Callum pointed for his brother to set it down on a table. ‘Send for our mother and I’ll stay with her.’
‘You’re what she needs most right now, Callum.’ Nairna touched his shoulder and returned to her husband, closing the door behind her.
When they were gone, he sat down again at Marguerite’s side. Though she had finally overcome the effects of being too cold, the fever worried him. Perspiration dampened her brow and she was so pale that he didn’t know if he’d done enough to save her.
Months ago, she had come to him. She’d bathed him and tended his wounds, letting him rest his head upon her lap. Her compassion had reached past his shadowed mind, granting him peace for the first time.
It felt awkward, speaking to her when she was unconscious, but Callum sensed that she was there, somehow. That she would hear him.
He moved beside her in the bed, pulling her close. She was so hot, he didn’t think it was wise for her to be wearing so many heavy clothes. With the greatest care, he undressed her, easing the cote off until she wore only her chemise. The linen clung to her skin and he brought her head to rest upon his chest.
‘I won’t let you go, Marguerite. Not in life. Not in death.’ He pressed his mouth against her temple, stroking her hair again. ‘I’ve fought too hard for you.’
The weariness of the nights he’d spent keeping vigil were starting to press against his resolve. ‘You’re going to wed me, when you’re better. I’ll build you a house, anywhere you like.’
A seed of regret pulled inside him that he could never give her a castle like this one. ‘It won’t be very big, but it will do well enough for us.’
Around her neck, he spied the chain holding the glass pendant he’d given her. She’d worn it, even when she was leaving him.
He lifted up the chain, the slight weight resting in his palm. Formed of glass, it should have been fragile, yet it remained strong. Like her.
Callum took a breath and began speaking again. He filled her ears with stories, talking to her until his voice grew hoarse. The memory of her had pulled him out of the greatest darkness, when he’d suffered beneath the lash. If his voice would somehow do the same for her, he’d speak for as long as he could.
When at last he was too tired to say another word, he stretched out beside her, holding her in his arms. As if he could bind her to him, forcing her to stay.
* * *
When his mother Grizel arrived the next morning, she brought a foul-smelling tea.
‘They told me you’re speaking again.’ She eyed Callum with a curt nod, as if it mattered not at all to her. ‘It’s about time, isn’t it?’
He ignored her brusque manner. His mother could never be accused of soft-heartedness. ‘Can you save Marguerite?’
‘I’ve a tea that will help bring down the fever. But you shouldn’t have moved her. When a body grows too cold, it’s better to warm her slowly. You might have killed her by journeying this far.’
Grizel’s abrasive manner made him bristle. ‘I was trying to save her.’ He guided Marguerite to a seated position, supporting her in his arms.
His mother set down the tea and studied them both. ‘How long has it been since she opened her eyes?’
‘Four days.’ He didn’t miss the look of resignation on Grizel’s face. She likely didn’t believe Marguerite would live much longer. Even so, she continued her questioning.
‘And how have you managed to give her food and water? I presume she can’t drink on her own.’
Colour rose to his cheeks, but he admitted, ‘I put my mouth upon hers and forced her to drink.’
Grizel lifted the tea to him, her expression discerning. ‘Keep doing the same, to make her drink the tea. And if she awakens, send for me.’
If. Not when. The worry gnawed at his composure, but he forced himself to nod.
His mother’s gaze moved from him back to Marguerite. ‘She was always too fine for a man like you, but I’ll grant that she had courage.’
He had no reply for her framed insult, for it was true. He could only hope that if Marguerite regained her strength, his poverty wouldn’t matter to her.
Before Grizel closed the door, she added, ‘I am glad you returned, Callum.’ With a faltering smile, she departed.
He rested his cheek against Marguerite’s, apologising for his mother, in case she had overheard any of it. As time passed, he fed her the foul-smelling tea, his lips upon hers to ensure that she drank it.
* * *
He continued talking, all through the day and into the night, telling her about the years he’d spent imprisoned. Of how he’d regained his skill with a bow and arrows, and the nights he’d dreamed of her.
‘If I could fight this battle for you, I would,’ he swore. She’d done everything in her power to come back to him. The thought of losing her now was like a dull knife within him. He held her feverish body close, feeling the desolation wash over him. Her heartbeat was so frail, her breathing laboured.
She might not live to see the morning. The thought was worse than any torture. He’d faced his own death, time and again, until it no longer held any threat over him. Death was inevitable for every man. But nothing frightened him more than losing Marguerite.
‘You’re everything to me,’ he told her. ‘Don’t let go.’
And when at last he could stay awake no longer, he slept with her cradled against his heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Her eyes wouldn’t open. Marguerite felt a man’s body against hers and she snuggled instinctively into his warm skin. Inside, her stomach was aching from lack of food, but she had not the strength to speak.
She’d glimpsed the peaceful Heaven that awaited her and the temptation to leave behind the pain and suffering was strong. But a man kept talking to her, telling her stories about his boyhood. The familiar voice was chaining her to him, pulling her away from Death’s arms.
‘Marguerite.’ The voice of Callum broke through her reverie, reaching towards her. She felt his lips against hers and a cool liquid entered her mouth. Was it water? She tried to taste it and when she moved her lips, she heard his encouragement.
‘Drink,’ he urged. ‘That’s it.’
The sweetness of the water reminded her of the waterfalls from the mountains. Clear and pure, it quenched her thirst. Though she couldn’t yet open her eyes, the touch of Callum’s mouth captivated her.
Something else moved against her mouth and she tasted a broth. This time, she drank too fast and choked. She coughed to clear her throat and he rubbed her back, trying to help.
At last she opened her eyes and saw him holding her. Callum’s face held weariness and his long black hair hung against his shoulders.
‘You look terrible,’ she managed. As if he’d been imprisoned once more, his face was gaunt, the sleeplessness etched in the shadows beneath his eyes. ‘You ought to bathe.’
The thankfulness eased across his face in a relieved smile. ‘I’ll let you bathe me, when you’ve regained your strength.’
With that, he gathered her in his arms and held her tight. In his embrace, she felt the fierce love and she tried to lift her arms around his neck. ‘I’m sorry to have been so much trouble,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember what happened after I jumped from the ship.’
‘You spent hours without shelter,’ he told her. ‘I didn’t find you until morning and you nearly died.’
‘I remember…how cold I was.’ The exertion of speaking was starting to hurt
and she rested her head against him.
‘You’re safe now. We brought you back to Glen Arrin.’ There was a gruffness in his voice and a moment later, he sat up, tucking her into the bed. ‘When you’ve recovered, you’re going to wed me.’
‘I am?’ Her voice was weak, but his proclamation amused her. ‘You’re not going to ask me?’
‘No.’ He rested both hands on her shoulders. ‘If I have to chain you to my side, I’ll be wedding you. You won’t have a choice in this, Marguerite.’ His expression had darkened, and she saw the suffering he’d endured over the past few days.
‘I love you,’ he said. The words washed over her, filling her with light that pushed away the shadows of the past. Callum’s eyes held the look of a man who would worship her for the rest of her life. And it was enough.
Lifting her hands to his face, she drew him down to kiss her. It was a kiss of welcome, of a promise to stay with him.
‘I will marry you,’ she promised. ‘Nothing would give me greater happiness.’
* * *
The wedding was delayed by the early birth of Laren’s twins. Marguerite was enchanted by the tiny infants, but when Alex handed her his newborn daughter to hold, she felt awkward and clumsy.
The girl’s head was no larger than her palm. When she tucked the sleeping infant beneath her chin, she marvelled at the soft skin. Callum came up behind her and drew his arms around her waist. ‘She’s a wee one, isn’t she?’
‘She’s beautiful. I’m half-afraid I’ll drop her.’
‘If you’re wanting me to, I could give you one of those,’ he offered against her ear. ‘Tonight, after we wed.’
At the reminder, Marguerite’s face flushed. It had been some time since she’d lain with him and she sensed that he would be insatiable once they were together again. She kissed the babe upon her forehead and passed her back to Laren.
To Callum, she murmured, ‘I wouldn’t mind having a child.’ Standing on tiptoe, she whispered in his ear, ‘I cannot wait until this night.’
She deliberately let her lips graze against his ear and Callum took her hand, starting to lead her away. Marguerite laughed at his eagerness. ‘Not now,’ she protested. ‘I want to go and visit with Nairna.’
‘She can wait.’ Callum continued walking, ignoring his brother and Laren. A flush came over Marguerite’s face, for she’d only just regained her strength a few days ago. He wasn’t planning to…seduce her, was he? In spite of her attempt to remain calm, she wanted to feel his hands upon her, to surrender her body beneath his.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, trying to sound more dispassionate than she felt.
‘To see the house I built for you.’ Callum led her outside the fortress, into the hills. The sun was shining, and it would only be hours until the visiting priest arrived and they could marry and enjoy feasting with the rest of the clan.
He led her past the small gathering of huts, toward the pathway that went into the forest. About a mile into the woods, she saw a small clearing with a newly finished thatched house. The smell of fresh wood shavings made her smile, and he led her inside, showing her the hearth and the bed against the far wall.
‘When we have children, we’ll make it larger,’ he promised. ‘But for now…’ In his expression, she saw the shadow of regret, as if he’d wanted to give her more.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said, moving into his arms. And it was. She didn’t care that it was nothing but a simple home with four walls and a roof. Within the forest, it reminded her of the forbidden days they’d spent together. She could be happy here, with him.
But though she drew her arms around Callum to kiss him, she couldn’t let go of the sense of unrest. She’d fought hard to love this man and to share her life with him, yet the shadow of fear lurked within her.
His mouth came over her lips in a fierce kiss, his hands moving down her spine. ‘Tonight you won’t sleep, Marguerite. For I’ll be inside you, showing you all the ways I love you.’
She couldn’t catch her breath as his tongue invaded, stroking hers with sensual promise. Her body seemed to melt into his, wanting more.
‘I’m going to touch you all the ways I’ve been dreaming about, these past few weeks,’ he swore.
He rose hard against her, pressing at the juncture of her thighs. She lifted her leg against him, her heart pounding faster as his hand moved under her skirts, feeling for the bare flesh. His rough palms moved over her bottom and when he reached between her legs, she felt two of his fingers pushing inside her.
A ragged curse came from him as he rubbed her intimately. ‘You’re wet for me, Marguerite. God above, I could sheathe myself in you right now.’
In answer, she reached for his trews, stroking the thick heat of him through the wool. He withdrew and entered his fingers in a slow rhythm, making her close her eyes as the sweet torment claimed her.
‘Look at me,’ he commanded. ‘Look into my eyes while I touch you. I want to see you come apart.’
She clung to his shoulders for balance, a sigh escaping as her body strained against his touch. Over and over, he moved his hand, his fingers caressing deep within. The ecstasy was making her tremble, her breathing coming in short pants as he thrust again and again.
She moved against him, seeking the pleasure he was trying to give, until finally, his hand moved in a faster rhythm, shattering her apart. Her release was a shimmering ecstasy that convulsed within her. She reached for him, wanting desperately to give him the same fulfilment.
‘Callum!’ came a shout.
The dangerous look in her lover’s eyes made her lower her leg. ‘I may have to murder my younger brother, sweet. Stay here while I go and kill him for interrupting us.’
Marguerite straightened her skirts and sat down on the bed, hardly able to stand. ‘Quickly, then,’ she answered with a smile. Inside, her body was molten, aching for him. She tried to calm herself when she heard the voices outside, wondering what this was about. A moment later, Callum returned to her and retrieved his bow and a quiver of arrows.
The look upon his face was harsh and unforgiving. The foreboding within her stomach took root and swelled. ‘What is it?’ she whispered.
‘Soldiers gathering from the west.’
Her heart sank and the tremulous fear rose up so hard, she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. ‘English?’ she ventured.
He shook his head slowly. ‘It’s your father’s men, come to invade Glen Arrin. Stay here, Marguerite. Whatever happens, don’t leave this house.’
* * *
Callum rode out with his brothers, cold rage cloaking his mood. He didn’t know what had prompted the Duc to make this journey, but he intended to face down the man and make him leave.
Better if he believed Marguerite was dead. No doubt he’d come to make sure of it.
He joined with Alex and Bram, while Dougal stayed with the women. The other clansmen armed themselves, positioned on every side of the fortress. There had been time to evacuate the rest of the women and children to Bram’s house at the top of the hillside.
‘Do they know she’s here?’ Alex asked.
Callum could only shake his head. ‘Let them believe that she’s dead. It’s her only hope of gaining her freedom.’
‘Where is Marguerite now?’
‘She’s hidden in the forest, in our house.’ He drew his horse forward, riding toward the army of men. It infuriated him that the Duc would come this night, the night they were meant to mar
ry. Was there no way the man would ever let them be?
‘Steady your temper, Brother,’ Alex warned.
Bram came along the opposite side, his expression grim. ‘The priest is with them.’
Callum let out a curse. If they’d found the priest, then the man might have confessed the truth, that Marguerite was here and they would marry tonight.
‘Somehow, I don’t believe the Duc came to witness our marriage,’ he said. More likely to prevent it.
But still he kept moving forward until the army spread out. He reached into his quiver for a black-feathered arrow and nocked it to his bowstring. Let them come, if they would.
‘What do you want to do?’ Alex asked.
‘Allow them to make the first move.’ Callum kept the arrow fitted, waiting for the Duc to make his decision. ‘We’ll make no assumptions until we know why they’re here.’
The soldiers behind him were dressed for a battle. They wore chainmail armour and all had spears, bows and other weapons. A second row of horsemen stood, prepared for a fight.
Neither army moved and time slowed as they stared at one another. Callum realised that the Duc would not believe him if he claimed Marguerite was not here. He would turn over every stone, searching every house until they found her.
He didn’t want to kill Marguerite’s father, or be placed in a position where he had no choice but to take the Duc’s life. The silence weighed upon both sides, but a quarter of an hour later, movement attracted their attention.
Callum saw a group of women walking in the space between the two sides. Nairna had changed into a loose-fitting gown of silk, struggling to walk with her swollen belly. Her hair was braided back, with flowers woven into the strands. Beside her walked Laren, carrying both babies. Though Alex’s wife had her arms full, she, too, was clad in wedding finery. Behind them, he could see nothing but the glint of golden hair.
Tempted by the Highland Warrior Page 23
