When she reached his side, he repressed the urge to pull her into an embrace. His hand clenched around the bow, and he nodded in greeting.
Marguerite offered a hesitant smile. “Good morn to you.”
Callum gestured toward his fire, motioning the question of whether she had broken her fast. She saw the remains of the boar meat he’d taken and shook her head. “I’ve eaten already.”
She twisted her hands together, reaching for the silver chain around her throat. When she pulled it free, he saw the pendant hidden beneath the silk gown, nestled between her breasts. She’d kept it.
In her eyes, he saw the nervousness, but he made an effort not to frighten her. After so many months, they were strangers again. It would take time before she learned to trust him.
He beckoned to her to come closer, and he introduced her to his black stallion. Marguerite reached out to touch Goliath, and the horse nuzzled her hand. “He’s a handsome creature.” Her eyes met his, and a flush of shyness came over her cheeks. Murmuring to the animal, she stroked his head and distracted herself with getting acquainted.
Marguerite appeared flustered, as if she didn’t know what to say or do. Moving between them, Callum took her hand in his. She looked scared, and it wasn’t surprising. He’d removed her from the castle, bringing her out here alone. He had to do something to make her relax, to understand that nothing had changed between them.
Taking her hand, he lifted it to his own hair and drew it downward in a petting motion. A smile flickered at her mouth. “You’re not a horse, Callum.” But the tension evaporated, and she let out a half-laugh when he nuzzled her hand. With his hands upon her waist, he lifted her on to the horse, swinging up behind her.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He pointed beyond the trees, north of the castle. Far away where none of her father’s men could find them.
Marguerite started to protest, but he ignored her, leading the animal through the trees to the meadow beyond. He held her securely against him as he quickened the pace, letting the animal take them away.
In the open clearing, he urged the horse faster, holding her tight as he let Goliath run. The stallion loved nothing better than to go fast, the landscape blurring around them. He guided them over the small hills, until they reached a small, silvery loch. His horse was glad to stop for a drink, and Callum lifted Marguerite down while Goliath took his fill.
“For a moment, I was afraid you were trying to steal me away to Glen Arrin,” she breathed, a furtive smile upon her lips.
Would you want me to? he wondered.
Unlike most men, he had no words to speak words of flattery or words to tell her his thoughts. He had to rely on his actions to show her what he wanted.
With his hands resting upon her waist, he tried to let her see the thoughts within him.
If I could, I’d bring you back with me.
His hands moved up her arms, like a lover’s. Her skin prickled with goose flesh, but she remained utterly motionless, her blue eyes caught up in his. “I don’t know what to say to you,” she whispered.
His answer was to touch a finger to her lips. Say nothing at all. He took her hands and brought them to his chest. Furtively, she rested her fingers upon his heartbeat.
“I think your heart is beating as fast as mine is,” she admitted, raising her hands to his shoulders. Her touch explored him, moving down his arms, and then up again. He didn’t move at all, thankful that she’d read his thoughts. But he wanted her hands upon his bare skin.
“I shouldn’t be here right now,” she murmured, “but I don’t care.”
Neither did he. Her father was gone, and they had a few hours before the others would come to search for her. By then, he would bring her safely home again.
Marguerite’s hands moved up his neck, and then her hands threaded into his hair. The sensation of her touch brought him closer to temptation. He wanted to kiss her again, to taste the sweetness of her mouth and give in to his own desires. The blinding pleasure of her hands was pushing him closer to the edge. But then, with a mischievous smile, she petted him, as she had done earlier to his horse.
His answer was to seize her waist and claim the kiss he wanted. He took command of her mouth, stealing her breath, and giving her no chance to escape him. She didn’t understand the power she held over him, and his hands moved into her own hair, tearing the veil aside until he could slide his fingers into the silken length.
Don’t play games with me.
Her lips were swollen, her breathing tremulous. But she understood now, that he wasn’t one of her father’s men who would defer to flirtation or small touches.
Her face was pale, but there was no fear—only an answering desire. He hadn’t brought her here for teasing. But neither would he harm her.
Taking her hand in his, he led Marguerite to sit upon a boulder overlooking the loch. The late morning sun had risen higher, casting its warmth. “It’s beautiful here,” she offered. Drawing her knees beneath her gown, she stared out at the silvery water. “There was a lake near my father’s castle in Avignois,” she admitted. “When I was a little girl, I used to watch my sisters swim. I was too frightened to join them.”
He sent her a questioning look, and she added, “I never learned how.”
But he saw the interest in her eyes. Bending down, she removed her shoes and dangled her bare feet into the water. “It’s not as cold as I thought it would be.”
