Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Tangled dreams warred within Callum’s mind. He was standing atop a stone tower, watching as his brother Alex fought to save his daughter’s life. Lord Harkirk had taken the young girl hostage, baiting them in an attempt to slaughter both Alex and Bram.

The bow felt awkward in his hands, though he’d never ceased practicing. From this distance, he couldn’t strike Harkirk without the risk of harming the child.

His brothers fought below while he held his arrow steady, waiting for an opportunity. In the eyes of Harkirk, he saw a man who reveled in torture and death.

Then, he saw Lady Harkirk and the pain upon her face. She had been trapped in her marriage, just as he’d been imprisoned and at her husband’s mercy. But she had been the one to save him, convincing Harkirk to accept the bribe and release him.

The brave courage in her face reminded him of Marguerite. Without hesitation, Callum released the arrow, watching it strike down the man who had been responsible for so much suffering. At last, Harkirk was dead.

The memory shifted again, and they rolled over Harkirk’s body. But instead of the baron’s face, he saw the frozen expression of Lord Penrith.

Callum awakened from the dream, shaken by what he’d seen. He’d killed Harkirk, months ago, just as he’d sworn to do. But instead of setting him free from all the nightmares, the death had plagued him for an unknown reason.

And then, to imagine killing Penrith . . . it made him wonder what sort of man he was becoming. It had enraged him to see Marguerite walking with the man, resting her hand upon his arm. The pair of them made a striking couple, both of them wealthy and attractive. The earl had looked upon her with the eyes of a man who appreciated what he saw.

While Callum was forced to watch them together. He didn’t know if he could remain here, not knowing whether Marguerite would find a way to escape the marriage. Violence and unrest simmered within him, and he might provoke a fight if he saw them together. He had to find a way to release the anger building inside him before he did something he regretted.

Marguerite found Callum waiting for her outside the stable when she went out riding with her father the next morning. His face was shielded, but in his expression, she saw a rigid exhaustion, as if he’d barely slept at all. Upon his back, his bow and quiver rested, as if he were prepared for any threat. He held the reins of both horses, leading them forward until he stood a short distance away.

The Duc noticed the weapons and strode over to take his horse. His eyes narrowed. “You’re not one of my men.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” The stable master came forward and said, “He is Iagar’s cousin and needed a place to work. He’s helped in the stables this past sennight and has done well here.”

Callum met the Duc’s eyes with a steady look of his own. Marguerite wondered if she should intervene and vouch for Callum. Instinct warned her to say nothing, though she saw him watching her surreptitiously.

“I know your face,” Guy said. “I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

When Callum gave no reply, the Duc demanded, “Well? Have you nothing to say?”

“He cannot speak, Your Grace,” the stable master intervened. “His tongue was cut out, so we believe.”

“Has it?” Her father studied Callum, and his eyes hardened as he turned to Marguerite. “Do you know this man?”

She didn’t know what to say, afraid of betraying them both. Never had she lied to her father, but she had also seen his ruthless nature. If Guy de Montpierre knew what had happened between them, Callum would pay the price with his life.

“No,” she said quietly. “I do not know him.”

Callum handed over the reins and helped her on to her horse. The touch of his hands upon her waist evoked the memory of how he’d gripped her bare hips the previous morning. She’d lost herself in abandonment, the forbidden touch arousing her as she took him within her body.

Marguerite couldn’t look at him, for her cheeks were burning from the vision. Was she making the right decision by lying to her father? She didn’t know.

But she saw the coldness on Callum’s face at her denial, and there was nothing she could say to him. He never once met her gaze, behaving like nothing more than a servant.

It broke away the pieces of her heart, for this wasn’t where he belonged. Callum was a fighter like his brothers. He was a servant to no man, and she couldn’t bear to treat him as such.

He didn’t like this situation any more than she did. Would he leave, as she’d wanted him to, days ago? Or would he stay, forcing her to see him, reminding her of what she stood to lose?

Guy mounted his horse and led her away from the castle toward the coast. Marguerite knew it was only an excuse to speak to her alone. Her nerves grew brittle, half-afraid of what he would say. When they were half a mile from the gates, her father slowed the pace of his horse, riding alongside her.

“What do you think of the Earl of Penrith?” His expression remained neutral, as if waiting to gauge her response. “We finished drawing up the betrothal agreement last night, and it will be signed and witnessed this day, if you agree to it.”

Marguerite didn’t know how to answer. If she admitted that she had no intention of wedding the earl, her father would demand to know why. Her courage faltered, and she hedged her answer. “Lord Penrith is still a stranger to me. I can only hope he would be better than Lord Cairnross.”

“Cairnross never once mistreated you, did he?” Guy’s tone was defensive, irritated at her accusation.

Marguerite stopped her horse and regarded her father. “He killed my maid. I left the fortress because it wasn’t safe to remain there.”

“He wouldn’t have hurt you,” her father argued, dismissing the idea.

But Guy's rationalization only heightened her anger. “I couldn’t know that. And you had already gone to Edinburgh, so I had to make the decision on my own.”

A cold expression slid over her father’s face. “What you did was reckless and dangerous. Going off with strangers, and a clan chief you didn’t know. They could have violated you, or—”

“They did not harm me,” she interrupted.

“The fact remains that you lived with a group of savages, like a common peasant.” His tone held only disdain.

She stared at him in disbelief. “Is that what you thought of the MacKinlochs? They gave me sanctuary, putting their own lives at risk. For me, a woman they hardly knew.” It outraged her that he would call them savage.

“I spoke on their behalf to the king. Whatever debt was owed to their clan, I have satisfied. Now we must lay the past to rest.” His voice softened, but the iron within it was unmistakable. “Beatrice told me that you disobeyed my orders, and you spent a night alone in the forest.”

Marguerite didn’t deny it, and the fear began closing in. “She locked me in my room. I was angry.”

“She was protecting you, according to my orders.”

“I was given no food for over a day. I needed to get out of the castle.” Color flooded her face, and she struggled to think of a way to explain her actions.

The Duc eyed her with suspicion. “There is a rumor that a man helped you escape the castle.” His back stiffened, and his gaze became piercing. “Whether or not it is true, I think you understand me perfectly, Marguerite. You will marry as soon as possible, and it is why I chose a man who doesn’t care if his wife is a virgin.”

Her cheeks flamed with humiliation, for he was right. She’d willingly surrendered her body to Callum with no regrets. Never had she experienced anything like his lovemaking, and to her shame, she wanted him again. To wake up in his arms, to share his life and bear him children would mean everything.

Before she could speak, her father added, “You should know, that there are noblemen who refused to have you, after your association with the MacKinloch Clan.”

“Then they weren’t honorable men,” she responded. “I owe a great deal to the MacKinlochs.” Her heart caught as she thought of Callum once more. “I have no regrets over the choices I made.”

With a sigh, he drew his horse to a stop. “You always did have a soft heart, Marguerite. Like your mother.” A faint smile creased his mouth, and her frustration dissolved.

Guy was still the father who had sat her upon his knee, telling her stories. He’d been the only parent she’d ever known, for her mother had died when she was barely two. Though she’d been fostered with another family in Navarre, her relationship with her father had always been close. He’d visited her often, bringing gifts.

“Don’t be afraid of this marriage,” he reassured her. “I believe Penrith can provide everything you would ever want.”

She tried to smile, but he’d spoken the same words when he’d arranged her betrothal to Cairnross. “Can you . . . delay the betrothal a little longer?” she asked. “I want to be certain the earl is a good man.” Once the formal agreement was made, it was nigh impossible to break it.

Her father reached out and cupped her chin. “As I said before, there can be no delay.” He turned back toward the castle, and Marguerite followed him, keeping a slight distance behind. After he entered the gates, she saw other men arriving, friends who had come to witness the betrothal. She held back, feeling uncertain about all that had happened.

A faint cracking noise sounded behind her, and when she turned, she saw Callum upon his own horse, watching them from the trees. What was he doing here?

He beckoned, and Marguerite cast a nervous look back at her father. The Duc might come after her if he discovered her missing. But then, she could spare a moment or two.

Curiosity won out, so she rode toward him. Callum took the reins of her horse and urged both of the horses deeper into the forest, until they were well out of view of the castle gates.

When he drew the horses to a stop, he dismounted and lifted her down.

“What is it?” she breathed. “What has happened?”

His eyes turned fierce, and he framed her face with his hands. Against her cheeks, she felt the warmth of his breath.

“Mine,” he said harshly. His mouth came upon hers, branding her with a kiss that took apart her senses. She kissed him back, glorying in the rush of desire that pooled through her. He touched her spine, his hands moving down to her bottom. She held him close, feeling the sensation of his body against hers.

When she pulled back, her lips felt sensitive and swollen. “Yes, I am yours,” she whispered.

Hearing his voice was a gift she’d never expected. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask, but she was afraid she would only frustrate him if he couldn’t find the words. Callum looked as if he wanted to say more, but the only words he could manage were, “Come. Now.”

He wanted her to leave with him for Glen Arrin at this very moment. Upon his horse, she saw supplies to last for several days. And though it tempted her, she could not abandon her father and home without any word of explanation. The Duc would only send an army of soldiers after them, and there was not enough time for them to reach safety.

“I can’t,” she told him. “I need time to convince my father.” When he looked unconvinced, she added, “If I go with you now, they’ll find us.” She rested her palm upon his cheek. “They would hurt you and your family. I can’t let that happen.”

Callum struggled to speak again, and she waited, hoping he could let out the words. In the end, he closed off his thoughts and lifted her back on to her horse.

She rode back to the castle, but he remained behind, watching.

Seeing her with the earl was like a slow poison, blistering him with jealousy. Callum spent the remainder of the day working on countless tasks to distract him from thinking of them together. He’d eavesdropped on the man’s servants, for if there was any hint of cruelty, he would hear it from them.

But most had a jovial mood, behaving as if they were well-treated. They were here to serve Penrith and bring back his bride to England. Callum wasn’t about to let that happen. He’d kidnap her first.

The endless waiting was trying his patience. He didn’t believe Lady Marguerite could extricate herself from her father’s command, any more than she could escape the marriage. The only reason he hadn’t ignored her wishes and carried her off was because it would hurt her. She cared about her father and was loyal to him, just as he was close to his brothers.

But with every moment she spent here, it was too easy for her to fall into their trappings. He was powerless to stop it, and frustration seethed inside him like an unholy creature clawing its way out. His hands itched for a bow and arrows, and as the afternoon waned, he retrieved them. An hour spent practicing might ease the frustration rising inside him.

Callum left the castle gates, starting toward the forest, when he heard voices ahead. It was Iagar Campbell, along with a handful of others. All were armed.

Iagar had mentioned trying to free some prisoners, and although Callum didn’t know the details, it didn’t matter. He yearned for a fight, to use his weapons and release the restlessness plaguing him. Though he was wary of joining them, there was no greater cause than to grant another Scot his freedom.

Deliberately, he stepped upon a dry stick, and the cracking noise alerted the others.

“MacKinloch,” Iagar greeted him. The others stared at him with distrust, and their discussion ceased at once. “Did you decide to join us, then?”

Callum gave a single nod and raised his bow in answer.

One of the older men, Sileas, stared at him with a suspicious eye. “Why would you want that one? He’s no good to us. A half-wit, isn’t he?”

The cold anger clenched beneath Callum's skin, rising for a fight. Were it a younger man who’d spoken, he might have unleashed his temper, proving who the real half-wit was. Instead, he took slow steps toward the man in a silent threat.

Iagar intervened, placing himself between them. “I know the MacKinlochs,” he said. “They’re loyal to our cause.”

Doubt and distrust marred the mood, causing dissent among the men. Iagar reminded them, “We could use an archer.” He sent a questioning look toward Callum. “If you’re willing.”

There was risk involved in this fight, for he didn’t know the men or where they were going. Yet, neither could he remain on the castle grounds watching Marguerite with her intended husband. If he didn’t occupy himself somehow, the jealousy and madness would consume him.

He inclined his head in agreement.

Before Iagar could speak again, another man intervened, “We don’t even know him.” Staring hard, he added, “He might tell the Duc about the raid.”

“He can’t speak,” Iagar responded. “There is nothing to fear.”

Sileas’s eyes gleamed, a thin smile spreading over his face. “Then he couldn’t betray us if he wanted to.”

Callum made no effort to prove him wrong. Though he’d spoken a few words to Marguerite, each one had been a struggle. He didn’t know what was preventing him from speaking, but the morning he’d spent as her lover had somehow slashed through the barrier of his voice. He was fighting for every word, hoping that somehow he would regain enough of his voice to convince her to leave with him. Being around her was changing him inside, healing the scars of his imprisonment.

As the men continued discussing their plans to raid a garrison a few miles to the south, he thought of all the nights he’d spent imprisoned, wishing someone would save him. He’d been a captive since the age of twelve, and the years of imprisonment had changed him. He didn’t know how to live like a normal man, how to carve a life for himself.

The thought dug into his conscience like a dull blade, scraping the heart of his frustration. He needed a purpose, a way to provide for the woman he wanted. And the only thing he knew how to do was wield a bow and fight alongside his brothers. It might not be enough.

“He’s got a horse, hasn’t he?”

The unexpected words broke through Callum’s musing, snapping him back to attention. Before the others could voice their opinions, he shook his head in refusal. No one was going to take his horse from him.

“We’ll get there faster with horses, MacKinloch,” Iagar protested. “We need yours.”

But the stallion was his only way to return to Glen Arrin, his homeland. He wasn’t about to let them use his horse and possibly lose it in a raid. Callum unsheathed his dirk in a dark warning. He shook his head in refusal.

Iagar raised his hands in false surrender. “It was only a suggestion. We’ll leave it here, if that’s your wish.” But the words held a note of anger, echoed by the men who looked irritated at his refusal.

Callum lowered the dirk and returned it to his belt, ignoring their grumbling. The horse was safer, left behind in the stables than with these men.

He hung back while the others disappeared into the darkness. Iagar moved to walk alongside him. “I’m glad you’ve joined us, MacKinloch. We’ve a greater chance of succeeding with more men.”

His fist clenched around the bow he’d slung over one shoulder. The lines in Iagar’s face relaxed, and when they had gone far enough away from view of the castle, they stopped to build a fire and light torches.

This raid was a reckless effort, but if they freed even a few prisoners, it was worth it to join them. Callum cast a look back at the castle, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake.