Tempted by the Highland Warrior (17 page)

* * *

Callum spent most of the morning considering what to do.
Marguerite’s insistence that he return to Glen Arrin weighed upon him. Though he
understood that she didn’t want him implicated in the murder, if he left now,
she would be lost to him.

She’d signed the betrothal agreement, and her father would
coerce her into wedding the Earl of Penrith. He was convinced of it.

Aye, walking away now might save his life, but his life was
nothing more than an empty shell without her. He wasn’t willing to let her fears
dictate his actions. Why should he hide like an outlaw because her father held
power? If he fled, it was as good as admitting guilt.

Callum slung his bow over his shoulders and took the long walk
to the castle, intending to return to the stables. At his waist, he carried the
pouch of parchment, quill and ink that Marguerite had given him. Though it might
not be needed, at least he could write a few words to defend himself.

Before he reached the castle, he saw a gathering of men, just
outside the gates. Among them, he spied Iagar.

‘MacKinloch,’ came the man’s voice. ‘We’re leaving Duncraig.
You’ll come with us.’

Callum sent Iagar a stare and shook his head. Did the man think
he was going to blindly obey strangers? Keeping a neutral expression on his
face, he continued his walk when Iagar blocked his path.

‘They’ve taken Sileas for questioning. He’s going to break if
they torture him. And who do you think he’ll blame for all of it?’ Iagar’s tone
turned menacing. ‘I’m trying to save your ungrateful arse, MacKinloch. Come with
us and save yourself.’

Callum kept walking, not even bothering to look at the man.

‘You were with Lady Marguerite when you escorted her on her
ride the other day.’

At those words, Callum stopped. Was the bastard threatening
her? His hand clenched around his bow and he fought to keep his expression
shielded.

‘She’s a bonny one, the lass is. What do you think her father
will do to her when he learns she’s been with a Scot?’ Iagar dropped his voice
to a whisper. ‘Was she good? Should I have a taste of her, after you’re
dead?’

Callum spun, his hands reaching for Iagar’s throat, but found,
instead, the point of a dirk at his throat. ‘You don’t have a choice in this,
MacKinloch. If you stay, you die.’

Not if he could help it. Callum seized the man’s wrist and
squeezed until Iagar released the weapon. The man’s face reddened as he
struggled to free himself from his grasp. He stared hard, letting the man know
he could crack the bone if he wanted to.

‘Die, then, if that’s what you want.’ He bent to pick up the
dirk and Callum never took his eyes off the man as Iagar retreated.

‘But if you betray us, it’s your death. And hers.’

Chapter Twelve

W
hen she returned from her ride with the
earl, Marguerite was startled to see her aunt speaking to Xavier, the Captain of
her father’s Guard. The two soldiers who had been her escorts were bound with
rope.

After she gave her horse over to the stable master, Marguerite
hurried forward. Her aunt had a gloating expression upon her face, one she
didn’t understand.

‘Why are these men being detained?’ she asked Beatrice. ‘They
are my guards, are they not?’

‘They stole from you, Lady Marguerite,’ Xavier answered. ‘They
took pearls from you and tried to use them for their own compensation.’

‘Thievery is not tolerated here,’ her aunt added. ‘They will
each lose a hand for what they’ve done.’

‘It was not thievery,’ Marguerite said, stepping between them.
‘The pearls were a gift to them and to the men you punished. As compensation for
what they’ve had to endure.’ She drew herself up to face her aunt, adding,
‘Surely you cannot punish these men for what was freely given.’

‘Take them below,’ her aunt ordered Xavier. ‘My niece and I
will discuss this.’

The false look of benevolence on Beatrice’s face repulsed
Marguerite. She darted forward and seized the blade from Xavier’s waist. With a
few slices through the rope, she freed the men and ordered them to go. Turning
to Beatrice, she commanded, ‘You will not take them prisoner.’

‘You overstep yourself.’

‘No.’ With the knife still in her palm, she advanced upon her
aunt, feeling the sudden rush of danger in her veins. ‘I have had my fill of you
attempting to take my mother’s place. This is my home and you are nothing more
than my father’s
putain.
’

Beatrice’s eyes gleamed with rage. ‘I will not tolerate such
insults from you, Marguerite.’ With a hand, she dismissed Xavier. Only when she
was certain the men were safe did Marguerite lower her knife.

‘I told you not to make an enemy of me, Marguerite,’ her aunt
said calmly. ‘You lied to the Duc about our…conflict.’

‘I spoke the truth. You tried to starve me in my own home. And
you punished innocent men.’ The anger rose up, nearly blinding her with its
intensity. ‘And now you think to punish more of them?’

A thin smile spread over Beatrice’s face. ‘I am not without
mercy. If you say that you gave jewels to these men, so be it. But your father
will not be pleased to learn that you granted favours to his men.’

She didn’t miss the implication in the matron’s words. ‘I
granted no favours. Only compensation for their trouble.’

‘You mean bribes, so they would let you meet your lover in the
forest,’ Beatrice corrected. ‘Xavier told me about him. One of the MacKinlochs,
isn’t he?’ She took a step forward, grasping her skirts as she climbed the
stairs leading into the Hall. ‘I saw him near the stables just now.’

The rush of fear swept through her, leaving Marguerite
speechless.
Dear God, no. Let it be a lie.

She masked her emotions, keeping her tone firm. ‘You will not
threaten him.’

‘I don’t have to,’ Beatrice said. ‘Xavier is taking him to your
father now, for questioning. I would suggest that you be careful about what you
say. He was carrying a quiver filled with black-tipped arrows, just like the one
they found at the outpost.’

As her aunt slipped inside the Hall, Marguerite turned back and
saw Callum surrounded by soldiers. He made no move to fight them off, but went
into their custody without argument.

God above, she didn’t know how to save him without implicating
them both.

* * *

Guy de Montpierre stared at the Scot standing before
him. It was the mute who had taken shelter in the stables. One of the soldiers
had taken a quiver from him and held up a black-feathered arrow.

‘Is that yours?’ the Duc asked.

The Scot gave a single nod, his face shielded without emotion
or fear. Eyeing his guards, Guy motioned for them to draw in closer, to prevent
the archer from making an escape. He suspected this man had something to do with
the attack on the garrison, but why would he have returned to the stables?
Already he’d heard of several other Scots who had disappeared and he’d sent men
after them. But this man’s behaviour spoke of a man who possessed great courage,
or else he was the greatest fool. Curious, he gestured for the man to sit. ‘Can
you speak at all?’

The man gave no answer, but opened a pouch at his waist and
held out a piece of parchment. Intrigued, the Duc allowed him to sit. Few men
could write and he wondered if a priest had taught him.

The Scot struggled to grip the pen, but he wrote only two
words. The first was MacKinloch. The second was Marguerite.

At the sight of his daughter’s name, a cold fury took command
of his temper. If this man was a MacKinloch, then he had lived with Marguerite
during the time she’d taken sanctuary with them. His suspicions darkened and he
was beginning to see a pattern in his daughter’s behaviour. The thought of her
having anything to do with this Scot enraged him. If he’d harmed her in any way,
Guy wouldn’t hesitate to give him a traitor’s death.

Beatrice’s suggestion, that she had been meeting a man in
secret, suddenly held a grain of truth.
Mon Dieu
,
the Scot must be the reason for Marguerite’s reluctance to wed.

‘What does my daughter have to do with this?’ Guy demanded. It
was an effort to keep from killing the man right now.

MacKinloch set down the quill, giving no answer at all.

‘Send for Marguerite,’ the Duc ordered. In the minutes before
her arrival, he glared at the Scot.
If you’ve hurt her in
any way, you answer to me.

But there was only the quiet stare of defiance in the man’s
eyes.

* * *

When at last Marguerite appeared in the Hall, she
touched her hand to her heart in fear. So. She did know the MacKinloch
clansman.

‘You lied to me,’ the Duc said coolly. ‘You said you didn’t
know this man. But he claims he’s a MacKinloch.’

Marguerite’s face blanched, but she nodded. Embarrassment
flooded her face, but she admitted, ‘Callum MacKinloch is his name. His brother
Alex is the clan chief.’

‘Why did he come here?’ the Duc demanded.
And why did you lie?
It wasn’t at all in Marguerite’s nature to tell
an untruth, and, from the way she avoided looking at the man, his suspicions
magnified.

‘I don’t know why.’

‘Marguerite,’ he warned, crossing the room to stand before her.
‘Tell me what you know of this man.’

Fear made her cheeks whiten, but she said, ‘I saved his life,
when he was Cairnross’s prisoner. He protected all of us in the battle, before
you came with your men. That’s all.’

‘Is it?’ He didn’t believe her. Likely she was trying to
protect the man. ‘Did you teach him to write?’

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she confessed the truth.
‘Yes.’

To do so meant that she’d spent time with MacKinloch. The
thought made him want to flay the Scot alive. Guy’s hands curled into fists at
his side, and at that moment the Earl of Penrith moved into the Hall. His eyes
moved to Marguerite and she sent him a silent plea.

MacKinloch’s gaze moved upon both of them and Guy didn’t miss
his possessive stare. This Scot somehow believed he could force his way into
Marguerite’s life.

Guy didn’t care what lies had been spoken, nor what had
happened in the past. He wouldn’t allow any man to threaten his daughter’s
future. Especially not a common Scot who couldn’t even speak.

Lord Penrith came forward, interrupting. ‘This morn, Lady
Marguerite and I came to an understanding about our betrothal.’

There was reassurance in the man’s gaze. When he turned to his
daughter, Guy saw the wrenching pain in her blue eyes. To her credit, she did
not deny the earl’s claim. Penrith came to stand beside her, taking her hand in
his. Whatever had transpired in the past would not be held against Marguerite.
The alliance was not in danger and when Guy eyed his daughter, she gave a silent
nod.

The Duc turned back to the Scot, wanting to know more about the
murdered Englishmen. ‘You were there on the night the garrison was attacked,
weren’t you?’

Callum gave a nod.

‘He witnessed the raid,’ Marguerite interrupted. ‘The arrow you
found was his, when he tried to stop the men.’

Before he could say anything else, Marguerite continued, ‘I
warned him not to stay here, that you might blame him for it.’

And so he would, if the man were guilty. In his daughter’s
voice, he heard the shaking fear and he intended to use it to his advantage. To
MacKinloch, he asked, ‘Why were you there that night?’

The man wrote a few words on the parchment and held it up.

‘He thought there were prisoners being held at the outpost,’
Marguerite said, deciphering the handwriting. ‘He wanted to free them.’

‘And why should I believe that you were innocent of
wrongdoing?’

MacKinloch said nothing, setting the quill down. His hard stare
challenged the Duc, almost daring him to take him prisoner.

‘He came to you, instead of fleeing like the others,’
Marguerite interrupted again. ‘And when he gives you the names, you should
punish those responsible for the murders.’

‘I have no reason to give my trust,’ he countered. ‘But I will
question MacKinloch further.’

She came forward and took his arm. ‘I know what that means.’ In
her blue eyes, he saw the terror and it only confirmed his belief that
Marguerite held feelings for the Scot. ‘No torture,’ she pleaded. ‘I beg of you,
let him go.’

Guy gave no response, his gaze fixed upon MacKinloch. There was
no trace of fear on the man’s face, only acceptance.

‘I will use whatever means are necessary to find the truth,’ he
replied, removing Marguerite’s hand from his arm.

‘Please,’ she whispered.

The Duc let her draw her own conclusions. Often, the very
threat of torture was enough to break a man. Especially one who had endured it
before.

He signalled for his men to take Callum MacKinloch into
custody. ‘Escort him below. I will have words with him later.’

His daughter looked stricken, but she gave no argument. Only
after MacKinloch was gone did she turn to him. ‘I have given you nothing but
obedience my entire life. I’ve agreed to marry a man of your choosing and asked
nothing for myself in return.’

In her voice, he heard the fear and unshed tears. ‘Father, I
ask only that you let him return to Glen Arrin.’

‘Did he touch you?’

She lowered her head and shook it in denial. But he saw the
guilt and embarrassment on her face. Another lie.

By God, he was going to tear the Scot apart.

‘Monsieur le Duc—’ The earl moved between them and took
Marguerite’s hand. ‘Whatever happened in the past will remain there. I am well
aware of your daughter’s feelings and I believe we will have a stronger start to
our marriage if it begins with forgiveness.’

Guy studied Lord Penrith, wondering if he spoke the truth.
There was no trace of anger upon the man’s face and it did seem that he didn’t
hold Marguerite at fault.

A fraction of the tension eased from his shoulders. ‘What say
you, Marguerite?’

Her face held misery, her mouth downcast. But she nodded her
agreement. ‘I will go through with the marriage.’ She stared back at him, her
face pale. ‘But if I find out you have harmed Callum, I will not marry the earl
or any other man.’

Her obstinacy took Guy off guard. ‘You’ve no right to issue
warnings to me, Daughter. You should be grateful for the earl’s
benevolence.’

‘It is a vow that will be broken, if you dare to threaten
him.’

She meant it. Though her voice remained quiet and calm, he
heard the sincerity in her tone. It seemed his daughter had grown a spine after
all.

A dull regret spread through him, that it had come to this. He
couldn’t understand what Marguerite could possibly see in the Scot. The man was
so poor, he had nothing at all to give her. No doubt he was using her heart,
trying to better himself by attracting her attention.

His daughter was far too gentle and soft-hearted for her own
good. And he’d move the moon from the sky to keep her safe.

‘I vow that I will not harm him,’ he said. But then, there were
ways of assuring that MacKinloch would never see Marguerite again. Ways that
ordinary men wouldn’t survive and Guy didn’t have to lay a hand upon him.

The broken relief in her face bothered him and she insisted,
‘As long as he is safe and alive, I will keep my word.’

But she didn’t look at the earl, nor was there any hope of
affection between them. Guy gave a nod, vowing to put an end to whatever was
between her and the Scot.

Her acquiescence was the only reason he kept MacKinloch
alive.

Two days later

‘You’re pacing,’ the earl remarked.

Marguerite stopped and realised he was right. They were inside
the solarium and Lady Beatrice was sewing in the corner. She sent a look towards
the matron, and Lord Penrith guessed what she wanted. He spoke quietly to the
older woman and, soon enough, they were alone.

Marguerite felt the walls closing in on her. Callum was being
held in the storage chamber below ground, guarded night and day. ‘They won’t let
me see him,’ she admitted. ‘I fear my father may not have kept his word.’ It
felt strange confessing this to the man who wanted to wed her.

The earl crossed the room and took her hands. His palms were
warm, his face concerned. ‘Thus far, he has.’

Marguerite studied him and remarked, ‘Would you release me from
this marriage, if I asked it of you again?’

He went quiet for a time, his hands still holding hers. ‘No,
Lady Marguerite. I intend to wed you, just as we agreed.’

‘Why?’ She stared at the earl, unable to understand him.