She started to pull free, but something made her stop and turn around. Callum held his bow over one shoulder, his gaze shielded. He gave her a signal to leave, and she knew he wouldn’t stop her. But then, she realized the truth of what was happening.
The moment she reached her father’s side, everything would return to the way it had been. She would be safe with her family, and likely, she wouldn’t see Callum again.
Regret pulled at her, even though she’d known that the moments between them were never going to last. They would fade into bittersweet memories.
“I’ll never forget you,” she whispered, touching his cheek in farewell.
Callum drew his bow as soon as Marguerite left the trees, intending to shoot any man who came near her. Two of her father’s guards escorted her to safety, and she spoke to them, gesturing toward the MacKinlochs as if to intervene.
He kept low, crouching with his bow as he watched the men. Harkirk was still alive, but the body of Cairnross lay upon the ground, slaughtered by his brother Bram.
He should have been relieved that Marguerite would never marry the earl. Instead, angry resentment filled him up, that Bram had brought justice instead of himself. He’d wanted to be the one to set her free.
And more than that, he wanted to take the earl’s place as Marguerite’s husband. He touched the veil she’d bound around his arm as a makeshift guard, and the softness reminded him of her.
I’ll never forget you.
He didn’t believe that. As soon as she returned to France, her father would arrange another marriage to a nobleman. She would wed the man, bear him children, and forge a different life for herself. One that didn’t include him.
Callum watched as they brought a horse for her. He saw his brothers negotiating a truce while Harkirk’s men withdrew and Nairna spoke to the Duc. And just as he’d expected, Lady Marguerite rode away with her father. The evening sunset glinted upon her hair like a fading band of gold.
And he knew he would never see her again.
Chapter Four
Summer, 1306
The blue ribbon was so faded, it had turned to gray, the edges frayed with time.
"You're hurting by being apart from Marguerite, aren't you?" his brother's wife Laren had said to him, only months ago. "Surely, she would find it romantic if you were to steal her away, taking her back with you."
Romantic? Callum didn't know where she'd come up with that idea, but he had nothing to offer a duke's daughter. The Duc would murder him where he stood. To prove his point, he nodded to Laren and drew a line across his throat.
"Aye, her father might kill you." She smiled and ventured, "But you'd die a happy man."
Out of raw instinct, a laugh broke forth from him. The unexpected sound shocked him, and he touched his throat in disbelief.
"You'll speak again," Laren predicted. "And I think you'll have a stronger reason to, if you find her."
The past few months had been frustrating, for he'd not regained his speech, regardless of the time he'd had to heal and train. He'd done everything he could, but the harder he tried, the more the words remained trapped within him. Worse, the other clan members had avoided him, treating him as if he were somehow malformed.
And so he was. Aye, he'd been tortured and brought to the brink of death time and again. But by now, the nightmares should have stopped. Instead, they'd grown worse until he could hardly bring himself to close his eyes at night.
His mind was splintering apart, and the more he fought the memories, the greater his anger festered inside. He hated his life and the way he lacked purpose. Captivity had ruled his days for so long, he didn't know what to do with his freedom or how he would ever adapt to a life with no way to speak.
With every day that passed, he isolated himself more from his family, for he couldn't communicate with them. The anger seethed inside him, the frustration dominating every second of the day.
Nairna took it upon herself to confront him. Cool-headed and firm, she'd taken him aside. "Vengeance hasn't given you peace, has it?"
He stared back at her, and she reached for an arrow from his quiver. "You've fought at our side over the past few months. You helped save Laren's daughter when she was taken. But I see the anger in you. It's growing stronger every day."
Pity filled up her green eyes, and she softened her voice. "You miss Lady Marguerite, don't you?"
The words were like a spear thrust into his heart. Marguerite was the one person who had never treated him as if he were weak-minded or less than whole. In her eyes, he had been the warrior he wanted to be.
But she'd returned to the life she had known before him. The life she deserved.
"Marguerite worried about you all the time you were held captive." Nairna continued, never ceasing her assault. "If you're too blind to see the way she felt about you, and you won't fight to win her heart, then you deserve to lose her."
