In her eyes, he saw the lack of trust. “Can you defend us?”
He stared back at her and gave a single nod, hoping she would understand that this battle was his to face, not hers. Nairna stepped back, as if she were still wary of him. He gave no reaction, for she would see his skills soon enough.
Marguerite gathered the women together while Dougal cleared the exit to the outside. Callum reached for her hand and felt the cold skin of her palm. He held it for a time, watching her, trying to let her know the words trapped inside of him. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.
A blush transformed her face as she nodded. “I know.” She remained at his side as they moved toward the exit. The sunlight reflected the rainwater within the ditch. They would have to cross through the water and up the opposite hillside to reach the sanctuary of the trees.
When Nairna started to move forward, Marguerite stopped her. “I know the way to your house, Nairna. I’ll go first and lead them, if you’ll help Laren gather the others. I don’t know them as well as you do.”
Callum slung his quiver of arrows over one shoulder. Though he understood Marguerite’s desire to help, he wouldn’t let her go anywhere without him. He chose a single arrow from the quiver, while Nairna returned to the store of weapons, choosing a crossbow. The young woman’s face was pale with fear, but Callum admired her willingness to fight.
The smoke grew worse, and when the children began coughing, Laren picked up her own daughters, one over each hip, as the women gathered together. Marguerite moved to the front of the passageway, but Callum kept at her side, nocking the arrow to his bow.
Her blue eyes held terror, and she cast a last look at him.
It will be all right, he wanted to tell her. No one will harm you.
But without the words to reassure her, he reached out and stroked the side of her face with one hand. She held his fingers to her cheek and sent him a nod of trust.
And it was what he needed to face the danger ahead.
Callum left the shelter of the tunnel, studying their surroundings. There were no soldiers on this side of the fortress or any sign of them in the forest ahead. Satisfied, he signaled Dougal to cross the bank and take a position on the opposite side of the ditch. With both of them armed, they could protect the others from all sides.
His younger brother obeyed, but Callum didn’t miss the apprehension in his eyes. The lad was afraid, and whether or not he could shoot with accuracy was anyone’s guess.
While Nairna climbed down into the water with Marguerite, Callum kept his bow taut, searching for any threat. From his peripheral vision, he watched the women making their way through the water. Nairna’s dog dove in behind them, paddling across the water. The animal appeared unconcerned by the exodus, and Callum took it as a good sign that the enemy had not yet reached this side of the fortress. Bram and Alex must have kept them occupied with fighting in the main fortress.
“Go and take cover in the trees,” Nairna told Marguerite, setting her crossbow on the ground. “I’ll stay with Dougal and help the women out of the ditch.”
Callum watched over her, and Marguerite sent him one last look. He locked the image into his mind, afraid it was the last time he would see her. Her long golden hair gleamed against the sun, and her blue eyes filled with worry. And despite the danger, he didn’t regret the moments he’d spent with her. If he died today, at least he’d glimpsed Heaven.
You’re unworthy of her, his conscience reminded him. All you can offer is your protection.
While more women evacuated with their children, Callum could only hold his position until Marguerite disappeared into the forest. He resumed his place on the bank beside the fortress, the arrow poised to shoot. And yet, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. It wasn’t fear—only raw anticipation coursing through him.
Nairna’s dog began barking, and Callum spun, taking aim at the emerging soldiers. He stretched the bowstring taut, adjusting his aim. Slowly, he waited for the soldier to draw near, and when he loosed the arrow, it struck the man’s face.
Too high.
He followed up with a second shot to the heart, dropping the man where he’d stood.
A slight motion caught his attention, and while Callum readied another arrow, he saw Marguerite watching from the trees. Whether it was her thanks or a quiet farewell, he met her gaze with the promise to defend her.
His brother Dougal cried out a warning, and Callum readied another arrow. When more men crossed to the opposite side, the boy panicked and fired too soon. The arrow struck the ground, but before his brother could run, Callum sent a steady stream of his own missiles into the charging soldiers. One after the other, each arrow striking its intended target.
He dulled his mind to the fighting and death around him, focusing only on bringing down the threat. For the first time in years, he could defend his clan. With his bow, he was no longer less than a man but equal to his brothers. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t speak—only that he could wield a weapon.
In this, he had a purpose. And soon enough, the women and children would be within the forest, away from the worst of the fighting.
Behind him, Callum heard the groaning of the keep’s tower, while Nairna brought the last of the women out of the water. He kept his gaze focused on his surroundings and saw his brothers Bram and Alex approaching at a full run.
Bram crossed through the water, helping his wife up the hillside before he pulled her into his embrace.
At the sight of them, a tightness expanded through Callum’s chest. Nairna gripped her husband as if she never wanted to let go. He envied them, for he wanted to be with Marguerite, to reassure himself that she was all right. Letting her go while he stayed behind was the only choice, but he didn’t like it.
A shower of fire sparks drifted, and a prickle of awareness caught him. Behind him, a cracking noise resounded, just as his brother roared, “Callum, dive!”
He threw himself into the ditch, just as the tower collapsed. The icy water numbed him, but Callum swam to the opposite side, dragging himself out. His bow and arrows were soaked, and he rested on his knees, catching his breath.
