Page 18 of The Rise of the Highland King (The Last Celtic King #1)

17

Breana had delivered the information she'd collected to the council, and she knew she'd have to take some time with them to go over the maps and diaries in detail soon. She felt immensely proud that she'd been able to get this information which could no doubt turn the war in their favor, but right now, it wasn't her priority. Instead, for the moment, she was focused entirely on the refugees who had marched all this way to be part of the rebellion. Many would go on to fight or find other roles in order to help the cause, but many others—the elderly, the infirm, and children—would be the ones who needed support. Breana, who knew what it was to feel lost, was determined to give it.

She and Eoin, along with a few other rebels, were making individual rounds of the gathered refugees, spending a little time with each person, listening to their stories and seeing that their needs were tended to. Since they had returned to the castle, Breana had only seen Eoin in a fleeting glimpse; it had been a day and a night, and she had been more busy than she could ever have imagined.

Now, as morning broke on the day after their triumphant return, Breana sat with a young girl of about thirteen or fourteen, who had a little boy of around three years old curled up in her lap.

"He's yer brother?" Breana asked the girl, who had already said that her name was Shona.

"Aye, the last one remainin'," Shona replied. She spoke bravely, though it was clear that the girl was weary from the long journey. "There were four of us, though I was the oldest, and the only lassie. Me parents…they'd always been sad, stressed, always tellin' me tae keep me head down and obey, at least on the surface. But I always kent they resented Laird O'Sullivan and the harsh way he treated our people, and that they had nae loyalty tae the False King."

Breana sighed. She knew her father had treated his people terribly, but it had always been an abstract. She'd never been allowed to leave the castle and be among them, and though she had been powerless, she found herself wishing she could have done more. But a moment later, she steeled herself, dismissing those negative thoughts. She couldn't have done more, and she needed to accept that. All that was in her power now was to make a change going forward.

"I'm afraid that there's nae much we can offer tae the rebellion," Shona went on, her voice almost a whisper now. "But when we heard that Laird O'Sullivan had faced a defeat and that the True King was on the march… I kent our parents would want us tae be here. And so we came."

Breana reached out and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. She knew exactly how Shona felt, but after her journey, after all of Eoin's support and the success she'd already managed to achieve in ways she'd never expected, she saw it differently now. "The rebellion isnae here for ye tae serve, Shona," she explained gently. "It's here tae serve ye. Tae care for people like ye and yer brother—the people who are the beatin' heart of this country we're fightin' for."

The young boy shifted in his sleep, and Breana got up to fetch some bowls of hot porridge to bring back to them. She made sure that Shona and her brother were fed and comfortable, then went around some of the other refugees, offering food and comforting words or a listening ear as was needed.

Finally, she took a step to the side to take a small break and drink some water. She'd been working tirelessly since their return, and she knew that she had to care for herself as well—especially when another daunting task awaited her in unravelling the plans and maps she'd managed to take from her father.

"Breana?"

She turned at the sound of her name, and her tiredness sloughed off in an instant. A sunny smile broke out across her face as she saw Eoin approaching, looking as tired as she felt, but with the same satisfaction.

Breana put down her drinking cup, throwing caution to the winds. She was tired of being careful. She closed the small distance between them in a few bounds and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Eoin let out a little sound of surprise mixed with a laugh, and he returned her hug, holding her close. His arms felt wonderful around her waist, giving her a sense of safety and security, and she closed her eyes and leaned into him, just enjoying the chance to be together.

When at last they pulled apart, their hands lingered on each other's. Eoin gave her a lopsided smile and said, "If that's how ye'll react, perhaps I should greet ye more often."

Breana laughed. How light she suddenly felt, being here in this little room with him! How different she felt now than the uncertain woman who had left the castle to save her sister! "Thank ye, Eoin."

"Thank me? All I've done is me duty."

Breana shook her head, squeezing his hands gently. "That's nae true. Ye've shown utmost bravery in helpin' Cailean escape, and…and ye've changed me as well. Ye've made me realize the skills I've had all along, how I might be able tae contribute after all. I didnae think anyone would ever give me that chance."

Eoin's owlish eyes blinked, then softened as he met hers. "Ye gave yerself that chance, Breana. Ye're wonderful. Amazin'. And if ye've only just started tae see yer own talents, then God above only kens the power ye'll hold when ye see yerself as I see ye."

Breana's heart raced. "And how do ye see me?"

Eoin let go of one of her hands, reaching up to touch a stray lock of her hair. "Bonnier than the sunrise. Braver than the strongest warrior. And more clever than the wisewomen of old. Ye're astoundin'."

Pleasure and surprise echoed through Breana in equal measures at those words, and she felt a blush starting at her toes, creeping upward to cover her entire body. She did not try to hide it, instead looking at Eoin straight on as she responded. There was something still troubling her, and she needed to know what he thought.

"I…would ye still think me all these things if I told ye that me heart is glad that Cailean didnae kill me father?" she whispered. "I detest the man and what he stands for. I ken he deserves as bad if not worse than the likes of Murtagh McKenzie, and that eventually he must be punished for what he has done. But…" she closed her eyes.

"But he's the only father ye have, and part of ye is glad ye didnae see him slain," Eoin finished for her. She opened her eyes again to see him watching her with a new intensity in his gaze. "Breana, ye called me brave, but ye dinnae ken the full extent of the things I've done. I was with me father as he wreaked havoc in this very castle. I was part of the wrong side when Maeve was first brought here."

"Ye're makin' up for yer mistakes. Ye had little choice, but now ye're free—just like Maeve. Just like me," Breana told him steadfastly. She hesitated, then asked, "How…how does it feel? Bein' here, kennin' Cailean had tae slay yer father?"

"What Cailean did was just, but I struggle to accept it," Eoin confessed. "Dinnae get me wrong. If things happened all over again, I would hope they went the same way. But I tell ye this tae make ye understand—havin' complicated feelin's about yer father doesnae shame ye, Breana. It makes ye human."

Breana looked up into his blue eyes, her heart thrumming pleasantly as she did. He was so open, so earnest, that she felt she could believe anything he told her, and tell him anything she cared to without fear it would ever turn back on her. "Ye're the bravest man I ken, Eoin Darach," she told him. "For survivin' yer father. For savin' Cailean. For everythin' ye do, every choice ye make."

"We both carry family names that are heavy with shame and guilt. But ye're strong enough tae bear that burden, stronger than anyone I've ever kent, in a way beyond battle strength," Eoin told her. "Everythin' I do is a penance tae clear me name and tae build it again intae somethin' new. Our fathers were awful men, but I truly believe that ye and I… we can build a future together."

"As do I," Breana told him. Impulsively, she reached up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips softly against his cheek. It was a soft, gentle gesture, and though part of her longed for him to turn and catch her mouth with his, she was glad when he simply closed his eyes and leaned into it. "It will be slow. It will be difficult."

"I ken," Eoin assured her. He pulled her into another embrace, and they held each other quietly. There would be time in the future for more, for kisses and touches and declarations. But before any of that, they needed to truly find themselves.

And for the first time, content in Eoin's arms, sure that he would take things as quickly or as slowly as she pleased, Breana felt like she could do it. They would have a lot of work before they reached the point where they could feel truly proud of everything once again…but until that day, from now on, they'd always have each other to lean on.

For now, that was enough. It was more than enough. Breana had never been happier.

The feasting and celebration that filled and surrounded Bruce Castle that night was greater than any that had ever graced its halls in living memory. A bonfire burned in the courtyard, and dancers swayed around it, bouncing and bobbing in time with the cheery flames. Music echoed into the night, meeting with the twirling winds of the Highlands in a happy, jaunty song, and refugees, villagers, and residents of the castle alike mingled and celebrated and allowed themselves to relax into the joy of the atmosphere around them.

Maeve drank it all in, half-delirious in her own happiness. She had barely left Cailean's side since the escape, her hand constantly drifting to find his as they moved through the crowd and greeted and laughed with everyone. She noticed Breana and Eoin remaining close together at the side, drinking and talking quietly, and that made her heart fuller than ever.

She had come so close to losing everything. Cailean had almost been taken from her forever, but instead, thanks to her own actions and the bravery of her friends and her sister, they all stood together once more. In fact, the rebellion was now stronger than ever. Hope pulsed through her with every beat of her heart, and caught up in the atmosphere, Maeve could hardly imagine how things could become more perfect than they were now.

But there was still work to be done. She could not allow herself to forget that. Her father still lived, and while she was eternally grateful to Cailean for sparing his life once, she knew they may not be given such a choice again. Murtagh McKenzie had now openly declared for the enemy side, which was both a blessing and a curse: better to know one's enemy, but worse in that it had closed some doors for the rebellion's allyship. She kept thinking of young Sorcha, and hoping the girl was well.

"Come," Cailean's voice whispered in her ear. "We must address the people. They expect it."

"After yer wonderful speech just last night? Are they nae tired of hearin' yer voice?" Maeve teased. But of course, she followed him up onto the waiting podium, knowing that the speech the king gave during the celebration could be even more important than the words said in the aftermath of victory.

There was much to do, and Cailean could not let his people relax into complacency. And Maeve was proud to be by his side, supporting him.

Kier sharply rang the bell for quiet, and slowly, but surely the noises of celebration died down, and all eyes turned toward where Cailean and Maeve stood. Darren was in the crowd this time, somewhere Maeve could not see, and she was slightly surprised that he wasn't up here with them, but she did not comment.

"Rebels. Countrymen. Friends. We have won a great victory," Cailean declared, then paused as loud cheers followed his words. He grinned, putting up a hand, and slowly the crowd lapsed back into quiet. "But it's important that we ken that our fight isnae over. In fact, in many ways, ye could say it's only just begun."

He gestured to the side, where the council was gathered. "Kier, Senan, Ewan, and Hamish. These men have been the very pulse of this rebellion since before many of us were even born. They, along with the White Sparrows, saved me from what should have been certain death and helped us preserve the soul of a country that might otherwise have been lost forever."

A round of cheers and applause broke out, and Maeve, too, cheered for the men who had raised her love, and for Senan especially, who had saved her. Senan caught her eye and gave her a silly wink, and she grinned back toward him.

When the cheering tailored off, Cailean began to speak again. "The False King will nae let this pass without retribution. Now that we stand openly against the stolen crown, he will send his forces against us tenfold. We willnae always ken who are our enemies and who are our allies. We willnae always be able tae defend against surprise attacks. Murtagh McKenzie lives. James O'Sullivan lives. And the False King looms over us all. We have a battle ahead, me friends, one which isnae for the faint of heart."

"With ye at our head, I'd like tae see them try tae strike us down!" young Dirk called from the front of the crowd, which was met by laughter and more approving cheers.

Cailean grinned. "I'll do me best tae lead, but I'm well aware me power and strength comes from each and every one of ye," he responded. "If it wasnae for the bravery of Eoin, Breana, and Darren, I wouldnae be standin' here just now."

More cheering, and Maeve saw Darren at last, moving toward the podium. He had something in his hands as he stepped up to join them, though Maeve couldn't tell what it was.

"And of course, of me wonderful Maeve," Cailean went on. He turned toward her, and Maeve's attention suddenly narrowed to only him. Her heart fluttered as she met those grey eyes, so warm, so intense yet filled with love. "She has already proven herself a queen in the face of the worst dangers. And one day, in the eyes of God and man, I'll make her me wife."

He held out his hand, and Maeve took it, happy tears pricking at the edge of her vision.

"But until that day, I want our bond tae be made solid before the eyes of everyone present," Cailean announced. His voice went quieter then, and looking intently at Maeve, he said, "I would like tae be handfasted tae ye, me love."

"A bond that willnae be broken," Maeve agreed. She was not shocked, barely even surprised—because to be bound to Cailean felt as natural as breathing.

Darren stepped forward with the cord in his hand, and as he draped it around their joined hands, Maeve's eyes did not leave Cailean's.

"I love ye more than life," Cailean vowed in a simple, earnest tone. "And I bind meself tae ye forever."

Maeve's voice caught in her throat. "I never dreamed I'd find a love like this. And now that I have, I'm only thankful tae be able tae share it."

The ceremony continued, and several others spoke, though Maeve barely noticed. Her heart was so full, her happiness so bright, that for that moment there was nothing beyond this man who held her now.

When it was over and the cords were tucked away to be kept forever, Maeve felt a new woman. She was bonded to Cailean now, perhaps not yet by law, but to her in every way that mattered. When he leaned down to kiss her, much to Darren's teasing and more celebration from the crowd, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, unashamed to display the full strength of her love. Because it was from that very love, she knew that the rebellion would flourish.

The door to their rooms burst open, and Maeve laughed breathlessly as Cailean pulled her inside. It had taken a little time to sneak away from the feast, until Darren had taken pity on them and served as a distraction, and now they'd run hand in hand through the castle as carefree as a pair of young lovers could be.

She kicked the door closed behind them, and before she could even speak, Cailean had grabbed her up into a blistering kiss. She squealed as his arms wrapped around her, slipping under her buttocks and lifting her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the hard wood of the door against her back as he staggered back to hold her against the wall, their kiss never breaking until Maeve began to feel lightheaded.

When they broke apart, gasping, it was only so that Cailean could move his mouth to her earlobe, nibbling and teasing, whispering as he went. "Ye taste so wonderful," he breathed, pressing her against the door. She could feel his hardness through his trousers, but despite his need, he was clearly in no hurry. He moved his kisses to her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, causing her to squirm and gasp.

Maeve tightened her legs around his waist, her hands gripping his hair. She pulled slightly, making him look up, and caught him in another deep kiss, their tongues dancing, their bodies pressed tightly together.

Cailean turned, carrying her to the bed and laying her down, then immediately joined her. They lay tangled in each other's arms, touching and kissing, and though they were still mostly dressed, there was something enticing about the way his hands felt through the silk of her celebration dress. The space between her legs pulsed with heat and need, and as he unhurriedly caressed her, her need grew beyond her control.

When his hands strayed to her ribbons, she put out her hands to stop him.

"Leave it on," she gasped, her body aflame as his fingers trailed across the soft material of her bodice.

He cocked his head, a question behind the hunger in his eyes.

"Ye might be patient, but I'm nae," she said. "I want ye. Like this. Now. "

Cailean's grey eyes widened, but then the heat in them flared. He needed no more invitation, and he loosened the ties on his own trousers, allowing them to fall away. She stared at his bareness, marvelling at him as she always did, and the need was so intense inside her that she felt almost breathless.

" Now, Cailean," she half-whimpered.

Cailean's hands moved to her skirts. He clearly needed her as much as she did him, but he still took his time, hiking her soft skirt up inch by inch, then ever so slowly loosing her underclothes. He positioned himself between her legs and leaned down to kiss her once more, as his chest pressed against her once more, hot against the silk.

When they joined, Maeve let out a deep sigh, and they began to move together. Her legs wrapped around him again, urging him on.

The friction began to build, their bodies slipping sensually against her dress, the bareness of their legs against one another like a heated flame, and Maeve surrendered to the climax as it hit her all at once.

As she cried out his name, Cailean caught her in another kiss, and she rode it out against him. Before she had even come down, he whispered her name, and her body lurched again, the muscles taut as indescribable heat and pleasure pulsed through her. Cailean followed her soon after her second high, grunting out her name in a way that made her whole body shiver as they finished.

He collapsed against her, and she held him, hot and sticky in her dress, sweating and panting and happier than she'd ever been in her life. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. Though the cord was now tucked away, she could still feel it wrapped around their arms, binding them together, declaring their love in defiance of everything that had ever been against them.

Eventually, she let go and he rolled off. They lay side by side for some time, not speaking, just enjoying being by one another's side.

After perhaps a quarter of an hour of just being with each other, Maeve sighed and sat up, giggling in an uncharacteristically bashful way as she saw the state of her dress. "I suppose I should go and bathe," she said. "This would be a terrible state for a queen tae be caught in."

"Indeed," Cailean replied, his eyes travelling over her body with clear appreciation. "Need any help with that?"

Laughing, Maeve set off toward the washroom, Cailean close behind her, content that for now, she had found herself in the truest kind of paradise. Come what may, Maeve and Cailean had been bound together by fate—and nobody could ever break them.