Tempted by the Highland Warrior (16 page)

‘My men were all accounted for last night,’ Xavier answered.
‘Whoever did this was not one of ours.’

Guy’s face turned grim and he ordered, ‘Assemble a group of
soldiers, and find out who it was. It falls to us to mete out justice. Or else
the English King Edward will see to it.’

The Duc sat, reaching for a cup of wine. His hand curled around
the silver, while inwardly he tensed. Though he held estates in Scotland, passed
down from his Norman ancestors, his position here was untenable. He’d hoped to
secure a strong marriage for Marguerite with the Earl of Cairnross. But his
daughter had run off to live with a Scottish clan, for reasons he couldn’t
fathom.

Oui
, Cairnross had proved to have a
cruel streak. But most powerful men did what was necessary to maintain
order.

From across the room, he saw Marguerite standing at the
doorway, her face pale. She’d overheard his words, no doubt.

‘What will you do?’ she asked, moving closer. Xavier, the
Captain of the Guard, exchanged a look with him, as if to ask permission. Guy
inclined his head.

‘We will find the murderers and execute them for their crimes,’
Xavier admitted.

Her lips tightened into a line and she pointed at his hand.
‘What is that you’re holding?’

The Duc hadn’t noticed the arrow until now. He sent his captain
a questioning look and Xavier held up the shaft. ‘We found this embedded in the
wall.’

‘Black feathers,’ the Duc noted. ‘Interesting.’ Few men used
arrows with distinctive feathered tips. He tried to think of whether any of his
archers used arrows like those, but he couldn’t quite imagine it.

Marguerite’s face whitened. She murmured excuses to leave, and
her behaviour struck him as unusual.

His eyes narrowed upon the doorway and he turned to Xavier.
‘She knows something. Follow her.’

* * *

‘What have you done?’ Marguerite demanded. It was
nightfall before she’d been able to slip away from the castle. Over and over,
she’d worried about the arrow, terrified of what it meant. Her throat ached with
unshed tears, and her hands clenched as she tried to keep her hysteria under
control.

Callum studied her, his eyes questioning. She went on, ‘Nearly
a dozen men were murdered last night at the English garrison. They found one of
your arrows there.’

His expression didn’t move a single muscle. Like a wall of
granite, he revealed nothing at all.

Shaken by it, she whispered, ‘Were you there that night?’

He inclined his head in a nod and her heart plummeted. She
stared at him in disbelief. ‘And did you kill those men?’

He shook his head. Though she wanted to believe him, her pulse
clamoured within her chest. ‘Why would you go with them? There was no reason for
it.’ Knowing he couldn’t answer, she unleashed her anger. ‘Don’t you know that
they’ll find out? My father plans to execute any man who was there last
night.’

Her tears broke free, in spite of her resolve not to cry. ‘Do
you think I want to see you hanged, your head cut off like a traitor?’

Callum caught her hands and his mouth tightened with his own
anger. She tore her hands free, the tears running freely down her face. The fury
and fear gripped so hard within her, she was shaking.

‘What happened that night?’ she murmured.

Callum crouched on one knee, brushing the pine needles away to
reveal the dirt beneath. After thinking for a moment, he wrote:
Prisuners.

Marguerite shook her head, not understanding. ‘But there
weren’t any prisoners there. It was just a small outpost.’ Taking the twig from
him, she adjusted the word he’d misspelled.

He shrugged and wrote again:
Not my
kil.

‘Then why did they find one of your arrows there?’

I was angry.

‘Who was responsible for it? Were my father’s men involved?’
She stared at the dirt, waiting for his answers.

Scots.

A hundred more questions crowded inside her, but she stopped
asking. There was no point to it.

She wanted to rest her cheek against his chest, holding fast to
the man who held her heart. But if she dared to defy her father now, the Duc
might accuse Callum of leading the attack upon the garrison. And he would die
for it.

He came to stand before her. Although she couldn’t look him in
the eye, she felt the quiet intensity of his presence. She continued to let out
the tears, wishing he could somehow talk to her.

But there were no words at all. Only the quiet stare of a man
whose silence would be viewed as guilt.

‘You can’t defend yourself,’ she whispered, finally meeting his
gaze. ‘They’ll take you prisoner and I can’t do anything to stop them. Not if
you can’t speak.’

And though he
had
spoken on a few
occasions, it seemed he had little control over the words. Whatever had caused
him to lose his voice was still holding him captive.

‘You should leave now,’ she ordered, feeling broken at the
thought. ‘Go back to Glen Arrin, before they find you.’

He shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. She
couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t try to save himself. Didn’t he realise what
he would face?

A faint noise caught her attention and she froze, as if someone
were watching them. Whether or not it was an animal, she needed to return.

Marguerite reached for his hands, her pulse racing. ‘I know you
don’t want to leave, but you must.’ She stared into his deep brown eyes. ‘You
saved my life in the battle. Now let me save yours.’

He threaded his hands into her hair, but his expression was
inscrutable. ‘No.’

‘Why? Would you rather die?’ She gripped his head, the anger
blazing through her. ‘Do you think I’ll stand aside and let that happen?’

‘If…leave, you…wed him.’ His brown eyes were nearly black with
his own shielded frustration and she pressed herself closer, trying to use any
means possible to convince him.

‘I would wed Satan himself if it kept you alive.’

She raised her mouth to his, needing to show him, without
words, what he meant to her. Their lips mingled and in the strength of his arms,
she felt whole. She wanted Callum to stay, to help him break through the wall of
his silence. He was starving for words and he needed her help. But there was no
choice. He had to leave or face his death.

Callum kissed her hard, his arms holding her close as if he
could capture her spirit. As he slid his tongue against her mouth, she opened to
him, her hips moulded against his.

Every last thought in her mind disappeared when his tongue slid
against hers, reminding her of the way he’d made love to her. His body went
rigid, his hands moving over her bottom, bringing her closer.

Marguerite surrendered to the instincts roaring inside, her
swollen lips kissing him hard as his erection strained against her softness. She
was trembling in his arms, wanting so much more than she could have. Her breath
quickened in her lungs and desire clouded the thoughts spinning in her mind.

‘Marguerite,’ he said, pulling back to look at her. In his dark
eyes, she saw the man who held no fear at all for their future. He didn’t seem
to care that she was betrothed to another.

He wanted no other woman but her. And though she wanted to
fight to be with him, never would she let him die. Not when she could save
him.

* * *

‘Do you want your father to know?’

Marguerite turned around from the door to her chamber. In the
hall stood the captain of her father’s guards, Xavier.

‘What do you mean?’ She turned to face the man. His thin face
was smug and she didn’t trust him at all.

‘I followed you tonight. And I saw you with the Scot. The mute
one who works in the stables.’

His knowing look made Marguerite’s heart catch. If he told the
Duc that she’d kissed Callum, there was no knowing the depths of her father’s
fury. She stared at the captain, not wanting to reveal anything to him.

‘What will you pay for my silence?’ he prompted.

The threat reached down past her fear and squeezed the throat
of her anger. Drawing upon it, she took a step towards him. ‘What would you pay
to keep yourself alive?’

Ice hung from her voice as she withdrew her eating knife and
pointed it towards him. ‘All I have to do is tell my father that you tried to
hurt me. That you tried to force your attentions on me and you’ll feel the lash
upon your back. Perhaps worse.’

‘It would be a lie.’

She forced a thin smile. ‘But he would believe me, not you. So
if you dare to spread stories to my father, remember what I can do to you.’

He stared at her, his expression as hard as iron. She’d made an
enemy this night, for no doubt he’d hoped she would line his pockets with
silver. But she was not about to let him threaten her.

After he left, she couldn’t calm the beating of her heart.
Though she tried to appear serene, inwardly she was drowning in fear for Callum.
They would find him if he didn’t go.

Marguerite went inside her chamber and sat down while her maid
tended her gown and hair. Her lips were still swollen from Callum’s kiss, her
body on edge. Outside, it had begun to rain and she worried about him dwelling
among the trees.

She stared at her chamber and the small bed with soft sheets
and warm coverings. All her life, she’d lived in the finest castles and houses,
wearing expensive gowns and dining upon exotic foods. This was her life and her
father would never allow anything less.

But it was no longer what she wanted.

Marguerite dismissed her maid and went to stand at the small
slit of a window, watching the darkness outside. If she were wed to Callum, she
would never again live in a castle or wear gowns like this. There would be no
maids or servants.

She’d enjoyed the time she’d spent with the MacKinlochs, but it
had been so different. They fought to survive, instead of worrying about which
husband would bring the greatest status. When she looked around at her life, it
felt selfish and shallow.

She closed her eyes, resting up against the wall of her
chamber. Her only hope was to speak with the earl, to somehow convince him to
let her go.

* * *

This time, her father never protested at all when she
asked to ride alone with the earl. Though Lord Penrith seemed amenable enough,
she dreaded telling him the truth. She took the lead, bringing him away from the
castle, to the hill overlooking the sea.

At the sight of the blue waves smoothing the edges of sand, she
thought of how Callum had taught her to swim and the morning she’d spent in his
arms. Guilt flushed her cheeks, but she had to speak with the earl and make him
understand why she couldn’t wed him.

Once they stopped the horses, the earl held the reins and
regarded her. ‘You implied before that you didn’t want this betrothal.’

She shook her head. ‘But not because of you.’

His blue eyes turned thoughtful and he held out his hand to
her, inviting her to walk. ‘Are you so certain it would not be a good
marriage?’

‘It would be wrong. And though my father will be furious with
me, you deserve my honesty.’ Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to
continue with the confession. ‘You deserve a virgin bride for your wedding
bed.’

He said nothing for a long time, turning away from her while he
thought. She expected anger or a biting response. Instead, he stared out at the
sea.

‘I have made many mistakes in my life,’ Marguerite continued.
‘But it would be a greater mistake to let you believe that I would be a good
wife. I cannot wed you.’

The earl’s expression turned musing. ‘You know nothing about
me, Lady Marguerite.’

She waited for him to continue, and he added, ‘I, too, know
what it is to care for someone else. Someone unsuitable for marriage.’

When he looked back at her, she saw the echoing shadow in his
eyes, but he masked it with a sardonic smile. ‘I see no reason why we cannot
find another solution that would benefit us both.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Keep your lover,’ he suggested. ‘Have him join us in England,
if that is your will. So long as you are discreet, I won’t stop you.’

Shock rendered her speechless. She had no idea how to respond
to such an offer. ‘And what if I bore a child from him?’

The earl shrugged. ‘Then I will not have to share your bed.’
The look in his eyes spoke of a man who didn’t want to perform his marital duty.
‘I made this betrothal because I need an heir for my lands. If you provide it
for me, I care not who the father is.’

‘I don’t understand.’

His face held a trace of bitterness. ‘A lady such as yourself
wouldn’t. But I think we would do well together. I like your sense of honour.
And you.’

Her gaze lowered to the ground. ‘Let me go, Lord Penrith.
Please.’

‘No,’ was his answer. Though he spoke the word lightly, she
sensed the steel beneath his tone. He was a man who possessed his own authority,
one with a resolve to equal her own.

He softened his refusal by giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
‘Consider my offer, Lady Marguerite. A respectable marriage, a strong
alliance…and a blind eye toward your lover. It should be enough for you.’

Perhaps it should, but it wasn’t. She didn’t understand his
nonchalant attitude toward infidelity. Most men would be furious to learn that
their brides were no longer innocent. But the earl was unlike the other suitors
she’d met.

Lord Penrith returned to the horses and waited to boost her
back on to her saddle. He glanced back at her and in his eyes she saw a man
resolved to keeping this betrothal. Though she didn’t understand his reasons for
making the marriage, something bothered her about his behaviour. ‘I am sorry,’
she told the earl, ‘but I must speak with my father. I cannot marry you.’

His face was like a block of smooth marble, unyielding. ‘Ask,
if that is your will, Lady Marguerite. But I have no intention of breaking our
agreement.’