Page 51 of Taming the Highland Beauty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twenty-Two

“It is time,” Callum said as midnight approached. The Beltane celebration had died down and many of the castle’s residents had returned to their beds. Only the MacLeods remained along the shoreline staring into the remnants of the fire that had earlier burned so brightly.

When Minerva broke through the surface of the water she waddled onto the beach, Gille’s heart filled with anticipation. She watched in fascination as Minerva’s body transformed. Slowly, her seal pelt began to shift and change, its grey fur sloughing off. Her body elongated, her limbs stretching and morphing. Her tail disappeared, replaced by legs that shimmered with a silvery light. Her face softened, her features becoming more human.

When the transformation was complete, Minerva stood before them, a beautiful older woman with flowing green hair and dark, piercing eyes. A faint shimmer of moonlight played across her skin, giving her an ethereal glow.

Gille exchanged an excited glance with Callum. For a heartbeat she let reality slip. There was something unreal about the moment that she longed to hold on to. Something peaceful, something hopeful. Something that said there would be more nights like this with Callum at her side. Moments when nothing else mattered.

Callum put his hand over hers and stared into her eyes, extending the serenity of the moment. They would need all the serenity they could gather in the next few minutes if the song worked, and hours if it did not.

“Are you ready?” Callum asked, breaking the moment.

Gille nodded, as she released Callum’s hand and went to stand at the water’s edge with both Minerva and Lady Janet. She closed her eyes, blocking out all distractions, and started singing the words she had committed to memory. As she sang, the air around her seemed to vibrate with a magical energy as the veil between the human, spirit, and fairy realms thinned.