Читать книгу Tempted by the Highland Warrior - Michelle Willingham - Страница 9

Marguerite couldn’t breathe when Callum kissed her. His mouth was warm, coaxing her to let go of her shyness. Although it wasn’t her first kiss, this one slipped beneath her skin with a slow burning fire, transforming her inhibitions into ashes.

The connection went deeper than that between a woman and a man she’d rescued and tended. He treated her as though no one else on the earth existed. As if he needed her more than the air he breathed.

It was something she wasn’t used to. At home, she was the youngest of four daughters, largely overlooked. Her older sisters were mischievous and outspoken, accustomed to having suitors vie for their hand. Marguerite was quiet and usually remained in the background, unnoticed.

But she suspected that Callum MacKinloch would always notice her.

He was half-naked before her, his body pressed against her own. There were no thoughts spinning through her mind, only the need to bring him closer. Her arms wound around his neck but when she felt the evidence of his arousal, it didn’t frighten her as she’d thought it would. Instead, it awakened her own response, with an answering need between her legs.

The kiss turned deeper and Marguerite let out a shuddering gasp as Callum conquered her mouth, bringing her back against the wall. With his kiss he broke down her defences, until she was trembling beneath the onslaught.

At last, he let her go, resting both hands upon the wall. His dark eyes were heated with desire, his mouth looking as if he wanted to do more, kiss her in other secret places.

She didn’t know what to do or what to say now. Confused, she fumbled for words—anything to distract herself from the turmoil of ragged feelings. ‘Y-you should get dressed,’ she told him quietly.

He studied her, his eyes discerning. Then he touched her cheek, a question hidden within his expression—almost as if he were asking if he’d overstepped his bounds.

She didn’t know what to say. Colour flooded her face at what she’d done, for she could give no reason why she’d allowed him to kiss her. Only that she’d wanted him to.

Taking his hand, she led him over to the pile of clothing. ‘Nairna brought these for you.’ Then she went to the far side of the room, turning her back. Inside, she trembled from the kiss. He’d shaken her deeply, making her crave his touch.

From behind her, she heard the light rustle as he picked up the clothes. Heaven only knew what possessed her to do it, but she turned over her shoulder to steal a look at him.

Callum’s shoulders and back held stripes of both healed and unhealed lash marks, scars that he would carry for the rest of his life. His waist was lean, but, despite his thin frame, he had the body of a fighter. He had tight, muscular buttocks and powerful thighs.

And, oh God, he’d caught her looking at him.

A slow, wicked smile curved over his mouth, as if daring her to look further.

Marguerite whirled around, wondering why she’d done such a thing. But he hadn’t been angry. In fact, she’d caught a glimpse of amusement in Callum’s eyes, as if he’d wanted her to look.

He was undeniably handsome, despite the harsh conditions he’d endured. His dark eyes held secrets and an intensity that weakened her senses. Long dark hair flowed past his shoulders and she imagined what it would be like cut short. His clean-shaven face revealed a strong jaw and a determined confidence in his demeanour.

She didn’t know why she was attracted to a man who’d been held prisoner for so long. It might be compassion, but more likely it was her own curiosity. Callum had made no secret of his interest, and she could not have chosen someone more different from herself.

She’d been raised in a castle, surrounded by servants. And although it wasn’t her nature to demand material goods, she’d had everything she ever wanted. Callum was the third-born son, with hardly more than the clothes on his back. He could give her nothing at all.

Perhaps that was what drew her to him. He saw her, while the other men saw only her father’s wealth and power.

When Marguerite risked another look back at him, Callum was sitting on the bed, fully dressed. His wrists rested upon his knees, his head bowed. He looked tired, yet unable to sleep. She took a step forward, and the sound of her motion prompted him to lift his head. He let out a slow breath, his face masked. Then he touched the place beside him in a silent request for her to sit.

She remained still, unsure of herself or what he wanted from her. Time hung suspended while she debated whether or not to stay a little longer. He appeared calmer, more in command of himself.

‘You can’t kiss me again,’ she warned.

He didn’t tease her with a smile, but gave a single nod as his silent promise. In his hands, she saw the faded blue ribbon.

She took a breath and moved a slight distance beside him. ‘It’s all right to sleep, you know. No one will harm you.’ Though she was tired herself, she intended to return to her own room, once he had found a peaceful rest.

Callum reached out and pulled her to sit beside him. Then he laid his head upon her lap.

The gesture should have made her uneasy. Instead, as she stroked his long hair back and watched him close his eyes, heavy tears pricked at her. He’d suffered for so long, chained in the dark. Was it any wonder that he yearned for human comfort?

Although the weight of her own exhaustion burdened her, Marguerite didn’t move. Callum clasped her other hand in his while he slept. She let him rest against her, though her back ached.

In time, she succumbed to the need for sleep, lying back against his pillow.

The raucous cries of a raven haunted him. The birds were known for circling the camp, awaiting the moment when a prisoner died. Callum hated them, for they fed upon the flesh of the dead. Just the sight of the birds sickened him, and he’d chased dozens of them away from the corpses.

Though most of the other prisoners were nameless companions, they didn’t deserve to be dishonoured, their flesh picked away by black-winged predators.

And so he’d begun collecting their feathers. He couldn’t say why, but when the guards watched him making more arrows, he’d glued their dark tips to the shaft. It was as if he could honour the memory of the fallen.

One day, he would avenge them. He’d grown to hate Lord Harkirk as much as his former master. While Cairnross had believed himself superior to the Scots, punishing them for imagined crimes, Harkirk cared nothing for men’s lives. Men were killed for no reason at all, simply as entertainment.

But Harkirk would die one day. And, God willing, he’d be struck down by a black-feathered arrow, one of his own.

Callum’s eyes opened as the remnants of sleep slid away. Against his cheek, he felt the softness of Marguerite’s hair and their bodies were tangled together. Her delicate scent surrounded him, his arms cradled her body close. He savoured the moment of holding her, wishing to God he could make it last.

It wasn’t yet dawn and in the faint light, he saw the golden outline of her hair. For a moment, he listened to her breathe, watching her sleep.

He’d never dreamed she would let him kiss her. It hadn’t been his intention, but when she’d put her arms around him, resting her cheek upon his, he’d lost sight of the world. Her lips had tasted sweet, but beneath her innocence, he’d tasted the promise of more. She’d tempted him, until he could do nothing except savour the moments that wouldn’t last. She was a duke’s daughter and despite the fierce desire to be her protector, he knew he’d never be a part of her life.

A sound from outside caught his attention. Callum reluctantly got out of bed, listening to the sounds of night. In the corner, he saw Bram sleeping and he wondered why his brother had allowed him to sleep with Marguerite. Silently, he moved to open the shuttered window. In the darkness, he spied faint pinpricks of light moving towards them. He didn’t know what it was, but within seconds the light vanished. Instinct warned him that whatever the source of the light was, he had to warn his brother.

Before he could say a word, he heard Marguerite moan in her sleep. She clenched the sheets, murmuring words in French that he didn’t understand. And when he tried to awaken her by touching her cheek, her eyes flew open.

She sat up and gripped him hard, still shaking from the nightmare. Callum held her tight, stroking her hair to soothe her.

It’s all right. I’m here.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I was dreaming about the tower and the fire that night. I dreamed I couldn’t get out.’ Her face rested against his neck and he kissed her hair, moving his mouth lower to console her in the only way he knew how.

She drew back, closing her eyes and lifting her mouth to his. Before he could taste her lips, the door swung open and Alex entered. His brother’s face darkened with misunderstanding, as if he thought Callum was trying to dishonour Marguerite.

‘Get away from her, Callum,’ Alex warned.

At the sudden sound, Bram woke up from his place on the floor and stood. ‘Leave them,’ he said, stretching. ‘She calms him.’

‘Did he hurt you?’ Alex asked Lady Marguerite. She shook her head, her face turning dark red.

‘I should go,’ she murmured. ‘I never meant to fall asleep.’ Embarrassed, she fled the room.

Callum stared at his brothers, needing to tell them what he’d seen. He pointed toward the window, trying to signal to them, but they didn’t understand.

He saw in their eyes that they believed he’d gone mad, as if he weren’t aware of what was going on.

‘Did he sleep at all last night?’ Alex asked Bram.

‘He kept waking up, but Marguerite stopped him from lashing out.’

‘We should keep her close, then, if she’s able to get through to him.’

Callum’s temper exploded. He moved between the men, grabbing each of his brothers by the shoulder.

Look at me. I hear your words. I understand them.

But not a single sound came, despite his mouth moving. Frustration clawed at him that he was unable to communicate anything at all.

He grabbed Bram’s tunic and hauled him towards the window, pointing outside once again.

‘There’s nothing out there,’ Bram said. ‘You’re safe now.’

He didn’t believe it. And they were fools if they did.

Alex poured a cup of wine into a goblet and handed it to him. ‘Have something to drink. Whatever it is, we’ll look in the morning.’

He drank the wine and, too late, tasted the bitter herbs within it. Staring at his brother’s betrayal, he wondered what they’d done to him.

‘It will help you sleep,’ Alex said. ‘You need rest, to regain your strength.’

Despite his efforts to fight them, the heavy narcotic effects of the herbs pulled him under. As he slipped into the dark dream, he inhaled the scent of Marguerite upon the sheets.

Callum awakened with his mouth dry and the aftertaste of the herbal brew lingered. His back still hurt from the lash marks, and he struggled to open his eyes. He overheard Bram’s wife Nairna talking to her husband and caught the last few words of his brother’s conversation.

‘I don’t know if he’s even aware of where he is.’

Callum gritted his teeth. He knew exactly where he was, yet no one trusted him. He struggled to rise from the bed, thankful that Alex and Bram were focused upon Nairna instead of himself.

‘When I was out walking this morning, I saw a torch light in the hills,’ the young woman said. ‘Do you think any of Lord Harkirk’s men might have followed us?’

No doubt of it. From the flickering torches he’d seen, it was impossible to tell how many men there were.

‘I’ll inform the men,’ Alex replied. ‘If it is an attack, send a runner to Locharr and alert the Baron that we may need his help.’ He turned to Nairna. ‘Tell Laren—’

‘She’s already gathering the women and children.’

‘Good.’ Alex turned back and Callum met his gaze steadily. His brother’s face held a magnitude of worry for all the people they had to protect. There weren’t enough men and if they were invaded, many would die.

In an instant, his older brother assessed him, as if to decide whether or not he was dangerous. Callum stared back, meeting the silent question with a determined look of his own. He had no doubt of his ability to defend them, especially with a bow.

‘I’ll need your help guarding the women and children,’ Alex said at last, unsheathing his sword. ‘Even Lady Marguerite.’ He held out the weapon, hilt first, and Callum inclined his head in answer.

Though he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling, he managed to grasp the sword. Alex had offered him the chance to fight and he wouldn’t fail his brother, though a sword wasn’t his first choice. From the corner of his eye, he caught Bram’s wife Nairna eyeing him with uncertainty.

I can fight, he wanted to tell her. Especially if it meant protecting Marguerite. Upon the floor, he spied the faded blue ribbon and reached for it, tucking it away for safekeeping.

Callum followed them down the stairs, still feeling the effects of the potion from the night before. He settled his mind to the task ahead, though he didn’t know if it was a small raid or a larger force.

Nairna led them outside to the place where she’d seen the torches. Though it was now dawn, the faint light wasn’t enough to determine how many men threatened Glen Arrin. While his brothers and Nairna climbed up to the top of the gatehouse, Callum stayed below, beside the gate. He studied the opposite side, wondering what had happened to the lights on the far end of the fortress.

Then the sun gleamed over the hills, revealing the glint of chainmail armour. They were outnumbered, perhaps three to one. Callum didn’t doubt that both Cairnross and Harkirk were allied in this attack.

The only question was how many of his clan would survive it.

Marguerite followed Laren to warn the rest of the clan. The chief’s wife looked terrified, but she explained what was happening. One by one, they gathered the women and children, leading them back to the tower.

‘We’ll bring them underground,’ Laren explained. ‘We’ve taken shelter there before.’

Marguerite picked up Laren’s youngest daughter Adaira and started towards the keep. When she glanced behind to be sure that no women or children were left, she saw Callum approaching.

He walked slowly. In his eyes, she saw the grim look of a man who was about to fight. Seeing his ruthless determination made her heartbeat quicken, for he wouldn’t hesitate to shed enemy blood to protect them. Marguerite set the child down, then hung back from the others, waiting for him.

Callum stopped walking a moment, his eyes passing over her. From the top of her veil, over her face and down her body, it was as if he needed to assure himself that she was all right.

‘Did you sleep at all?’ she asked, feeling self-conscious from the look in his eyes. He gave a slight nod, then sent her a questioning look as if to ask the same.

She shrugged. ‘A little. I was worried about you.’

Callum took her hand and led her behind one of the small homes. She didn’t understand what he wanted, but Laren and Nairna were guiding the rest of the women and children inside the keep.

Her pulse beat against her throat as he slowly pressed her back against the wall. With his hands, he touched her veil, moving down the sides of her face as if he were trying to memorise her features. Marguerite saw the promise in his eyes, of a man who would lay down his life for hers. An aching fear clenched within her, for she didn’t know what lay ahead.

Though he was strong, he’d been badly wounded and shouldn’t be fighting so soon after his rescue. Yet, in his eyes she saw the steady resolve. Callum wasn’t a man who would stand aside while his family was in danger.

‘Will you be all right?’ she whispered, touching his shoulders.

His answer was to lean in, stealing a kiss. It was as if he drew strength from her, needing this one last touch. His mouth was gentle upon hers, unravelling the edges of her heart. There was no reason to kiss this man, nor give him any reason to think that they could stay together. Once her father came for her, she would have to go with the Duc and marry a man of his choosing.

But as she surrendered to Callum’s kiss, answering his need with her own, she refused to feel any guilt for it. He had endured so much, remaining strong in the face of suffering. Knowing that he wanted her, and that she felt the same answering desire, was enough for now. Either of them could die today.

When he pulled her into an embrace, she felt the quiet assurance of his protection. He wouldn’t leave her, no matter how dire the circumstances. Marguerite took a deep breath. ‘We should join the other women and children. They’ll need you to help guard them.’

He took her hand and led her forward, his gaze searching the perimeter for any threat. When they caught up to the others, Marguerite went with him into the underground passageway beneath the fortress. For now, they would hide from the invaders. And if the worst happened, she knew he would use every last breath to defend them.

Callum worked with Nairna to find the secret tunnel that led outside the fortress. The damp smell of earth permeated the space and he could sense the fear of the women and children behind him. Though most men would be afraid of the impending battle, inwardly he felt a sense of calm. Once he found a bow, he could strike down any man who dared to attack the women. In this, he would not fail. And if he died this day, at least he would keep Marguerite safe.

The taste of her lips lingered upon his mouth. He still couldn’t believe that she’d allowed him to touch her again. She’d welcomed him into her arms, until his thoughts went well beyond a kiss. He could imagine her creamy naked skin, the flush of arousal rising on her face. God above, what he wouldn’t give to spend a night pleasuring her. This woman, who had given him a path out of darkness, made him want to live.

The acrid scent of smoke caught his attention only seconds before his brother’s wife Nairna sensed it. The invaders had set fire to the keep and it was only a matter of time before it spread below. ‘We can’t stay here,’ she insisted, staring at him with horror. ‘We have to evacuate the others.’

Callum moved to examine the underground chamber, knowing that his older brother would have more weapons hidden somewhere. Behind him, he heard Alex’s wife speaking with Nairna, both arguing about whether to stay or go. He kept searching until, at last, he found the weapons. There were two longbows with arrows and a crossbow, as well as a few dull knives and one sword.

He claimed one of the bows for himself, along with a quiver of arrows. Though he still had the sword Alex had given him, he preferred to fight from a distance, since he lacked stamina.

His younger brother Dougal, who was only four and ten, looked uneasy at the prospect of fighting, but he’d agreed to help defend the women and children. Callum emerged from the darkness, holding out a bow for Dougal and more arrows. When Nairna tried to take his weapon, Callum shook his head, keeping his grip tight upon the bow.

In her eyes, he saw the lack of trust. ‘Can you defend us?’

He stared back at her and gave a single nod, hoping she would understand that this battle was his to face, not hers. Nairna stepped back, as if she were still wary of him. He gave no reaction, for she would see his skills soon enough.

Marguerite gathered the women together while Dougal cleared the exit to the outside. Callum reached for her hand and felt the cold soft skin of her palm.

He held it for a time, watching her, trying to let her know the words trapped inside of him. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.

A blush transformed her face as she nodded. ‘I know.’ She remained at his side as they moved towards the exit. The sunlight reflected the rainwater within the ditch. They would have to cross through the water and up the opposite hillside to reach the sanctuary of the trees and the dwellings hidden in the forest.

When Nairna started to move forward, Marguerite stopped her. ‘I know the way to your house, Nairna. I’ll go first and lead them, if you’ll help Laren gather the others. I don’t know them as well as you do.’

Callum slung his quiver of arrows over one shoulder. Though he understood Marguerite’s desire to help, he wouldn’t let her go anywhere without him. He chose a single arrow from the quiver, while Nairna returned to the store of weapons, choosing a crossbow. The young woman’s face was pale with fear, but Callum admired her willingness to fight.

The smoke grew worse, and when the children began coughing, Laren picked up her own daughters, one over each hip, as the women gathered together. Marguerite moved to the front of the passageway, but Callum kept at her side, nocking the arrow to his bow.

Her blue eyes held terror and she cast a last look at him.

It will be all right, he wanted to tell her. No one will harm you.

But without the words to reassure her, he reached out and stroked the side of her face with one hand. She held his fingers to her cheek and sent him a nod of trust.

And it was what he needed to face the danger ahead.

Callum left the shelter of the tunnel, studying their surroundings. There were no soldiers on this side of the fortress, nor any sign of them in the forest ahead. Satisfied, he signalled Dougal to cross the bank and take a position on the opposite side of the ditch. With both of them armed, they could protect the others from all sides.

His younger brother obeyed, but Callum didn’t miss the apprehension in his eyes. The lad was afraid, and whether or not he could shoot with accuracy was anyone’s guess.

While Nairna climbed down into the water with Marguerite, Callum kept his bow taut, searching for any threat. From his peripheral vision, he watched the women making their way through the water. Nairna’s dog dove in behind them, paddling across the water. The animal appeared unconcerned by the exodus and Callum took it as a good sign that the enemy had not yet reached this side of the fortress. Bram and Alex must have kept them occupied with fighting in the main fortress.

‘Go and take cover in the trees,’ Nairna told Marguerite, setting her crossbow on the ground. ‘I’ll stay with Dougal and help the women out of the ditch.’

Callum watched over her and Marguerite sent him one last look. He locked the image into his mind, afraid it was the last time he would see her. Her long golden hair gleamed against the sun and her blue eyes filled with worry. Despite the danger, he didn’t regret the moments he’d spent with her. If he died today, at least he’d glimpsed Heaven.

You’re unworthy of her, his conscience reminded him. All you can offer is your protection.

While more women evacuated with their children, Callum could only hold his position until Marguerite disappeared into the forest. He resumed his place on the bank beside the fortress, the arrow poised to shoot. And yet, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. It wasn’t fear—only the raw anticipation coursing through him.

Nairna’s dog began barking and Callum spun, taking aim at the emerging soldiers. He stretched the bowstring taut, adjusting his aim. Slowly, he waited for the soldier to draw near and when he loosed the arrow, it struck the man’s face.

Too high.

He followed up with a second shot to the heart, dropping the man where he’d stood.

A slight motion caught his attention and, while Callum readied another arrow, he saw Marguerite watching from the trees. Whether it was her thanks or a quiet farewell, he met her gaze with the promise to defend her.

His brother Dougal cried out a warning and Callum seized another arrow. When more men crossed to the opposite side, the boy panicked and fired too soon. The arrow struck the ground, but before his brother could run, Callum sent a steady stream of his own missiles into the charging soldiers, one after the other, each arrow striking its intended target.

He dulled his mind to the fighting and death around him, focusing only on bringing down the threat. For the first time in years, he could defend his clan. With his bow, he was no longer less than a man, but equal to his brothers. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t speak, only that he could wield a weapon.

In this, he had a purpose. And soon enough, the women and children would be within the forest, away from the worst of the fighting.

Behind him, Callum heard the groaning of the keep’s tower, while Nairna brought the last of the women out of the water. He kept his gaze focused on his surroundings and saw his brothers Bram and Alex approaching at a full run.

Bram crossed through the water, helping his wife up the hillside before he pulled her into his embrace.

At the sight of them, a tightness expanded through Callum’s chest. Nairna gripped her husband as if she never wanted to let go. He envied them, for he wanted to be with Marguerite, to reassure himself that she was all right. Letting her go while he stayed behind was the only choice, but he didn’t like it.

A shower of fire sparks drifted in front of him and a prickle of awareness caught him. Behind him, a cracking noise resounded, just as his brother roared, ‘Callum, dive!’

He threw himself into the ditch, just as the tower collapsed. The icy water numbed him, but Callum swam to the opposite side, dragging himself out. His bow and arrows were soaked, and he rested on his knees, catching his breath.

Nairna was pushing Marguerite back inside the forest. ‘He’ll be all right. Take the women up to the ridge and I’ll send him soon.’

Callum’s gaze snapped to hers. She was holding on to Nairna, as if she didn’t want to leave. It seemed that she’d started to lead the women away, only to return when the tower had fallen.

As if she cared about him, despite the danger to herself.

If he could have, he’d have abandoned all else, taking her away from the chaos of battle. But that wasn’t a choice. He was bound to defend his family and the only home he’d ever had.

As if to remind him of that, Bram extended a hand and helped him up. And for a moment, he saw the gratefulness on his brother’s face. ‘Thank you for defending them,’ he said below his breath, so that only Callum would hear. ‘And I’m sorry for every day you spent in captivity. I blame myself for it.’

Though he could make no reply, he squeezed Bram’s hand in forgiveness. After what they’d been through, he knew his brother had done everything possible to free him. Nairna sent him a smile of gratefulness, still standing by her husband.

Before his brother Dougal could join the women and children, Callum offered his sword. The lad needed a weapon of his own, now that he’d spent all of his arrows. After taking it, Dougal disappeared into the forest, just as more enemy soldiers emerged, surrounding them on all sides.

Though Callum wanted to reassure himself that Marguerite had escaped with his youngest brother, he forced himself not to look, for fear of drawing the soldiers’ attention there.

Too late.

One of the archers fired several arrows towards the forest before he could bring the man down. Not all of the women had made it to the top of the ridge, and Callum worried that one of them could have been struck. The thought of Marguerite lying prone, her life ended by an arrow, sent a dark rage pulsing through him.

Bram and Alex split off on either side to meet the men, their shields and weapons ready. Callum kept firing at the enemy archers, dropping as many as he could, until he had only a single arrow left. Alex handed him a shield, but he refused it, needing both hands to wield the bow. They were completely outnumbered by the enemy and he saw no way out.

Nairna held fast to Bram while their enemy awaited the order to kill. Callum held his bow steady, hoping he could take out Cairnross or Harkirk with his last arrow.

Even if he did, there was one unavoidable truth. Today he was going to die.

Marguerite clenched her hands together, her heart racing. Though she’d made it into the forest, away from the battle, she couldn’t stop herself from returning to watch. She chose an isolated place near the edge of the trees, her heart numb with fear as Lord Cairnross and Lord Harkirk closed in.

Through a haze of tears, she sat, wondering if she could plead with Cairnross for their lives. Was it possible that he might spare them, on her behalf?

No. She’d fled with the MacKinlochs, betraying their betrothal. Though the earl might still want her for his wife, she didn’t trust him to free the others. Especially Callum.

She stood, resting her hand against a tree, her heart sick with terror. Because of her, Cairnross had come. If she’d remained behind, none of these men would have died.

Marguerite took a step towards Callum, but before she could emerge from the trees, she saw Bram explode in fury. His claymore flashed as he brought down man after man and Alex stood at his back to defend him.

They fought for their lives and in the midst of the battle, Callum seized a quiver of arrows from a dead archer. As he released the arrows, one after the other, he moved into the forest, moving straight towards her.

Marguerite didn’t move, not understanding why he was leaving his brothers behind. When he reached her side, he pulled her veil free and dropped it, pulling her to higher ground. She suddenly realised that the white colour had made her visible from below. And she was still in range of their arrows, where she’d been standing.

‘You can’t leave them behind,’ she pleaded, looking back at Bram, Alex and Nairna. ‘They need you.’

Callum’s face hardened and he climbed atop a large boulder, drawing back his bow. He released another stream of arrows toward the enemy, bringing down one man after another.

Shame reddened her cheeks when Marguerite realised she’d accused him of cowardice. That wasn’t it at all. He’d been moving into a position where he could better defend them.

‘I misunderstood,’ she apologised. ‘I’m sorry for what I said.’ By leaving his brothers and hiding within the trees, he’d gained a more strategic position, fighting where the enemy couldn’t see him.

Callum pointed to the top of the ridge, in a wordless order for her to join the other women. She understood, but hesitated, not wanting to leave him behind. ‘Thank you for protecting me,’ she whispered.

He lowered his bow for a moment. His brown eyes held a steady reassurance, as if he would never allow anyone to harm her. The look on his face was of a man prepared to die.

Marguerite reached down to the fallen veil and brought it to him, binding it slowly around his left forearm. ‘Take this,’ she said. ‘It will protect your arm from the bowstring.’

It was all she could give him. Callum remained motionless while she tied it off, then he covered her hand with his. The warmth of his palm reassured her, and he squeezed her hand in silent farewell. She didn’t know what would happen to either of them now, but she squeezed it back.

The rumble of horsemen approaching caught Marguerite’s attention. She saw two armies of men and, at the sight of the tall man leading the group, her heart soared. The Duc D’Avignois had come at last.

She started to move downhill, but Callum caught her by the arm. ‘It’s my father,’ she explained. ‘I have to see him.’ If she could reach the Duc in time, she might convince him to save the MacKinlochs.

She started to pull free, when something made her stop and turn around. Callum held his bow over one shoulder, his gaze shielded. He gave her a signal to leave, that he wouldn’t stop her. But she realised the truth of what was happening.

The moment she reached her father’s side, everything would return to the way it had been. She would be safe with her family, and likely she wouldn’t see Callum again.

Regret pulled at her, even though she’d known the moments between them were never going to last. They would fade into bittersweet memories.

‘I’ll never forget you,’ she whispered, touching his cheek in farewell.

Callum drew his bow as soon as Marguerite left the trees, intending to shoot any man who came near her. Two of her father’s guards escorted her to safety and she spoke to them, gesturing toward the MacKinlochs as if to intervene.

He kept low, crouching with his bow as he watched the men. Harkirk was still alive, but the body of Cairnross lay upon the ground, slaughtered by his brother Bram.

He should have been relieved that Marguerite would never marry the earl. Instead, angry resentment filled him up, that Bram had wrought justice instead of himself. He’d wanted to be the one to set her free.

More, he wanted to take the earl’s place as Marguerite’s husband. He touched the veil she’d bound around his arm as a makeshift guard and the softness reminded him of her.

I’ll never forget you.

He didn’t believe that. As soon as she returned to France, her father would arrange another marriage to a nobleman. She would wed the man, bear him children and forge a different life for herself. One that didn’t include him.

Callum watched as they brought a horse for her. He saw his brothers negotiating a truce while Harkirk’s men withdrew and Nairna spoke to the Duc. And just as he’d expected, Lady Marguerite rode away with her father. The evening sunset glinted upon her hair like a fading band of gold.

And he knew he would never see her again.