone comes along who changes all that,” Fiona said with warmth in her gaze. “For Callum, that person is you. Give him time and he will say what you long to hear.”

“I do not have time,” Gille replied, her voice barely a whisper.

She shifted her gaze to the darkened horizon, the weight of her situation pressing down on her. “Only a few hours more, at best, unless my curse is broken.” She pressed her lips together to hold back the tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

Gwendolyn offered an encouraging smile. “There was a time, not so long ago, when both Fiona and I thought we would never be free of the misery that surrounded us. We both felt as though we were doomed. But then, just when things looked their worst, Alastair and Tormod helped us reach for the happiness we craved. We each found our happy ending, and you will too.”

“Have faith.” Fiona squeezed Gille’s hand then released it.

The words helped steel Gille’s resolve. Have faith. She did have faith in Callum, in the MacLeods, and in her own determination. They had gathered all the right pieces to solve this puzzle, they simply needed to put everything into play.