“He was beaten after you left,” Nairna said. “Lady Marguerite found him and tended his wounds. He was sent away the next morning.” She moved beside him, resting her head upon his chest while they both watched over the pair. “He allowed her to help him then. He might again.”
Marguerite was speaking to Callum in soft tones, seated across from him. In the flickering light of the torch set within a sconce, Bram spied a tear running down the woman’s face. She continued talking, though she spoke in French. And after several minutes, Callum turned his back to her. Lady Marguerite came near, still talking. And when she reached him, her hands came to rest upon his shoulders.
Nairna’s fingers moved inside Bram’s tunic, tracing the scars there. As if shadowing Marguerite’s movements, his wife soothed his skin, her face pressed against his heartbeat.
He’d been like Callum once. It had been so hard to face the outside world, so hard to accept that he was finally safe. There would be no one to shut him up in the darkness. No one to strike out at him or cut him down.
“Are you all right?” Nairna murmured. “Your eye is swollen.”
“I got too close,” was all he would tell her. But they both watched as his brother finally allowed Marguerite to help him remove the bloodstained tunic. He exhaled a sharp hiss when she had to peel back the fabric from his skin.
When his bare back was revealed at last, Nairna’s arms held him tight. Bram breathed in the scent of her hair, holding her close as the years of his brother’s torment were revealed. By the Holy Rood, the sight of Callum’s raw, unhealed flesh was enough to send his stomach turning.
Though her face turned white, Lady Marguerite said not a word. She merely soaked a clean rag in the cooled bath water and brought it to Callum, touching his face with it. Soothing him. Then she wet it again and lightly wrung it out before setting the cool cloth upon his brother’s back.
“She’s doing well with him,” Nairna whispered, moving out of his embrace. “We should leave them be.”
“She’s a maiden,” Bram argued. “It isn’t right to leave them alone.”
“He’s not about to hurt her.” Nairna pulled at his hand. “Look.”
Callum had raised his face to Marguerite’s. Though his eyes held suffering, there was also relief there. There was no threat from Marguerite and his brother succumbed to her touch.
“Bram,” Nairna whispered. “Come with me.”
He didn’t want to follow, but his wife wouldn’t let go of his hand. She led him down the winding stairs and outside.
The rain had stopped and the ground was soft beneath their feet, coated with a light moisture. He thought Nairna would bring them back to their house, but instead she led him to the grain hut where they’d spent their first few nights. It was dark inside and the interior smelled of barley.
“He’ll be all right,” she whispered. “You kept your promise.”
“Why did you bring me here?” He wound his arms around her waist, not understanding her purpose.
“I know you’ll want to stay close to him this night. So we might as well sleep here instead of in our house.”
He understood her intention, but he wasn’t going to leave Callum alone for that long. For all they knew, his brother had fallen into the madness that haunted the prisoners he’d known.
“You can sleep here, if you wish,” he murmured to Nairna. “But I need to go back to the keep. Alex and I can take turns watching over him.”
She touched his lips with her fingertips, before pressing a kiss upon his mouth. “I love you.”
In her eyes, he saw the yearning and something inside him warmed to it. But he couldn’t voice an answer. He didn’t deserve to be loved, not after all this. If he could have gone back and changed his fate, he’d have freed Callum instead of seizing the chance for himself. His moment of selfishness might have destroyed his brother.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said to her, kissing her forehead before he left. As he left, his wife’s face held a sadness, as if he’d hurt her physically. And though he felt her pain as his own, there was nothing he could do to change it.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning, Nairna left the hut, feeling restless. The early morning sky still held the darkened shade of purple, and a chill slipped beneath her wrap, making her shiver.
Bram hadn’t returned last night, and she knew he’d spent the hours guarding his brother. Though she understood his desperate need to ensure Callum’s well-being, it seemed more of a penance. Her husband couldn’t let go of the guilt that plagued him like a disease, festering inside him, until he could see nothing else.
He’d been right; there were some wounds that didn’t heal. The comforts Nairna had tried to give him over the past few weeks had done nothing to wipe out the memories of his imprisonment.
She worried that no amount of love would take away his sense of blame. Instead of accepting her feelings, he’d drawn away from them, as if he viewed her love as another set of chains.
She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter. In time, he would come to care for her again, as he once had. They wouldn’t have a shadow marriage, like Laren and Alex. She couldn’t live like that, with a husband who hardly saw her or cared what she did.
Alone, she walked outside, pulling her wrap tighter. She crossed past the rows of houses, letting her mind drift. More of the women had returned, and she saw one young woman speaking in a soft tone, shushing her crying infant, bouncing the bairn against her shoulder. The sight of them twisted at Nairna’s heart, for she wondered if she would ever hold a child of her own. Her hands settled over her flat stomach, and she let herself dream for a moment. The thought sent a quiet ache of longing inside. Bram hadn’t touched her in several days, and she didn’t know when he would again. He was so caught up in tending his brother, he’d forgotten all else.
