Tempted by the Highland Warrior (21 page)

The Duc’s expression was grave, nor did he speak to her. When a
few minutes had passed, Marguerite ordered, ‘Send the soldiers back to Duncraig,
Monsieur le Duc.’ 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 his 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 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 frustration of loss. The earl was
marrying her out of obligation, nothing more.

‘We will not be happy, either of us,’ she said.

‘No,’ he admitted. ‘But you, at least, will 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 towards the boat. He
never let go of her, and when they were on board, he ordered the men to row them
to the larger ship.

Marguerite turned to look at the grey 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 in the earl’s
palms when he guided her on board the larger ship. Marguerite 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.

The afternoon had shifted into evening, and 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 and
allowed him to 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 travelled countless
days to find her. Even at the end, he’d been willing to fight 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 had 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 were 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—there is no reason why you should not seize your own happiness.’

‘Already I am treated as an outcast, because I have his favour.
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. If you seek her again, I doubt 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
towards the beach. The animal kept up a strong pace, but 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.

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

Callum watched the ship sailing further out. Then he drew his
horse south, riding parallel to 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’ll regret this.’

‘Trust me,’ she promised. ‘All will be well.’ He embraced her,
but 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 may keep you from drowning.’

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, 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 reached 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.

Chapter Fifteen

T
he water was so cold, it seemed to freeze
her limbs in place. Marguerite struggled with the oar, but it wasn’t helping her
to float. A wave drenched her face and she fought to breathe.

Keep going
, she urged herself. But
she wasn’t at all a strong swimmer and her feet could not touch the bottom.

Behind her, she heard the shouts of the men and another splash
as someone came after her. The sound of them made her aware that if she didn’t
begin swimming as hard as she could, they would only bring her back again.

‘Marguerite!’ came the earl’s voice. Seconds later, she heard
him swimming towards her. Then a strong arm came around her waist, holding her
above water. ‘Little fool,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘you’re not strong enough,
are you?’

‘I h-have to try,’ she whispered back. ‘Let me go.’

But instead of dragging her back to the ship, she realised he
was swimming towards land, bringing her with him.

‘I tossed your gown into the water, so they wouldn’t see it,’
he murmured, keeping her above the waves. When she was closer to shore, he
asked, ‘Can you touch the bottom?’

When she let go of him, the water was at the level of her mouth
while she stood on tiptoe. ‘Y-yes.’ The freezing cold water made her limbs ache,
but she could make the rest of the distance on her own.

‘Hide yourself in the hills,’ he said, letting her go.
‘Godspeed, Marguerite.’

She heard him swimming back to the ship, and she whispered
back, ‘Godspeed.’ That he had done this for her meant the world. She hoped that
he would seek his own happiness with the one he loved. A man like the earl
deserved no less.

Her body was leaden with fatigue, but she stumbled her way to
the shore. Unable to see anything, she could only judge the distance by walking
forward, the water growing more shallow. Each minute was endless, her body
shivering violently.

When she reached the sand, she collapsed on her knees, unable
to take another step. Behind her, the shouting continued and she heard her
father’s anguished voice.

Get up
, she ordered herself. She
had to keep going, no matter how difficult it became. Inside, she envisioned
Callum’s face, trying to gain strength from it. If somehow she could find him,
all of this would be worth it. She wouldn’t allow herself to think of how far
they’d sailed or how impossible it might be to find him.

Time blurred and she climbed the hillside, not knowing where
she was going or how she would ever reach Callum. She didn’t know the land and
the sky gave no hint of light.

She walked, feeling the dizziness overtake her. The golden
netting and barbette she’d worn seemed to weigh against her head and neck. She
loosened them until they fell upon the ground.

Her thin gown was clammy against her skin, the wind making her
shiver more. It was hard to breathe and she felt as if she were gasping for
air.

How long had she been gone? Whether minutes or hours, she
couldn’t tell at all. Her hands were numb and when she tried to hold up the hem
of her gown, she couldn’t make her fingers work.

She kept moving, no longer aware of the direction. Was she
going back towards her father’s castle? Or further inland? Without warning, she
lost her footing and stumbled hard, her body collapsing to the ground. The grass
was soft beneath her, breaking the fall. How long was it until morning? Perhaps
if she lay down to rest, she could see better when the sun came up.

Curled up upon the ground, she stared up at the night sky,
wondering if she’d done the right thing. She didn’t know if the earl would lie
on her behalf or what he would say to her father.

Her heartbeat was racing in her chest, and she struggled to
calm herself. She’d lost her shoes in the water, and her bare feet were so cold,
she could no longer feel them.

Sleep
, a voice inside her urged.
Don’t fight it any longer.

* * *

Callum woke before dawn, the nightmare pulling him out
of sleep. Restlessness made him uneasy that something was wrong. He couldn’t
place the feeling, but he found himself packing up his tent and sleeping
blankets with a sense of urgency.

He ate a bit of dried meat and an oat cake that he’d brought
along as travelling food, then prepared Goliath for the journey home. Shielding
his eyes against the sun, he stared below at the sandy beach and the glittering
water. There was no sign of the ship. Marguerite was gone, as he’d expected.

He should rejoin his brothers and return home. But something
held him here. Callum found himself riding along the coast again, searching for
any sign of the ship, though it was useless.

They had already gone, taking her with them.

The grief and anger struck him so hard, he let Goliath ride at
his fastest pace, letting the raw emotion out. With each mile, he raged against
the injustice of being helpless to take Marguerite with him. He would miss her
soft smile and the way she looked at him as if he were the only man who
mattered.

There would never be another for him. Not like her.

He lowered his face against Goliath’s mane, resting for a
moment before he pulled on the reins to turn back. His brothers would be waiting
for him.

Then he glimpsed something white upon the ground. He eased
Goliath closer and when he saw it, his heart began pounding.

It was Marguerite’s barbette and the golden net she’d worn in
her hair. How had it come to be here?

His hunter’s instincts heightened and he began tracking the
bent grasses, leading his horse while he traced the path. It led away from the
sea, the motion shifting in one direction, then another…as if she were
disoriented.

He followed the path, unsure of what he would find. Trepidation
coursed through him while he scrutinised every footprint, every hint that led
him closer.

And when he reached an open clearing, he spied the fallen body
of a woman lying motionless upon the ground.

Callum broke into a run, offering up a thousand prayers while
his mind grew frozen with fear. When he reached the woman’s side, he turned her
over.

It was Marguerite.

Her skin was like ice and she didn’t respond to his touch at
all. Callum rested his hand over her heart and could barely detect it beating.
God above, how had she come to be here?

She was only wearing a thin cote with no shoes and no head
covering. He didn’t know how long she’d been lying there, exposed to the
elements.

Terror coursed through him with the thought that she might die.
She’d tried to come back to him and her clothing was soaked from the sea. It was
a miracle she’d made it this far, since she had only just learned to swim.

‘Marguerite,’ he said, touching her cool face. ‘Look at me,
Marguerite.’

She didn’t respond and he had no way of knowing how to help
her. He went to his horse and retrieved a woollen blanket, gathering it around
her shoulders. When he lifted her into his arms, she seemed unaware of him.

Don’t die
, he prayed.

He mounted his horse, cradling her as he rode back to the place
where he’d left his brothers. Not once did she open her eyes, but he tried to
warm her along the way.

The ride was endless, with all of his concentration focused
upon her. The risk she’d taken was too great and he wasn’t at all certain she
would awaken. Her face was so pale, her breathing barely moving her chest.

Ahead, he spied the fire where his brothers were camped. When
he reached them, he dismounted, bringing Marguerite with him. Bram and Alex
stood up, while Dougal was still sleeping.

‘I found her,’ Callum told them. ‘She tried…leave…’ The words
stumbled inside him, unable to form a clear thought. All he could do was hold
her as if his very touch could keep her with him.

Dougal had awakened and was staring at Marguerite. ‘Is she
alive? She doesn’t look it.’

‘She is,’ Bram said. ‘Thus far.’

Words eluded Callum at this moment, the torment clawing into
his consciousness at the thought of Marguerite dying. He couldn’t let it happen.
Not after everything she’d endured in her attempt to escape.

Dougal wisely retreated. ‘I’ll look after your horse.’

‘How long was she outside?’ Alex asked.

Callum had no way of knowing and could only shake his head. His
brother exchanged a look at Bram. ‘You’ll have to warm her.’ He ordered Bram to
set up the tent again and line the ground with blankets. ‘Take the wet clothing
off her and warm her skin to skin.’

Callum sent Alex a warning look. ‘Don’t…look.’

‘Easy, Callum.’ Alex’s face held amusement. ‘Both of us are
wedded men. Don’t you think Laren and Nairna would have our heads if we dared to
look at another naked woman?’

Their teasing diminished the tension somewhat, and the words
came easier to him. ‘It doesn’t mean…I trust…’

While his brothers busied themselves with taking care of the
fire and heating water for a tea, Callum carried Marguerite’s body into the tent
and laid her upon the furs. He closed the edges of the tent to give them
privacy. With a hand upon her throat, he could barely feel her pulse.

You have to live
, he prayed. With
shaking hands, he lifted the wet gown away, then her chemise. Her skin was
freezing cold and Callum cocooned her in the blankets.

When he exited the tent, he saw Alex with a wooden cup of
steaming liquid. ‘You might try to get her to drink this. It’s not much, but it
might help warm her from the inside.’

The drink was little more than heated water, but he took it
from his brother. Before he entered the tent, Alex reminded him, ‘Skin to skin,
Callum. That will warm her the fastest.’

His brother Bram sent him a knowing look. ‘And there’s nothing
wrong with enjoying some time with a beautiful naked woman.’

‘Dougal will volunteer, if you’re too shy,’ Alex teased. ‘He
has no wife to take his head off.’

Their youngest brother’s face blushed crimson and he hurried
back to the horses, ignoring the remark.

Callum pointed toward the coast and ordered, ‘Must…find the
ship.’

‘You’re afraid the Duc will come after her,’ Alex
predicted.

He nodded. They would be searching, and he wasn’t about to let
them find her.

‘They might believe she’s dead,’ Alex responded. ‘Most women
wouldn’t survive what she did.’

The reminder only fuelled Callum’s fear that she still might
not live. She was so cold and unresponsive. ‘Find them,’ he repeated to his
brothers and saw Bram nodding his assent.

He trusted them to learn how close the soldiers were while he
tended to Marguerite. Hastily, he ducked back inside the tent and tried to raise
her head.

‘Open your eyes,’ he pleaded. ‘Marguerite, you must.’

When she remained unconscious, he gathered her in his arms,
supporting her. ‘Drink,’ he murmured, trying to lift the cup to her lips. The
warm liquid dribbled down the side of her face and he realised he would have to
try a different tactic.

Taking a small sip of the liquid, he drew his lips over hers,
coaxing them open. Then he released the warm water into her mouth with
deliberate slowness. When she didn’t cough or sputter, he tried it again,
transferring the warm water until she had drunk half the cup. It was enough for
now.

He stripped away his own clothing and pulled back her blanket.
Her body was pale, but the sight of her breasts and slim hips made him grit his
teeth against the memories of touching her, their bodies joined together.

When he moved his body upon hers, rolling them up in a blanket,
he felt the extent of her cold skin. She didn’t move or give any reaction to
him.

He drew her so close, her head was tucked beneath his chin, her
freezing skin against his. ‘You’re going to live,
a
ghràidh
,’ he swore. If the force of his will would keep her heart
beating, he would do everything in his power to make it so.

She slept against him, her soft skin gradually getting warmer.
He spoke to her in a stream of words, telling her what she meant to him. How he
would take care of her and love her for the rest of their days.

* * *

Hours passed, and his brothers left food just outside
the tent. Callum tried to get Marguerite to eat, but she remained unresponsive.
He covered her in blankets and dressed himself, before returning outside the
tent to speak with his brothers. ‘Where is the ship?’

‘Still south of us,’ Dougal answered. ‘While you were with the
lady, I rode down the coast with Bram. It looks as if they’re still searching
the water.’

‘We need to take her back to Glen Arrin,’ Alex warned, ‘before
anyone finds us here.’

Though Marguerite was no longer quite as cold, Callum wasn’t
certain it was wise to move her. But he knew her father would likely return and
find her if they remained here.

‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘We’ll take her back.’

He studied his brothers and glanced at the tent. They had only
a few hours to disappear into the hills, where the Duc and his men wouldn’t find
them.

He could only pray she’d survive the journey.

* * *

Callum held Marguerite throughout the gruelling ride.
When she hadn’t awakened on the third day, Alex had made the decision to hasten
their pace for fear that she would die of starvation. The night before, Callum
had tried to get her to drink more water, but though she took it, she remained
motionless.

She was holding on to life by the barest thread. And he didn’t
know how to save her.

When they reached Glen Arrin that evening, relief flooded
through him. The other women knew more of healing than he did and he hoped that
Nairna or Laren could help revive Marguerite.

As they rode closer, he welcomed the sight of the fortress. All
spring and summer, they had continued rebuilding it larger than before and it
was nearly completed. Limestone walls stretched around the fortress, and the
wooden tower was being lined with stone, to eventually convert it into a
castle.