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
The 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 marri
age, 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 b
reathing 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.
MacKinloch 03 - Tempted by the Highland Warrior Page 19
