Caledonia Destiny Read online

  The dormant wood was slowly rousing from its winter slumber. Ground foliage sprouted hints of new green. About them the birch, ash, rowan and alder were interspersed with cypress. After the press of people and noise of Renfra, the wildwood eased Ewen. He glanced back at Roi and thought mayhap the forest calmed Roi as well. Calling a halt at midday to rest and water the horses, he and Roi ate a cold meal of hard cheese and salted beef. Once Roi became more at ease with the forest, he asked questions about the plants found in the area.

  “What were your duties in your temple?” All conversation up to this point had been about Ewen and his kinsmen. Though Ewen enjoyed Roi’s interest, he had not been as diligent in coming to know Roi. It was time to rectify that lack.

  “I was the temple’s seer.” His pale blue gaze glanced up at Ewen, then quickly away. Ewen smiled softly, wishing to soothe Roi. “The visions bestowed unto me by the Goddess Cerridwen were scribed by the fane priests and studied for their meaning. Letters were drawn up, and messengers left to deliver the readings posthaste. I once inquired as to the destination of the missives, and ended up spending three days reciting the properties of medicinal plants and herbs. Needless to say, I broached not the query again.”

  “You grew up no mere temple boy. You handle a sword skilfully, as well as being learnèd in the art of healing with plants and herbs. It be easy to see you be a man of many talents.”

  Roi’s face flushed a rosy red at Ewen’s praise. “It be a good thing, too. The priests would have yielded to my every wish had I so desired. However, I refused to shame my mother with petty demands. As a boy, I sparred with the children of the Norsemen. A few grew to be friends, teaching me of weaponry and battle. I learned apothecary from the eldest of the priests, aiding him with the care of the ill or injured brought to our doorstep.” A soft, dreamy smile crossed his lips. “And the few times I stole away and eschewed my duties, I fished upon the sea.”

  “There be salmon in the rivers. I daresay the catching of them be not so different than the netting vessels used at sea. Mayhap you shall teach me.” Much time had waxed and waned since Ewen had indulged fishing for the span of a day, mayhap because he was terrible at keeping the salmon in the basket. But Roi need not know that tidbit yet.

  The rest of the midday passed in comfortable silence. Coming about the final bend of the game trail, the incline levelled off, the forest opening onto a small, sheltered glen. A thatch-roofed cottage enclosed by a waist-high stone wall that had once included a scullery garden sat off to one side. Beyond lay a sprawling area where barley or buckwheat would be planted in the springtime. Along the farthest edge ran a river that tended to flood from melting snow at the end of winter. After harvest, the cattle would be brought up to graze in the mountain glen.

  Roi glanced about with interest. “What be this place?”

  “There be many things I needed to speak of to you, and I know not whence to start. I thought it would be easier if I brought you to the beginning. This be the area my kin first settled. Here my forefathers lived until the rest of the wyrbears followed.”

  “How long has the cottage been here?”

  “As I understand it, since afore my great-great grandsire’s time. It does not sound long, but you must remember my people be long of age. Tasked with the care of the Caledonia Forest, we be tied to the woods until it be no more. The family has rebuilt the cottage over the years, each generation adding something new—the garden plot, the fencing—until we grew too large in number and moved to the shores of Loch Raineach. We maintain this as a shieling for the herdsmen.”

  “I do not understand why ye brought me here.” Roi would not meet Ewen’s gaze.

  “I wanted to acquaint you with my heritage. My mathan wants you— I want you as our maik-marrae, however you do not understand what that means, or what I be asking of you. You have said naught, but Donn believes you be lost, adrift mayhap, with all that has changed. I have not anchored you to us—to me—as I should. I struggle as well. I thought that if we spent some time alone and came to know each other… And this be my mathan’s way of taking you to his den.”

  Roi frowned. “Why?”

  Ewen looked out over the meadow, searching for the words that would best convey what he wanted to say. “I believed I would be a widower for the rest of my life. Since Caitriona’s passing I have simply been existing from day to day. I love my children and my kin, yet something in me died with her. I never thought I would find someone I could adore as much as I did her. For truth, the prospect of having someone else to love scares me because I know not if I could continue after another loss. I thought I would rather have a half-life than to live with joy again.

  “And then you fell to your knees at my feet. My mathan roared in my ears, shaking the foundation of the life of ease I thought I wanted. He demanded I shield you and drag you home with me. You woke me from lethargy, your very presence promising I could dream again, live again, and— I be scared. If I come to love you, even a little, you would have the power to tear me asunder. I sought to shield meself from that. And yet, when I woke alone the other morn and you were gone… I know now I would rather take that chance and have you in my life for however long you shall stay, than have naught at all.

  “Tell me I be not too late, that I have not ruined all regard you had for me.”

  Ewen held his breath as he watched Roi’s shoulders relax, and then Roi boldly met Ewen’s gaze. For the first time since they had woken together in the tent at the edge of Renfra, Roi’s eyes held hope. “It be dark soon. Show me the cottage, and I shall put food together for our meal whilst ye care for the horses.”

  XVI

  ROI FOILED WHATEVER nefarious deed the devil’s steed had planned, dismounting without planting his face in the soil. Every one of these cursèd creatures he had crossed paths with seemed to despise him, though this steed seemed to have a more mellow temperament. Not that he would be fooled into complacency. He had no doubts she would endeavour to nip his fingers off as soon as he let his guard down if she could not toss him from her back.

  Even so, Roi doubted he would have cared much if he had fallen. The events of the last sennight—had it truly only been seven days?—along with Ewen’s newest confession, left him feeling out of sorts. As a result, the nefarious intentions of the steed lay low on his list of woes.

  Now Ewen offered more. If Roi were to believe him, Ewen offered up not only a bed partner or home but a chance at love, all the while reaffirming his wish for Roi to remain by his side. Fear made Roi hesitate to accept. To be given a chance at a life with Ewen without being fettered by dark perceptions amongst Ewen’s kinsmen when it came to his desire for the man, to be accepted regardless of this deviant affliction of the flesh, was more than Roi dared hope for. But Roi also needed to consider this land, the wildwood Ewen called home. Could he learn to live a new life away from the salt-kissed winds and foamy waves? Did it matter where he lay his head as long as Ewen rested within the circle of his arms?

  Not daring to answer Ewen’s declaration yet, Roi followed Ewen to the cottage. The building was narrower in width than length, the two end walls of stone rounded not straight, and bore a sloped, thatched roof. At one end a door opened into a space where animals could winter if the cottage was occupied. The opposite end sported a wide, tall chimney in good repair. Instead of a hard-packed dirt floor, someone had laid flat-faced river stones beyond the threshold. The inside was slightly dusty, but nothing that a good sweep would not remedy. The exposed beams of the steeply-pitched roof were dark with age, yet well-kept and finely carved. The hearth was wide and deep, the table and chairs made of sturdy wood and antler. Three cupboard beds, with three more built atop them, sat betwixt the hearth and the back wall.

  Searching the mattresses, Roi checked the ticking of each. After Ewen brought in their bundles and provisions, he bade Ewen to help him move the best one to the bed nearest the hearth. Whilst Ewen cared for the horses, Roi lit a fire, located the crockery, and started the evening mea
l. Afterwards, he drew several buckets of water from the river and saw to a much-needed wash, cleansing away the stench of horse and sweat. Hoping an airing out would help clear the stink from his garments, he hung them from hooks by the cupboard beds after giving them a good dunk. The leggings were fashioned of leather, so the best he could do was brush them. The linen tunic, upon the other hand, he scrubbed clean and draped by the fire to dry whilst he saw to his own bathing. By the time Roi concluded, the clean tunic had mostly dried.

  The heavy door slammed shut, and Roi finished donning the damp tunic and glanced over his shoulder. Ewen stood within the threshold, his cloak wadded and dangling from the tips of his fingers. His tunic and leggings were sodden, fitting to him like a second skin. The hair upon Ewen’s chest darkened the light-coloured garment as the sopping material clung to his torso. The stubbled growth of his chin and head no longer looked bristle-hard but instead seemed soft to the touch, standing out strongly against the deep, rosy flush of his cheeks. Ewen’s gaze wandered hungrily over Roi’s body as he licked his lips.

  Never afore had another gazed at Roi in such a fashion, as if Ewen were a famished man set afore a succulent meal. All Roi’s trysts thus far had been in dark, out of the way rooms, quick and fleeting. This… Ewen… Unlike the others who sought simply to slake their lust, Ewen asked for that which none other had required of Roi. A mere day ago Roi would have blindly given in to him. But on this day, he easily recalled the hazards of yielding to Ewen and the resulting ache within his breast. If he was not wary, his heart would be utterly and irrevocably lost to Ewen mhic Friscalach.

  Snapping out of his reverie, Roi beckoned to Ewen. “Come to the fire afore you catch a chill.” The linen Roi had used to dry off hung nigh to the hearth. He retrieved it afore briskly crossing the room, exchanging the cloth for Ewen’s dripping woollen cloak.

  Ewen’s steadfast gaze caught Roi’s, the hazel colour slowly swallowed by warm, dark amber until the eyes that first greeted him upon the field of battle stared steadily down at him. Swallowing thickly, he ushered Ewen towards the fire. “Hang the sodden garments upon the line. Ye brought not a stitch of clean clothes, did ye? I shall see about finding something to wrap ye in whilst these garments dry.”

  Retreating to the set of cupboard beds where a line of wooden hooks followed the length of the post betwixt the last two, Roi set about carefully hanging the cloak, peeking beneath his arm as his trembling fingers sought to secure the garment to dry. Afore the fire, Ewen removed his wool leggings, and then his wet tunic, hanging them next to the hearth. Roi’s mouth went dry as he gazed at Ewen’s unadorned form.

  Back in Renfrewshire, he had beheld naught of Ewen in the dark tent. Even though they had shared their bodies, Roi had merely beheld the shadow of Ewen’s form, only his touch hinting at what lay beneath his hand. Alas, at the time he had been too afeard to explore fully lest he break the spell that had enthralled Ewen as they slaked their lust against each other.

  Roi had contented himself with the memory of those brief caresses, believing Ewen would not deem him worthy of such a boon again. Yet ever since, Ewen lay next to him of a night, whether drawing Roi within the warmth of his embrace or an arm’s length away, an unspoken vow of what Ewen wished to share with Roi. Not once did Ewen bed down away from Roi. Then came Ewen’s declaration afore his people, and though the very action filled Roi with consternation, he could not turn Ewen away. Despite the harshness that had come afore, Roi had begun to hope again, though, in truth, he had dared not think what would occur when they reached the end of the journey.

  Roi’s gaze drank in the wide form of Ewen’s back. His powerful legs were dusted with dark hair. Roi hungered for more, a gnawing ache that pushed at the edges of his resolve. Ewen used the linen sheet to remove excess water, the light of the fire giving his skin a golden glow as he twisted. Roi’s heart thrummed like a wild drum in his chest, his groin tightening at the sight.

  Could Ewen truly be his? Would the man truly open his home to Roi as well as his bed? Despite Ewen’s actions at Renfrewshire and the distance that came betwixt them afore they began their journey, Ewen had been nothing but the most courteous suitor. Yet although Roi understood the reasons Ewen rebuffed him, they did not lessen the biting pain Ewen’s words and actions had inflicted. The familiarity brought on by dreaming of Ewen had allowed Roi to become affectionate too soon and without good cause. For truly, he knew Ewen not.

  Glancing away, Roi turned his thoughts to properly attaching and hanging the cloak, and attempted mastery of his arousal. There was no hiding his manhood as it pushed out his tunic, mayhap if he donned the drawers, the garment would help to conceal the evidence of his desire.

  “Roi.” Ewen’s low, rough voice cut into his harried thoughts, sending a shiver down his spine. “Your hair be wet. Come dry it by the fire.”

  If he turned, Ewen would no doubt behold the lust upon his visage. He would be clay in Ewen’s hands, yielding to the lightest of touches.

  “Please?”

  How could he ever deny aught Ewen desired?

  Shielding his groin, Roi returned to the table. After collecting an ivory comb from his satchel, Roi grabbed a low stool to set next to the hearth. The meal was hot, and Roi pulled the crock off the fire, filling a bowl for Ewen and then himself. A quick search came up with a couple of wooden spoons afore Roi set Ewen’s meal upon the table. Moving back to the fire, Roi set his bowl upon the floor to cool whilst he sought to work the tangles from his hair.

  Ewen grunted and bestowed upon Roi a look of restless craving afore he moved a heavy, crafted antler armchair next to Roi’s stool. As Ewen secured the sheet firmly about his waist, Roi’s gaze strayed to Ewen’s bared chest. He was not heavily furred, though enough for the sight to heat Roi’s blood and cause him to want to run his palm over the dark hair curled there.

  The noise of a hard rain could easily be heard from whence he sat, setting up a soothing rhythm. Determined not to be distracted, he tore his gaze from Ewen’s tempting form and returned his attention to the labour of detangling his hair once more. Natheless, he was sharply aware of Ewen settling in the chair behind him. When Ewen’s rough hands ghosted across the back of Roi’s neck he stilled, uncertain. Asking without words for Roi’s consent, Ewen gently pulled the damp hair and comb from Roi’s hands. Unable to deny his thirst for Ewen’s touch, Roi gave in, tilting his head back. Ewen’s palm ran over Roi’s crown, lightly touching along the edges of his temple afore Ewen’s fingertips brushed the edge of the scar.

  “I would take this pain from you, if I could.” Ewen’s voice sounded low and gruff.

  Roi opened his eyes to behold Ewen leaning over his shoulder, gazing at him with soft, amber eyes. “I mind not the marks any longer. I would gladly suffer any torment if the path led me to ye.” The pounding of Roi’s own heart sounded loud in his ears, his cheeks growing warm under Ewen’s steadfast gaze. Roi knew not what he expected, but the soft, bright smile Ewen bestowed upon him seemed at odds with the sorrow, deep and compelling, within Ewen’s gaze.

  “I would wish not for you to bear such merely to be with me. You esteem me overmuch; I be not worthy of such devotion.” Kissing the top of Roi’s head, Ewen settled back and ran the comb through Roi’s hair. “Would you confide in me, tell me how you came to know me?”

  Looking back upon the last and only confession Roi had made to Ewen, made afore leaving Renfrewshire, Roi recalled how those very words had resulted in the painfully cold shoulder Ewen had given Roi. He hesitated to reveal his secret. Feeling guilty, for Roi planned to momentarily evade Ewen’s question, he caught Ewen’s wrist, pressing his lips against the palm with which Ewen had caressed his damaged cheek. From behind Roi came the sound of a strangled inhale. Turning upon the stool until he could behold Ewen, he was taken aback by Ewen’s visage, full of wonder and desire as he gazed at his hand. Of a sudden Roi’s mouth was dry, and he swallowed a few times to clear his throat.

  “First tell me of Bear,” Roi stamme
red. “I heard yer kin speak of their marrae. Yet ye have not changed skins for your mathan as they have. Be this why ye seek to woo me?”

  “I almost changed once. Donn believes there be still a chance he shall come forward, yet much time has passed with nothing but conflict between he and I. The belief that he will has long since left me.” Ewen urged Roi turn around, then parted and gently worked at the snarls in Roi’s hair.

  Whether Ewen was aware or not, Bear moved within him, at times speaking directly with Roi. Their combined aura was a map of pain and silent agony, a constant visual reminder of what Ewen and Bear endured upon a daily basis. It left Roi speechless. For Bear to be caged, able to look out but not to emerge, and for Ewen to behold his brothers’ change, yet never be free himself, how tormented would that life be?

  Being a seer could be a blessing or a curse. At times the visions were obscure and confounding, the meaning only becoming known to Roi as the event occurred. Yet not once had the visions revealed the key to Ewen and Bear’s conundrum. This did not mean there was no resolution, only that the goddess would not make the unravelling easy.

  Ewen bade Roi to once again turn upon the stool to face him. His dark amber eyes, the mathan’s eyes, gazed out with such longing that tears nearly blinded Roi. “Our beasts choose companions, marrae, much like the human would choose a husband or wife, a maik. At times, both the human and mathan agree upon the same person, at other times not.”

  Roi thought he understood. “Ye chose Caitriona as yer maik, natheless Bear did not. So he wants me as his marrae?” Roi’s gaze slid away from Ewen, a bitter laugh escaping afore he could call it back. “When ye said that my purpose in yer household were to be the beast’s companion, I thought ye wanted me for a herdsman. I not be good with animals and I… it does not matter what I thought.” As he spoke, the meaning of Ewen’s mumbled words came to light and threatened to crush him.