Marguerite found Callum waiting for her outside the stable when she went out riding with her father the next morning. His face was shielded, but in his expression, she saw a rigid exhaustion, as if he’d barely slept at all. Upon his back, his bow and quiver rested, as if he were prepared for any threat. He held the reins of both horses, leading them forward until he stood a short distance away.
The Duc noticed the weapons and strode over to take his horse. His eyes narrowed. “You’re not one of my men.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace.” The stable master came forward and said, “He is Iagar’s cousin and needed a place to work. He’s helped in the stables this past sennight and has done well here.”
Callum met the Duc’s eyes with a steady look of his own. Marguerite wondered if she should intervene and vouch for Callum. Instinct warned her to say nothing, though she saw him watching her surreptitiously.
“I know your face,” Guy said. “I’ve seen it somewhere before.”
When Callum gave no reply, the Duc demanded, “Well? Have you nothing to say?”
“He cannot speak, Your Grace,” the stable master intervened. “His tongue was cut out, so we believe.”
“Has it?” Her father studied Callum, and his eyes hardened as he turned to Marguerite. “Do you know this man?”
She didn’t know what to say, afraid of betraying them both. Never had she lied to her father, but she had also seen his ruthless nature. If Guy de Montpierre knew what had happened between them, Callum would pay the price with his life.
“No,” she said quietly. “I do not know him.”
Callum handed over the reins and helped her on to her horse. The touch of his hands upon her waist evoked the memory of how he’d gripped her bare hips the previous morning. She’d lost herself in abandonment, the forbidden touch arousing her as she took him within her body.
Marguerite couldn’t look at him, for her cheeks were burning from the vision. Was she making the right decision by lying to her father? She didn’t know.
But she saw the coldness on Callum’s face at her denial, and there was nothing she could say to him. He never once met her gaze, behaving like nothing more than a servant.
It broke away the pieces of her heart, for this wasn’t where he belonged. Callum was a fighter like his brothers. He was a servant to no man, and she couldn’t bear to treat him as such.
He didn’t like this situation any more than she did. Would he leave, as she’d wanted him to, days ago? Or would he stay, forcing her to see him, reminding her of what she stood to lose?
Guy mounted his horse and led her away from the castle toward the coast. Marguerite knew it was only an excuse to speak to her alone. Her nerves grew brittle, half-afraid of what he would say. When they were half a mile from the gates, her father slowed the pace of his horse, riding alongside her.
“What do you think of the Earl of Penrith?” His expression remained neutral, as if waiting to gauge her response. “We finished drawing up the betrothal agreement last night, and it will be signed and witnessed this day, if you agree to it.”
Marguerite didn’t know how to answer. If she admitted that she had no intention of wedding the earl, her father would demand to know why. Her courage faltered, and she hedged her answer. “Lord Penrith is still a stranger to me. I can only hope he would be better than Lord Cairnross.”
“Cairnross never once mistreated you, did he?” Guy’s tone was defensive, irritated at her accusation.
Marguerite stopped her horse and regarded her father. “He killed my maid. I left the fortress because it wasn’t safe to remain there.”
“He wouldn’t have hurt you,” her father argued, dismissing the idea.
But Guy's rationalization only heightened her anger. “I couldn’t know that. And you had already gone to Edinburgh, so I had to make the decision on my own.”
A cold expression slid over her father’s face. “What you did was reckless and dangerous. Going off with strangers, and a clan chief you didn’t know. They could have violated you, or—”
“They did not harm me,” she interrupted.
“The fact remains that you lived with a group of savages, like a common peasant.” His tone held only disdain.
She stared at him in disbelief. “Is that what you thought of the MacKinlochs? They gave me sanctuary, putting their own lives at risk. For me, a woman they hardly knew.” It outraged her that he would call them savage.
“I spoke on their behalf to the king. Whatever debt was owed to their clan, I have satisfied. Now we must lay the past to rest.” His voice softened, but the iron within it was unmistakable. “Beatrice told me that you disobeyed my orders, and you spent a night alone in the forest.”
Marguerite didn’t deny it, and the fear began closing in. “She locked me in my room. I was angry.”
“She was protecting you, according to my orders.”
“I was given no food for over a day. I needed to get out of the castle.” Color flooded her face, and she struggled to think of a way to explain her actions.
