Inside, the large Hall was immaculate with fresh rushes upon the floor. Callum held the heavy tray, absorbing the sights around him, searching for Marguerite. If she’d been locked away in her room again, he would do what was necessary to set her free.
But then, he spied her at the far end of the room. She sat alongside an older matron, a shuttered expression on her face. She wore a ruby-colored surcoat and a cream cote that hung to the floor with tightly-fitted draping sleeves. A veil and gold circlet rested upon her head. Around her throat, he spied the silver chain, and the blue glass pendant rested upon the crimson gown. Although her expression remained serene, he sensed the unrest simmering beneath. Callum carried the tray and stopped before her, waiting for her to notice him.
When she did, her hand stilled upon the goblet of wine, panic etched on her face. She appeared frozen, not at all pleased to see him. It was as if he’d invaded her safe world, the uninvited guest whom she could never present to her family. Though she accepted a piece of salmon from his tray, not once did she look at him.
He gave no reaction to her dismay, slipping into the role of a nameless servant. Frustrated anger simmered beneath his skin, for he no longer knew if she wanted him here or not.
But when he followed the others back, he caught her stricken gaze and sent her his own challenge. He’d infiltrated the castle walls just to see her—let her come if she dared.
Marguerite waited hours before slipping away from her guards during the evening entertainment. Distracted by the storytelling, they hadn’t noticed her disappearance. But they would. She had only moments to warn Callum.
She found him standing outside the stables. He’d stripped himself of the tunic and had poured water over himself. Though the night air was warm, his skin puckered from the cool droplets. She saw the reddened scars upon his back and the strong muscles that corded along his upper arms and torso.
She remembered what it was to touch his skin, to taste the firm mouth that stole away her wits, leaving her breathless.
“You can’t be here, Callum,” she whispered. “Please. You have to go.” Couldn’t he understand that if they were caught together, his life was in danger? Beatrice hated the Scots, and she wouldn’t hesitate to punish him or worse, have him killed.
“If they find me with you—”
Her words broke away when he led her into the shadows. There was no light, and she couldn’t see anything, not even his face.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered. “I’m trying to keep you safe. If anything happened to you . . .”
He drew closer, his dark eyes shadowed with persistence. It had been such a mistake to let him touch her, as he had in the forest. For now he’d glimpsed the secret desires within her heart.
He took her hands, lifting them to his shoulders in a blatant invitation. Marguerite’s fingers moved to his throat, where she felt the rapid pulse. Her own heartbeat echoed his, for she was caught without knowing what to do. Like the apple of sin, he offered her a temptation she didn’t want to refuse.
Callum pressed her back against the wall, supporting her as his warm breath silenced her protests. She cared.
He sensed how distraught she was, but he wasn’t going to abandon her. Not after they’d hurt her before.
“It’s too dangerous for me to see you anymore, Callum,” she murmured. “My father will return in a few days. And my new . . . betrothed husband will come with him.”
His hands stilled on either side of her as the coldness slid through his veins, freezing into anger. Was she giving up?
“I am grateful to you for protecting me,” she whispered. “And I am glad that you are healed. But it has to end between us.”
No. He wasn’t going to stand back and let her fear dictate the future. He gripped her hand and drew it back to his throat. Reminding her that he couldn’t speak, but it hadn’t stopped him from coming here.
She was his, and he intended to fight for her.
His hands moved up to cradle her head, his thumbs edging her temples. He wanted her to feel his touch, to know the thoughts inside of him. When his fingers passed down her cheeks, there was wetness from her tears.
“I don’t want you here anymore.”
In the heated darkness between him, he knew it was a lie. She was trying to drive him away in order to protect him. Didn’t she know that he would do anything for her?
A sliver of frustration irritated his pride, for he didn’t intend to hide. If she wanted to be with him, he could take her away right now. But she was faltering. He could see it in her divided loyalty, her uncertainty of whether she could turn her back on her family, seeking a life with him. Leaving her made it too easy for her to forget what there was between them.
Callum ignored her soft struggle to move away and held her captive. Against his hands, he felt the harsh beating of her pulse. He moved his mouth to kiss the trembling vein and her hands came up to hold his head.
Aye, she was lying to him. He sensed it in the way her hands dug into him, pulling him closer. He nipped at her throat, moving up to her chin, and then capturing her mouth.
There was desperation in her answering kiss, but she didn’t try to free herself. She kissed him back, her mouth meeting his as he took possession. Never would he stand aside and let another man take what belonged to him. He wouldn’t cower before a duke or hide in the shadows out of fear.
He kissed her hard, provoking the heat that had always been between them. He slid his hands slowly to the underside of her breasts, tantalizing her. And when he grazed the hardened tips, reminding her of the way he’d pleasured her, she gasped against his mouth.
Don’t ever deny what’s between us.
