She’d demonstrated each letter and sound, showing him how to write simple words. Throughout the lesson, his eyes were intent upon the ground. He struggled to string the words together, and although his spelling was disastrous, at least he was starting to understand how to put the sounds there.
Mor, he wrote.
She added an “e” to correct him, and wrote as many words as she could think of, until her fingers were getting scratched from the branch she’d used.
“You’re doing well,” she complimented him. He’d written and rewritten the words at least a dozen times, practicing them over and over, as if his life depended on it.
And it might, if he stayed here too long.
Her fingers were aching, and she massaged them, sitting back against the log. “I think that’s enough for now,” she said, rising to her feet. “I have to return. They’ll be looking for me.” The evening sun now rimmed the horizon in red and gold, and she couldn’t stay much longer.
He bent down and labored over the letters until he stood back to let her see the word. No, he’d written.
“I can’t stay, and you know this,” she said quietly. “They would accuse you of abducting me, no matter what I say to defend you.”
He set down the stick, his dark eyes filled with frustration. But he had to understand the truth of her words. Already she had spent far too much time alone with him. If they were caught together, she didn’t doubt that they would take him prisoner. She couldn’t let that happen.
“If I can come back to see you, I will,” she said. “It may not be for some time, but . . . I’ll try.” She sent him a half-hearted smile. “You have many letters to practice until then.”
The likelihood was that her aunt would keep her locked away, unable to leave until the Duc returned. Marguerite would suffer punishment for what she’d done. But she held no regrets at all.
Callum extended his hand, but instead of leading her back, he drew her hands to his waist. For a long moment, he cupped the back of her neck, keeping his forehead pressed to hers.
“I don’t know what will happen to us,” she whispered. “I wish—“ Her words broke away, for wishes were worth nothing at all. Instead, she closed her eyes, holding on to him. For now, she could only hold fast to the moments slipping away like water through her fingers.
At her side, Callum took her hand and pressed it to his chest. The firm reassurance and strength only dug deeper into her heart.
She suspected he would wait for the rest of his life, if she asked it of him. And it simply wasn’t fair.
Chapter Seven
The sound of dogs barking drew closer to their position within the forest. Callum fitted an arrow to his bow and stood before her.
“They’re going to find us, if I stay here any longer,” Marguerite said. Although he knew she was right, it didn’t mean he was going to step aside and let them lock her away again. He’d been imprisoned and tortured before, and he’d endure it in a moment if it meant protecting her.
But she turned to him, forcing him to lower the bow. “I need to face them myself.” Her voice came out with a tremble, and he shook his head.
“If they see you, you would bear the punishment for my rebellion.” She gave him a broken smile, adding, “The only way I’ll ever be free is if I speak to my father.” Her hand moved to touch his cheek. “Stay back, Callum. Let me try to fight for what I want.”
Though he understood her desire, he had no intention of letting her face them alone. How could he hide away like a coward, letting her bear the brunt of their anger?
“They won’t hurt me,” she told him. “And if they deny me food again, I’ll speak to the servants. Surely they would help me, if it meant gaining a reward from my father.”
She moved in, winding her arms around his neck. Though her hair was tangled, her face still held the satisfied flush of fulfillment he’d given her. He wasn’t about to let her go alone.
He might be able to watch over her without her knowledge. He could infiltrate the castle, guarding her as best he could, until she gained her father’s permission to come back with him.
It will never happen, his mind taunted. The Duc will never accept a broken man such as you.
He dulled the voice of reason and gripped Marguerite in a fierce embrace. When he pulled back, he saw the tears glimmering in her eyes, though she tried to send him a reassuring smile.
“I’ll be all right.”
He didn’t believe it, even as he gestured for her to walk toward them.
But first, she stood on her tiptoes to give him a last kiss. It was the softest touch, like a farewell. And when she turned away from him, a sense of foreboding intruded. As if their shared dreams would never happen, no matter how hard they fought.
Callum climbed a large oak nearby and hid himself within the branches, watching as she walked toward the sound of the dogs. She moved with her head held high, offering no excuses for her actions. And when the riders caught up to her at last, they seized her, lifting her atop one of the horses before they stole her away from him.
