His Eternal Bride

from Highland Vampire anthology

By

Adrienne Basso

Contents

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six

Chapter One

Scottish Highlands

Late summer, 1321

A clash of swords, anguished cries, and the coppery scent of fresh blood shattered the peaceful calm of the night. Anaxandra's legs tightened instinctively around her mount as she halted her horse, which was ambling through the forest at a slow gait. Stiffening, she raised her head, her ears alert to every sound.

Her companion pulled beside her, negotiating the densely wooded path with difficulty. "The sounds of battle are near," he said, his brow knitting together with concern. "These Highlanders are said to be a fierce and combative race, and they enjoy pursuing their enemies at night."

Anaxandra smiled. "I know. 'Tis why I wanted to come, so I could see it for myself."

A high-pitched scream wretched through the air, causing the horses to jump and paw the ground nervously. It took effort to calm the jittery beasts.

"We should come away," Anaxandra's companion, Randulf, urged, tugging on the sleeve of her gown. But Anaxandra ignored the summons, and turned her mount toward the sounds of the fighting. Under her command, the animal increased its stride, bringing her deeper into the low-hanging forest, ever closer to danger.

She did not bother to check if Randulf followed, confident he would obey her directive. Perhaps it was reckless to venture so near a battle, but danger of any sort was always appealing to Anaxandra.

She was a female who did as she pleased, who followed her whims and allowed her passionate and volatile nature to rule her actions. She was a creature of power and influence among her kind, and though many had tried, there was no male who dominated her life or made demands upon her person.

The long-suffering Randulf was her self-appointed guardian, and she tolerated his presence because he amused her. He, in turn, worshipped Anaxandra, defending her against all criticism and tolerating without complaint her uneven moods and streaks of temper.

The noise of the fighting grew louder as they followed a rocky outcropping up a hill until they reached the crest. The pair tried to remain as quiet as possible, fearing detection, but they soon discovered this precaution was unnecessary.

In the small clearing below, two groups of men fought with fierce determination, unaware of anything but the struggle that consumed them. The sides were composed of uneven numbers, but it soon became apparent that the smaller force possessed the greater fighting skills.

"English," Randulf whispered in her ear. "They have more men, yet they appear to be losing this fight."

Anaxandra nodded in agreement. The English knights were mounted on destriers protected by armor and carried both sword and shield. Battle-axes, billhooks, and iron ball-and-chains hung from their belts. Their faces were obscured by helmets, but even at this distance Anaxandra could see their eyes were filled with hatred.

Ignoring Randulf's pleas to stay hidden, Anaxandra urged her horse closer, craving a better view. The Highlanders were mounted on smaller horses, and neither man nor beast wore armor. The Scots carried no shields, only large, long-bladed swords they lifted with both hands as they attacked.

The initial impact of those heavy swords upon ironclad flesh was horrendous. One by one the English knights were gradually unseated, and they dropped like stones upon the hard ground.

Those who were not dead or unconscious soon rose to their feet, swords drawn. A few of the Highlanders also dismounted, ready to engage their enemy in final combat. The melee that followed was horrific, but one Highland warrior quickly caught Anaxandra's eye, for he fought not only with strength and skill but with absolute confidence.

He hacked his way through the center of the English, and when he lost his sword, he flipped his opponent's helmet off and elbowed the man in the face, snapping his head back. The knight staggered for a moment, then came back for more.

The Highlander was ready. He punched him in the face, striking his nose. Blood spurted in a high arch as the bigger man reeled and fell, clutching his face in agony.

"Callum!"

The Highlander turned at the call, easily catching the claymore that was tossed his way. He wiped the blood off his palm down the front of his shirt, then transferred the weapon to his dry hand.

Sword held high above his head, the Highlander charged toward three knights, letting out the most terrifying, barbaric snarl Anaxandra had ever heard uttered from human lips.

The sound made every hair on her body stand up as if in response.

"He is magnificent," she whispered in awe.

Her gaze remained riveted on his face. It was strong, arrogant, fearless. In the moonlight his eyes were a silvery blue. Cold, piercing, and deadly, they were filled with a mad glint of bloodlust. Anaxandra shivered with delight.

Soon, only one English knight remained, cornered against a large tree trunk. A ring of Scots encircled him.

"What do ye say, lads?" a Highlander on horseback called out. "Should we show him mercy?"

"English swine. They killed innocent women and children and tortured an old man for amusement." The Scottish warrior turned his head and spat. "Skewer the bastard."

The deed was accomplished swiftly and with far too much mercy for Anaxandra's taste.

The tension of the night eased, and the mood of the soldiers turned jovial. Laughing and joking, the Highlanders quickly stripped their vanquished enemies of armor, weapons, and clothing.

"Shall we bury the dead?" one man asked.

"No," the man called Callum replied. "Leave them for the wolves and vultures. 'Tis what they deserve."

Weighed down with their spoils, the Highlanders departed the glen, leaving behind a tangle of naked bodies, the ground on which they lay steeped in blood.

There was deadly silence once they had departed. Anaxandra slid from her horse and walked among the carnage, her mind replaying the intense battle and the skill of one Scottish warrior in particular. She had to see him again!

How long Anaxandra stood there, she could not say. A restless stirring beside her roused her from her near catatonic state.

"The bodies are still warm," Randulf announced. "'Tis foolish to waste such bounty."

Anaxandra's stomach lurched. She usually enjoyed the hunt as much as the kill, but on occasion was not averse to have others do the work. Yet for some reason the notion held little appeal.

"I have no need of sustenance," she said. "If you wish to feast, be quick."

With a cry of glee, Randulf fell upon the bodies and the sounds of his suckling cut through the silence. Anaxandra mounted her horse and waited impatiently for him to finish. Finally sated, he returned, and Anaxandra led the way through the dense forest.

They came through the woods on the fringe of the keep and tied their horses to a fallen tree trunk. Through the darkness, a noisy celebration could be heard from behind the stone walls that encircled the castle.

"We walk from here," Anaxandra announced.

"What?" Randulf exclaimed. "You cannot enter that dwelling. These Highlanders are a close, tight-knit group that do not take kindly to strangers. You saw what they did to the English."

"But I am not their enemy," Anaxandra retorted. "They will have no cause to harm me."

"Lucifer's horns!" Randulf cursed loudly and hurried to keep stride with Anaxandra. "Unescorted females do not suddenly appear on the doorstep in the middle of the night Your arrival will cause great suspicion and raise questions you cannot answer."

"I can hardly arrive in the daytime with a proper escort and chaperon," Anaxandra snapped.

"You should not go at all!" Randulf insisted, and when Anaxandra did not stop walking, he hissed, "Your stubborn defiance will get you killed."

"It will take more than a broad Scottish sword to end my existence," Anaxandra retorted.

Her step did not falter even when she realized that Randulf did not follow. Perhaps it was best—it should be easier for one, rather than two, to slip in unobserved. Though her heart pumped in a nervous beat, Anaxandra did not slow as she drew closer to the castle.

The keep was a large, two-story structure with a square tower on each of the four corners. A walkway connected the corners, and there were sentries posted at equal intervals across its entire length. Obviously, the clan had made good use of the abundant amount of stone in the area, having constructed the majority of the dwelling from it.

For further protection, there was an outer wall of stone. A sturdy log bridge provided the only entrance through this formidable barrier. The bridge was lowered and crowded with people intent on entering the castle to join in the celebration.

Anaxandra quietly joined their ranks and passed through the great curtained wall of stone without incident. With hood drawn and head bowed, she entered the great hall. As she had predicted, there was so much jovial excitement that no one initially questioned her presence or challenged her attendance.

Still, Anaxandra tried to keep to the shadows. But the lime-whited walls of the great hall reflected the light from the many torches positioned throughout the room, giving it a brightness she found disconcerting. There was such a crush of people she was hardly noticed, yet as she strayed too far into the center of the room, a group of young women gathered together in a circle tossed her curious looks.

Anaxandra pulled back to the edges of the wall, trying to lose their gaze. Though she had spouted words of bravado in front of Randulf, she was not a fool. There would be no way to protect or defend herself if anyone decided to question her.

She also knew her greatest threat would come from the women, not the men. Anaxandra's erotic beauty had always been cause for great jealousy among females. It was part of the reason she had always roamed so freely in the mortal world—it helped to avoid the malice of the other females of her kind.

She lifted a flagon of ale from a servant hurrying by with a full tray, then drank and watched, searching for her warrior. She expected him to be seated in a place of honor, but there was no high table on a raised dais in this hall, only rows of wooden tables set at equal heights.

The tables were filled with boisterous men and women, eating, drinking, laughing, and singing. A few were even dancing. Servants scurried along with a hurried purpose, attempting to keep the trenchers full of food and the drinking vessels topped with ale and wine.

Anaxandra continued to cling to the edges of the hall, the rushes beneath her feet giving off the fresh sweet scent of mint with each step she took. Her eyes continued to search among the many male faces in the hall, and just when she began to wonder if she would ever find her warrior again, he appeared.

He was garbed in a clean white shirt, with a blue and black plaid worn casually over his left shoulder. His dark hair waved back from the broad plane of his brow and shoulders, and the hard line of his granite jaw softened as he laughed and joked with the men who surrounded him.

Fascinated, Anaxandra moved closer. In the light of the hall she could now see an expression of inner fire in his eyes, a fire so intense it threatened to consume all who dared to venture too close. It was that fire that had first captivated her, that she now craved.

She knew in that instant that fate had at long last bestowed upon her what she had always desired—a worthy mate. Never before had she beheld anyone who inspired such longing within her, who drew her close and held her fast. Surely he was more than a mere mortal man, for he'd cast a spell on her that she was powerless to break.

Anaxandra's heart raced with excitement. She had to get him alone! But how? He was surrounded by companions, clearly the center of attention. Her foot tapped impatiently on the hard stone floor until she realized he was drinking far more than he was eating. Eventually, he would have to leave the hall to answer nature's call.

Her observation proved true. Within the hour, the warrior left the circle of soldiers. She followed his progress doggedly with her eyes, then positioned herself in the archway where he exited.

The moment he returned from the garderobe, Anaxandra pushed herself directly in his path. Their eyes locked and Anaxandra's breath caught. She found herself lost, floating in the deep passion of his eyes, and for an instant she was speechless with wonder.

His brow lifted. "What are ye looking for, lass?"

"You," she whispered, feeling a flash of heat at the sound of his deep voice.

He smiled, revealing a row of strong, even white teeth. "Now, how can that be? We have no acquaintance with each other."

"Are you certain?" A slow, seductive smile spread across her face as she placed her hand against the center of his chest. His heart beat fiercely under her palm. Unable to resist, her fingers began to slip over the hard muscles. Anaxandra heard him suck in a sharp breath. "I know you well enough to give you great pleasure. And to take pleasure from you in return."

His brow furrowed, as though he was trying to remember if he did indeed have an acquaintance with her.

Catching him in a mesmerizing stare, Anaxandra summoned forth all the feminine wiles she had learned through the ages. "I am a bold woman, mighty warrior. Bolder than any you have ever known."

Passion running high, she traced the tips of her fingers over the hard rippled muscles of his stomach, then lower, until her fingers brushed against the front of his kilt. He groaned deep in his throat Anaxandra smiled, then repeated the motion, this time touching his rigid penis. Impatience made her rough, but the warrior did not seem to mind.

Triumphant, she pressed him against the stone wall and leaned all her weight into him.

"Who are ye?" he whispered.

"Your destiny," she answered.

Callum McGinnis's head could not seem to stop spinning. He knew he had drunk far too much ale, but this victory celebration over the English had been hard fought. The rogue band of knights that had been terrorizing the people of his clan for months was now destroyed, and it was a relief to finally rid them all of the tyranny.

Since arriving at the great hall, he had joined his men in toast after toast, and clearly the alcohol he had consumed was making him hallucinate. For surely at any moment he would wake from this erotic, outrageous dream and find himself alone, his rod stiff with wanting, his balls heavy and tight.

This strange, unknown female could not be real. A mysterious raven-haired woman dressed in an unusual-looking gown of scarlet, with eyes as dark as midnight, skin as pale as snow, and hands as bold as a courtesan.

"Why fight it? What is there to keep us from taking our pleasure together?" she breathed raggedly in his ear as she took his hand and placed it on her breast.

For an instant, Callum could not breathe. The air felt weighted, too thick to drag into his lungs. Though his mind insisted she must be a vision, at this moment she felt very solid and real. Nearly every part of his body ached, taut and ready, urgent with desire.

He reached out with his other hand and traced her winged eyebrow with one finger, fighting to understand the impossible allure of this dark, wicked beauty. The passion he felt gathered power and beat through his body in a thundering rush.

"You need not be so gentle, my warrior. I am not in search of tender wooing."

As if to prove her point, she lifted her chin and caught his finger in her mouth. She tongued it playfully, then bit down hard, drawing blood.

"Och!" Callum yelped and tried to extract his wounded digit, but she began to suck on it, holding it deep within the cavity of her warm, wet mouth.

He closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure, fantasizing it was his penis so snugly engulfed. Somehow he knew that all he need do was voice his request and the woman would drop to her knees. It was tempting, ahh, so tempting.

"We need more ale and meat pies and another barrel of wine," a calm voice announced. "And ask Rowen to fetch more wood for the kitchen fires. There are several haunches of venison that are only half-roasted."

Maev! The sound of her familiar voice startled Callum back to reality. Mustering every bit of his considerable will, he dropped the hand clutching the woman's bosom to his side and pulled his finger out of her mouth.

The female whimpered in distress and tried to recapture her prize, but he held her off and swallowed his desire. This was wrong. He knew it in his head, but more importantly, he knew it in his heart.

"Maev, lass, I heard ye calling for help." Callum removed himself from the shadowed archway and brought himself into the light. "Is there anything I can do for ye?"

Maev McClosky placed one delicate hand on her hip and shot her betrothed a withering stare. "Nay, I can manage. Besides, it looks like ye already have yer hands full."

Callum felt a wave of guilty heat rush over his cheeks. He turned toward the archway, but the mysterious woman had disappeared.

"I was returning from the garderobe," he said slowly, raking his hand over his face, trying to piece together in his mind exactly what had happened. "Suddenly a woman appeared, wanting to speak with me. I dinna know who she was—I'm sure I've never seen her before."

"Hmmm." Maev gave him her back and continued issuing orders to the serving lad as if nothing unusual had occurred. Her dismissive gesture increased Callum's guilt tenfold.

He waited until she was finished, then grabbed her hand to prevent her from running away. She turned to him and Callum's heart jolted at the sight of her proud, beautiful face. Her features were refined, her skin fair and smooth, her almond-shaped eyes bright green and intelligent.

He had known her since they were children, but it was only in the past year he had discovered that he loved her. Fiercely, passionately, and with such determined single-mindness that the mere thought of any man so much as looking at her for too long drove his thoughts to murder.

"I put my hand on her breast," he blurted out sheepishly. The priest was always telling him that confession was good for the soul, yet at this moment it did not feel very good.

"Did ye now?" Maev tilted her head to one side and appeared to be considering the matter most carefully. "I suppose I canna blame ye, Callum. Though I caught only a fleeting glimpse of her, she certainly had a magnificent bosom."

Callum did not know what to make of Maev's casual attitude. If the positions had been reversed, he would have already dispatched the man who dared to lay a hand on his future wife to hell. "Ye're supposed to be jealous, Maev."

"Och, I am?"

"Yes, ye are." Callum lifted his lips into his most charming smile. "As nephew of the laird, I am considered a prized matrimonial catch. Yet ye are the woman I have chosen."

"We chose each other." Her eyes sparkled like green fire. "Though when you start acting too full of yerself, I wonder at the sanity of my decision. And dinna be expecting to hear any words of flattery or praise falling from my lips. There are more than enough folks clamoring to fill that role. I swear to the Almighty, if ye hear much more of that kind of talk, yer head will swell so big it willna fit through the door."

Her sharp words were spoken in a teasing manner, and for a moment Callum believed Maev had dismissed the incident. Yet she stood there in thought for several heartbeats, and he watched her face gradually turn troubled. He focused on that lovely face, feeling the pain he had caused her with his thoughtless actions.

"It meant nothing," Callum said, feeling a sudden rush of sobriety. He waited anxiously while Maev considered his words.

"I have to know that I can trust ye," she said solemnly. "Even when the women are practically throwing themselves at ye, questing for yer attention and regard."

He felt his face flush. "ye can trust me, lass. 'Tis you I love, Maev. Now and always."

Callum stepped forward and ran his hand possessively over her back. Maev was small and delicate; her bones felt fragile beneath his fingers. But within her delicate body was a strong spirit. It was one of the things he admired most about her. She would not be a wife who submitted docilely to his commands, but would question and speak her mind regardless of the consequences.

Once given, her loyalty was unshakable, her support rock solid. With Maev by his side, Callum knew he would be a better leader and, more importantly, a better man.

Using his knuckles, he gently traced a path along her cheekbone up to her temple. He repeated the motion over and over until Maev closed her eyes and swayed toward him.

This simple act of forgiveness unleashed all the desperate love bursting from Callum's heart. He cupped Maev's cheek and slowly bent his head down until their lips met.

She made a mewing sound, and for an instant he feared she protested. But then Callum felt the tremor that ran the length of her body as Maev turned her head to catch his mouth more fully. Unleashing his restraint, Callum parted his lips and slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness.

Her arms lifted and tightened around his neck as she surrendered blissfully, raking her fingers through his hair, arching her body against his. His knees nearly weakened at the need that flowed from her body to his, and he groaned loudly as her eager movement roused the full length of his penis.

Reaching out, he traced a finger along the outer roundness of her breast. Maev gasped with delight and he grew bolder, dragging his thumb back and forth across her nipple. Each delicate caress brought forth a shiver of passion in her, and each of those shivers drove his own passion higher and higher.

Even through the layers of clothing, the heat of Maev's flesh seared him. He positioned their bodies so they were pressed hip to hip, with his hardness intimately touching her feminine softness. One hand roamed boldly down the swell of her buttocks, and the blood began to thunder in his head.

"Must we stop, my love?" he groaned, tearing his mouth away from hers, kissing a path along the slender line of her jaw.

"I fear so," she squawked as she sprang back from him.

Holding tightly to his control, Callum sighed heavily. He knew this was coming, though it was always a physical disappointment to hear the verdict. Their heated embraces always ended well before consummation because Maev had decided she needed to remain a virgin until they were wed, and no matter how passionate their lovemaking got, she never strayed from the course.

Maev took another step away from him, then cast him a strange, sideline glance. He sensed her sudden anxiety. Perhaps seeing him intimately engaged with the mysterious stranger was causing her to rethink her decision about their physical relationship.

Yet as much as he longed to possess her completely, he did not want to win her under those circumstances. Maev deserved better.

Her absence from his embrace left Callum with an ache of emptiness, as if an essential part of his being was gone. Knowing he could at least alleviate that discomfort, he slid his arm around Maev's shoulders and drew her to nestle against his chest. She trembled, and he ran his hand beneath her hair to gently caress the nape of her neck.

I'm sure ye think me daft for insisting that we wait until we are wed," Maev whispered. She let out a shuddering breath. " 'Tis just that it means so much to me."

Her words faltered. Callum sighed again, tipped his head, and planted feather-like kisses on her eyebrows, cheeks, and chin. This enforced celibacy was one of the most difficult things he ever had to endure, but it was so important to Maev and therefore important to him.

"I think ye are determined to test my warrior's strength, Maev McClosky," Callum said in a light teasing tone. "And though I might be suffering, lass, I'll not be broken."

"Aye," she answered with a sudden smile. "There's no one in all of Scotland that can best ye."

"Flattery, Maev? Do ye dare risk it?" Callum wiggled his brows in an exaggerated motion. "Willna my head be swelling too big for the doorway?"

"Yer head is the least of the swelling parts that concern me at the moment, Callum McGinnis," Maev replied with a saucy wink. "Now stop yer teasing and come help me carry up a fresh barrel of ale."

With a good-natured groan, he followed her out of the hall, hardly believing he took no offense at having to perform such a menial task. When feeling bold, his men dared to tease him about his devotion to his future wife, but Callum turned a deaf ear to their jests.

Respect. It was not an emotion he ever expected to feel in connection to any woman, but Maev inspired it in him. She was everything he wanted, and more, and he ached with the truth of knowing he would never love another living creature as much as he loved Maev.

The sky was dark, with the clouds hanging low and leaden, but Anaxandra knew dawn was fast approaching.

"We must seek shelter," Randulf urged, and though she longed to disagree, Anaxandra knew she had no choice.

They were creatures of the night, part of a race of immortals that could not tolerate even the slightest kiss of sunlight. To do so would cause great pain and threaten their survival.

"I remember a section of caves located on the far side of the mountain," Anaxandra said. "If we hurry, we should reach them before the light appears."

Randulf nodded. They drove the horses to a full gallop, then abandoned the animals when the climb became too steep. With the waning moon as their guide, they trudged through the mist that enveloped their feet and legs, searching with increasing desperation for a cave deep enough to shut out the sunlight.

"Here, I've found one," Randulf declared with relief. "The opening is not very large, but the cavern is deep."

"We will have to make do," Anaxandra replied. "There is no time to find another."

As they pushed themselves inside, fighting to find the depths of darkness, Anaxandra replayed the events of the night in her mind. The warrior had been perfect, the essence of all that she needed and desired. Yet she had failed to dazzle and capture him.

Bile rose in her throat as she remembered the melodic sound of the Scottish woman's voice. It was that sound that had caused the warrior to turn away from her. Though she had not lingered overlong, Anaxandra had seen that the other female was small and delicate, clearly an unworthy mate for such a skilled warrior.

A crushing sense of loss struck Anaxandra, but she pushed it from her mind. This was not over. When the time was right, she would return.

And when she left, she would not be alone.

Chapter Two

Three months later

The late morning sun shone with a bright, clear brilliance, yet it could not obliterate the gusts of a cool breeze that hinted of winter's close arrival. There were some members of the clan who had fretted over the day's weather, but Maev was not one of them. She cared not if it rained or snowed or rained and snowed. There was no force of nature strong enough to dampen her spirits on this magical day—her wedding day.

"Hold still, Maev, or else I'll never get this wreath of flowers to lay straight on yer head."

Maev took a deep breath and tried to obey her mother's orders, but it was difficult. Her nerves were a tangled mass, and the only bit of relief she could find was in constant movement.

"All done?" Maev asked in a restless tone, straining to see her reflection in the thin sliver of mirror that was one of her mother's most prized possessions.

"Goodness, lass, ye'd try the patience of a saint!" the older woman exclaimed, but after a final adjustment, she stepped aside to let Maev view the results of their morning's work.

"Is that really me?" Maev asked in a quiet voice.

"Aye," her mother replied, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "And a more beautiful bride the McGinnis Clan has never seen."

A broad smile crept across Maev's face at her mother's words. With a sigh of delight, Maev ran her fingers over the delicate material of her emerald green kirtle. The fabric had been a gift from Callum, and she and her mother had spent hours enhancing its natural beauty with carefully stitched gold embroidery around the neck and sleeves.

At her mother's suggestion, they had paired the dress with a red chemise undergown and the result was colorful and vibrant. Maev's golden blond hair hung down to the center of her back. It had been dressed with red ribbons and pearls, then a wreath of fresh flowers had been positioned on the top of her head like a crown.

"I feel like a princess," Maev said as she took an unsteady breath. "I hope Callum recognizes me when I arrive at the church."

"I imagine he'll have eyes for no one else," her mother replied.

Swallowing her emotions of joy, Maev turned and gave her mother a heartfelt hug. Though Brenda McClosky had not given birth to her, she was the only mother Maev had ever known. Brought to the village as the sole survivor of a brutal attack on a poorly guarded group of pilgrims by a rogue band of outlaws, the infant girl, whom no one else wanted, had been taken in by the kindhearted, recently widowed Brenda.

The bodies of the pilgrims had been stripped bare, leaving no clue as to the babe's heritage. Many of the clan feared she was tainted with foul English blood and would have naught to do with her, but Brenda dismissed such claims as superstitious nonsense.

As Maev grew older, her new mother demanded acceptance for her adopted daughter that was eventually, if grudgingly, given. Maev, in turn, adored her mother, appreciating all her care and sacrifice, and they shared a close, loving bond.

A rap at the door to their small cottage interrupted the bridal preparations. With an eager smile, Brenda opened the door, admitting a young soldier.

"'Tis time," he said. "Callum has sent me to escort the bride and her mother to the church."

Though polite, the lad did not seem eager for the task, no doubt believing that it was an unmanly request to make of a warrior.

"I am ready," Maev declared, stepping forward into the sunshine.

When he caught sight of her, the young soldier was so startled that his eyes widened. Feeling a rush of feminine power, Maev preened for him. "Is anything wrong?" she asked.

"Ye're a vision." The lad's cheeks flamed scarlet when he realized he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

A glowing smile crept across Maev's face. "I thank ye for yer pretty compliment. Now we must make haste, or else I shall be late."

The trio stepped outside into the bright sunlight. Maev broke into a smile when she caught sight of the magnificent horse Callum had sent for her. Pure white from head to hoof, the large stallion's freshly washed and brushed coat gleamed like starlight. A garland of wild flowers had been wound through the horse's mane, and beneath the saddle was an elaborately embroidered cloth that trailed to the ground.

Once Maev was atop the great beast, Brenda fussed with her gown, trying to ensure it would not crease overmuch. When Brenda was finally satisfied, they set off. Strutting importantly, the young soldier led the horse, and Brenda walked proudly beside her daughter. Maev did indeed feel like royalty when she entered the main section of the castle courtyard perched upon the impressive white stallion.

There were smiles and compliments from the waiting crowd as she rode past, though Maev could not fail to notice that many of the comments were restrained. A subtle yet strong reminder that most members of the clan thought she was marrying far above her station and would have preferred Callum to have selected one of their daughters or sisters or nieces as his bride. Though she had lived among them all her life, Maev knew that many would always view her as an outsider.

Yet nothing could dampen her joy on this magical day. The emotions shivered in her chest and weakened her knees when she first caught sight of her groom. Their eyes met and Callum smiled broadly, a smile so genuine and happy that Maev felt as if someone had gripped her lungs and squeezed.

He was such a handsome man—and he was all hers! His dark thick hair had been combed to some measure of order, though it was worn far longer than any other and his clean-shaven jaw was square and determined. There was a large silver broach studded with precious jewels pinned to the plaid on his shoulder, and the bare legs beneath his kilt were lean and strong.

She dipped her chin, feeling a sudden burst of shyness, and when she raised her head, Callum's eyes sparkled back at her, filled with love. The last of her nuptial nerves vanished in an instant, and Maev knew that more than anything else in the world, she wanted to see that expression every day of her life.

In keeping with the old tradition, the bridal couple stood outside the church, so all could witness the exchange of vows. The gentle breeze set the women's brightly colored veils to fluttering, the cool air providing a welcome relief among the tightly packed crowd.

"Is there anyone here who can give reason why these vows should not be taken?" the priest demanded.

Maev held her breath and listened to the rustling of the people clustered behind her as the clan members shifted on their feet and looked toward one another. She was painfully aware of the small jealousies among some of the women toward her, especially since she was marrying the future laird.

Maev let out her breath when the priest gave a nod of satisfaction, relieved that no one would publicly voice any objection. She turned her head and kept her gaze steadily on Callum, drawing strength from his strong and steady demeanor.

"Join hands," the priest commanded.

Maev willingly complied, marveling anew at how the hands of a man who wielded a broadsword with such deadly ease possessed such a gentle touch. She repeated her vows in a loud voice, wanting everyone to hear. The ring of gold Callum placed on her finger felt warm and comforting, tangible proof of the bond they now shared.

"What God has united in holy matrimony, let no man dissolve. You may seal yer pledge with the kiss of peace."

Maev raised her face expectantly. Callum, it appeared, needed no further encouragement. He swept her into his arms and captured her lips in a searing kiss that sent her heart fluttering.

At his action, a mighty roar of approval went up from the men, echoing through the courtyard. A few of the women let out small sighs. Now that all had borne witness to the couple exchanging vows in the open courtyard, the crowd pressed forward into the church to celebrate mass.

When that ended, the couple received a final blessing and then the real celebration started. The great hall was soon filled to near bursting as everyone indulged in the elaborate wedding feast.

The best hunters of the clan had set out for three days in search of the choicest animals, and the most skilled cooks had turned the meat into countless mouthwatering delights. No expense had been spared in food or drink or decoration for the laird's nephew.

Maev and Callum sat together on a raised dais in the center of the hall, holding hands beneath the table and smiling with unconcealed joy. Course after course of sumptuous food was served, and both the wine and ale flowed freely. When the guests were sated with food and drink, the dancing began.

The bride and groom joined in, and Maev was soon breathless as she was passed from one eager partner to the next. The sound of so many footsteps on the stone floor thundered up into the hall's wooden rafters and mingled with the music and laughter.

As the tune became livelier, Callum tightened his grip on Maev's hand and pulled her from the dance. She stumbled, staggering for several steps until Callum caught her by the upper arms to steady her. Laughing, she braced her hands on his chest and then realized he had maneuvered her into a small room.

She noted briefly that it was the chamber where the castle steward did the accounts, but her interest in her surroundings ended the moment Callum reached up and framed her face with his hands.

"Finally, a moment alone," he declared, bending his head. His mouth teased hers open, and he eagerly thrust his tongue inside. Maev sucked upon it hungrily. He tasted marvelous, like spiced wine and excited male.

Caught in the passion of his kisses, Maev leaned into Callum's hard strength. His lips and tongue stroked and explored her mouth, then he was kissing her neck and biting her earlobe and nipping a path down her sensitive neck to her shoulder.

"Sweet Maev," he whispered. With the back of his hand he stroked possessively across the peak of one breast.

Maev quivered helplessly as her nipples tightened and ached, sensitive even through the layers of fabric. Need for him flooded her, pulsing and demanding.

"Ye are too beautiful," he whispered. "And I love ye too much."

Then he lowered his head and gently bit her nipple through her garments. She gasped and he nibbled at it again, while tweaking the other with his fingers.

"Callum," she cried, arching her back, hugging his dark head against her, her fingers slipping through the thick, silky waves of his hair.

His throat vibrated with deep sounds, and Maev realized she, too, was moaning. The room around them blurred, and all the thoughts in her head were pushed aside by passion and need. Roughly, he lifted her and set her on the edge of the wooden table where the accounts were done. Her senses forgot everything but Callum as he spread her legs and pressed himself against her, ignoring the garments bunched between them.

Maev cried out at the feeling of sinful excitement Did he intend to take her now, while their bridal feast continued just beyond the open door?

Willingly, her arms circled his neck, fitting her even more intimately against him. She felt his hand sliding up her inner thigh, then brushing lightly against her curls. Widening the angle between her thighs, he parted her swollen flesh, exploring until he found the silken pearl that throbbed at his touch.

Maev gasped against his mouth. Every portion of her body came alive. Her blood ran faster, her skin burned hotter. Callum's mouth continued to torment her with deep kisses, his hands inflamed her with slow, sweeping caresses. She tottered on the edge of pure abandon, her will crumbling in ruins about her. It was not the ideal place to lose her virginity, but logic had no place where passion reigned so strongly.

Callum slid his other hand down to pull her skirt up higher, baring the skin of her hips and thighs. The rush of cold air on her heated flesh startled her, and suddenly Maev froze as she felt a cold sense of horror invade her soul. She imagined the raised brows and snide whispers if she could not produce a wedding sheet tomorrow morning stained with her virgin's blood, proof of her honor and worthiness to wed the future laird.

With a cry of regret, Maev pulled away. Pangs of apprehension went through her stomach. She looked into her beloved's eyes, their faces so close that their noses were nearly touching.

"Can we not wait until we have more time to pleasure each other? Please, Callum, I dinna want this first encounter to be so hasty."

"I burn for ye, Maev," Callum declared. His breathing was harsh, his face looked pained. "I fear our first time together will be over very quickly, at least for me." He let out a grim smirk. "But I shall not force ye."

Maev groaned. "Och, Callum, 'tis as much a sacrifice for me as it is for ye." She kissed him hard, trying to convey her own sense of passion and physical need. "I burn for ye as well."

He took her hand and placed it at the junction of his thighs. "This is what ye do to me," he said in a husky voice as he rubbed her fingers against the hard length of his fully aroused penis.

Turning her hand, Maev let her fingertips graze along the length, lingering at the velvety tip. A few drops of moisture escaped and she gently massaged them into his skin. Then she reached lower and toyed briefly with his heavy balls. "Do ye want me to… to bring ye some relief?" Maev whispered, remembering the night she had closed her fingers around his warm, pulsing flesh and had stroked and pulled, quickening the pace until his jaw clenched and his entire body tightened and his warm seed had spurted.

Her fingers moved faster as she recalled the intimate act and the pleasure it had brought both of them.

Callum audibly sucked in air. He groaned loudly as his penis flexed inside the sheath of her fingers. Then he gritted his teeth and pushed her hand away. "No." He took a deep breath. "Yer hand willna satisfy me today. I want to thrust myself deep inside ye, where it's hot and tight. I want to take my time teasing and tasting every inch of yer lovely body." His voice was a little slurred, as if he was drunk on passion.

Maev's lips curved in a wobbly smile. Never had she loved him more than in that moment She reached up and smoothed the hair back from his forehead. "If we rush the rest of the toasts and cut off the speeches before they get too long, we can be alone in our bedchamber within the hour."

Callum's handsome face broke into a wide, mischievous grin. "I always knew ye were a clever lass, Maev McGinnis." He pulled her close and kissed her, then gripped her hips between his hands and set her on her feet. They fussed with each other for a few moments, making sure their garments were back in place.

Then laughing like a pair of naughty children, they entered the hall and rejoined the celebration.

Callum sighed with satisfaction as his gaze raked over the naked body of his bride. She was extraordinary. Illuminated in the candlelight, her body was a thing of great and rare beauty. Every inch of it. The nape of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the line of her shoulders.

Her breasts were small but perfectly formed, the nipples a dark rose. Her waist was narrow, her hips curved with womanly roundness, and the golden curls between her thighs looked soft and delicate.

No woman should ever be so tempting. He had waited nearly a year to claim her, and now, aroused by the sight of her pale, pink flesh, his heart pounded in anticipation of finally achieving what he had craved for so long.

She was staring at him with an intensity he had only dreamed of, eliciting a powerful need in him to satisfy her in every possible way.

"Are ye frightened?" Callum asked. "I've heard it can be painful for a lass her first time."

"I'm not afraid. Mother told me the pain is sharp, yet brief." Her face broke into a shy smile. "I love ye, Callum. There is nothing I would not do to please ye."

She took a few steps closer. He could feel the warmth of her body, smell the flowery scent of her lovely skin. Her glorious hair surrounded her body like a silken veil of spun gold, and he could barely contain his need to run his hands through it.

Nothing could spoil this incredible moment.

Yet as he approached his bride, a shiver of unease passed through Callum's body. Something was wrong. Battle instincts honed through years of rough warfare made him turn in alarm.

The door was barred shut from the inside, just as he had left it, but there was a movement in the far corner of the room, a shadowy figure of evil. The hair on Callum's nape started to prickle. Naked and defenseless, he lunged toward his sword, which had been left near the bedchamber's doorway.

As he rushed toward it, he heard Maev's scream of fright and agony. God Almighty! Heart pounding with fear, he grabbed his sword with both hands, turned, raised it high above his head, and charged straight ahead, a mighty battle cry upon his lips. He could not clearly see his enemy, but he knew the enemy was there, threatening all that he valued, all that he loved.

Callum's feet came off the ground as he connected with the unseen warrior. Dimly he could hear Maev's screams continue. Callum felt numb. He fought with courage and strength, striking out fiercely, yet this time his efforts yielded no victory. As he struggled to get closer to Maev, Callum felt a crushing blow at the back of his head. A light of sharp pain exploded in his brain, then total darkness descended upon him.

"They have been shut up in that bedchamber for nearly two days," Brenda said, her brow furrowing as she glanced at the strong wooden door. "I dinna care how loving a couple they might be, 'tis unnatural to go so long without food or drink. Ye must demand that they open the door. At once. I want to see my daughter."

The laird of the McGinnises raised his brow and gave her a masculine snicker. "Maybe she disna want to see ye."

"Then she can tell me to go away," Brenda retorted. Drawing herself to her full height, which was little more than five feet, she signaled to the female servants waiting in the hallway.

The pair hurried forward, and after a quelling glance from Brenda, the laird moved aside and allowed them to pass. Arms ladened with trays of food and drink, they stood at a respectful distance behind Brenda.

The older woman raised her arm and knocked, and when there was no response, she called out, "Maev, 'tis yer mother. I've brought ye and Callum some lovely refreshments. Open the door so we can deliver yer meal before it gets cold."

The silence continued. Brenda tried again, this time offering to have the tub fetched so the couple could have a nice warm bath.

"They might be sleeping," one of the servants volunteered.

"Or just plain exhausted," the other chimed in, and both women giggled.

"Aye," the laird agreed. "Just leave the trays in the hall. When they have a need, they'll come looking for the food."

It was a logical suggestion, but a nagging sense of unease began to grip Brenda. Perhaps it was the worry of a protective mother, but it suddenly became vitally important to see and speak with Maev.

She lifted the door latch, but was unable to budge the heavy wooden door. " 'Tis barred from the other side," Brenda said. Her pulse raced and her heart started pounding with fear. Turning toward the laird, she asked, "Can ye open it?"

Irritation flashed through the laird's eyes, then he expelled a resigned sigh. "Dinna expect me to protect you from my nephew's wrath," he warned as he braced his shoulder and rammed it against the wood. "Most men want to be alone with their brides, and Callum is no exception."

It took several attempts before the door broke free. It slammed open noisily, assuring that if the couple had been asleep, they would certainly be awake now.

The moment the way was clear, Brenda pushed past the laird and entered the bedchamber. But she could scarcely credit her eyes with the sight that greeted her.

"Mother of God!"

Callum lay sprawled on the floor, his left cheek pressed against the cold stone. Maev was on her back on the bed, her head twisted at an odd angle. Both were naked, their flesh an unhealthy, pasty white color. Beneath each of them was a large, dark pool of dried liquid.

Blood. Oh, dear God, she had never seen so much blood. The scent of it seemed to surround her. A horrible, coppery taste coated Brenda's tongue. Sobbing and crying Maev's name, Brenda ran to her daughter's side. She lifted her limp body into her arms, trying to ignore the smears of deep crimson on the white bed linens.

Behind her, Brenda could hear the laird's shouts of surprise and grief. There were footsteps and yelling, screams of anguish and horror.

"He's dead."

"My God, who could have done this?"

"We must search the castle grounds at once. Whoever is responsible for this carnage will be caught and punished."

Brenda cradled Maev's head in her lap. She smoothed back a few strands of her daughter's hair, revealing a pale cheek streaked with dry blood. Maev's body was cold, yet still pliable. Brenda continued to stroke her face and hair, a gesture that had always comforted Maev as a child.

Suddenly, she felt the faint pulse of life at Maev's neck. Tears streamed down her face as Brenda's heart soared with hope. Pressing her ear close to the spot, she waited and listened. The beat was so weak she could barely hear it. But it was there. Feeble and sporadic, with long moments of somber silence between each thump.

"She lives!" Brenda hugged Maev's limp shoulders as her lips moved in an anxious prayer of thanks.

In all the commotion, no one heard Brenda's exclamation. Except for Maev. Miraculously, her eyes opened. She gazed in solemn confusion at her mother for several long moments.

"Callum?" she whispered weakly.

Brenda slowly shook her head. "He's with the Lord."

Maev's face contorted with pain. Her eyes seemed to lose focus and then her lashes fluttered closed.

It was a tragic day for the Clan McGinnis. Those who had so recently gathered to celebrate Callum's nuptial joy now huddled together at his grave and offered prayers for his soul. Maev, her body and spirit broken, her mind unhinged, did not attend the funeral mass or the burial. Brenda remained by her daughter's bedside, trying to offer healing and comfort.

"Please, love, ye must try and swallow a wee bit of the broth I made for ye," Brenda pleaded. "Nothing has past yer lips for days."

Maev turned and gave Brenda a blank stare. Her sunken cheeks were nearly the same white color as the linen on the pillowcase where her head lay. Callum, God rest his soul, was dead, but the life had been taken from Maev also, and the mystery surrounding the fatal attack was a heavy burden for all of them.

The castle grounds and village had been thoroughly searched, but no intruders had been found. The door had been barred from the inside; the height of the bedchamber and sheer drop to the ground outside the chamber's window made it difficult to believe someone had escaped so easily.

So how had the killer gotten out of the room?

There were no large stab wounds on either Maev or Callum, which made the presence of so much blood another mystery. The laird had questioned Maev endlessly, yet she had no answers, repeating constantly that she had seen nothing, remembered nothing.

As the mood of the clan grew restless and edgy, the initial sympathy toward Maev began to wane. It worried Brenda, for she knew there were many who now viewed her daughter with great suspicion and believed she was somehow part of this heinous event.

Suddenly, the bedchamber door burst open and the laird came charging through it. He was encircled by a ring of his most loyal warriors, and from the thunderous expression on his face, she knew there had been more trouble.

Brenda's stomach clenched at the sight of them. "What is it? What has happened?" she asked worriedly.

The laird ignored Brenda's question and looked beyond her, firing a glance of hatred at Maev so strong it pierced Brenda's soul. She knew he blamed Maev for Callum's death, but it seemed ludicrous to think her helpless, grief-stricken daughter had had anything to do with his nephew's demise.

"Callum's grave has been desecrated, his body taken," the laird announced. "I want to hear what Maev has to say about it."

Brenda caught her breath at the accusation. "Maev is weaker than a kitten, flat on her back and wallowing in grief and misery. She hasna the strength to walk to the garderobe, let alone dig up a grave."

" 'Tis sorcery," one of the men declared hotly. "The work of the devil and the devil's handmaiden."

"Aye," another agreed. "We should bury her in the grave she has robbed and leave her there till her flesh rots from her bones."

Brenda gasped. She glanced wildly from side to side, but the men were blocking the doorway, cutting off the only avenue of escape. Besides, she could not leave without Maev, and her poor daughter was in no condition to flee.

The thought resonated with frightening clarity in Brenda's mind, and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Her lips began to move in quiet prayer as the men argued over Maev's fate.

"If we kill her, the magic could get stronger. It might be wiser to banish her."

"Aye, set her far away from all decent folk."

"No," Brenda shouted with newfound vehemence. She opened her eyes and turned frantically from one man to the next, but their faces all held the same expression of vengeance.

The heir was dead, his body taken, and someone had to pay. Many had always been suspicious of Maev's origins, and now they believed they had proof she possessed evil powers.

"There is an ancient stone tower on the northern border of the McGinnis lands," the laird said. "Bring her there, and tell her if she ever ventures farther than a mile or two from it, she will be put to death."

"She will die if ye leave her alone out there," Brenda cried. Panic tightened her chest. She practically threw herself at the laird, clinging tightly to his plaid as she pleaded for her daughter's life. "Ye must not do this to her. She has done nothing, nothing!"

The laird's expression would have chilled the sun. "My nephew is dead, his body taken. Clearly, sorcery is the cause."

"But how can ye blame Maev?"

The laird's lips twisted with disgust. He spoke tightly. "She is alive."

Silence filled the air around them. "If ye send her away, then I'm going with her," Brenda declared.

"Think hard upon yer decision. If ye go, ye may never return."

"She is my child. And she is innocent."

The laird had no reply. Brenda felt as if the world were spinning crazily around her. Thankfully, her righteous anger kept her moving at a lightning pace. She was given little time to prepare for the journey. Brenda quickly dressed an unresponsive Maev in a warm gown, then insisted that the trunks containing her daughter's dowry be loaded in the cart.

Fearing to leave Maev alone with the men for even a minute left Brenda no time to gather any of her personal belongings from her cottage, but she gave it nary a passing thought. Her main concern was for her daughter, whose head she held in her lap throughout the long journey as the cart bumped and swayed over the uneven terrain.

As they climbed higher in the mountains, the air became cooler, the woods thicker. Finally the men stopped beside a tall, round, stone tower. It stood on a low ledge at the mountain's peak, weathered and abandoned, with thick vines clinging up the sides. The entrance door swung in the desolate wind, its hinges creaking.

Brenda saw no signs of life. It was so quiet, she could hear her breath catching in her throat. After unloading the women's possessions, the escort of men turned and left, saying nothing.

With her arms clasped firmly around Maev's waist, Brenda led her daughter into the dwelling. It was dark and gloomy, with sections of the stone floor and walls missing. They both shivered as the wind whistled through the openings and swirled against their legs.

There were no candles or torches to light, though in truth Brenda was not anxious to illuminate the area. She had already spotted several piles of rat dung and could only imagine what other wild creatures had found sanctuary within the tower.

There was a lone wooden stool pushed near the cold hearth. Brenda set Maev upon it, propping her shoulder against the wall so she would not topple over. She took a deep breath and tried to force her mind to formulate a plan of action, biting her lips when she could not get her thoughts organized.

The place was a hovel. Crumbling, remote, isolated, lacking in even the basic necessities. It was barbaric to be expected to live here for the rest of their lives. As Brenda looked around her, the final vestiges of hope she had been clinging to throughout this ordeal began to fade. She sank to her knees and began weeping.

To what manner of hell had they been condemned?

Chapter Three

Three years later

As she stood braving the harsh elements on the rampart of the tall, narrow tower, Maev McGinnis could see the vast forest stretching out for miles in every direction. The land was spacious and intimidating, an untamed wilderness filled with unknown dangers, clearly not a place for the weak or timid.

There was one poorly defined path leading up to her prison tower and that remained empty. As always. Maev spent many hours staring toward that endless horizon, yet she never saw any signs of travelers, either on foot or horseback, no human movement of any kind. She often wondered how she would react, what she would feel, if she saw someone approaching. Fear? Relief? Indifference?

Though it had been days since the last storm, the air still smelled of rain. Plumes of pale pink and violet blazed across the sky with luminous splendor as the sun began setting. It was a rare moment of pure beauty and majesty, yet Maev felt no emotions.

A shudder shook her shoulders when a strong gust of wind blew, making her lips twitch. She pulled the ends of her threadbare shawl tightly together, but it offered little protection from the cold.

She saw a pair of deer darting through the thick brush, heard a flock of birds rustling and chirping in the trees, then spotted several rabbits racing through the small clearing. She hoped they were heading toward one of her snares. It had been many months since she had eaten meat, and her body hungered for the sustenance she had so blithely taken for granted in the past.

The men of the McGinnis Clan were skilled hunters, taking pride in ensuring that none of their people ever went hungry. But Maev's hunger was no longer something that concerned these men. She was an outcast.

Not that she much cared. Living among the clan in her childhood home would not alleviate the pain in her heart, would not eliminate the despair that clung to her spirit like a dense fog.

It seemed more and more the only thing that ever broke through Maev's constant mist of pain was worry for her mother. It had been a harsh winter, and Brenda had suffered through most of it with fever and chills. As spring arrived, she remained weak, and Maev knew the longer she was ill, the harder it would be for her mother to regain her health, especially without the hearty food needed to build her strength.

Deciding it would be worth the effort to check the snares, Maev carefully descended from the tower. The steep, winding wooden steps were worn and unsteady, despite her weekly attempts to repair them. Since the sun had dipped beyond the high, narrow, stone window slits at the top of the tower, the single room where she and Brenda lived was cast in gloomy shadows.

Maev groped her way carefully toward the glowing embers of the hearth. A crude square table, a low stool, and a rickety three-legged chair with a broken back were the only pieces of furniture in the room, but Maev knew she would make a great deal of noise if she smashed into any of them. And that noise would startle and disturb her mother, who had not risen from her bed for over a week.

"I'm going to check the traps," Maev whispered as she knelt beside the pallet that Brenda rested upon. She casually touched her mother's forehead, distressed to find it warm and feverish.

Brenda heaved a high-pitched sigh. Her lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened, as though she were fighting to waken. "I worry for yer safety, Maev. 'Tis too late for ye to go outside in those woods. Best wait until morning."

"I willna be gone long," Maev assured her mother. "I'm hoping to find a plump rabbit so I can make a hearty stew for our dinner."

A shadow crossed Brenda's brow. Maev was instantly angry with herself for mentioning the possibility of a good meal, not wanting her mother to be disappointed. Since arriving in this desolate place, Maev's appetite had been sparse, but Brenda often spoke of warm, crusty bread; rich, thick stews; and other gastric delicacies that they would never again have the opportunity to eat. For the past few years the women had existed by consuming anything edible they could forage from the surrounding woods and the occasional small animals Maev managed to trap.

It was a meager and miserly existence.

Maev banked the fire, added several pieces of precious wood to the small blaze, tucked the only other thin blanket they owned tightly around her mother, then gathered the crude bow and arrows she had crafted and quickly left. She walked several feet beyond the tower and paused. Shading her eyes against the glare of the setting sun, Maev peered into the horizon, trying to decide which way to go. There was only enough light to check a few of her traps.

Taking a gamble, Maev headed west, hoping the light lasted long enough for her to reach those snares she had set farthest away. As she walked, she stopped to gather some of the tender green shoots that were pushing through the thick, mossy soil, knowing they would in all likelihood be the only food for dinner that night.

As she feared, the traps were empty. Maev closed her eyes in despair. Brenda needed the nourishment that only fresh meat could provide. Each day she seemed weaker, her strength ebbing, her spirit fading. As she watched her mother's suffering, Maev was acutely aware that she was responsible for Brenda's condition.

If not for Maev, Brenda would be home where she belonged, in a comfortable, cozy cottage, her belly filled with warm food. She would have female friendship and male protection and the spiritual guidance of a priest. Instead, she was marooned in the middle of a desolate, harsh forest with a daughter broken in spirit as her only companion.

This woman who had taught her all the important lessons of a good life—how to love and laugh, to be loyal and kind, how to hold her head high—deserved better.

And what of ye? Dinna ye deserve better? Maev pushed the thought away, burying it deep inside her mind. She deserved nothing. Callum was gone and so was her desire to participate in life. The laird and his clan had thought to punish her by making her an outcast, but Maev truly did not care.

Without Callum there was no meaning, no purpose, no joy, no dreams, no future. It was as if she had fallen into a deep black hole. The inner light of her soul had simply drained out of her, and she had neither the strength nor the desire to try to regain it.

If not for her mother, she would have allowed this ultimate despair to claim her mortal flesh long ago, but Brenda had sacrificed everything to save her and Maev would not repay such selfless love with cowardly cruelty.

Knowing Brenda would worry if she was gone too long, Maev turned and started back. As she drew closer, a strange silence enveloped the small clearing where the tower stood amid the thick woods. Maev had become accustomed to the usual sounds of nature that now surrounded her, but something was different. The air had changed. She glanced up at the sky, saw no twinkling stars, and realized that thick clouds had formed, threatening rain.

Hoping to avoid a drenching, she quickened her pace. She was rounding the east end of the tower when she saw it. A cloth sack, tied at the top with a heavy rope, lay propped against the entrance door.

Startled, Maev froze. Her first instinct was to turn and hide. Whoever had left the parcel could still be in the area. Perhaps they were watching her at this very moment.

Suspiciously she cast her eyes about, but saw no one. A clap of thunder struck, and lightning cut a gash through the dark sky. Maev hurried toward the door. The first raindrops struck her cheek as she bent to examine the package. Absently she brushed them away, then continued struggling with the knot. Finally she untied it. With trembling hands, she opened the sack.

"Oh, my God!"

Rain pelted the back of Maev's head, the water falling in droplets from her hair to trickle down her spine. But she noticed neither the cold nor the wet—her eyes were captivated by the contents of the cloth bag.

An entire haunch of venison! Maev was amazed. There was enough meat to feed her mother decent meals for weeks! But delight turned to suspicion and then fear. Who could have left this much-needed food? And what did they want for it?

"Is anyone there?" Maev called out, then once again cast her eyes toward the forest, but the darkness was complete. Whoever had left the meat was not visible and in all probability long gone. At least she hoped they had departed.

Clutching her bounty tightly to her chest, she entered the tower and bolted the door behind her.

He stood in the darkness, watching her lift the heavy cloth sack, hoping she would be pleased when she viewed its contents.

"Oh, my God!"

Her voice was raw and rough, as if she did not use it much, but it still held traces of familiarity. The sound recalled memories of her tenderness and love, her sweetness and affection. It made his heart ache.

"Is anyone there?"

She turned toward his hiding place, and he craned his neck forward, hoping to see her face. He knew the darkness would shield him from her view, while his keen vision would enable him to drink in the sight of her.

She was thinner, her face drawn, her cheeks hollow, yet her delicate, refined features were in evidence. Even at this distance he could feel the pull of her almond-shaped eyes. They beckoned his heart, but he could not answer the call.

He never thought he would see her again, never believed it would be possible to hear her voice, to delight in the delicate sway of her hips as she walked. Maev. The past exploded into the present, and pain shot through him. Intense, dark pain that should have lessened with time but seemed more acute than ever. Pain that ripped away the layers of protection he'd carefully built between himself and the nightmare world he now inhabited. Pain that had been buried deep within him for three long years.

Maev. My beautiful bride. I have finally found you.

Brenda dozed fitfully as Maev cooked their dinner. Her fever had worsened, and Maev hoped waking to the aroma of the roasting meat would bolster her mother's spirits. Eventually the tantalizing smells did rouse Brenda, yet while the older woman praised her daughter's culinary efforts, she was able to swallow but a few bites of the juicy meat.

Even more worrisome to Maev was the realization that her mother lacked the strength to ask how she had procured such bounty. It was yet another indication of Brenda's worsening condition.

Since there was no salt to preserve the venison, Maev made a large pot of stew using whatever meager food supplies they had in the sparsely stocked larder. She left the pot bubbling gently over the dwindling fire, hoping a cup of rich, hot broth would tempt Brenda's appetite in the morning.

Her cooking chores, coupled with her concern for her mother, left Maev little time to dwell on the identity of their unknown benefactor. Yet later that night, as she curled herself into a tight ball and huddled into her lumpy pallet fashioned from dried grass, Maev could not help but wonder if the mysterious stranger would return.

A few hours later, Maev awoke to the sound of her own cries and whimpers as the nightmarish vision of Callum's lifeless face staring up at her filled her being. She jerked upright from her pallet, the taste of fear sour in her mouth. Her breathing hitched. Damp with sweat, she pushed off her blanket and sat listening to the racing of her heart. Brenda snored gently on the pallet beside her, unaware of her daughter's pain.

The shaking slowly subsided. Maev had never before dreamt of him. In fact, during her waking hours she could barely recall her beloved's handsome face, and she preferred it that way. There was only sadness associated with Callum's memory and more pain than she was able to endure.

Restless and edgy, Maev left her bed. She climbed the tower steps into the cool, star-filled night, breathing deeply. She looked up at the moon and shivered, wishing she had brought her blanket. It was peaceful here, and she intended to stay until the dawn broke through the darkness.

A sound drew her attention to the opposite side of the tower. Maev tilted her head and studied the large shape that filled the shadows, waiting for it to disappear.

But it did not. Instead, it moved closer. Oddly, she felt no fear, for a storm of hunger swirled around her as the shadow stepped into the moonlight and revealed itself.

"Callum," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. She believed she could no longer recall his features, but she realized she had been deluding herself. She knew him now, even though he was but an illusion. "First I dreamt of ye and now ye appear to me as a vision. Have I finally lost my wits?"

Lucifer's horns! Callum had not intended for her to see him. He had crept inside the fortress and watched her sleep, and when her restless dreams woke her, he had slipped from the room and climbed the tower, hoping when she fell back to sleep, he would have a chance to gaze upon her beauty once again before the dawn broke.

He had come here full of rage and grief, drawn by a need older than time to be near the woman he had loved and lost. He had planned to watch her from afar, but when she appeared on the tower, less than a few feet from him, the opportunity had been irresistible, even though he knew that nothing but trouble would come of it.

She thought him a ghost. Perhaps that was better than her knowing what an evil, decadent creature he had become. For if she ever learned the truth, she would fear and despise him. As he despised himself.

He glanced over the side of the high stone tower and judged the distance to the ground. It was a long drop, yet he knew he could land without causing himself injury. He lifted his leg, preparing to leap over the side, but then her voice pierced his mind.

"I thought it would be unbearably painful to have ye once again in my heart, to see ye in my mind, but it is not." Her tone was reflective and emotional, the sadness echoing the feelings lingering deeply inside him. "Perhaps I have been wrong in deliberately shutting ye out. Refusing to remember how much I loved ye, how much ye made my life complete."

Though he tried, Callum could not hold back the rush of emotion her words brought to his long-bruised heart. To hear that she still loved him, still felt a bond with him, was a far greater gift than he had dared to hope to discover.

Slowly he lowered his leg. Maev looked at him intently, then swallowed hard. Moving himself closer, Callum reached out and caught her hand. Her gaze, wide and nervous, remained pinned to his. Slowly, gently, he lifted her hand to hold it against the side of his face, craving her touch in a way he could not define.

"Ye're solid," she gasped, pulling her hand away. "And cold. I thought ghosts were spirits who lacked substance and form."

He shook his head, fearing he had frightened her. But the jolt of his reaction to her warm flesh stunned him; the driving need to leap upon her, rip off her thin chemise, and feast upon her naked flesh was a powerful temptation.

But he resisted.

"I am not a ghost," he replied hoarsely.

She choked out a strange, nervous sound and splayed her hand over her chest as if she were trying to calm her heart. "Now I can hear yer voice. Though it sounds different than I remember. 'Tis deeper, huskier."

What could he tell her? His vocal cords had been damaged the night he was attacked, the night he was converted to an immortal creature. "Are ye frightened of me?"

"Should I be?"

Callum smiled. His feisty Maev still existed, despite all that she had suffered. "I will not harm ye," he replied.

She hesitated, then returned his smile. "I know ye're not my enemy."

Her words gave him pause. "Do ye have enemies?" he asked. "Is that why ye and yer mother have chosen to live so far from the rest of the clan?"

Her face crumpled as her eyes closed. "We have not chosen anything," she replied. "I was blamed for yer death and my punishment was to be banished from the clan. Forever. 'Tis a clever verdict, for it is a slow and unmerciful sentence."

"They believe ye killed me?" Callum was shocked. "How?"

"With sorcery." She opened her eyes, and her lips curved into a mocking grin. "Perhaps they were right. Perhaps I do have black powers. After all, I'm having a conversation with a ghost."

He did not bother to correct her. His mind was still reeling over her revelations. How could the clan be so idiotic as to think that Maev would harm him? How could they be so cruel as to punish her unjustly? "Ye're innocent, Maev. And those who have condemned ye unfairly will suffer for their mistake."

"No!" Her breath came out in a short, desperate gasp. "Please, ye must not seek retribution on my behalf. The suffering of others will not alleviate my pain; it will not recapture all that I have lost. All that we have lost."

He watched as a strange mix of emotions shifted across her face. Maev's selfless concern humbled him. Even in her misery she was willing to defend those who had treated her so unfairly. Though he still thought she was beautiful dressed in her drab, worn nightclothes, it was her inner beauty that called to him, that made him remember why he had loved her so completely.

He needed to get closer to her. Aware of the trace of apprehension in her eyes, Callum slowly edged in her direction. Maev's breathing became shallow and quick, but she did not move away.

Taking care not to crush her with his weight, Callum pressed her against the edge of the tower wall, his hands framing her face, then sliding through her hair, his fingers threading between the long strands. "I always adored yer hair. Almost as much as I adored ye. May I kiss ye?"

"Will it be the same?" A bright sheen of tears glistened in her eyes. "Will I feel that same thrill and excitement when yer lips touch mine?"

"I dinna know," he replied. "Let's find out." Softly Callum pressed his lips over hers. The sensations swirled inside him, strong and true. Relief and joy shot through him. It was the same. Nay, it was even better, for it was such a rare and precious gift, one he thought was forever lost.

He kissed her again and Maev's lips parted, greedily accepting his kiss. Her arms came up and around his neck without hesitation. Callum pulled her hips against his and felt the warm, womanly curves of her body fit against his hardness.

Oh, how he needed her. Needed her to banish the loneliness and heartache he had endured for three long years. Anaxandra had told him she was dead. Enraged, he had prowled the lands of the McGinnis Clan, searching for Maev, yet never finding her. Brokenhearted, he had roamed the mortal world far and wide, a creature of darkness, a being of evil, doing unspeakable things, participating in unspeakable acts.

Yet a small part of his humanity had survived. The part of his soul that Maev inhabited had remained uncorrupted, and by rekindling the love they had shared, he had reconnected with the strongest part of his essence.

The problem was, now that he had found her, how could he possibly leave her again?

Something twisted painfully inside him. Though they kissed slowly and deeply, savoring one another as if they had all the time in the world to be together, Callum knew that was untrue. An inner voice called out to him, warning that prolonging this pleasure would make the parting even more of an agony.

With great reluctance Callum ended the kiss, released her, then stepped away so that she might move. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, for there might never be another chance to hold her in his arms and show her how much he still loved her.

Her closed eyelashes fluttered open, and her large green eyes looked back at him, searching for answers that he could not provide.

"I must go," he said.

She placed a hand on his chest "Will I see ye again?"

"I dinna know," he answered honestly.

Then before she could say anything else, Callum vaulted over the side of the tower, scaled down the rough stone with catlike grace, and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

When she awoke the next morning, Maev found herself lying on the pallet next to her mother, tucked snugly beneath her blanket. As usual. The burning embers from last night's fire still glowed, the aroma of simmering meat permeating the small area where she and Brenda lay.

Venison stew. Maev could identify that delicious smell anywhere. There really had been a haunch of venison left for them by an unknown benefactor. That much was true. As for the ghost of Callum McGinnis—Maev was uncertain. It had all seemed very real, and had felt very real, but how could it have happened? And why had it happened now, after all these years? Most likely it was a trick of her weary mind, yet though she tried, it was impossible to forget the vision of Callum's sorrowful eyes.

Maev longed to discuss the incident with Brenda, but she feared her mother would think she had lost her wits if she told her she had seen and spoken with and even dared to kiss Callum's ghost last night.

Needing to clear her mind with some fresh air, Maev left the tower in the late morning on the guise of foraging for food. As she walked the familiar woods, she found herself looking over her shoulder one minute, then gazing off into the shadows of the dense forest the next. Did spirits materialize in daylight hours, or did they roam the earth only at night?

Shaking her head at her foolish notions, Maev concentrated on her chores. She gathered firewood, picked a few mushrooms, then returned home to do the wash. By midday she had convinced herself that the appearance of Callum's ghost had been a dream, yet even as she tried to dismiss it all as an interlude that provided her with an escape from the dreariness of her existence, the incident was never far from her thoughts.

The foul weather returned, and the occasional burst of rain throughout the afternoon gave way to a deluge as night fell. Maev listened to the steady pummeling of raindrops and tried to tell herself it was foolish to feel so disappointed. In her heart she knew if it were not raining so hard, she would be outside on the tower wall, waiting to see if Callum's ghost reappeared.

She slept fitfully through the night, feeling a sense of renewed disappointment each time she awoke and heard the rain. The next day Maev began her chores in a lethargic state. After adding more kindling to the fire to chase away the morning chill, she started preparing food for her mother. Yet when she glanced over at the older woman, a feeling of dread swept over her. Something was wrong.

She approached her mother with some trepidations, fearing what she would discover. Brenda's eyes were opened, but they appeared sightless, gazing off into the distance with a glassy sheen.

Maev knelt beside her and rested her hand on her mother's shoulder. "Mother?"

Brenda's unfocused gaze settled on her face. Slowly, gradually, recognition dawned across her pale features and she moved her thin, white lips. "I'm dying, Maev."

For a moment Maev couldn't catch her breath. "Dinna be daft. 'Tis just a bit of the fever that's got yer spirits feeling low. Spring will be here before ye know it, and the warm sunshine will lift yer mood. The hawthorn flowers will be in bloom, and I can gather madder root to distill. Ye'll feel better after ye've taken a few doses."

"I need more than herbs and sunshine," Brenda replied with a weary sigh.

The denial leapt to Maev's lips, but the expression of resignation on her mother's face kept the words lodged in her throat. Brenda was right. Her gaunt face was nearly as gray as the coarse wool blanket upon which her head rested, the bones of her body showing prominently through the wasted flesh.

Though Maev longed to convince herself otherwise, there was little hope that her mother would survive for many more weeks. She had been too sick for too long.

"What should we do?" Maev whispered as the helpless fury she struggled to control stabbed at her heart with a piercing agony. For both their sakes, Maev knew she had to be strong, but deep inside she felt like a frightened little girl.

"We must pray." Brenda closed her eyes. "Ye remember yer prayers, don't ye, lass? My soul will need a lot of help reaching heaven, since I'll be leaving this earth without making a proper confession and having a priest's blessing of the last rites."

Maev threaded her fingers through her mother's and tried to look confident. "My faith in the Lord has been sorely tested these last three years, but if it will bring ye comfort, I shall pray day and night."

Brenda's mouth curved into a slight smile. "Ye always were a good girl, Maev. And ye grew into a fine woman. I am proud to call ye daughter."

Maev willed back the tears that threatened to form. Brenda's devotion to her had always been absolute. She had generously shared her home and her heart; she had given everything to her adopted daughter, including her very life.

The two women began to pray together. Brenda quickly grew tired, but Maev continued. When her voice grew hoarse, she closed her eyes and prayed silently, offering different prayers to every saint she had ever heard of, pleading for mercy for the good woman who deserved a better fate.

As Brenda slipped into a calm sleep, Maev realized that she had to do everything in her power to give her mother the peace she desired, the peace she had more than earned. Her mother wanted a priest to hear her confession and administer last rites, and Maev knew she was the only one who could grant this final wish. Though it was difficult to judge, she believed Brenda would not survive more than a week or two. Time was of the essence.

In her heart, Maev knew this was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, yet the significance of this decision filled her with a rising panic. Brenda had taught her that it took great courage to follow your convictions, and never before had that lesson held more meaning.

Maev prayed she would have the inner strength and fortitude to accomplish this all-important task. For her mother's sake, she must put the bitterness behind her, swallow her pride, tame her fear, and return to the castle.

And truth be told, the thought of going back to face the members of the McGinnis Clan scared Maev half to death.

Chapter Four

As night fell, Maev sat on the stool by the hearth, her chin propped pensively on her fist, her ears tuned to her mother's breathing, which at last had deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. She had decided to leave just as the dawn began to break tomorrow, hoping to return before Brenda's condition worsened, hoping also to bring the one thing that would ease her mother's suffering. A priest.

Maev forced herself to eat, then began making preparations for the journey. If she was lucky, the weather would clear by morning. A steady rain and muddy roads would make walking more difficult and tiring and slow her progress.

After returning the food her mother could not swallow to the stew pot, Maev prepared for bed. But sleep would not come. Suddenly, there was a loud thump, followed by a muffled groan.

Her head whipped around toward the sounds, which came from the base of the staircase that led to the outside tower rampart.

"Callum?"

After a moment of silence, he moved into the soft glow of the firelight so she could see him. Maev instantly noticed the uncertainty in his eyes.

"Oh, Maev, I tried," he whispered as an expression of distress passed over his face. "Yet I find that I canna stay away."

Maev blinked back her tears. "I am overjoyed that ye are here. Even though I know ye are not real, ye make me feel less alone, less afraid."

He studied her for a moment, then opened his arms. Maev stood and walked into them, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She pressed herself tightly against his chest and felt him sigh into her hair.

"This is madness—"

She lifted her head and set her lips against his, stopping the words. At the touch of their lips, the pain and loneliness in her heart receded. It was madness, her madness, and more and more she was coming to depend upon it to survive.

When the kiss ended, she pulled him toward the fire. They sat close together on the floor, facing each other. He seemed so real, so alive, her heart almost broke.

There were so many questions to ask, but now was not the time. Her focus must remain on her mother and the mission she was about to undertake in the morning.

"Ye seem worried," Callum remarked. "What is wrong?"

Maev ceased toying with the fraying hem on the sleeve of her nightclothes. "My mother is dying. Is there anything ye can do to help her?"

Regret filled Callum's eyes. "I have no powers to ease her suffering."

"I feared as much." Maev cleared her throat. "I am going to the castle tomorrow to fetch the priest. My mother's last wish is to have him hear her confession and grant her absolution of her sins."

Callum bolted up from the floor. "Ye cannot return to the castle. Ye will be killed."

"I am well aware of the danger," Maev replied as a shudder went through her. "But I have no choice."

"Let me do it."

She could not help the gasp that escaped from her lips. "What? How?"

"I move easily and swiftly in the dark. I will snatch the priest from his bed and bring him here just before dawn breaks."

Maev pushed shakily to her feet. "If the priest finds himself in my tower prison with no recollection of how he got here, it will be all the proof he needs to verify my sorcery and demonic powers. Then my life, and my mother's, truly will be forfeited."

Callum's jaw clenched tightly as he came to stand beside her. "Then I shall find another priest. One who disna know any of the McGinnis Clan. I willna allow him to know where he has been brought, so when I return him to his parish, he will be unable to find ye again. Ye will remain safe."

Maev wished with all her heart she could agree. "That could take days, perhaps longer. My mother will not last that long."

Maev could see Callum's frustration mounting, but they both knew she was right. "At least let me accompany ye on the journey."

"No. I need to believe that ye are here, watching over my mother, or else I fear I willna be able to leave her. I will go alone."

"Maev." His eyes softening, he captured her face between his hands, cradling it gently while he kissed her all over, then planted one final kiss on the tip of her nose. "Ye always were the bravest woman I knew. Promise me that ye'll be careful?"

"I shall."

She nestled herself close to his strength, wishing she felt as brave as Callum believed her to be. As weariness and emotion took hold, she yawned. When she did it again, Callum brought her back to her pallet near the fire and tucked her into bed. Holding his hand tightly, Maev finally fell asleep. When she awoke, he was gone. As she had expected.

Maev banked the fire, dressed in her warmest clothes, left food and water within easy reach, and kissed her mother. Brenda was barely conscious. It frightened Maev, yet she reasoned it would be better if Brenda was unaware of how long Maev was away.

Convincing herself that Brenda would be fine on her own, Maev at last stepped outside into the cool, damp morning.

She was quickly brought up short by the sight of a small brown mare with a white mark on its forehead tethered to the lowest branch of a tree that stood next to the tower.

Hardly daring to believe the animal was real, Maev cautiously approached. The horse's ears perked as she drew near, and when she was within reach, the animal nudged Maev's arm in a friendly greeting.

Callum. Maev felt a sudden rush of tenderness that caused her breath to catch. Only he could have left the beast. But Callum was not real. He was merely a fragile illusion of her lonely mind. Yet there was no denying the things she had needed most had definitely materialized—first the venison and now this sturdy little mare.

How was this possible? Maev shook her head in confusion, knowing there was no time to ponder this latest mystery. Now that she had a horse, she should be able to reach the castle and return before dark.

Maev briefly stroked the animal's nose, still finding it difficult to believe the animal was real. After getting acquainted, Maev led the horse into the forest. She stopped the moment she found what she needed, and climbing the trunk of a fallen log, Maev was able to reach the stirrups and get up and into the saddle.

Using her legs and the reins, Maev guided the pretty mare to the path that led out of the forest, unsure how long it would take to reach the castle. She had no memory of arriving at her tower prison three years ago, but she did recall others in the clan speaking about visiting the mysterious stone tower during her childhood, so she reasoned it was not an impossible distance.

It felt odd to once again be astride a horse, but Maev soon began to relax. For a few miles she was even able to forget the reason she was taking this journey and enjoyed the freedom of riding. After several hours, Maev's stomach rumbled with hunger, but she ignored it, filling her belly with water from the stream that ran near the clearing when she stopped to give the horse a brief rest.

Her pace was a little slower when she resumed her quest, owing to the steepness of the hills. With only the position of the sun to guide her, Maev worried that she had taken a wrong turn until suddenly the curves of the land began to look familiar. Heart thundering in her chest, she moved steadily forward, each stride of the horse bringing her closer to her childhood home.

She crested the final hill, and a tear rose in Maev's eye at the sight of the familiar castle walls. Even at that distance she could make out the distinct shapes of men and women as they hurried about their daily chores. It felt as if it had been a lifetime since she, too, had been a part of this life, this community.

A part of her longed to ride boldly through the open drawbridge, head held high, yet she knew it would be a foolish waste of pride. With certainty she would be stopped long before she reached the chapel steps.

No, she would be unable to get inside without being caught. But the priest knew no such restraints, and Maev was well aware that he visited the homes of the farmers who tended the outlying fields on most afternoons. All she had to do was wait until he was a safe distance from the castle and then she would waylay him.

Maev hid her mare in a small cluster of bushes and left the horse contentedly munching on sweet grass. Then she positioned herself just off the main road, allowing a clear view of all who passed upon it.

Within the hour her patience was rewarded by the sight of the portly priest, his long, dark robes flapping in the wind, walking up the road. She waited until he reached the bend in the path that would shield her from the castle view before stepping from her hiding place.

"Good afternoon," Maev said, meeting the priest's eye with a boldness she was far from feeling.

His round face turned an unusual shade of red. He sputtered a few times, then hastily made the sign of the cross. Maev suppressed a wild urge to hiss at him, but good sense stopped her. She needed his cooperation. Antagonizing him would hardly be wise.

"I was unsure if ye would recognize me," Maev continued. "But I can see that ye know who I am."

"Ye shouldna be here, lass," the priest answered, a thundering frown upon his forehead. "If the laird hears of it, there'll be no protecting ye from certain death."

Maev clenched her hands. "I have no wish to cause trouble. I am here not for myself, but for my mother. She is gravely ill and craves the comfort of confession. Will ye accompany me now to administer the last rites?"

The priest's grim expression deepened, and he gave a weary shake of his head. "I dinna dare disobey the laird's commands. All in the clan know 'tis forbidden to have any contact with ye or yer mother."

"But we have done nothing wrong! It was all wicked lies!" Maev felt herself getting angry. "Blame me if ye must for something I most assuredly didna do, but no one with a reasonable mind and a fair heart can find my mother guilty of anything. Her only crime has been her selfless love of me and her unconditional loyalty."

The priest twisted the prayer beads that hung down from his waist After a few moments he cleared his throat "I canna help ye," he replied, casting his gaze downward. "Ye'd best leave before someone sees ye and raises the alarm."

Maev tried to ignore the sad heaviness of failure that invaded her heart. "Please, ye must reconsider, ye must not allow fear and ignorance to keep ye from doing what ye know is right," she implored, willing to humble herself and beg all day if that was what was necessary to gain the priest's cooperation. "How can ye possibly refuse the request of a dying woman who begs for the Lord's comfort? Even ye wouldna be so cruel as to deny her soul a chance to reunite with her savior."

For an instant the priest looked contrite, and Maev dared to hope she had convinced him. "Yer mother's fate was sealed by God," he replied. "If He wanted her to have a priest by her side at her final hour, He wouldna have allowed her to be banished. 'Tis God's will and I canna interfere with His dictates."

A scream of pure frustration lodged itself in Maev's throat. "How can ye be so cruel and still call yourself a man of God? Where is yer famous Christian forgiveness and mercy when it is needed most sorely?"

The priest dragged in a weary breath, and his face went sickly white. "I leave it to God to be merciful, lass." He reached into his pocket and removed a small wooden cross. " 'Tis said this humble crucifix was blessed by the Holy Father himself. Take it to yer mother. I shall pray that it brings her comfort in her hour of need."

With an audible swallow, Maev took the cross. A part of her wanted to hurl it in the dirt and crush it under the heel of her foot, but she knew it was the only comfort she would be able to bring to her mother. Unless she could somehow overpower the priest and force him to come with her.

Maev dismissed the notion the moment it came to her, yet it rankled her greatly to return to the tower with so little. "May yer conscience haunt ye for the rest of yer life, Father. And may ye always remember how ye chose to be a coward and turned yer back on an innocent soul when asked to do the Lord's work."

With the taste of failure filling her mouth, Maev pivoted on her heel and walked stiffly toward the small cluster of bushes where her mare was hidden. In truth, she had expected this very reaction from the priest, but she had dared to hope there might be a chance for salvation.

Bitter with disappointment, she began the long ride back to the tower, fearful of what she would find.

Brenda slipped from this world to the next as the dawn approached. Maev arrived in time to cradle her mother in her arms, singing her favorite songs, repeating her favorite stories from Maev's childhood antics. It was a peaceful passing. Maev still felt twinges of guilt that she could not provide the comfort of a priest's blessing, but in her heart she knew that she had done all she could.

Filled with weary sadness, Maev began the solemn burial tasks. She hauled buckets of water from the stream for over an hour until there was enough clean water to properly wash the body. With that chore reverently completed, she carefully dressed her mother in the beautiful crimson and green wedding gown that they had both spent so many hours together sewing.

It was the finest garment that Maev owned, and she clearly remembered how proud Brenda had been the day Maev and Callum had married. In Maev's eyes, that made this garment the most appropriate choice in which to bury this very special woman. When the body was at last ready, she placed the cross the priest had given her gently in her mother's folded hands.

It took Maev a very long time to dig a deep grave. Lacking the appropriate tools, she worked steadily using a flat rock, first loosening the hard soil and then meticulously lifting it away. After she had gently placed her mother's body within the deep cavity, she slowly reversed the process until a high mound of dirt marked the spot.

She covered the entire area with small rocks, then fashioned a wooden cross out of sturdy branches. When the grave was complete, Maev fell to her knees and prayed diligently for her mother's soul, begging for God's understanding and mercy.

Physically and emotionally exhausted, Maev returned to the tower. As if in a trance, she struggled to cleanse the dirt from her body, but the nagging voice reverberating in her head left her nearly paralyzed with fear.

She was now utterly and completely alone.

Callum watched from the shadows as she scrubbed away the dirt and grime, her breath catching in small gasps and sobs while she bathed from a shallow wooden bowl. Her grief tore at his heart; her pain caused a tightness to lodge deep in his chest He knew he should wait until she slept, so he could gently call to her in her dreams. But her grief was too extreme, her pain too harsh to ignore.

He took a step closer. Maev had finished removing the soil from her body and now rested upon her pallet. She was on her back, naked, with her hands at her sides. Her eyes were shut tight. There were streaks of tears still visible on her face. She looked like a corpse.

Callum knelt beside her and reached for her hand. She gasped when their hands touched. Her fingers were cold. He rubbed them gently in a reassuring manner. Maev's eyes flickered open.

"Oh, thank God ye have come to me tonight," she sobbed, turning toward him.

"I am here, lass," he assured her huskily.

"She's gone," Maev muttered between sobbing gulps. "She's gone and now there is no one left on this earth that I love. Or who loves or cares about me."

"I am here," Callum replied.

Maev let out a shriek of hysterical laughter. "Aye, I have ye, along with my madness, to bring me comfort. 'Tis a match made in heaven, is it not?"

Callum did not know how to respond. He knew she thought him a ghost, but would revealing the truth of what he had become bring her comfort or cause her even greater distress?

Her expression of worry and fear tore at his heart. Callum hunched his shoulders around her and tightened his embrace, pressing his face against Maev's hair. She had left it unbound, and Callum could not deny himself the pleasure of lifting a thick section of it to his lips. It ran through his hands like a golden waterfall, smooth and silky with the sweet scent of lavender teasing his nostrils.

Her sobs subsided, and gradually he felt the tension ease from her body. He meant only to give her a kiss of comfort. But one kiss begot two, then three, and somehow his clothes were gone and they were both naked and straining toward each other, caught up in their mutual passion and need.

Everything happened very quickly. Within minutes Callum found himself kneeling between Maev's silken thighs, his throbbing penis poised at her entrance. He looked down at the glistening folds of her femininity, so delicate and sweet, so moist and ready. One thrust forward and she would be his. Finally he would be able to claim what had been stolen from him; finally he would be able to recapture part of his humanity.

He lifted his gaze up to her face. She was staring at him with sightless eyes. There was no fear reflected in their depths, yet no recognition either.

"Say my name," he whispered.

Her lashes fluttered and a look of pure agony crossed her beautiful face. "Callum. Ye are my Callum."

Every muscle in his body tightened and he began to shake. Her pain was almost a living entity. She thought him a ghost, a being of mist and imagination, but that was not true. From deep within the edges of his mind, a small voice urged him to continue, to take what she offered, what he so desperately needed.

But he couldn't. So much had already been taken from her. He rolled away, landing on his back beside her. He angled an arm over his eyes, sick with shame.

How could he corrupt the last decent, pure, beautiful thing from his former life? How could he use her trust and her love to try to escape the living hell his existence had become? Had he truly sunk to such a decadent level?

He felt her move. "Callum?" Her trembling body pressed against his side; her slender arm moved over his chest. She ran her fingers lightly over his muscles, then snuggled her face against the hollow of his shoulder. The hardened tips of her nipples branded his skin like burning embers. "I know ye're not real, yet ye feel solid and warm and alive. I can even hear yer heart beating." She let out a small, startled laugh. "The madness is overtaking me now, but I no longer fear it. Nay, I welcome it, because it brings ye to me."

Callum squeezed his eyes closed. His body screamed with wanting her, her silken softness beckoned him, but he controlled himself. He had to tell her the truth. All of it. There was no other choice. And when she learned what had happened, what he had become, he could only pray that she would turn to him instead of running away.

He dragged in a deep breath, drawing her fully against his chest. Her body continued to tremble, and he realized she had reached the near breaking point of emotional and physical exhaustion. His confession might very well destroy her mind. Though he knew a cowardly part of him was relieved at the excuse for a delay, it would be best to wait until she had slept and recovered a bit from all this turmoil.

"Go to sleep, Maev. I'll keep ye safe."

"I canna sleep. Ye've made me all restless and tingly."

He smiled in the darkness, hardly believing that this time he was the one who was refusing to consummate their union.

"Shall I dump ye in the cold stream, lass? 'Tis exactly what I had to do on far too many a night when ye left me feeling all restless and tingly."

He felt her smile against his chest. "A dunk in frigid water is exactly what I deserve, for I realize now that I surely tried yer patience."

"Ye tried far more than my patience," he said with a chuckle.

Then wrapping his hands around her thighs, Callum gently spread Maev's legs. He rolled her onto her back, before settling himself on top of her, letting his erect penis slide across her wetness. She whimpered and squirmed and he repeated the motion, sliding the warm silken head against her cleft, teasing her where she was so moist.

"What are ye doing to me?" she panted.

"Do ye like it?"

"Too much." She moaned and pushed herself forward. "Put yerself inside me. Please. I need to feel that ye are a part of me."

He gritted his teeth, knowing he could not answer her plea. But he could bring her satisfaction. With one hand, Callum reached between their bodies. Finding the damp nest of curls, he slowly slid one finger inside, searching for the core of her desire. He found it and she gasped.

Then he leaned over and covered her mouth in a desperate kiss. Drawing the tip of her tongue into his mouth, Callum sucked hard until he felt the urgency in her build, felt the sexual rhythm moving through her body.

He touched her more intently, circling her sex with his fingertip until he felt her whole body seize. Her hips came up off the pallet, seeking his touch. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her entire body shuddering.

"That's it, love," he murmured, pressing his lips to the damp flesh of her neck. "Let it happen, let it happen."

Her hands slid around to cradle his buttocks, urging him closer. Then suddenly, Maev cried out, and at the sound of her pleasure, Callum felt his seed explode from his body. It covered her femininity and mingled with the moisture of her own desire.

His lips thinned, then relaxed. He felt like a randy lad, losing control so shamefully, but Maev seemed unaware of his discomfort. She had fallen into a deep, sated, unconscious sleep. Callum rolled to his side, collapsing onto the hard pallet. The fire in the hearth sputtered and went out Maev whispered something and snuggled closer.

Callum kissed the top of her head. He drew the blanket more snugly around them and tucked himself even closer to Maev. He wondered if he had done the right thing by her, for she now seemed to need him more desperately than ever.

Yet his need for her was as great. He needed her passion and her love. He needed simply to talk with her and to have her listen to him. He needed the comfort only she could bring him. Going back to an existence without Maev no longer seemed possible.

And yet being together presented a challenge he did not fully understand. How would she react once she learned the truth about what he had become? He dared not speculate, knowing the pain would be extreme for both of them if she could not accept it.

Callum sighed heavily. Though he had not slept during the nighttime hours for three years, he nevertheless closed his eyes and waited for the reckoning that would come with the morning light.

Chapter Five

As morning drew closer, Callum became restless. He left Maev asleep on her pallet and began to prepare the tower. Rummaging through her trunks, he searched for gowns made from the heaviest material. He was surprised to discover that most of the clothing was in excellent condition—clearly she had not worn these garments at all, choosing instead to don her simplest and oldest outfits.

Callum removed an assortment of Maev's gowns and then carefully positioned the dresses across the small, high windows that ran along the inner circle of the tower, effectively blocking out the possibility of any natural light entering the room.

The fire had died to a few glowing sticks, but he could see well enough. He decided to wait until Maev awoke before lighting any torches. He added some fresh water to the pot Maev had simmering near the fire to prevent it from scorching. The cooked meat smelled foul to his sensitive nose, and he wondered briefly if it would make him sick if he ate it.

He decided it was not worth the risk, even though he had not eaten since yesterday. Callum knew from experience he could go for days without feasting on a fresh kill. The lack of nourishment would diminish his physical strength, but his mental capacity would remain intact and that was what he would need most—his wits.

Realizing there was nothing more he could do, Callum positioned himself on the bottom rung of the staircase that led to the tower ramparts and waited, with a growing sense of dread, for Maev to wake up.

Maev awoke so suddenly, she thought a noise must have startled her. She sat up, hoping to see Callum, but the room was bathed in darkness. The fire had gone out, giving Maev no clue if it was day or night.

She felt a draft of cool air, and her skin prickled with gooseflesh. Her mind was still muddled with sleep, her body sore and aching. Maev's stomach rumbled and she turned instinctively toward her mother's pallet, wondering if she could tempt the older woman into eating a hearty meal. But the sight of the empty bed was an ugly, brutal reminder that Brenda was gone.

Maev's breath caught in her throat, and she let out a little sob. At least her mother had finally found peace, though the emptiness of her passing left Maev with a hollow ache inside. She was now completely alone. Well, except for Callum's ghost.

Maev laughed out loud at her lunacy. So this was what the rest of her days were going to be like? Depending on the imaginings of her fragile mind for comfort? She closed her eyes and let out a faint, mortified moan. Just thinking about it made Maev's head hurt and her mouth grow dry.

She reached for her gown and quickly scrambled into the garment. She lit the fire and one of the wall torches, then turned swiftly when she heard the tread of a heavy footstep on the tower stairs. Maev froze, holding her breath.

Callum!

He stared at her, his gaze sweeping from her face down her entire body. There was a glint in his eyes that imparted a strange fluttering in her heart. Maev felt herself blush, remembering her wanton behavior last night.

"Ye're still here," she said. "That means it must be nighttime."

"No. The dawn broke hours ago," he replied.

"Then why is it so dark?"

"I covered the window slits." He made a scornful sound. "The sunlight bothers my eyes."

"Oh." Maev scowled at his comment, unsure exactly what he meant.

He had an oddly frozen expression on his face and seemed unusually nervous, as if he'd rather be anywhere else.

"I have something to tell ye." His mouth contorted into a world-weary grimace of disenchantment and Maev felt the pulse at her neck begin to quicken with fear. "I'm not a ghost, Maev."

She almost laughed. "Aye, Callum, ye're not a ghost or a goblin or a faerie prince. 'Tis my mind playing tricks on me. I know ye're not truly here with me. I know ye're not real."

"Not real? Does this feel like air?" He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his chest.

He was right. His chest was solid, hard, the bone and muscle unyielding. Queasy chills coursed over Maev as she forced herself to hold his gaze. "I know ye feel real to my touch, but it canna be true," she whispered. "Ye're dead."

"I was dead. But now I am reborn as a creature of the night, an immortal who must feed on the blood of the living to survive."

The shock of his words reverberated through her entire being. Maev put her hand on the wall to steady herself and commanded herself to breathe. She blinked her eyes several times, wondering if she had heard him correctly. When she had her emotions contained, she turned and looked directly at Callum, who met her gaze impassively. "How is that possible?"

"I was attacked in our bridal chamber on our wedding night. These creatures possess strengths far beyond those of mortal men. Though I fought hard, I was overpowered. And once subdued, I was converted."

"I remember nothing of what happened in our bridal chamber," Maev muttered. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his arm, feeling the solid strength of him. "Who did this horrible tiling to ye? Where did they come from?"

He took a few steps back from her, and Maev let her hand fall to her side.

"These creatures roam the world at will. They live nowhere and everywhere." Callum frowned. "Do ye remember the mysterious woman who appeared in the hall on the night of our victory celebration?" he asked.

"Aye." Maev took a step closer, and Callum turned away from her. His profile looked dark and troubled.

"She is known among her kind as Anaxandra. She saw me fighting the English and decided she wanted me as her mate. If given the opportunity, I believe she would have attacked me that night, but ye interrupted her before she had the chance."

Maev's chest tightened in pain. "Is that what ye have become? Her mate?"

All expression was wiped from Callum's face. "I'll not lie to ye. I have been with Anaxandra, but that was a long time ago. It meant nothing. I didna even enjoy the sexual release; 'twas more like a stud servicing a mare."

Maev winced at his crude analogy, but hearing the truth still stung. The mystery surrounding Callum was now revealed, yet Maev was unsure if she preferred believing he was a ghostly apparition of her mind. This new reality frightened her.

She looked into his stoic face, his remote eyes, and could almost feel the hatred and frustration boiling inside him. This was not the man she had loved and married. Or was it?

"Why have ye come to me?" she whispered. "Why do ye not stay among yer kind?"

His eyes glistened. "I needed ye, Maev. Yer spirit called to me, and even though I knew I should stay away, I couldna."

She frowned and stared up at him. "And now that ye have found me, what do ye want?"

For a moment, Maev saw bewilderment in Callum's eyes. "I just want to love ye, lass. Though I worry if I let myself, ye'll be in danger."

"Danger? From whom?"

"The immortals." His voice grew hoarse, hesitant. "I couldna bear to bring ye more heartache."

She stared down at her hands, rubbing her thumb over a smudge of dirt on her palm. "What more can an immortal do to cause me pain? Humans have already turned my life into a living hell."

"You have no idea what powers the immortals possess." Callum's face contorted into an ironic smirk. "They are wicked, fiendish, evil creatures who do not understand mercy or show compassion under any circumstances."

Maev shuddered. "And now ye are one of them?"

"Aye." He glanced at her with new alertness. "Does it disgust ye?"

Yes. Maev barely managed to hold back her honest answer. Guilt swept over her, followed quickly by pity and despair for him. It was hardly his fault, and yet she could not easily dismiss his revelations, could not easily accept what he had now become.

"Are ye all right?" Callum asked as he approached her, his hands half-raised as if he feared she might collapse in a heap at his feet.

His words unlocked Maev from her paralysis. She backed away from him, her mind whirling. "No, I am not all right. Would ye please leave?" she asked, with more anger than she had known she felt. "I need to be alone."

Callum narrowed his eyes. "I canna leave the tower. 'Tis daytime. The light burns my flesh."

"God Almighty!" Maev experienced a sharp stab of pain in her midriff. Unconsciously she put her fingers over the spot just beneath her ribs, but the pain did not ease. With a small sigh of distress, she slipped quickly out the door and walked into the gentle flood of sunlight, hardly believing something so comforting and natural could cause Callum harm.

The surrounding forest was deep and thick, and Maev welcomed the feeling of being encircled in its primeval splendor. She walked swiftly, with no particular direction in mind, needing the fresh air and solitude to digest this news that had left her shaken and speechless.

Maev knew she had no right to judge Callum harshly for what had happened, yet the mixture of jealousy and anger dominated her feelings. If he had not flirted with the female immortal, this never would have occurred. Would it? Or had Callum's fate been sealed the moment the creature had seen him in battle?

Keeping her head down as she walked, Maev repeatedly rubbed her temples with her fingers, but the jumbled thoughts and images racing through her mind kept tripping over each other. The air was lightly scented with heather, the sway of the trees seemed to whisper through the stillness, but there were no answers to be found.

Wandering more slowly, Maev began to meander through the thick trees, hardly caring if she became lost. She stayed outside for hours, resting only for brief intervals before resuming her journey. Yet by midafternoon she was forced to admit that no matter how far she walked, she could not run from the truth.

With a scream of frustration, Maev sat down on a flat rock and cradled her head in her hands. She felt a stinging pressure behind her nose and the threat of unwanted tears in her eyes. She did not understand herself. She did not understand the emotion that moved so strongly beneath the mass of hopelessness that filled her being.

Was it love? Was it possible that deep within her soul she still loved Callum, even though he had become something that terrified her? And most important of all, did she truly wish to be bound in intimacy to such a creature?

Weary and miserable, Maev tucked her legs beneath her and stretched her torso forward into a shaft of sunlight, letting the warmth bathe her face. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds around her—the drone of bees, the rustle of leaves, the warbling trill of a bird calling to its mate.

Half-drowsing like a cat, Maev gradually succumbed to a light sleep. When she awoke a few hours later, her senses and emotions felt numb and dulled. But she knew there would be no relief from this melancholy until she spoke with Callum.

Squaring her shoulders, she began a determined march toward the tower.

Maev's hand trembled a little as she pushed open the door, but surprisingly the weight from her chest seemed to ease and she suddenly felt a sense of peaceful relief as she entered the room.

"Ye waited for me," she said as the sight of him sitting before the fire sent a blaze of feeling through her entire body.

"There was little choice," Callum declared bitterly. "Even though ye stared at me as if ye were face to face with a venomous snake that was poised to strike, I couldna leave until the sun set."

Maev lowered her head. A growing weight of guilt pressed on her from all sides. Though she had not meant to, she had hurt him. "Ye look and sound and feel the same as ye did when ye walked the earth as a man. Yet ye canna tolerate the warmth of the sun on yer face and must consume the… the blood of the living to survive. What else is different?"

"I have the strength of twenty men, my face and body will never age, and if I receive a wound of any type, it heals in a few hours or less." Callum set his back to the fire and stared at her. "The more powerful immortals can summon thunderstorms, enslave a human with a single glance, and transform themselves from a human form to animal and then back to human."

Maev's lashes flew up. "An animal?"

Callum shrugged. "Bats usually, but some become wolves or even rats."

"Have ye ever…" Maev's voice trailed off.

"No. I have no interest in learning these things. I can keep the essence of myself the same as it was in my mortal life, and that is what I shall do. I was told that I can even learn to master my craving for blood, though I shall always need it to survive. But it is not necessary for me to kill each time I feed, and the blood of animals provides me with sufficient nourishment. I dinna and willna attack humans."

Maev took a deep breath to stop her knees from shaking. He spoke so casually of these things. "Is there no way to reverse this curse? Perhaps a priest can give ye aid?"

Callum's expression darkened. "I am beyond the help of man or God."

Maev choked back her pity. "Ye will live forever in this state? There is no way to destroy an immortal?"

"A stake of wood or silver through the heart, beheading, or direct exposure to sunlight will kill us." Callum ran a hand through his dark mane of hair until it stood on end. "Are ye thinking ye might have need to defend yerself from me?"

The void that stretched between them had never seemed wider, yet Maev felt the tender love in her heart struggle to narrow it. "I know ye could never harm me, Callum McGinnis, no matter what manner of creature ye have become."

As she spoke the words, Maev knew they were the truth.

Her hand reached out blindly, her fingers curled around his. The touch made Callum tense visibly, as if the contact sent a shock through his body. But Maev remained calm. She knew this was a time when they must give each other strength.

"Oh, Callum," she said softly, drawing herself tightly against him. "I am so sorry for what ye have suffered, my love."

He pressed his lips to her temple. "I'm sorry for what we both have suffered, what we both have lost."

"All I ever wanted was to share my life with ye. I wanted to make ye happy and proud, I wanted to be the mother of yer children. I wanted ye to love me as much as I loved ye." Maev took a deep breath. "Tell me, is that still possible?"

Tenderly he brushed a curl from her cheek. "I'm not certain about the children, but as for the rest, yes, 'tis possible."

"How? Must I, too, become an immortal?"

"No. You can remain as ye are." Callum glanced questioningly at her. "I have already found a place for us to live, where we can be private and undisturbed and shut out the world."

"Is it far from here?"

"Not too far. 'Tis up in the hills, a true Highland fortress. I canna live permanently more than a hundred miles from the place of my birth unless I bring along at least a pound of the soil. This place can become our sanctuary, yet will allow us to remain in the Highlands."

"What of those who live there now? Will they not be suspicious of us?"

"Suspicious? Why, because I can turn myself into a bat?" Callum's smile was narrow and swift.

Maev joined him in a small chuckle, her cheeks tinted pink with amusement. "'Tis hardly a joking matter," she admonished.

Callum's expression dutifully grew solemn. "Those who inhabit these rugged mountains are a different breed. A few are outlaws and brigands, but most are decent folk who have lost their homes through a dispute with a clan member or overlord and seek only peace and refuge. They keep to themselves, and dinna show much interest in the business of others."

"Like us," Maev said, then she laughed, realizing that she and Callum were not at all like any other couple. Yet somehow it did not seem to matter, as long as they were together.

"I've brought horses for us to ride and two extra to carry yer belongings. We can leave the moment the sun begins to set." He cast her a smile that was tense and tight. "Will ye come with me, lass? Will ye share my fete and at long last be my wife?"

"Aye." Maev loosened a shaken sigh. "I have no reason to stay and no regrets at leaving my tower prison. It will take but an hour for me to be ready."

The journey took most of the night. At first it was frightening riding in the dark through an unfamiliar place, but Callum confidently led the way and Maev's nerves eased. With the high mountains looming on the right, they crossed a dozen or more streams until they reached a small, narrow loch shaped like a tree limb. Reed beds lined the shore, and as they came around the bend, Maev spotted a trio of fishermen's huts.

Rugged hillsides rose up like fists on every side of the lock, and the heady scent of heather permeated the air. They followed the shoreline for many miles, then slipped through a small, narrow cavern and emerged on the other side.

In the distance a fox yipped and was answered by another, but Maev paid it no heed. Her eyes were fixed toward the stone structure that was perched on the edge of the hill. It resembled a small fortress, with a wooden stockade wall and battlements protecting it.

Though built on a much smaller scale than the castle that housed the McGinnis Clan, it appeared to have everything necessary to be self-sufficient, including a gristmill, a forge, and even a brew-house. Maev was surprised to see that the yard within the walls boasted an impressive vegetable garden on one side and stock pens filled with a few sheep and cattle on the other.

A dry moat mined with sharpened sticks encircled the defenses, with an open drawbridge crossing the man-made ravine that defended it. It was eerie and ominous, yet obviously effective, for the one element lacking in this impressive establishment was people.

Strangely, the property did not have an air of abandonment. All the buildings seemed in good repair, rising off stone foundations with neatly whitewashed wooden walls and thatched roofs. The animals bleated noisily and rustled in their pens, cutting through the stillness of the night.

For a moment it felt odd to be in such a large place without anyone else around, but years of living with only her mother for company had taught Maev to appreciate the silence. Once the horses were fed and stabled, Maev and Callum entered the manor house. Inside the keep, Callum led the way to the master tower, climbing the stone steps to the first two rooms.

"These are to be our chambers," he announced. "I hope ye are pleased with the furnishings."

Maev stepped forward and her feet sank into the lush carpet that covered a large section of the floor. She gazed in wonderment at the luxurious appointments of the room. There were rich tapestries covering the walls, cushioned furnishings, several string lutes hanging near the tapestries, and a game table with elegantly carved chess figures of ivory set out on the board.

After the years of living in her stark, tower prison, Maev wondered if she would ever become accustomed to such spacious luxury. Callum lit several of the large wall torches, and Maev went through the archway into the second chamber.

She stopped instantly, her eyes riveted to the enormous bed that took up an entire wall. It was wide enough for six people and set so high off the floor there were wooden steps beside it. Green velvet curtains hung from the corner posts, and there were rings attached so that the curtains could be drawn about the bed to envelop those inside in total privacy.

Maev realized it would also provide protection from drafts. And keep out even the tiniest hint of sunlight.

"Where did ye get all these beautiful things?" Maev asked with awe as Callum set down her baggage.

He bent toward her and murmured into her ear, "There are few benefits of my situation, but this is one of them. We will never want for material comforts in the human world."

"Ye did all this yerself? Without the aid of servants?"

"I have an arrangement with several of the villagers. They work here on occasion in exchange for goods, mostly food and ale. But at night they return to their homes."

Maev's eyes widened in surprised. "If they are working in the daytime, how can ye communicate with them and give them instructions?"

"The rain." Callum made a satisfied sound. "The other beauty of this Highland retreat is that there are far more wet days than sunny ones. I have found that if I am careful, I can be out-of-doors for short periods of time when the clouds are thick and the rain falls steadily."

Callum lit the large square candle that rested in a brass stand, further illuminating the bedchamber. A massive wardrobe stood across from the great bed. Maev began unpacking her clothes, making use of nearly all the hooks inside the wardrobe. She had been reluctant to take the many lovely gowns she had sewn with her mother in happier times, but now Maev was glad that Callum had insisted she bring them. They fit in well with her new, lovely surroundings.

Just as she was putting away the last of her garments, Callum returned to the chamber, carrying a matching basin and jug filled with warm water and a tray holding ale, goblets, a thick, dark bread, and cheese. After a quick wash, Maev set out to do justice to the simple fare, consuming every last morsel.

Callum watched her with amusement twinkling in his eyes, and she noted he ate nothing and drank sparingly. When the meal had ended, she became acutely aware of the man seated across from her.

His masculine presence seemed to fill the room, dominating the very air Maev breathed. Her pulses raced, her heart began to pound, and it seemed as if the strength of his body reached out to embrace her.

He held out his hand. "Come to me."

It was a lover's request, and the look he gave her made her feel as if her bones were melting. He opened his thighs, and she stepped willingly between them. Then his arms slowly tightened until every inch of their bodies touched.

Their gazes held for a long moment. "I can scarcely believe I am here with ye," Maev whispered.

"Aye. There were times I thought I'd eat myself alive with wanting for ye, Maev McGinnis. Are ye finally ready to become my wife?"

"More than ready," she replied.

Callum's mouth came down on hers with an aching tenderness. Maev pressed herself closer as his hot, hungry lips sent tiny tremors through her. Callum parted her lips with the tip of his tongue and thrust inside with slow, insistent strokes.

He tasted her, devoured her, and she responded in kind.

"Ye canna know how much I need ye, Maev." His voice was a raw plea that spoke of years of need and years of denial.

Maev's hands came up to glide over his chest, and he lifted her in one strong movement, settling her in his lap. She felt the hot, teasing lick of his tongue against her neck, and her nipples peaked of their own volition. The feeling of excitement that rose up inside her was so strong it felt as if she were being carried along on a tidal wave.

His hand worked quickly at the laces of her gown, and Maev soon felt a draft of air across her chest as Callum pulled the garment free of her upper torso.

"My beautiful Maev," he whispered, stroking the lush roundness.

Maev cried out when Callum lowered his mouth to suckle at her breast, his tongue tormenting her with slow, steady strokes. At the same time, his hand reached down to touch the softness between her thighs. A great shudder ran through Maev as the heat from his hand seeped into her body.

Maev shifted restlessly on his lap, briefly shutting her eyes. It was almost too much. Callum's lips worshipped her; his hands drove the longing inside her to a fever pitch.

"Straddle me," Callum whispered before nipping at the sensitive flesh of her exposed neck.

Maev licked her lips in anticipation, then opened her thighs and slid her knees on either side of his hips.

"Like this?" she purred wantonly.

Callum growled his response, positioning the tip of his erect penis on her slick opening. Slowly he surged up inside her. Maev felt full to bursting, but there was no pain, only a deep, lovely fullness. She suppressed the urge to scream with excitement, fearing her cries would startle Callum and he would cease what he was doing to her.

"Yer sheath is so tight, my love, I fear I'm hurting ye," Callum groaned.

"I dinna feel any pain," Maev panted. " 'Tis glorious. I want more."

Callum's eyes closed briefly and he moaned. Then his hands slid down from her waist to grasp her hips. Maev pushed herself down swiftly while at the same time Callum thrust upward. She felt a sharp stab of pain but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a shimmering taste of joy.

With her maidenhead finally breached, she was stretched fully and was able to meet Callum's next thrust. The heat within her soared higher and higher with each shift of their bodies. The pleasure soon reached a frantic pitch, and Maev's arms tightened around him, her heart aching with joy as she held her beloved against her.

Callum's breathing grew ragged and hoarse, then he cried out and stiffened. Maev could feel his seed enter her body, and it triggered a spasm of release deep within her. Her body shook, and tears of joy fell from her eyes.

One. At last, they were one.

They clung to each other for several long minutes. Then, Callum swung her off his lap and into his arms and strode across the chamber. He lowered her onto the bed and came down over her, his breathing still unsteady.

"I would never have believed it, but Maev, my love, 'twas more than worth the wait."

Maev laughed with embarrassment and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his wonderful, potent male scent, feeling the dampness of his flesh against her burning cheeks. He was all hard muscle and brute strength, and yet beneath it all she felt the tender caress of his love, the essence of his caring and regard for her. Only her.

What they had just shared was a mating so physically intense, so emotionally charged, it went beyond description. It was as if he had been inside her spirit as well as her body.

Maev shifted her face to gaze at her lover. Their eyes met with unspoken thoughts, and she knew he felt the same about their lovemaking. It made her shiver. The realities of the world seemed to fade in that moment Maev wrapped her arms around Callum's shoulders, hugging him closer.

Her eyelids grew heavy as exhaustion overtook her body and mind. Cuddled against Callum's strong chest, Maev began to drift off to sleep. Yet in her heart and mind she took great delight in knowing that no matter what happened in the future, this perfect, tender, loving moment could never be taken from either of them.

Chapter Six

The weeks and months passed swiftly, and they were the happiest of Maev's life. During the daylight hours, she often lay in Callum's arms, experiencing his passion and generous lovemaking. At night, they roamed their castle fortress, making repairs, sharing chores, delighting in being together.

A few days each week, several of the people inhabiting the scattered cottages in the area would arrive at the castle, looking for work. Once the word spread that there was a female in residence, women began to appear. They offered cooking and cleaning help, and with an eye toward their future needs, the ever-practical Maev set up a weaving hut. In exchange for their labors, each woman was paid with a bolt of fine wool cloth.

Though they kept a slightly suspicious distance, Maev enjoyed the company of these women. They were respectful, and curious about her and Callum, but they kept their questions to themselves. It seemed that everyone in the area had something they wished to keep hidden, and it created a strange, unspoken bond between them all.

It was Callum, however, who provided the true joy in Maev's life. With each passing day, she knew she was falling more and more in love with him. Thanks to the healing power of this love, it no longer hurt so much to remember the past They shared memories of their childhood, her mother, and the life they had left behind. Though it took time, Maev was even able to find forgiveness for the members of the dan McGinnis who had cast her out.

The abundance and variety of fresh food made a marked improvement on Maev's health. The hollows in her cheeks disappeared; the color returned to her complexion. She was grateful for this second chance at sharing a life with her beloved, yet deep down there was a slight nagging sense of incompleteness.

Though Callum seemed the same in every way, Maev was all too aware that he was not the man she had known. He never took nourishment in front of her, but she was very aware of his need for fresh blood. While it did not precisely repulse her—after all, she, too, had killed animals to survive—it did set her on edge because it was a stark reminder of the vast difference between them.

A difference that would separate them for eternity.

"Callum, I have thought long and hard and have at last made my decision. I want ye to make me as ye are—I want to become an immortal."

At the sound of her voice, Callum lifted his head. They lay side by side in their massive bed, sated and content after a vigorous bout of making love. He had been drifting off into a peaceful dreamless sleep until Maev's words had startled him fully awake.

She wanted to become like him?

He blinked and turned away from her, scanning their bedchamber with dead eyes. "Ye're talking nonsense, Maev," Callum said in a flat tone. "I'll hear no more of it."

She tugged on his arm until he was forced to turn his head and face her.

"''Tis not a whim, nor a passing fancy. I knew it's serious. I know once it happens, there will be no going back." Maev's mouth twisted, and her grip on his arm tightened. "I also know 'tis the only way for us to be together. Forever."

Callum held his breath. Her voice was slightly roughened, and he sensed a tension in her he had never seen before. "Maev, 'tis impossible."

Her eyes brightened with tears. "Ye canna deny me, Callum. Ye canna deny yerself. Deep inside ye must know 'tis the right thing to do."

He felt her trembling and it amazed him. She was serious! She was willing to sacrifice everything, even her humanity, just to be with him. Never had Callum felt so humbled.

He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder. "I thank ye from the bottom of my heart for yer selfless gesture of love. But I willna do it, Maev. I canna do it!"

"Why? Dinna ye know how?"

"Of course I do."

"Then prove it."

Callum looked at her in frustration, almost laughing at the irony. "I'm not a green lad to be taunted into proving his skills."

Something gleamed in her eyes, and she reached out to take Callum's hands in hers. "And I'm not a foolish lass with a head full of wool. I'm a woman. Yer woman. And I never want to be parted from ye."

The determined set of her jaw let him know how serious she was about the matter. "I canna believe that anyone would willingly embrace this fate," Callum muttered.

"Believe it, for it is the truth."

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing. Finally Callum slipped a possessive arm about her and drew her close to his side, loving the feel of her against his bare flesh. "Ye have given me the most precious gift of all, Maev."

"My love?"

"Nay, yer trust."

Her arms tightened around his neck and they kissed. After a moment, Maev lifted her head and gazed at him. "I'm ready. Will ye do it now?"

"Soon," he replied reassuringly, trying to bury any of his lingering doubts. "But there is one mystery we will need to solve. We dinna knew where ye were born. If I convert ye to an immortal, ye must live within a hundred miles of the soil of yer birth or else take along at least a pound of it to keep in yer sleeping area."

"But I dinna know where that soil lies," Maev cried in distress. "What will happen to me if I dinna follow this dictate?"

"Ye will grow very weak and sick."

Maev let out a great sigh of frustration. "It seems that my true origins will continue to rule the direction of my life," she said in a bitter tone. "Is there nothing we can do?"

Callum frowned thoughtfully. "We could discover where ye were born."

"After all these years?" Maev ran a hand through her tangled blond hair. "How?"

"Once ye are converted, yer weakness will come on gradually. The moment it happens, we will begin traveling to the location where ye were found as a babe. From there, we will plot our course carefully, going south. Yer strength will return as we get closer to the place of yer birth, so if ye do not improve, we will return to where we started and head east If that yields no results, we will head west. Eventually we will discover where ye were born."

Maev's expression turned uncertain. "Then what?"

"We dig up a pound of dirt. Or better, two pounds." Callum began to smile as he realized the plan could work. "We can store the soil in the corner of our bedchamber. It's close presence will keep ye from falling ill."

Maev looked stunned. "I'll have to keep dirt in our lovely bedchamber?"

Callum laughed and shook his head. "I canna believe that is what worries ye most about taking this step and giving up yer human life." He laughed again and hugged her close. "I'll find a beautiful chest, inlaid with gold and precious gems, to store the soil, so yer senses will not be offended."

Her eyes opened wide. "I have no need of such rich excess. A plain wooden chest will be fine. But I dinna understand how we can enact this plan? I fear if we leave our home unprotected for more than a night or two, we will return to find our larders emptied and everything of value within these walls taken from us."

"No one will enter the castle when we are gone. The locals all believe it to be cursed."

"Because of ye?" Maev asked.

"Nay. The property was abandoned and in a state of great disrepair when I stumbled upon it last year. When I asked one of the fishermen why no one lived there, he told me that all the former inhabitants had died from a pox and any others who attempted to take up residence within these walls suffered the same fate."

"Will they not become suspicious because ye and I have not fallen ill?" Maev asked.

"Perhaps." Callum shrugged. "Or they might believe the spell has been broken, but they are too frightened to test the theory just yet. And that serves our purposes very well."

Maev cast him a satisfied look. "Then we can proceed."

A chill of foreboding ran down his spine. She spoke so casually, but he could tell she was apprehensive. A niggling sense of guilt held fast to his conscience, but the truth was that he wanted to keep Maev with him as long as possible. She was the only female in the world who would never ask more of him than he could give. An unselfish woman who would never betray his love.

How could he possibly refuse her most precious gift to him?

Callum slid his hands beneath Maev's hips, pressing her tighter against him. The heat from her body caused an instant tightening of his groin, but he tamped down his desire. He did not want to associate this moment with physical pleasure, though in a strange, twisted way it was an act of love. A pure demonstration of Maev's love for him.

"Are ye certain?" he asked.

"Yes." Her smile was bright, luminescent.

He nodded. Then with slow deliberation, he caressed the sensitive flesh along her neck, making certain he knew the exact spot to strike that would cause her the least amount of pain. Maev whimpered for an instant, and he lightened his touch.

At that moment she was more beautiful to him than she had ever been before, facing her fears, sacrificing everything for their love. As he continued his caress, Maev clutched his shoulders and arched against him, her head tipped back, pink lips parting, eyes closed.

Sinking his teeth sharply into her neck, Callum gave himself up to the moment that seemed to devour them both. Maev let out a short, startled cry, and he felt her warm breath against his ear as she murmured his name over and over again.

He held her in his arms until she quieted, then he eased away from her and slipped out of their bed. She looked small and fragile lying alone on the large mattress, her knees curling in toward her stomach. Callum tucked the furs around her, then brushed a kiss across her brow.

"Rest easy, my love," he whispered.

As he straightened, Callum's head felt light. He placed his hand on one of the wooden bedposts to steady himself. When his balance returned, he reached for his robe. Shrugging into the garment, he retreated to a shadowy corner of the bedchamber. Sighing heavily, he dropped to his haunches, his eyes pinned to the bed as he waited for Maev to die.

When she awoke, Maev felt no difference in her body or her mind, but the weakness Callum had warned her about quickly appeared. When she told an anxious Callum, he immediately made preparations for their journey. After securing the castle and making arrangements for the care of their livestock, they left as darkness fell.

They traveled by moonlight, wending their way down the mountainside, through a valley, then into a dense woods that rustled with the sounds of autumn leaves. Maev remained tired and lethargic, at times almost falling asleep while seated on her horse. Callum took great care to ensure she never lagged too far behind and he even tied her reins to his saddle.

They made camp well before dawn rose each morning. If no cave or abandoned shelter could be found, Callum erected a small tent of thick, heavy fabric that effectively blocked the rays of the sun. After taking nourishment, they slept, wrapped in each other's arm.

Late one evening, a full week after their journey began, they came upon a long wall snaking across the landscape.

"What is it?" Maev asked.

"Hadrian's Wall," Callum replied. "Twas built by the Romans over a thousand years ago to separate the civilized from the barbaric."

Maev frowned and Callum laughed. "The Scots and the English," he clarified.

"I suppose we were considered the barbarians," Maev said with an indignant huff.

"We still are an uncivilized lot, especially in the Highlands, where a man wields a double-edged claymore as though it were an extension of his arm," Callum said, his eyes brimming with amusement. "We march into the Lowland farms to raid for crops and animals and the chieftains in the southwest attack the Anglo-Norman strongholds across the border.

"Robert Bruce longs to unite us and be our king, yet I doubt he will ever tame us completely. A true Scot follows his clan leaders, fighting when and where they chose, accepting orders from no one else."

"There's nothing wrong with a little spirit and courage," Maev insisted.

"Aye, it keeps the blood pumping."

"And flowing freely." Maev laughed, but her joy faded as her eyes lingered on the wall of stone. "How do we get to the other side?"

" 'Tis easy to scale." Callum led their horses to a cluster of trees and secured the reins to a low branch. With a fleeting glance at the stone structure, Maev lifted her chin and dismounted.

As she drew closer to the unusual wall, butterflies began fluttering in her stomach. The dark cloud of uncertainty that had shadowed her entire life loomed largely before her. Was she at last about to learn the truth of her origins?

Maev felt a wave of apprehension as she held her hand out to Callum. He must have sensed it, for he gave her a smile of encouragement as he helped her climb over the wall. The moment she dropped to the other side, Maev felt a rush of energy enter her body.

She doubled over, hugging her waist. The shock hit her full force, the truth pounding in her brain.

"What's wrong, lass? Are ye in pain?"

Callum's strong arms wrapped around her, and Maev leaned into his strength. She began to shake. "I'm English…" The words melted into tears. She turned her head and sobbed against his neck, her body shivering with emotion.

Callum's brows shot up. "For shame, Maev McGinnis. After all the trials we have survived, and the obstacles we have struggled to overcome, ye fall to pieces over learning that ye were born an Englishwoman? "

Maev let out a final sob, then wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. "Well, when ye put it like that, it does seem rather ridiculous," she sniffed. "Though I'd be lying if I said I wasna disappointed."

Callum lifted her hand and kissed each fingertip. "If ye can love what I have become, then I can surely find it in my heart to overlook the taint of yer heritage."

Maev sniffed. Callum continued to speak, but Maev was no longer paying close attention. Even though she agreed with him, it stung to have Callum cast aspersions on her character. One could hardly fault a baby for the circumstances of its birth. And she had, in truth, been raised a Scot, learning and loving the heritage of her adopted land.

The longer she thought about Callum's words, the more her indignation grew, until finally she sputtered, "I'm as much a Scot as ye are, Callum McGinnis, despite where I was born."

Her words silenced Callum. He narrowed his gaze and stared at her for so long Maev felt her cheeks growing warm. Yet she lifted her chin stubbornly, arched a brow, and practically dared him to disagree.

"It seems as though the English soil has helped ye find yer tongue as well as yer strength," Callum teased. " 'Tis good to hear ye finally speaking some sense, lass. Ye know, I've never knowingly kissed an English wench before." His smile grew seductive. "It has an air of the forbidden about it that I find very exciting."

His lighthearted attitude soothed Maev's jagged emotions. She stepped closer and lifted her mouth to his. "Ye always were one to enjoy the forbidden," she agreed as her mouth met his. "And never have I been more thankful for that than at this moment."

They shared a long, deep, satisfying kiss, skimming their hands over each other's bodies, savoring the joy of being together. It seemed as though they were the only two creatures in the universe, and there was nothing that could separate what they were sharing.

Dizzy and on fire for each other, they made love on a lush bed of heath grass, surrounded by heather, with Hadrian's Wall stretching out behind them. They gave themselves over to their feelings and dreams, glorying in how the reality was far better than anything they could have imagined.

Maev let out a cry of joy as Callum's hard body slowly filled her, all silky heat and strength. He rode her hard and fast, and it was natural and erotic, endless pleasure, endless sensation.

They moved as one, anticipating each other's touch, their bodies rising to meet and then demanding more. It was sharp and sweet, molten and primal. They climaxed together, their cries of ecstasy echoing through the stillness of the dark night.

Sated and exhausted, Maev stretched out on Callum's chest, loving the feel of his comforting arms around her as his breath stirred her hair. She touched her fingertips to the springy chest hair peaking through his open shirt. It felt wonderful. He felt wonderful. Everything felt wonderful.

Callum cracked open one eye. "We need to find shelter. Twill be dawn soon."

"In a minute," Maev muttered, feeling too relaxed to move.

She snuggled closer, trying to will herself into alertness. Within moments, however, Maev knew she was losing the battle. Yet just before her eyes began to close, she saw the shadow of a female form fall across Callum's face.

The sight startled all traces of exhaustion from her body. She rolled to her side and scrambled to her feet, standing upright at the exact moment the woman struck Callum. His lack of reaction told Maev he never saw the blow coming.

Maev felt her legs go weak with fear. She rushed forward, but the mysterious woman blocked her path.

"What have ye done to him?" Maev cried.

"He is only stunned," the female replied. "I would never harm something so precious to me, yet I will not tolerate his interference in this matter."

Maev's worried eyes met her adversary's smoldering ones. There was something disturbingly familiar about the beautiful woman who held herself as regally as a queen. Her flowing dark hair complemented her pale skin, and her strange eyes glowered with a fierceness that could terrify a demon.

"Ye're Anaxandra," Maev whispered as recognition dawned.

"I am." The woman turned a hostile eye to Maev. "And you are a great annoyance. I thought I had killed you the night Callum became my mate. It seems the job was left unfinished and must now be completed."

Maev's hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Ever since she had learned the truth, she had longed to confront this temptress, but now that the moment was at hand, she found herself lacking in courage. How could she possibly hope to defeat this evil creature?

Yet how could she not? Her future with Callum, and her very existence, depended upon it. "Be gone from here. Callum is not a piece of goods to be bought or sold or owned on a whim. He is a man of free will, and though ye have repeatedly thrown yerself at him, he has clearly chosen me to be his woman."

The mocking smile faded from Anaxandra's lips, and her face flushed with color. "You are not worthy of him," she said accusingly as rage descended into her eyes.

"I have earned his love," Maev insisted. "While ye have gained his scorn."

Every muscle in Anaxandra's body stood taut with anger at the insult. "He does not love you."

"Aye, he does." Maev squeezed her eyes shut as a surge of confidence and courage rose like a wave inside her. She and Callum had suffered years of agony because of this woman, and now she threatened their newly found contentment. It was simply not to be tolerated. "Callum loves me as I love him. 'Tis a love born of goodness, of recognition of his nobility. 'Tis a love ye will never understand and could never achieve even if ye tried for a million years."

"Goodness and nobility," Anaxandra said in a mocking tone. "What a sickening notion."

Her upper lip curled in a murderous sneer as Anaxandra unsheathed an elegant sword. Fearful, Maev backed away, searching frantically for a weapon to defend herself. She glanced fleetingly at Callum's still body, yet worried that even if she could reach him, it would be nearly impossible to wield his heavy claymore.

Anaxandra raised the sword in both hands and swung towards Maev's chest. She jumped back just in time, putting her opponent off balance. Anaxandra stumbled forward, but she turned quickly and aimed again.

Maev managed to deflect the next few blows, but then the side of Anaxandra's sword struck her in the temple. Maev saw an explosion of lights and heard a dull roaring in her head as she staggered to one side and fell. Anaxandra instantly pressed her advantage and attacked. Maev managed to avoid being hurt by rolling away from the wild swings. It was then she realized that Anaxandra had little skill with the weapon.

When she made her next charge, Maev struck back, kicking the sword and knocking it from Anaxandra's hands. With a roar of astonished outrage, Anaxandra fell upon Maev, her fingers curled liked talons as she sought to scratch and wound.

Using both hands, Maev held off her opponent, but she soon felt her arms begin to tremble with fatigue. Maev knew her strength was failing, yet she was determined to fight to the bitter end. Gathering the last of her reserves, she heaved her attacker forward, thrusting Anaxandra into the open meadow.

At the very instant Anaxandra's body landed in the rolling expanse of grass, the dark fog that had shrouded them all lifted. The sky turned to a smoky blue, and strong yellow rays of sunlight streaked through the fading darkness.

Dawn had broken. And the sun was beginning to shine. The exposed meadow was quickly bathed in a golden light, and it echoed with Anaxandra's screams of agony as a bright ray struck her full force. She fell to her knees, flailing her arms and writhing in pain, trying, and failing, to protect herself from the light. The air sizzled as her flesh burned, the foul stench permeating the very earth itself.

Maev pulled herself into the protective shade of Hadrian's Wall, curling herself into a tight ball as she lay over Callum's prone form. Her heart pounded with emotion as she waited for it to finally end. Though it felt like hours, within minutes all grew quiet and still.

Turning her attention to her beloved, Maev was finally able to rouse Callum from his stupor. After she told him what had happened, he wrapped his arms around her so tightly she feared he would break her ribs.

"Thank the heavens," Callum murmured repeatedly in her ear as he held her close. "I couldna bear to have lost ye again, my love."

Tears gathered in Maev's eyes as she wound her arms around his waist. She felt like shouting with joy, and yet she worried over the repercussions of what she had done. Now that Anaxandra had been destroyed, would her brethren seek retribution?

"The immortals do not live together like a clan and seem to care little about each other," Callum explained when Maev expressed this fear to him.

"Will there be no one who will question Anaxandra's disappearance?" Maev asked.

Callum's face contorted into a frown. "Randulf was often her companion, though she scorned him mercilessly once she made me one of their kind. Still, it would probably be wise to leave no trace of her remains. Without any clues, Randulf will be hard pressed to solve the mystery of her disappearance, if he is so inclined to investigate."

It was difficult to wait until darkness, but they had no choice. Fortunately, while daylight remained, no one appeared in the meadow and discovered the odd rumpled pile of clothing.

Maev and Callum retrieved the garments by the light of the full moon and burned them. Then they buried the ashes, along with the ash of Anaxandra's bones, in a deep hole in the thickest section of the forest.

When they were done, all that remained was the gold talisman studded with precious stones that had hung about Anaxandra's neck.

"What should we do with it?" Maev asked as she lifted the unusual piece of jewelry toward the moonlight. It sparkled with luminous glory. "It must be worth a king's ransom."

"The jewels are rare and valuable, but we have no need of coin. I dinna believe the piece holds any special power, but if it does, the power could be released if we try to destroy it." Callum paused a moment. "We will bury it also, but in a different location, far away from Anaxandra's remains."

Intent on completing their mission while the cover of darkness continued, they wrapped their cloaks about themselves and untethered their horses. With Callum in the lead, they rode south for several hours. Maev felt her strength increasing with each mile, further proof that she was in truth an English-born woman.

When they found an appropriate spot, Callum dug a very deep hole, dropped the talisman inside, then covered it completely with dark, rich soil, tamping down the earth with his booted foot until it was packed tight. Then he scooped up a fresh section of soil and filled the two leather bags that hung from his saddle.

When he was done, he looked over and smiled, and a great calm settled over Maev. The fear she had felt at the possibility of losing Callum would always be branded in her memory. Yet it made the joy they shared all the more sweet.

Maev coiled her arms around his neck and felt the heat of his passion as she tightened her grip on the solid muscles of his shoulders. But more than anything else, she felt his love.

"Take me home, Callum McGinnis. I might have been born on English soil, but I'm a Scottish lass through and through."

He pulled away, and a delighted smile spread over his handsome face. Everything he felt for her was clearly reflected in his eyes.

"Aye, and I'm proud to say ye are my lass. Mine and no other's."

Callum boosted Maev onto her horse, then swung himself up onto his own mount. They made an odd sight, traveling through the moonlit land, a lone warrior and his lady. Although they were bound to a destiny they had not chosen, they had learned to embrace it, because it was the only way they could be together.

Forever.