Marguerite sank down upon her bed, her insides iced with terror. Though she didn’t believe there was any child, their actions went beyond imagining. The idea that they would kill any unborn babe horrified her. Her hands went to her middle, and though she felt no effects from the herbs yet, she saw the look of grim determination on her father’s face.
“Do you truly hate him that much?” she asked her father, while her aunt sat down in a chair.
“Oui,” he answered. “He will gain no part of your dowry, nor will I let him take advantage of you. There is nothing at all he can give, Marguerite.”
Except love. She was shattering apart inside, and her father would never understand the way she felt about Callum. When she looked into her father's face, she saw the blend of anger and worry. Once again, he was treating her like a little girl who had disobeyed him and had to be punished. In his eyes, she was incapable of making decisions for herself.
It bruised her heart to know that the father she’d loved all these years was more interested in his ambitions than his daughter’s happiness. The brutal reality crashed upon her as the first cramps seized within her womb.
She huddled upon her bed, the pain swallowing her whole. How naïve she’d been to hope that, in time, he would come to accept her decision. He wouldn’t. Never would he believe that Callum MacKinloch was good enough for her. Choosing a life with the man she loved meant breaking away from her family forever.
Another pain struck, and she doubled over, feeling as if a part of her was being ripped away. Over the next few hours, she lay upon her bed in misery, staring at the wall while her body responded to the herbal poison.
But she didn’t cry. The hurt within her could not be released with tears. It went all the way into her heart, severing a little girl’s adoration for her father. It cauterized any sense of obedience or loyalty she had once given him.
No longer was he the man who had pulled her upon his knee, telling stories. No longer the man who had tucked her head beneath his chin, holding her close while she played with the gold ring upon his finger. Nor was he the man who’d sworn to keep her safe at all costs.
He had now become the man who had slashed apart her hopes, leaving her with nothing at all. And for that, she would never forgive him.
“Callum!” came the voice of his brother Bram.
Callum quickened his pace, startled to see his three brothers on horseback. An unexpected smile broke over his face at the sight of them. When they drew their horses to a stop, his brothers gripped him hard, all talking at once.
“We received word several days ago from Marguerite—”
“What are you doing here? And where’s your horse?”
”—that you needed our help.”
Callum raised his hands and regarded them. “Much has . . . happened. We’ll talk over food.”
The sound of his voice seemed to stun them into silence. Alex was the first to recover, and his smile was blinding. “Your voice is back. Thank God.”
Bram let out a rush of breath. He raked a hand through his dark hair and managed, “Aye. We’ve much to be thankful for.”
His youngest brother Dougal looked startled, but as he cared for the horses, he added, “What about Marguerite?”
“I’m going back . . . for her.” In broken words, Callum explained what had happened, and what his intentions were. Though sometimes his voice faltered, it was gaining strength. He gave them enough to make himself understood.
They made camp, and his brothers offered food and mead to satisfy his hunger and thirst. In their presence, he felt their quiet support. They’d come to help him, and it meant more than he could say.
Later that night, his brother Bram joined him while Alex and Dougal slept. They lay back on the grass, staring at the stars that dotted a darkened sky.
“It’s dangerous, what you’re about to do.”
Callum didn’t deny it. “You would do the same, were it Nairna.”
“I’d kill any man alive who tried to take her from me.”
“Then you know.” He reached into the pouch at his waist, fingering the frayed ribbon Marguerite had given back to him. “Her father will never let her go. But I can’t . . . let her marry the earl. Not now.”
“The Duc knows where we live. If you take her, he’ll only bring an army after her.”
Callum leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. “He wanted me to die here. If I stay hidden, he might believe it.”
“Is she worth the risk?” Bram asked.
“She gave me back my voice.” He didn’t mention that Marguerite had also given her innocence. The physical connection had gone deeper than he’d ever expected. When he’d joined with her, he’d found the other half of himself.
