The fire crackled in the evening stillness, the only sound to break the silence. Callum touched her bare feet and massaged the soreness, as if in silent apology for the nightmare of trying to escape the castle. The sensation of his hands on her was heart wrenching, for she was torn between the desire to touch him, and the worry of being caught.
When he offered her bread and meat from a fold of his cloak, she nearly attacked the food like a savage. She savored the soft bread and firm crust, so hungry was she. Callum eyed her strangely, and she admitted, “My aunt punished me for leaving the castle, by taking away my food. I’ve had little to eat, these past two days.”
His expression turned so fierce, she didn’t know what thoughts were raging inside him. He stood, searching through his bundle of supplies before bringing out a cloth-wrapped hunk of meat. Marguerite wanted to weep at the sight of it, but forced herself to eat slowly. He fed her until she could eat no more, and then she closed her eyes, drawing up her knees.
Callum arranged a sleeping place for her and gestured for her to come and lie down upon the blanket he’d set out. She stretched out, and he came up behind her, pulling her body against his. His body was warm, and she felt safe against him, as though he would do anything to take care of her. He drew his cloak around her, covering them both.
For now, she let herself fall into sleep, pushing back her fears of what would happen in the morning when her disappearance was discovered.
Having Marguerite in his arms was the sweetest torment Callum had ever endured and a gift he’d never expected. Her slender body rested against his, her tangled hair tucked beneath his chin.
There would be an uproar in the castle when they discovered her gone. Even now, they were likely searching for her. But when he’d learned that they’d locked her away, he’d lost sight of reason, needing to get her out. Had he known at the time that they were denying her food, he might have committed a more unthinkable crime.
How anyone could mistreat this woman was impossible to believe. In her sleep, she burrowed beneath his cloak, and her backside nestled against the arousal he’d tried to hold back. He wanted her with a fierce, instinctive need. But he couldn’t dishonor her by surrendering to the desires rising within.
Only in his mind could he lower her gown, baring her skin . . . cupping her breasts in his palm while he kissed her. His pulse quickened as he remembered the sight of the puckered nipples when he’d taken her swimming a few days ago. The white linen chemise had clung to her curves, revealing her naked beauty to him.
He imagined kissing those breasts, touching her everywhere. The way a husband would.
The knife of reality slashed through his dreams. Another man would share her bed, filling her with children. Giving Marguerite the life he couldn’t.
Unless he convinced her to leave everything behind. He had no idea if she would ever consider it.
Callum sat up, adjusting his cloak so she could continue to sleep with it. He covered her and reached for his bow and quiver. The need to hunt came over him, to pour his frustration into physical exertion.
He moved quietly through the forest, searching for game. As he crept among the trees, he thought of what to do now. No one knew he was here, save Marguerite. He could take her back to Glen Arrin if she wanted to go.
But then, why would she? He could give her nothing. A life with him made her little better than an outlaw. She didn’t deserve to live that way, hiding from her family. The sobering reality made him question what to do.
The wilder side of him wanted to ignore the consequences and steal her. She’d come with him this far, hadn’t she?
But if he spent his nights with her, he wouldn’t last long. The scent of her skin, the softness of her body pressed against him, had ignited his lust until he’d had to walk away. If she stayed, he would claim her as a lover would, learning her body, filling her with himself.
He clenched his bow, trying to calm the rising storm of lust. When he heard footsteps behind him, he spun, an arrow fitted to the bowstring.
“Don’t shoot,” Marguerite murmured, and he lowered the bow. A lock of her hair hung over one shoulder, tendrils of gold framing her face. Her blue eyes captivated him, but he held his ground. “Are you all right?”
He gave a single nod. She looked as if she wanted to say so many things to him and didn’t know how to begin. But worst of all, he saw the defeat in her eyes.
Without allowing her to speak, he shouldered his bow and closed the distance. He took her face between his hands and kissed her, reminding her of the night they’d shared together. Her lips were soft, yielding to him as he tried to convince her without words to spend the rest of her nights with him.
But she lowered her head at last, confessing, “I didn’t sleep well last night. I kept worrying about what will happen when we’re caught together.”
Not if. When, she’d said. As if she were already giving up.
“I have to go back or too many people will be hurt.”
He’d suspected she would say this, but neither did he want her to return to a place where she was held prisoner. Words of argument were locked away inside of him, and though he tried to move his mouth, nothing came forth.
Marguerite reached up to touch his cheek. “I suppose I shouldn’t have come with you last night.”
His answer was to kiss her again, pulling her close as if he could absorb her into his own skin. Her mouth was open with shock, but she responded to him, kissing him back.
There were no words to tell her what he felt, but damned if he’d let her walk away. He kissed her roughly, showing her without words what he wanted to say. No man will ever touch you like this. No one will ever make you feel the way I do.
Her mouth met his with her own desperation, kissing him back while she held him for balance. Callum backed her against a tree, moving his knee between her legs until she was seated upon him. “What are you—oh,” she breathed, as he shifted his weight against her. Her head leaned back, and he kissed her again, his tongue moving inside as he rocked her core.
A shudder broke over her, and when he pulled back, he saw the dawning pleasure in her eyes. He’d meant only to balance her, but the secret response of her body reacting to the pressure of his thigh fascinated him. He trailed his hands down her back to rest upon her hips. Marguerite opened her eyes, and the vivid blue entranced him.
