Tempted by the Highland Warrior (14 page)

She felt nervous beneath his gaze, not knowing what to say to
him. He crossed the Hall and when he reached her side, he asked, ‘We have a
little time before the meal is prepared. Perhaps you might wish to show me the
grounds until the food is ready?’

Though she nodded her agreement, leading him from the Hall, she
didn’t want to spend any time with this man, nor lead him to believe that they
could have a successful marriage.

The earl started walking within the inner bailey and offered
her his arm. Marguerite took it and he said, ‘You appear frightened of me.
There’s no need.’

‘We’ve only just met,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t know you at
all.’

He stopped walking and regarded her. ‘Your father told me many
stories of your beauty and your virtue. I thought he was exaggerating, as all
fathers do. But it seems, in this instance, he was right.’

Not about my virtue
, Marguerite
thought. As if in response to her thoughts, she saw Callum leading another horse
into the stables. The look on his face was emotionless, as if he didn’t care
whether she was there or not. It dug into her feelings, making her wonder if he
knew that she had no choice. The invisible web of captivity was closing in on
her and she didn’t know how to unravel it.

‘It has been a difficult year,’ Marguerite confessed to the
earl. ‘The last man I was betrothed to turned out to be a liar and a
murderer.’

‘Cairnross was a powerful man,’ Lord Penrith said. ‘But anyone
could see that he was cruel.’

‘And you are not?’ she prodded.

He sent her a chagrined smile. ‘I am a man of many
complexities. But I am not cruel. And I have every intention of treating my wife
with the greatest respect.’ Though his tone was light, she sensed something else
behind his claim.

Raising her eyes to his, she saw friendliness there, but
nothing more. He did not look upon her with a lustful eye, nor as a man bent
upon possessing her. She let out a slow breath. Even so, she would withhold
judgement until she knew this man better.

As they continued walking throughout the grounds, she was
intensely aware of Callum. Though he ought to understand that she had to be
courteous to her father’s guest, she could feel the silent accusation. And she
sensed his jealousy, burning into her with a darkness that chafed her heart.

It was wrong, letting the earl believe that she could possibly
be his wife. Dishonourable to stand at his side and let the lies of omission
make her into a woman she wasn’t. When they reached the garden, she stopped
walking.

‘Lord Penrith,’ she murmured. ‘I wish to be honest with you.’
She reached for the edges of her courage, hoping he would understand.

‘Have I done something to offend you?’ he asked, his eyes
narrowing.

‘No.’ She searched for the right words, to make him understand.
‘But you have journeyed a great distance on my behalf and I do not believe I
would make a good wife for you.’

He stopped walking. ‘And why is that? I have been here only a
few minutes.’ His gaze narrowed upon her and, before she could speak, he
predicted, ‘Or do you have feelings for someone else?’

Slowly, she nodded her head. ‘You deserve a wife who could love
you.’

A half-smile twisted his face. ‘I have little interest in love,
Lady Marguerite. It matters not to me whether or not we have feelings towards
one another. Many a strong marriage was built upon friendship.’

She didn’t know how to respond to that and now was not the time
to admit that she’d given herself to another. The earl’s statement confused her,
for she’d believed he would be angry or bothered by the fact that she cared for
someone else. Instead, he didn’t appear to mind at all.

They finished their walk, but as Marguerite passed the stables,
she couldn’t stop herself from looking back. Callum was no longer there.

When she reached the entrance to the keep, she saw the knowing
eyes of her aunt Beatrice.

* * *

‘She’s a fine lass, isn’t she?’ Iagar remarked, later
that night. Callum stood near the back of the Hall with the other men, eating a
large piece of bread the cook had given him. He didn’t have to ask who Iagar was
talking about, but ignored the statement.

‘You were gone with her for a while,’ Campbell continued, a
leer upon his face. ‘Did the Lady Marguerite take a liking to you?’

He stood and gripped Iagar’s throat, shoving the man against
the wall. Rage filled every part of him, that the man would suggest anything
against her. Even if it was true.

Callum held Iagar just long enough to warn him, before dropping
him to the ground. The man coughed, gripping his throat. There was a flash of
anger on his face, but he quelled it.

‘You should put your strength to another use, MacKinloch. We’re
leaving tomorrow night to raid a garrison south of here,’ Iagar told him. He
kept his voice low, adding, ‘You could help us free the prisoners.’

Tension knotted inside Callum at the mention of captives. He
didn’t want to be involved with the other men, to stir up trouble with the
English. Yet, he remembered the restlessness he’d endured while in chains. The
feeling that no one would come for him. That he would die, locked away from the
world.

Upon the dais, he spied Marguerite sitting with her betrothed
husband, the Earl of Penrith. Jealousy sank its claws into his mind. He didn’t
like the man watching over her, fascinated by his bride.

The thought of the earl touching Marguerite sent off a blaze of
fury inside him. Without realising it, he was gripping his knife. A primitive
side of him wanted to abduct her from her father’s castle, to take her north
where no one would ever find them.

She belonged with him. Only she had been able to unlock the
years of silence, letting him speak again. And after the morning he’d spent in
her arms, he wasn’t going to let her go.

His companion sensed his distraction and pressed further. ‘Join
us at Sileas’s home, when the castle is abed. We’ll talk further.’

Iagar started to walk away, but he turned back. ‘You remember
what it was like, MacKinloch. Hoping someone would free us. And season after
season, we were in chains.’

The man’s words brought back the nightmare of those years.
Callum sobered, remembering well enough what it was like to pray for help when
none came. Each day of suffering was like a scar upon his mind.

But he refused to agree to Iagar’s request, for he was here for
Marguerite. He stood against the back wall for hours, watching over her. And
only when she retired for the night, climbing the stairs, did he finally retreat
to the stables.

Chapter Ten

T
angled 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 practising. From this distance, he couldn’t strike Harkirk
without the danger 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 revelled 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 chained
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.

Callum was forced to watch them together. He didn’t know if he
could remain here, not knowing whether or not 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, Monsieur le Duc.’ The stable master approached 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, Monsieur le Duc,’ the stable master
intervened. ‘His tongue has been 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 a mere 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, towards
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, he 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 will 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 dared to hurt you,’ her father argued,
dismissing the idea.

But his rationalisation only heightened her anger. ‘I couldn’t
know that. And you were 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.’

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 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.’ Colour flooded her face and she struggled to think of a way to explain
her actions.

The Duc eyed her with suspicion. ‘There is a rumour 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. It is why I chose a man who doesn’t care whether
or not 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 honourable 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 known, for her mother had died when
she was barely two. Though she’d been fostered with another family in Navarre,
their relationship 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 he 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 towards the castle and Marguerite
followed him, keeping a slight distance behind.

Once he entered the gates, she saw other men arriving, friends
come to witness the betrothal. She held back, feeling uncertain about all that
had happened.

A faint cracking noise sounded behind her. 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 forward to him. Callum took her
reins 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 upon 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 persuade 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 to 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
she 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 practising might ease the frustration rising inside him.

Callum left the castle gates, starting towards 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
he 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?’