Tempted by the Highland Warrior (20 page)

‘It will start within the hour,’ Beatrice said, gesturing for a
servant to remove the fallen cup.

‘What will start?’ Marguerite touched her mouth, the aftertaste
of the herbal brew making her wonder what they were talking about.

‘Come,’ her father said, rising from his seat at the dais. The
earl sat at her left, looking mystified at what was happening. To her betrothed
husband, the Duc said simply, ‘It is naught to concern you, Penrith.’

Marguerite felt the fear sliding deeper inside, as her father
took her hand and led her above stairs. Behind her, Aunt Beatrice followed. He
led her into her chamber and dismissed the maid who was inside, mending a
gown.

Once the door closed behind the maid, her father spoke.
‘Beatrice gave you a blend of herbs that will cast out any child you might have
conceived with MacKinloch.’

Marguerite sank down upon her bed, her insides iced with
terror. Though she didn’t believe there was any child, their actions went beyond
imagining. The idea that they would kill any unborn babe horrified her. Her
hands went to her middle, and though she felt no effects from the herbs yet, she
saw the look of grim determination on her father’s face.

‘Do you truly hate him that much?’ she asked her father, while
her aunt sat down in a chair.

‘Oui,’
he answered. ‘He will gain
no part of your dowry, nor will I let him take advantage of you. There is
nothing at all he can give, Marguerite.’

Except love. She was shattering apart inside for her father
would never understand the way she felt about Callum. When she looked into his
face, she saw the blend of anger and worry. Once again, he was treating her like
a little girl who had disobeyed him and had to be punished. In his eyes, she was
incapable of making decisions for herself.

It bruised her heart to know that the father she’d loved all
these years was more interested in his ambitions than his daughter’s happiness.
The brutal reality crashed upon her as the first cramps seized within her
womb.

She huddled upon her bed, the pain swallowing her whole. How
naïve she’d been to hope that, in time, he would come to accept her decision. He
wouldn’t. Never would he believe that Callum MacKinloch was good enough for her.
Choosing a life with the man she loved meant breaking away from her family for
ever.

Another pain struck and she doubled over, feeling as if a part
of her were being ripped away. Over the next few hours, she lay upon her bed in
misery, staring at the wall while her body responded to the herbal poison.

But she didn’t cry. The hurt within her could not be released
with tears. It went all the way into her heart, severing a little girl’s
adoration for her father. It cauterised any sense of obedience or loyalty she
had once given him.

No longer was he the man who had pulled her upon his knee,
telling stories. No longer the man who tucked her head beneath his chin, holding
her close while she played with the gold ring upon his finger. Nor the man who’d
sworn to keep her safe at all costs.

He’d now become the man who had slashed apart her hopes,
leaving her with nothing at all. And for that, she would never forgive him.

* * *

‘Callum!’ came the voice of his brother Bram.

Callum quickened his pace, startled to see his three brothers
on horseback. An unexpected smile broke over his face at the sight of them. When
they drew their horses to a stop, his brothers gripped him hard, all talking at
once.

‘We received word several days ago from Marguerite—’

‘What are you doing here? And where’s your horse?’

‘—that you needed our help.’

Callum raised his hands and regarded them. ‘Much has…happened.
We’ll talk over food.’

The sound of his voice seemed to stun them into silence. Alex
was the first to recover and his smile was blinding. ‘Your voice is back. Thank
God.’

Bram let out a rush of breath. He raked a hand through his dark
hair and managed, ‘Aye. We’ve much to be thankful for.’

His youngest brother Dougal looked startled, but as he cared
for the horses, he added, ‘What about Marguerite?’

‘I’m going back for her.’ Callum explained what had happened
and what his intentions were. Though sometimes his voice faltered, it was
gaining strength. He gave them enough to make himself understood.

They made camp and his brothers offered food and mead to
satisfy his hunger and thirst. In their presence, he felt their quiet support.
They’d come to help him and it meant more than he could say.

* * *

Later that night, his brother Bram joined him while Alex
and Dougal slept. They lay back on the grass, staring at the stars that dotted a
darkened sky.

‘It’s dangerous, what you’re about to do.’

Callum didn’t deny it. ‘You would do the same, were it
Nairna.’

‘I’d kill any man alive who tried to take her from me.’

‘Then you know.’ He reached into the pouch at his waist,
fingering the frayed ribbon Marguerite had given back to him. ‘Her father will
never let her go. But I can’t…let her marry the earl. Not now.’

‘The Duc knows where we live. If you take her, he’ll only bring
an army after her.’

Callum leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. ‘He
wanted me to die here. If I stay hidden, he might believe it.’

‘Is she worth the risk?’ Bram asked.

‘She gave me back my voice.’ He didn’t mention that Marguerite
had also given her innocence. The physical connection had gone deeper than he’d
ever expected. When he’d joined with her, he’d found the other half of
himself.

And he wasn’t about to live without her again.

Chapter Fourteen

T
he ship awaited them, miles away on the
coast, where it would take her south along the western coast of Scotland toward
Wales. They would then continue the inland journey to the earl’s estates in
England.

Marguerite stared at her packed belongings, feeling lost and
alone. Her father had agreed to the earl’s proposition, that she wed him in
England instead of here. After all the unrest and the bitter memories, it would
be a better start for them. Not to mention it would take her far away from the
MacKinlochs.

The bleakness went deeper than her skin, filling up her veins.
She’d suffered over the past few days with pain and bleeding, until the herbs’
effects had passed. Her body was weak while her mind felt blurred and uncertain.
Marguerite forced herself to eat a small meal this morn, but barely noticed the
food.

Had Callum survived? Though her father had ordered him bound
and taken away, she didn’t know if they’d abandoned him in the wilderness or
murdered him. They’d given him no weapons, no food—nothing at all to survive in
the harsh northern lands. And there was no way to know if his brothers would
find him.

The thought of Callum’s death had shifted her own desire to
live. What reason was there to go on, enduring a marriage she didn’t want, to a
man who would never love her? It was as if her father were moulding her life out
of clay, shaping and destroying her own efforts.

She was like an empty vessel, fired from her father’s
ambitions, with no power of her own. The cool anger was transforming her, making
her wonder what reckless act would finally achieve her freedom.

Her maids dressed her in a rose surcoat and cream-colored coat,
before braiding her hair and gathering it within a golden net. A white barbette
covered her head, winding around her throat. Marguerite studied her reflection
in a polished silver mirror. Although the woman before her appeared calm and
serene, inwardly, the worry consumed her mind.

Before she departed her chamber, she went to one of the trunks
and withdrew a bow and a quiver filled with black-feathered arrows. She’d taken
them back from the guards after Callum’s release.

‘My lady?’ one of her maids questioned, but Marguerite gave no
answer. She kept the weapons at her side, walking slowly down the winding stone
stairs.

Outside, her horse awaited her and she tied the bow and quiver
to her saddle. Beyond the first wall, Lord Penrith was supervising the dowry
goods being loaded into wagons. Marguerite kept her distance, watching over him.
Of all the men her father could have chosen, there was nothing wrong with the
earl. Were it not for her love of Callum, she would find no hardship at all in
marrying the handsome, kindly man.

But her love belonged to the silent warrior who had captured
her heart with a single look. He’d given her passion, making her feel alive. She
might have given her promise to go through with this marriage, yet it would
never change her feelings for Callum.

Right now, she felt as though she were being suffocated, her
life pulled in directions it wasn’t meant to go. She wanted an hour to herself,
a time to grieve for her loss.

After the stable master assisted her on to the horse, she drew
the animal forward to speak with the earl.

‘I would like to go riding,’ she said to him. ‘Just for an hour
or so, before we depart.’

His expression narrowed when he spied the bow and quiver upon
the saddle, ‘You cannot go alone.’ There was a warning in his expression, as if
he feared she would try to run away.

The truth was, she couldn’t survive on her own if she wanted
to. She knew nothing about how to find food or shelter and likely she’d die
within a day if she tried.

‘I promise I’ll return.’

‘Are you planning to search for
him
?’ Penrith’s expression remained neutral, though she saw the unrest
in his eyes.

‘He was taken four days ago,’ she said. ‘I’m not so foolish as
to believe I could find him in an hour.’

‘We’ll board our ship soon,’ he reminded her. He took her hand
within his and his grip turned firm.

‘Will you not give me the chance to grieve?’ she responded.
‘I—I need the time.’ Even if she did nothing but wander through the trees or go
to the loch where Callum had first taught her to swim, it would help her to
close off the memories.

He stared at her, not at all understanding. ‘There is much to
do here, Marguerite, before we go. And I won’t allow you to back out on our
agreement. The Duc left MacKinloch alive. Now you must fulfil your part of the
bargain by wedding me.’

Marguerite lowered her gaze to the ground. The energy to
protest simply wasn’t in her. She felt so lost, so unwilling to give herself to
another, she didn’t know what to do any more. Her gaze fixed upon the forest,
remembering the days she’d spent with Callum and what it had been like to fall
asleep in his arms.

The earl released a sigh, raising her hand to his lips. ‘I am
likely the greatest fool on this earth. Go, then, if it means so much to you.
I’ll see to it that you have an hour. But no longer.’

A smile broke free and she squeezed his hand in return. ‘You’re
a good man, my lord.’

‘Your dowry will help repair my estates,’ was his pragmatic
response. ‘And your father has offered to pay me a great deal, for turning a
blind eye towards your actions.’ He crossed his arms and eyed her with distrust.
‘But if you do not return—’

‘I will,’ she promised.

He accompanied her to the gate and within another few minutes,
she was riding alone towards the forest. The trees surrounded her, blotting out
the sunlight in filtered shadows. Marguerite turned her horse in the direction
of the loch, letting her mind wander. As she continued deeper into the woods,
she felt a sense of uneasiness, as though she were being watched. But there was
no one at all, only imagined sounds.

When she reached the shores of the loch, she picked up a
handful of small stones and cast them into the water, watching the surface
break.

God, let him be safe
, she prayed.
Let him be alive.

The vast loneliness closed over her, until she no longer knew
how she would go through with this marriage. The idea of living each day with a
man who did not desire her, or worse, having to endure his touch in order to
conceive a child that he wanted, was like drowning. She didn’t know if she could
do it.

She returned to her mare and removed Callum’s bow and quiver.
The weight of the weapon was balanced and as her fingers curved across the wood,
she could sense his presence and strength. When she tried to pull back the
bowstring, it was so taut, she couldn’t draw it further than a few inches. She
fitted one of his arrows to the bowstring, wondering if she could manage a
shot.

‘Were you wanting a lesson?’ came a deep voice from behind
her.

The bow fell from her hands and she saw Callum standing a few
paces away. Heedless of anything else, she flew into his arms, gripping him
tight. Behind him were his brothers, who watched over them for a moment before
retreating into the shadows.

‘You’re alive,’ she breathed, lifting her mouth to his. The
kiss of welcome was a merging of thankfulness, a sudden rush of joy mingled with
tears.

‘Are you well?’ she asked, pulling back to look at him. His
face looked as if he hadn’t slept in the past few days, but there were no
outward signs of suffering.

His hands threaded into her hair, lifting her face up. Touching
his forehead to hers, he said, ‘I came to take you back with me,
Marguerite.’

She closed her eyes, filling up her senses with him. The sound
of his voice, so rare in the past, was dear to her. It had grown stronger, more
fluent, in only a few days.

In his arms, she became whole again and the promises she’d made
to the earl no longer held any weight. The desire to leave everything behind, to
be with this man, was all she wanted.

‘If I go,’ she murmured, ‘I’ll never see my family again, will
I?’ She lifted her eyes to his and saw him nod. At one time, the knowledge had
kept her from being with him, for she’d wanted both. She’d wanted to keep her
father’s love, remaining a beloved daughter in his eyes. And she’d wanted the
man he would never approve of.

Now she knew the truth: there was only the choice of one or the
other.

‘Will you love me enough, since I won’t have a family any
more?’ she whispered.

‘Until the last breath leaves my body.’ He gripped her so hard,
she no longer knew where he ended and she began.

‘Good.’ She smiled and took his hand in hers. He picked up the
fallen bow and slung the quiver over one shoulder. With her palm enveloped by
his, she had no doubt that she had made the right decision. There could be no
other.

He lifted her on to her horse and swung up behind her. His
brothers joined them on either side and Marguerite greeted them. Although Bram
and Alex were friendly enough, she sensed the tension.

Then Dougal came running towards them from the trees. Though
the adolescent boy tried to put on a brave face, she saw the fear haunting his
eyes. ‘They’re coming for her.’

At his words, dread sank within her veins. The earl had told
her father. Or perhaps he’d sensed the truth and had brought his own men.

‘Who?’ Callum demanded, drawing an arrow from his quiver.

‘Dozens of soldiers. If we don’t let her go, they’ll kill us
all.’

* * *

In his arms, Callum could feel the sudden change in her.
Her head lowered and her hands reached for his.

‘I should have known,’ she whispered. ‘The earl wouldn’t let me
break the promise.’

Callum spurred the horse hard, riding north as fast as the
animal would carry them. His brothers followed, Dougal hurrying to catch up. If
there was an army, it was doubtful that they’d succeed in outrunning
them—especially not with both Marguerite and him sharing a horse. But he had to
try.

‘I won’t give you up,’ he said against her ear. She leaned
forward, holding tight to the horse, but he could feel her fear deepening.

When they cleared the forest, he started to change their
direction east. Behind him, he heard the sound of horses approaching. Stealing a
glance, he saw at least thirty men on horseback, riding hard.

His brother Alex came up beside him, raising his voice against
the wind. ‘Callum, they’re going to overtake us.’

He ignored the words, trying to increase the pace of their
horse, but Marguerite’s mare was older, a gentle mount unaccustomed to such
speed. She was struggling to obey and he knew that it was only a matter of time
before they lost their lead.

Bram dropped back and Callum understood that his brother was
offering to grant him time. To fight the men and do what he could to slow them
down. But if he chose this battle, it was far too grave a risk. He would die in
the effort, leaving behind his wife Nairna, who was expecting a bairn.

Callum expelled a curse. When the horse reached the hilly
terrain, he pulled the mare to a stop. Her breathing was laboured, her flanks
slick with sweat.

Marguerite went so still and quiet that he sensed what she was
going to say. His arms closed around her in an embrace that went beyond words.
He needed her to know that if they stood their ground, he would rather die at
her side than live thousands of days without her.

‘I can’t let your brothers die for you,’ she said at last, her
voice hollow. Swinging her leg to the side, she rested her cheek against his
chest as the army closed in. ‘You gave me the greatest days of my life. I will
never love any man as much as I love you now.’

‘Don’t go,’ he demanded. ‘Stay with me and fight.’

She reached out to touch his cheek. ‘I think I’ve always known
that our paths could never be together.’ Her blue eyes welled up and a tear
spilled over. ‘I just wanted to hope that, somehow, we would find a way.’

The pain of losing her was cutting his soul in half. Callum
held her in his arms, kissing her hard. He tasted her tears and the bitterness
of loss.

‘Keep a part of me in your heart,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll
always live in mine.’

Then she dismounted from her horse and began the solitary walk
towards the soldiers waiting for her.

* * *

Her father and the earl stood with their men. Marguerite
stopped walking, halfway between them. Lord Penrith raised his hand, signalling
his men to hold back.

For a long moment, she held Callum’s empty gaze with her own.
His brothers spoke to him and he ordered them to go.

She could see in his eyes that he didn’t want to leave her. He
was waiting for any sign from her that she would stay with him. But if she
tried, he and his brothers would die.

There was only one way to force him to go. She touched her
fingertips to her lips and turned away, returning to the men who awaited
her.

The force of her grief choked within her lungs. Then, she moved
towards one of the soldiers, recognising the horse he rode. It was Callum’s
stallion, Goliath. ‘Give me your mount,’ she ordered.

When he obeyed, she led the horse forward and guided the animal
towards Callum, who was still waiting. He let out a sharp whistle, and the horse
obeyed, returning to him. She watched him dismount and he adjusted her mare’s
saddle, returning her own horse to her.

Upon the saddle, he had wrapped the hair ribbon he’d taken so
long ago. And when she saw it, she understood he would no longer keep it with
him. He was letting her go.

She cast one look back at Callum and he disappeared over the
hill.

The soldier helped her mount her horse and it was all
Marguerite could do to keep from breaking down into sobs. Instead, she gripped
the frayed bit of silk and led her horse a few paces in front of her father. She
made it clear that he was not to send any of his men after the MacKinlochs. If
necessary, she would stand between them.