The Story Continues: Calum and Gillian

I've had a lot of people ask me to continue the story of Calum and Gillian, so I am going to post excerpts and stories that didn't make it into the novel. If you want to read more, visit the book's official web page at:

http://www.bebo.com/The-Pledge

A stream trickled through the rocks, edging its way to the valley far below. Only the tip of Gillian’s plaid snapped in the breeze. Her body remained motionless. A few feet away a stag sedately ate, oblivious to her presence. She wondered at the beauty around her. The glass hued waters that raced down the colour splashed mountains that met the sky in knife sharp edges, if heaven touched the earth, then it did so in this very spot.

The stag lifted its head. It stood motionless, only the tips of the ears flickered back and forth in rapid succession. Then, it was gone. A single bound took the animal through the scrub trees and into a rock crag.

Gillian followed the stream down the rock face of the mountain to find her husband. He sat upon Thor, his eyes roving the valley, pride of ownership burned deep in his eyes. The pride only a Laird felt. The past months taught Gillian that the Scot superstitions must be true, for few men bore the title ‘laird’ without possessing something deep in their spirit that joined them to the mountains.

Even on the black French warhorse, draped in 12’ of thick plaid, a six food sword at his back, Gillian believed that a single whispered prayer and he would once again become one with the mountain.

He did not look as she approached. Gillian slid her hands under his plaid, warming them on the harden muscles. His eyes lowered.

“Good moro, my lover.” Gillian laughed at her husband.

He snorted at the English endearment and swept her onto his lap as if he lifted a child. “Love, and husband, though I doubt you believe either in your heart.”

Gillian laughed and cuddled deep, enjoying the warmth. Under his plaid, and against his skin, she snuggled, as content and warm as she would have been beside a roaring hearth.

“I believe both, Laird. That you are my husband by law, and that you are my lover by the child that grows in me.”

A light kiss brushed her forehead. “Yet you continue to disobey the simplest command.”

Gillian feigned an indignant air. “I broke no order today. I am not unescorted. Baer is around here . . . somewhere.”

Gillian leaned out and called for the great hound. The mountain wind muffled her voice and carried it away. Calum turned the black stallion. It descended the mountain easily. This was the one reason why Gillian climbed the mountain. And why Calum pretended that necessity forced him to fetch his wife.

She pulled his plaid away. The mountain ended mere inches from the horse trail. Beyond her safe refuge the sky opened up, a blue expanse that stretched forever. Only the clouds shared the sky with her.

The wind whispered her name against the rocks. She listened harder. “Calum, the wind calls my name.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Of course it does sweet one.”
“Why?” She leaned farther out of his arms. She leaned farther out of his arms. Thor galloped along the ridge, where sky and mountain joined.

“For the same reason this mountain pulls at your heart.”
Gillian smiled. She understood, now. “We are one.”