Chapter Fourteen

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 estate 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, and 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 molding 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. And 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 cote, 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, and though 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.

“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 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 fulfill 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, that 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 toward 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, toward 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 tightly. 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 anymore?” 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 toward 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 won’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 of them sharing a horse. But he had to try.

“I won’t give you up,” he said against her ear. She leaned forward, holding on 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 who was 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 he 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 labored, her flanks slick with sweat.

Marguerite went so still and quiet, 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 toward 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, signaling 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, and she moved toward one of the soldiers, recognizing 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 toward 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.

The Duc’s expression was grave, and he said nothing to her. When a few minutes had passed, Marguerite ordered, “Send the soldiers back to Duncraig, Your Grace.” The word ‘Father’ was heavy upon her tongue, and she found she could no longer call him that.

Guy de Montpierre studied her, then gave the order. The soldiers drew back, and only when they were gone, did she retreat. Lord Penrith drew his horse beside Marguerite, taking the reins of her mare, and leading her toward the coast.

She went with him, fully aware of the earl's anger. “You brought my father here, didn’t you?” He must have gathered the Duc’s men, as soon as she’d departed. Or had he followed her?

He gave a nod. “I knew MacKinloch would come back for you.”

She raised confused eyes to his. “I didn’t even know he was alive.”

“A man like Callum MacKinloch won’t die easily. Especially not when he has a woman like you to live for.”

Marguerite didn’t know what to say, so she fell into silence as they rode the remaining distance to the shore line. A large ship awaited them just off the coast. Servants had loaded up smaller boats and were bringing supplies back and forth. Her own trunks were among them.

The earl helped her down from her horse and gave the mare over to a servant. “You think I do not understand you,” he said. “You think I can’t possibly know what it is to love someone you cannot be with.” A stoic expression came over his face. “But you would be wrong.”

In his eyes, she saw the mirrored frustration of loss. The earl was marrying her out of obligation, nothing more.

“We would not be happy, either of us,” she said.

“No,” he admitted. “But you, at least, would not ask for more than I can give.” A twisted smile overtook his face. “It would not be so bad, Marguerite.”

The earl took her hand and walked with her toward the boat. He never let go of her, and when they were inside, he ordered the men to row them to the larger ship.

Marguerite turned to look at the gray water, feeling as if pieces of herself were drifting away on the waves. When she raised her eyes to the hills, there was no sign of Callum or his brothers. They had gone.

The emptiness filled up every part of her, covering her with such desolation, she could hardly breathe. Her hands were cold, and when the earl guided her on board the larger ship, she left his side, walking to the bow. She rested her arms upon the wood, feeling the wind sweep past her face and hair.

All around her, the men continued loading the ship, and her father boarded among the last of them. From her peripheral vision, it appeared that he wanted to speak with her. His expression looked tired, as if he’d aged a dozen years.

Afternoon shifted into evening, and at last, the Duc came to stand by her side. “We’ll sail south for a few hours and then drop anchor for the night,” he informed her.

Normally, they would not sail until the morning tide, but she knew this was to put more distance between her and the MacKinloch men.

“Marguerite, did you hear what I said?” He touched her arm, and she jerked back.

“I have nothing at all to say to you.”

“We let him go,” her father said. “I kept my word to you, to let him live.”

Slowly, she faced him. He stood before her as the man she’d once adored, the man who had been the only parent she remembered.

“Why?” she asked softly. “Why is it so important to you that I wed the earl and not Callum? My sisters have already made strong marriages. You don’t need this alliance.”

“You are my last daughter. I want what is best for you.”

“You don’t see what is best for me. I want to live with the man who will love me for the rest of my life. Other men see only my rich dowry. But Callum sees me.” The wind grew colder against her skin, and the ship began to move upon the water. “None of that matters to you, does it?”

“Let him go, Marguerite. He’s not good enough for you.”

She didn’t bother wasting words, trying to convince a blind man to see the truth. Instead, she walked away from him, needing to distance herself from everyone and be alone with her thoughts.

Her mind was in turmoil, like the waves sloshing against the side of the ship. With each mile that passed, she saw her chance at happiness slipping away.

Not once had Callum ever given up. He’d traveled endless days to find her. Even at the end, he’d fought to bring her away with him.

The icy water seemed to taunt her, pulling her away from the man she loved. The servants had set out a light meal for the others, and they called out for her to join them. She ignored their summons, not at all hungry.

Behind her, she heard the sounds of the men eating, and voices whispering about her. No doubt they were congratulating themselves for saving her from the MacKinlochs.

She hated them for it.

When darkness spilled over the sky, overshadowing the sun, the earl returned to her again. He stood beside her, his hands resting upon the side of the boat. “Are you well, Marguerite?”

“You know that I am not.” She let out a sigh, her hands twisting together.

“Words will not reassure you, will they?”

She shook her head. “If the one you loved was standing on that shore, and you were in my place, what would you do?”

He grew very still, not answering for a long time. Then he admitted, “I would leave the ship.”

Marguerite faced him and took both of his hands in hers. “Both of us are behaving like cowards. You don’t truly wish to wed me, for you love someone else.”

“It is different for me.”

“Is it? You’re the Earl of Penrith. You own dozens of estates, and there is no reason why you should not seize your own happiness.”

“Already I am treated as an outcast, because I have his favor. Many men have sought to kill me for what I am. The Church believes—”

“Are you happy, living like this?” she interrupted.

The earl remained silent, staring out at the water. “No. But I haven’t a choice.”

“Is there no one else who could be your heir?”

He shook his head slowly. “My brothers are dead. I am the last of my family, and if I do not have an heir, I forfeit my lands to the king.” A melancholy edged his face, and he added, “You see, you are not the only one with much to lose.”

His arm came around her shoulders, and the gesture brought her a slight comfort. “Marguerite, if I could find a way out for either of us, I would take it.”

She swallowed hard, feeling the fear overtake her. “There is a way. But you won’t like it.”

His hand tightened upon her shoulder. “Tell me.”

“Let her go, Callum,” Alex advised. “The Duc released us, and if you seek her again, I doubt if he’ll let you live.”

“I’m riding to the coast,” he responded. “To watch her go.”

His brother Bram rested his hand upon his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Brother. We tried.”

“She did it to save us,” he said quietly. She’d sacrificed herself for all of them, granting them their lives.

“We’ll set up camp here,” Alex said. “Go to the shore, if that’s your wish. We’ll be here when you return.”

Callum gave them a nod and mounted Goliath, urging his horse toward the beach. The animal kept up a strong pace, and when they reached the place where the ship had departed, the memories overtook him.

Here, he’d taught Marguerite to swim, before warming her with a fire and joining with her. He remembered what it was to be inside her, watching her face flush with a shattering pleasure. And the night he’d been in chains, she had come to him, offering herself.

God above, but he loved her. He loved her quiet beauty and her courage. The way she’d taught him to write, offering him a way out of the suffocating silence. Letting her go was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

And even now, he found it impossible to turn his back on her.

Callum watched the ship sailing further out, before he drew his horse south, paralleling its path until it grew too dark to see the white sails billowing in the wind.

Drawing Goliath to a halt, he watched the ship disappear into the mist. No other woman would ever mean as much to him as Marguerite. But she was gone from him now, and he had no choice but to release her.

He lowered his head to his horse, closing his eyes against the pain of losing this woman. But there was nothing more he could have done.

Nothing at all.

“You cannot do this,” the earl insisted.

“My father will never let me go, unless he believes I’m dead,” Marguerite said. “It’s the only way.”

“And if you do die?”

“Then I won’t have to suffer, living without Callum.”

“It’s reckless and foolish.” The earl shook his head, denying it. “I can’t allow it.”

“Listen to me,” she whispered. She reached up and held his cheeks between her hands. “I want both of us to be happy. Go back to England. Bring the one you love into your home, and let me go.”

She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “I want to do this, Lord Penrith.”

“Peter,” he corrected. Though he didn’t smile, she saw regret upon his face. “I’m going to lose your dowry aren’t I?”

“If I can ever find a way to repay you, I would give up every last jewel I possess.”

He let out a breath. “I know I’m going to regret this.”

“Trust me,” she promised. “All will be well.” He embraced her, and within his arms, there was no hint of attraction between them. He might as well have been a close brother.

“I will pray for you,” he offered.

“And I for your own happiness.” Though inwardly, the terror roiled against her stomach, it was time to put her fears aside and seize what she wanted. Even if it meant the greatest risk of all.

“There’s just enough light,” she said. “I have to go now.”

“You’re certain?”

She nodded.

“Then take this with you.” He pulled a spare oar from the side of the boat. “It will aid you on your journey.”

She rested it against the side of the boat and embraced him again. “Help me, with my outer garments won’t you? The weight will pull me under if I wear all of them.”

Lord Penrith leaned in and kissed her as a lover would, letting the others believe what they wanted. The kiss was warm and though it did nothing to arouse her, the way Callum’s mouth did, it gave him the chance to unlace her surcoat, loosening it from her shoulders. When he pulled back, he blocked her from view and Marguerite lifted it away, dropping it upon the floor of the boat. Though she worried about the weight of her cote and chemise, she might need the warmth when she made it to land later.

She took the oar in her hand and sent the earl a smile. “Seek your own happiness, my lord. Just as I will.”

And with that, she stepped overboard, holding tightly to the wood as the frigid water closed over her head.