He caught a glimpse of Marguerite staring at him in the distance, her face filled with fear. Nairna was pushing her toward the forest. “He’ll be all right. Take the women up to the ridge, and I’ll send him soon.”
Callum’s gaze snapped to hers. She was holding on to Nairna, as if she didn’t want to leave. It seemed that she’d started to lead the women away, only to return when the tower had fallen.
As if she cared about him, despite the danger to herself.
If he could have, he’d have abandoned all else, taking her away from the chaos of battle. But that wasn’t a choice. He was bound to defend his family and the only home he’d ever had.
As if to remind him of that, Bram extended a hand and helped him up. And for a moment, he saw the gratefulness on his brother’s face. “Thank you for defending them,” he said below his breath, so that only Callum would hear. “And I’m sorry for every day you spent in captivity. I blame myself for it.”
Though he could make no reply, he squeezed Bram’s hand in forgiveness. After everything they’d been through, he knew his brother had done everything possible to free him. Nairna sent him a smile of gratefulness, still standing by her husband.
Before his brother Dougal could join the women and children, Callum offered his sword. The lad needed a weapon of his own, now that he’d spent all of his arrows. After taking it, Dougal disappeared into the forest, just as more enemy soldiers emerged, surrounding them on all sides.
Though Callum wanted to reassure himself that Marguerite had escaped with his youngest brother, he forced himself not to look, for fear of drawing the soldiers’ attention there.
Too late.
One of the archers fired several arrows toward the forest before he could bring the man down. Not all of the women had made it to the top of the ridge, and Callum worried that one of them could have been struck. The thought of Marguerite lying prone, her life ended by an arrow, sent a dark rage pulsing through him.
Bram and Alex split off on either side to meet the men, their shields and weapons ready. Callum kept firing at the enemy archers, dropping as many as he could, until he had only a single arrow left. Alex handed him a shield, but he refused it, needing both hands to wield the bow. They were completely outnumbered by the enemy, and he saw no way out.
Nairna held fast to Bram while their enemy awaited the order to kill. Callum held his bow steady, hoping he could take out Cairnross or Harkirk with his last arrow.
Even if he did, there was one unavoidable truth. Today he was going to die.
Marguerite clenched her hands together, her heart racing. Though she’d made it into the forest, away from the battle, she couldn’t stop herself from returning to watch. She chose an isolated place near the edge of the trees, her heart numb with fear as Lord Cairnross and Lord Harkirk closed in.
Through a haze of tears, she sat, wondering if she could plead with Cairnross for their lives. Was it possible that he might spare them, on her behalf?
No. She’d fled with the MacKinlochs, betraying their betrothal. Though the earl might still want her for his wife, she didn’t trust him to free the others. Especially Callum.
She stood, resting her hand against a tree, her heart sick with terror. Because of her, Cairnross had come. If she’d remained behind, none of these men would have died.
Marguerite took a step toward Callum, but before she could emerge from the trees, Bram exploded with fury. His claymore flashed as he brought down man after man, and Alex stood at his back to defend him.
They fought for their lives and in the midst of the battle, Callum seized a quiver of arrows from a dead archer. As he released the arrows, one after the other, he moved into the forest, moving straight toward her.
Marguerite didn’t move, not understanding why he was leaving his brothers behind. When he reached her side, he pulled her veil free and dropped it, pulling her to higher ground. She suddenly realized that the white color had made her visible from below. And she was still in range of their arrows where she’d been standing.
“You can’t leave them behind,” she pleaded, looking back at Bram, Alex, and Nairna. “They need you.”
Callum’s face hardened, and he climbed atop a large boulder, drawing back his bow. He released another stream of arrows toward the enemy, bringing down one man after another.
Shame reddened her cheeks when Marguerite realized she’d accused him of cowardice. That wasn’t it at all. He’d been moving into a position where he could better defend them.
“I misunderstood,” she apologized. “I’m sorry for what I said.” By leaving his brothers and hiding within the trees, he’d gained a more strategic position, fighting where the enemy couldn’t see him.
Callum pointed to the top of the ridge, in a wordless order for her to join the other women. She understood but hesitated, not wanting to leave him behind. “Thank you for protecting me,” she whispered.
He lowered his bow for a moment. His brown eyes held a steady reassurance, as if he would never allow anyone to harm her. The look on his face was of a man prepared to die.
Marguerite reached down to the fallen veil and brought it to him, binding it slowly around his left forearm. “Take this,” she said. “It will protect your arm from the bowstring.”
It was all she could give him. Callum remained motionless while she tied it off, and then he covered her hand with his. The warmth of his palm reassured her, and he squeezed her hand in silent farewell. She didn’t know what would happen to either of them now, but she squeezed it back.
The rumble of horsemen approaching caught Marguerite’s attention. She saw two armies of men, and at the sight of the tall man leading the group, her heart soared. The Duc D’Avignois had come at last.
She started to move downhill, but Callum caught her by the arm. “It’s my father,” she explained. “I have to see him.” If she could reach the Duc in time, she might convince him to save the MacKinlochs.
