Page 3 of The Rise of the Highland King (The Last Celtic King #1)

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Cailean wished that the others had been as easy to communicate with as Maeve. The rest of the meeting did not go so smoothly, with much back and forth, debate and negotiation, and warring opinions in the room. However, it was eventually decided that they would indeed go. A party of twelve would leave for Clan McKenzie two days hence, led by Cailean. With him would be Darren, Fergus, and Maeve, along with eight others who had yet to be determined. He would select his most trusted warriors, as well as a scribe and a healer who had also been trained in fighting. They were also sending a few of their scouts out to liaise with the White Sparrows about the most recent events.

All of that, though, could wait until tomorrow. After the meeting, Cailean had been pulled away to deal with work and questions, and he hadn't had a moment to rest since morning. He hadn't even been able to see Maeve since the meeting, and as he headed back toward their rooms, all he wanted in the world was to curl up in her arms and forget everything until it was time for responsibility to rear its head. He did not resent his role as future king, nor did he wish to turn away from his duties, but that did not mean that the burden did not lay heavy upon his shoulders at times.

The weight lifted as he pushed open the doors to his chambers and walked in to see Maeve waiting on the window seat, looking out over the grounds. He stood there for a moment, just watching her. She was the most beautiful image he'd ever seen, with her tumbling long brown hair, grown again after being cut, her wide grass-green eyes, and her flowing white dress. It wasn't just her physical attractiveness, though; her whole being gave off an aura of peace and warmth that gave him a new lease on life. Cailean understood that she knew that she was beautiful; it even bothered her sometimes, but she didn't truly understand what it meant. It wasn't the way she looked. It was the way she was—everything about her.

He stepped forward, and the sound of his shoes on the stone was enough to distract Maeve from where she had been looking. "Cailean," she greeted. She sounded tired, but genuinely happy to see him, that same warmth echoing in her voice. "I missed ye. Have ye had a long day?"

"Ye're already in yer night things," he observed as he closed and locked the door behind him, and she stood and made her way toward him. Her pretty nightgown was thin and clinging, and his eyes couldn't help wandering over her body, admiring the rise and fall of her chest, the soft curves of her hips. "Ye didnae stay awake just waitin' for me, did ye?"

"Of course I did," she told him with a soft laugh. "Take off yer shoes. Ye need tae rest."

The tiredness sagged on his shoulders and he said, "Ye're right. I do."

Maeve took Cailean by the hand and led him to their bed, sitting him down on the edge. She knelt, undoing the buckles on his shoes and helping him take them off.

"Ye dinnae need tae do that," he told her, though his gratitude was evident in his voice.

"I ken. If ye expected it, I wouldnae," she replied. She undid the ties, and he shifted, allowing his clothing to fall away piece by piece as she helped him undress, leaving him in only his underthings. Every moment lit up his muscles, changing his exhaustion into something new. Pressing a kiss to his chest, Maeve said, "There. That's better, is it nae?"

He let out a low noise of satisfaction. Feeling her this close, the tiredness seemed to vanish, replaced by something more primal. He still longed for his bed, but now he needed her with him. "Come here," he said, reaching out.

She danced away from his hands. "In a moment," she told him. She walked over to the chest of drawers nearby and picked up a small wrapped package from the top. "I want tae give ye somethin' first."

Temporarily distracted by his curiosity, Cailean asked, "Is this a gift?"

"Aye, of sorts." She placed the package in his hands. "Open it. Please."

Cailean pulled at the little string that held the bundle together, and the silk wrap fell away to reveal a small but finely crafted knife. "What is this?"

"It was a gift given tae me long ago," Maeve explained. "I carried it with me in the halls of this castle when it was kent as Darach Castle, ruled by our oppressors. I used it tae make meself feel safe when me life was naught but darkness. But now…now I carry Tailfeather at me side, because ye gifted her tae me. Now I walk these walls as me home, nae as me prison. I dinnae need it anymore — but I want ye tae have it."

"Me?"

"Ye. I want ye tae be protected, just as I was protected by it." Maeve closed his hands gently around the handle. "I'm givin' ye a blade, just as ye gave me one. May it guard ye as closely as yers has guarded me."

Cailean's heart swelled, and he felt a lump in his throat, almost overwhelmed by her gesture. He handed her back the knife, and she placed it safely back in the drawers, then returned to his open arms. Cailean held her close in a tight embrace, pressing his lips to her hair. "Thank ye," he murmured. "Thank ye so much. I cannae explain how much it means tae me."

"Ye mean it?" she whispered against his chest. She was sitting on his lap now, her legs wrapped around his waist. "I'm so glad ye like it, I…"

"I'll carry it with me always," he promised. He paused, then asked, "Are ye afraid?"

"I…" Maeve pulled back and looked up at him. "Aye. I'm afraid, Cailean. Nae about the danger we face in front of us—God kens we've already faced worse dangers together—but of somethin' much more terrifyin'. I'm afraid of losin' ye."

"Ye'll never lose me," Cailean promised her. "Even if they pull us apart, even if I die, I'll always be at yer side. I'll always be with ye. I swear it." He kissed her gently. "And believe me, I have nae intention of dyin' anyway."

"Ye'd better not," she told him, then relaxed into his arms, her body pressed against his bare chest, surrendering to a deeper kiss.

The heat in the room seemed to change as their mouths pressed together, and their lips parted, their tongues meeting. It was not hurried this time, not rushed at all, as Maeve gently pushed and Cailean fell back against the bed, his arms tight on her back, bringing her down with him. Their bodies pressed tightly together as they lay like that, their hips already grinding against one another, but neither was in a hurry to end this, even as Cailean felt her pressing against his hardness and longed to feel her even closer.

They broke the kiss, and Maeve sat up, but kept a hand on his chest to keep him laying as he was. She leaned down, kissing his neck and chest, giving him the full view of her atop him in nothing but her thin nightdress that felt so exquisite against his skin, second only to the feeling of her bareness against his own.

"Maeve…" he murmured as her hands ran down his sides, leaving little sparks of lightning behind them as they went. He moved to touch her, but he batted his hands away.

"Let me," she told him, her deep green eyes flashing with hunger that made his lower half pulse with need. It was difficult not to touch her, but he could tell how much she wanted this, and he could not refuse her anything in this state.

She moved off him, causing him to groan at the sudden loss of her weight, but his groan was cut off as her lips found his again. The kiss was firmer this time, more intense, and when she pulled back, they were both gasping for air. Her kisses continued downward, down his chest, her fingers exploring his entire body, and when she reached his underwear line, Cailean's body shuddered with need.

"I…"

"Shhh," she whispered, and she removed the underwear in a way that was somehow both awkward and sensual. She'd never taken charge like this before, and with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Cailean could not think of anything more attractive to him now than giving over the reins for a little while.

Her hand travelled further down, and when it found his manhood, he let out a low grunt and closed his eyes. Her touch felt indescribable, and when her lips pressed against him too, he barely knew how to control himself. She worked and kissed and touched and Cailean's body grew hot and impatient, hurtling toward release, but he would not let it go—not yet.

"Stop," he stuttered out, pulling himself up onto his elbows. "Stop."

Maeve stopped, straightening up. "Did I do somethin' wrong?"

"Wrong?" Cailean almost laughed. "Maeve, nothin' has ever felt so right. But I cannae take another minute without havin' all of ye. Come here."

Maeve didn't need telling twice. She fell into his arms, accepting his blistering kisses and returning with her own, and she didn't object when he flipped her onto her back and hovered atop her.

His hand slid down and pushed up her nightdress, exposing her to the night air, but when his fingers returned down to do their work, she said, "Wait, just…all of ye. Now. Please."

Cailean was a strong man, but not strong enough to resist that. He growled a little in his throat, then positioned himself over her, pressing into her slowly. Maeve gasped under him, writhing at the feel of him, and Cailean almost burst at the seams then and there. She'd already made him sensitive, and the way she felt around him was almost too much. But he would not let go yet. He started to move, and she moved too, slipping into their rhythm with now-practiced ease.

It was as easy as dancing, as easy as sparring, the way their bodies fit together so perfectly. Cailean moved harder, faster, kissing and touching her skin, her face, her breasts, desperate for all of her, and when he felt her go rigid around him and cry out his name, he at last allowed himself to come undone.

Once he was spent, he rolled off gently, laying on his back. He reached for Maeve, who turned into his arms without a word. They didn't speak more, just lay there together in each other's arms.

There was more to say, much more. There were words to exchange and fears to share and hopes to go over. There was a little knife, safe on the chest of drawers, that symbolized the danger that waited before them.

But for now, none of that mattered. For now, there were just the two of them, drifting to sleep, safe in each other's arms. The only place where Cailean would want to be.

The day that the party would leave for the McKenzie clan arrived with an overcast sky, which Maeve did her best not to take as an omen. It was drizzling slightly when Maeve walked out into the courtyard, and she found Breana standing there watching the men prepare the horses, Ferda by her side. Breana's face wore that same troubled expression that Maeve had noticed on the training grounds, and Maeve knew that she'd have to say something before she left.

She approached them, donning a smile on her face, even though she, too, was warring with extremely complex emotions about what they were about to do. Breana turned to see her and smiled, too, and the sisters embraced tightly.

"I cannae believe I just got ye back and ye're goin' away from me intae danger again," Breana told her after they'd separated. "Och, Maeve. How am I tae be here without ye?"

"I'm sad too," Maeve admitted. She hadn't meant to say it, but she found that she could not lie to her sister's face. "I wish… I wish I could stay with ye, Bre, I truly do. But I must go. Ye understand that, aye?"

"I understand perfectly. And I ken it isnae just about Cailean, either, before ye say it," Breana replied. "I ken ye need tae do this because ye love our country, and I admire ye for it more than ye could ken. I just wish that I could… come with ye, maybe. Do somethin' useful. Somethin'. Anythin'."

"Bre… ye are bein' useful. Ye're helpin' out here more than ye ken. And I need ye tae be safe." Maeve touched her sister's cheek. "Besides, ye'll need tae keep Ferda company."

Ferda cleared her throat. "I'm goin' too," she said. "Nae with ye all the way, just as far as the next crossin'. I've been chosen tae go and find the Sparrows."

"Ye're goin' as well?" Breana asked, sounding truly miserable.

"But Patty will be here. And Eoin," Ferda told her quickly. "Ye willnae be alone, Breana."

"Nae for a moment," Maeve assured her. "This is our family now, Bre. And as long as we're with them, we're nae ever gonnae be alone. I swear it with all me heart and soul."

Ferda hugged Breana and then moved off, allowing the sisters a little privacy to finalize their goodbyes.

"And ye?" Breana asked. "Will ye be alone? What if somethin' happens? What if…?"

Maeve shook her head. "Somethin' may happen. I willnae lie tae ye and pretend that there's nae chance of danger. But I can promise ye that I'll never be alone, and I'll never be afraid. I will do everythin' it takes, move heaven and earth if I have tae, tae return tae ye. And I'll do me best tae do whatever I can do tae make sure I bring everyone else back with me."

Breana smiled slightly, though there was still sadness in her eyes. "I believe ye," she said. "I believe ye."

Just before they left, it felt like almost everyone in the rebel camp was gathered at the front of the castle to see the party off. Cailean, Darren, Fergus, and Maeve led the group, each of them wearing a look of determination and certainty on their face. Ferda was mounted as well, ready to ride with them for a few miles until it was time to set off on a mission of their own. There was no room for doubt anymore, no room for error—they would succeed because they had no other choice.

Maeve spotted a face in the crowd and turned to Cailean, signalling to let him know that she needed a moment before she was ready to go. Cailean nodded, and Maeve slipped off her horse and hurried forward.

"Eoin," she called, and Eoin came to her immediately, allowing her to pull him to the side out of the earshot of listening rebels.

They stood alone to the side for a moment, then the two friends embraced, quickly but with meaning.

"I wanted tae thank ye. Really, this time," Maeve told him. "Nae just for savin' me, but for everythin' since then. For yer loyalty, yer friendship. Yer courage. I ken that none of this has been easy for ye—people cursin' the Darach name, yer name?—"

"A name is a name, but me loyalty is here. With Cailean. With the rebels. With Scotland," Eoin told her. "Ye neednae worry about me."

Maeve smiled. "I ken. I ken, ye're right, of course. But I wanted tae thank ye anyway. And…well, I have a favor tae ask of ye. A big one, as it might be, but…"

"Ask it," he said immediately. "Anythin' ye want or need, and it's yers, if it's in me power."

"I just… I just want tae ken that ye're gonnae keep an eye on Breana when I'm gone, is all," Maeve said. "Can ye do that for me?"

Eoin shrugged and nodded, such a casual gesture that Maeve could see that it was simply a given to him that he would be there for her sister. She watched as his eyes sought out Breana in the crowd, and she noticed as his whole body seemed to relax, and a smile formed on his face as he spied her.

"Of course I will," he said after a moment. "I cannae think of any greater honor than makin' sure that Breana is safe. Though she needs me help less than ye think, ye ken—she's stronger than anyone understands, even if she doesnae handle a sword the way ye do."

Maeve nodded, hiding the small smile that was threatening to play on her own face. She saw the way his eyes lingered on Breana as he spoke, and she wondered—or perhaps hoped—if it wasn't a sign. A sign that, even in what seemed to be the darkest of times, something good could grow. A sign that there would always be hope.