Tempted by the Highland Warrior (5 page)

God above, he’d never expected this. Her arms came around his
neck, offering solace. And danger.

The scent of her skin, and the fluid lines of her body made him
fully aware of all the ways he wanted to worship her. Never taking his eyes from
her, he lifted her hand and placed it over his racing heart. The touch of skin
on skin enslaved him. She was a woman he could never have, so far beyond his
reach as the sunlight in the sky.

But for this moment, he would take what he wanted.

He rested his mouth above hers, waiting for her to pull away.
Her blue eyes held confusion and the flushed warmth of her cheeks revealed her
embarrassment. At any time, she could pull back and he wouldn’t stop her.

Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Chapter Three

M
arguerite couldn’t breathe when Callum
kissed her. His mouth was warm, coaxing her to let go of her shyness. Although
it wasn’t her first kiss, this one slipped beneath her skin with a slow burning
fire, transforming her inhibitions into ashes.

The connection went deeper than that between a woman and a man
she’d rescued and tended. He treated her as though no one else on the earth
existed. As if he needed her more than the air he breathed.

It was something she wasn’t used to. At home, she was the
youngest of four daughters, largely overlooked. Her older sisters were
mischievous and outspoken, accustomed to having suitors vie for their hand.
Marguerite was quiet and usually remained in the background, unnoticed.

But she suspected that Callum MacKinloch would always notice
her.

He was half-naked before her, his body pressed against her own.
There were no thoughts spinning through her mind, only the need to bring him
closer. Her arms wound around his neck but when she felt the evidence of his
arousal, it didn’t frighten her as she’d thought it would. Instead, it awakened
her own response, with an answering need between her legs.

The kiss turned deeper and Marguerite let out a shuddering gasp
as Callum conquered her mouth, bringing her back against the wall. With his kiss
he broke down her defences, until she was trembling beneath the onslaught.

At last, he let her go, resting both hands upon the wall. His
dark eyes were heated with desire, his mouth looking as if he wanted to do more,
kiss her in other secret places.

She didn’t know what to do or what to say now. Confused, she
fumbled for words—anything to distract herself from the turmoil of ragged
feelings. ‘Y-you should get dressed,’ she told him quietly.

He studied her, his eyes discerning. Then he touched her cheek,
a question hidden within his expression—almost as if he were asking if he’d
overstepped his bounds.

She didn’t know what to say. Colour flooded her face at what
she’d done, for she could give no reason why she’d allowed him to kiss her. Only
that she’d wanted him to.

Taking his hand, she led him over to the pile of clothing.
‘Nairna brought these for you.’ Then she went to the far side of the room,
turning her back. Inside, she trembled from the kiss. He’d shaken her deeply,
making her crave his touch.

From behind her, she heard the light rustle as he picked up the
clothes. Heaven only knew what possessed her to do it, but she turned over her
shoulder to steal a look at him.

Callum’s shoulders and back held stripes of both healed and
unhealed lash marks, scars that he would carry for the rest of his life. His
waist was lean, but, despite his thin frame, he had the body of a fighter. He
had tight, muscular buttocks and powerful thighs.

And, oh God, he’d caught her looking at him.

A slow, wicked smile curved over his mouth, as if daring her to
look further.

Marguerite whirled around, wondering why she’d done such a
thing. But he hadn’t been angry. In fact, she’d caught a glimpse of amusement in
Callum’s eyes, as if he’d wanted her to look.

He was undeniably handsome, despite the harsh conditions he’d
endured. His dark eyes held secrets and an intensity that weakened her senses.
Long dark hair flowed past his shoulders and she imagined what it would be like
cut short. His clean-shaven face revealed a strong jaw and a determined
confidence in his demeanour.

She didn’t know why she was attracted to a man who’d been held
prisoner for so long. It might be compassion, but more likely it was her own
curiosity. Callum had made no secret of his interest, and she could not have
chosen someone more different from herself.

She’d been raised in a castle, surrounded by servants. And
although it wasn’t her nature to demand material goods, she’d had everything she
ever wanted. Callum was the third-born son, with hardly more than the clothes on
his back. He could give her nothing at all.

Perhaps that was what drew her to him. He saw
her
, while the other men saw only her father’s wealth
and power.

When Marguerite risked another look back at him, Callum was
sitting on the bed, fully dressed. His wrists rested upon his knees, his head
bowed. He looked tired, yet unable to sleep. She took a step forward, and the
sound of her motion prompted him to lift his head. He let out a slow breath, his
face masked. Then he touched the place beside him in a silent request for her to
sit.

She remained still, unsure of herself or what he wanted from
her. Time hung suspended while she debated whether or not to stay a little
longer. He appeared calmer, more in command of himself.

‘You can’t kiss me again,’ she warned.

He didn’t tease her with a smile, but gave a single nod as his
silent promise. In his hands, she saw the faded blue ribbon.

She took a breath and moved a slight distance beside him. ‘It’s
all right to sleep, you know. No one will harm you.’ Though she was tired
herself, she intended to return to her own room, once he had found a peaceful
rest.

Callum reached out and pulled her to sit beside him. Then he
laid his head upon her lap.

The gesture should have made her uneasy. Instead, as she
stroked his long hair back and watched him close his eyes, heavy tears pricked
at her. He’d suffered for so long, chained in the dark. Was it any wonder that
he yearned for human comfort?

Although the weight of her own exhaustion burdened her,
Marguerite didn’t move. Callum clasped her other hand in his while he slept. She
let him rest against her, though her back ached. In time, she succumbed to the
need for sleep, lying back against his pillow.

* * *

The raucous cries of a raven
haunted him. The birds were known for circling the camp, awaiting the moment
when a prisoner died. Callum hated them, for they fed upon the flesh of the
dead. Just the sight of the birds sickened him, and he’d chased dozens of
them away from the corpses.

Though most of the other prisoners were
nameless companions, they didn’t deserve to be dishonoured, their flesh
picked away by black-winged predators.

And so he’d begun collecting their
feathers. He couldn’t say why, but when the guards watched him making more
arrows, he’d glued their dark tips to the shaft. It was as if he could
honour the memory of the fallen.

One day, he would avenge them. He’d grown
to hate Lord Harkirk as much as his former master. While Cairnross had
believed himself superior to the Scots, punishing them for imagined crimes,
Harkirk cared nothing for men’s lives. Men were killed for no reason at all,
simply as entertainment.

But Harkirk would die one day. And, God
willing, he’d be struck down by a black-feathered arrow, one of his
own.

* * *

Callum’s eyes opened as the remnants of sleep slid away.
Against his cheek, he felt the softness of Marguerite’s hair and their bodies
were tangled together. Her delicate scent surrounded him, his arms cradled her
body close. He savoured the moment of holding her, wishing to God he could make
it last.

It wasn’t yet dawn and in the faint light, he saw the golden
outline of her hair. For a moment, he listened to her breathe, watching her
sleep.

He’d never dreamed she would let him kiss her. It hadn’t been
his intention, but when she’d put her arms around him, resting her cheek upon
his, he’d lost sight of the world. Her lips had tasted sweet, but beneath her
innocence, he’d tasted the promise of more. She’d tempted him, until he could do
nothing except savour the moments that wouldn’t last. She was a duke’s daughter
and despite the fierce desire to be her protector, he knew he’d never be a part
of her life.

A sound from outside caught his attention. Callum reluctantly
got out of bed, listening to the sounds of night. In the corner, he saw Bram
sleeping and he wondered why his brother had allowed him to sleep with
Marguerite. Silently, he moved to open the shuttered window. In the darkness, he
spied faint pinpricks of light moving towards them. He didn’t know what it was,
but within seconds the light vanished. Instinct warned him that whatever the
source of the light was, he had to warn his brother.

Before he could say a word, he heard Marguerite moan in her
sleep. She clenched the sheets, murmuring words in French that he didn’t
understand. And when he tried to awaken her by touching her cheek, her eyes flew
open.

She sat up and gripped him hard, still shaking from the
nightmare. Callum held her tight, stroking her hair to soothe her.

It’s all right. I’m here.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I was dreaming about the tower and
the fire that night. I dreamed I couldn’t get out.’ Her face rested against his
neck and he kissed her hair, moving his mouth lower to console her in the only
way he knew how.

She drew back, closing her eyes and lifting her mouth to his.
Before he could taste her lips, the door swung open and Alex entered. His
brother’s face darkened with misunderstanding, as if he thought Callum was
trying to dishonour Marguerite.

‘Get away from her, Callum,’ Alex warned.

At the sudden sound, Bram woke up from his place on the floor
and stood. ‘Leave them,’ he said, stretching. ‘She calms him.’

‘Did he hurt you?’ Alex asked Lady Marguerite. She shook her
head, her face turning dark red.

‘I should go,’ she murmured. ‘I never meant to fall asleep.’
Embarrassed, she fled the room.

Callum stared at his brothers, needing to tell them what he’d
seen. He pointed toward the window, trying to signal to them, but they didn’t
understand.

He saw in their eyes that they believed he’d gone mad, as if he
weren’t aware of what was going on.

‘Did he sleep at all last night?’ Alex asked Bram.

‘He kept waking up, but Marguerite stopped him from lashing
out.’

‘We should keep her close, then, if she’s able to get through
to him.’

Callum’s temper exploded. He moved between the men, grabbing
each of his brothers by the shoulder.

Look at me. I hear your words. I
understand them.

But not a single sound came, despite his mouth moving.
Frustration clawed at him that he was unable to communicate anything at all. He
grabbed Bram’s tunic and hauled him towards the window, pointing outside once
again.

‘There’s nothing out there,’ Bram said. ‘You’re safe now.’

He didn’t believe it. And they were fools if they did.

Alex poured a cup of wine into a goblet and handed it to him.
‘Have something to drink. Whatever it is, we’ll look in the morning.’

He drank the wine and, too late, tasted the bitter herbs within
it. Staring at his brother’s betrayal, he wondered what they’d done to him.

‘It will help you sleep,’ Alex said. ‘You need rest, to regain
your strength.’

Despite his efforts to fight them, the heavy narcotic effects
of the herbs pulled him under. As he slipped into the dark dream, he inhaled the
scent of Marguerite upon the sheets.

* * *

Callum awakened with his mouth dry and the aftertaste of
the herbal brew lingered. His back still hurt from the lash marks, and he
struggled to open his eyes. He overheard Bram’s wife Nairna talking to her
husband and caught the last few words of his brother’s conversation.

‘I don’t know if he’s even aware of where he is.’

Callum gritted his teeth. He knew exactly where he was, yet no
one trusted him. He struggled to rise from the bed, thankful that Alex and Bram
were focused upon Nairna instead of himself.

‘When I was out walking this morning, I saw a torch light in
the hills,’ the young woman said. ‘Do you think any of Lord Harkirk’s men might
have followed us?’

No doubt of it. From the flickering torches he’d seen, it was
impossible to tell how many men there were.

‘I’ll inform the men,’ Alex replied. ‘If it is an attack, send
a runner to Locharr and alert the Baron that we may need his help.’ He turned to
Nairna. ‘Tell Laren—’

‘She’s already gathering the women and children.’

‘Good.’ Alex turned back and Callum met his gaze steadily. His
brother’s face held a magnitude of worry for all the people they had to protect.
There weren’t enough men and if they were invaded, many would die.

In an instant, his older brother assessed him, as if to decide
whether or not he was dangerous. Callum stared back, meeting the silent question
with a determined look of his own. He had no doubt of his ability to defend
them, especially with a bow.

‘I’ll need your help guarding the women and children,’ Alex
said at last, unsheathing his sword. ‘Even Lady Marguerite.’ He held out the
weapon, hilt first, and Callum inclined his head in answer.

Though he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling, he managed to
grasp the sword. Alex had offered him the chance to fight and he wouldn’t fail
his brother, though a sword wasn’t his first choice. From the corner of his eye,
he caught Bram’s wife Nairna eyeing him with uncertainty.

I can fight
, he wanted to tell her.
Especially if it meant protecting Marguerite. Upon the floor, he spied the faded
blue ribbon and reached for it, tucking it away for safekeeping.

Callum followed them down the stairs, still feeling the effects
of the potion from the night before. He settled his mind to the task ahead,
though he didn’t know if it was a small raid or a larger force.

Nairna led them outside to the place where she’d seen the
torches. Though it was now dawn, the faint light wasn’t enough to determine how
many men threatened Glen Arrin. While his brothers and Nairna climbed up to the
top of the gatehouse, Callum stayed below, beside the gate. He studied the
opposite side, wondering what had happened to the lights on the far end of the
fortress.