They stopped at a stream to let the horses drink, and Nairna came closer to the men. She’d hoped to introduce herself to Callum, but they’d shielded him from her. It was only when they were moving back to the horses that she caught a glimpse of their brother’s back.
His ragged tunic was the color of rust, and she covered her mouth when she understood why he hadn’t removed his garments. They were coated in blood, and she suspected that removing the clothing would cause him pain.
Nairna swallowed hard, remembering the scars upon Bram’s back. He wouldn’t talk about them or share anything about his captivity, but it was clear that Callum had suffered a great deal.
Once they started riding again, she brought her mount beside Bram’s. “Your brother needs a healer.”
“I know it.”
“His clothing is stuck to his flesh, isn’t it?” she murmured beneath her breath.
He nodded. “We tried to take it off him yesterday, but he fought us. He’s not in his right mind. He isn’t aware of what’s going on.”
“Is there something I can do?” she asked. “Tell me and I’ll arrange it.”
“There’s nothing, Nairna.”
“I don’t believe that.” She met his gaze with resolution of her own. “He’s alive. And we can help him recover.” Her husband shook his head, a weariness in his eyes.
“There are some wounds that never heal, Nairna.”
That night, after they arrived home at Glen Arrin, Bram tried again to talk to his brother. Callum sat, staring into the distance while a bath of hot water grew cold.
“I’m sorry,” Bram murmured, though he knew the words meant nothing. “We tried to go back for you sooner. For a time, we didn’t know where you were.”
Silence. His brother made no response, gave no indication that he’d heard a single word. A knot swelled up in the back of his throat and Bram tried to think of something he could say that would get Callum to speak.
His brother’s face was filthy, his hair matted with mud. Bruises and cuts marred the surface, and his clothing smelled of blood and decay.
“Let me help you, Brother,” he pleaded. He took a step forward, hoping Callum would let him closer. But as soon as he tried to reach for the tunic, his brother’s mouth twisted into a snarl. Like a cornered animal, he refused to let anyone near.
When Bram reached out to touch him, Callum’s knuckles smashed into his eye. Pain exploded from the blow, and Bram released his frustration. “Damn it, Callum, why won’t you let me help you? I know you’re hurt. I’ve seen the blood.”
But his brother refused to speak. Bram sat upon a bench, his head lowered, his hands shaking.
The door opened quietly and Nairna stepped inside. “Has he eaten anything?”
“Very little.” Bram met his wife’s worried gaze and she walked over to his side. “I don’t want to restrain him, but we need to treat his wounds before they get worse.”
“Will you let me try to help?” Nairna asked.
Bram lifted his shoulders in surrender. He’d done all that he could; if Nairna could break through to him, so be it.
His wife bade him, “Wait here. I’ll return in a moment.”
Callum stared at the wall, and Bram set a cup of mead near him. It remained untouched.
When the door opened again, Nairna entered with Lady Marguerite. Bram couldn’t understand why, but the moment Callum laid eyes upon Marguerite, something stirred in his expression. Though he didn’t speak, he stared at her instead of into the empty air.
“Let Marguerite try,” Nairna said. “She met him weeks ago.”
From the way the maiden was already approaching Callum, it seemed that they did know one another.
Marguerite wore a sapphire silk gown trimmed with gray fur, her hair spilling over her shoulder, though it was covered with a veil. Callum watched her as though he were dreaming and Bram felt Nairna take his hand, guiding him out.
“We’ll wait just beyond the door if you need us,” Nairna was saying. She led Bram into the hallway outside the chamber, closing the door all but a few inches.
“How do they know each other?” Bram whispered, peering through the crack in the door.
