And he wasn’t about to live without her again.
Chapter Fourteen
The ship awaited them, miles away on the coast, where it would take her south along the western coast of Scotland toward Wales. They would then continue the inland journey to the earl’s estate in England.
Marguerite stared at her packed belongings, feeling lost and alone. Her father had agreed to the earl’s proposition, that she wed him in England instead of here. After all the unrest and the bitter memories, it would be a better start for them. Not to mention, it would take her far away from the MacKinlochs.
The bleakness went deeper than her skin, filling up her veins. She’d suffered over the past few days with pain and bleeding, until the herbs’ effects had passed. Her body was weak, and her mind felt blurred and uncertain. Marguerite forced herself to eat a small meal this morn but barely noticed the food.
Had Callum survived? Though her father had ordered him bound and taken away, she didn’t know if they’d abandoned him in the wilderness or murdered him. They’d given him no weapons, no food—nothing at all to survive in the harsh northern lands. And there was no way to know if his brothers would find him.
The thought of Callum’s death had shifted her own desire to live. What reason was there to go on, enduring a marriage she didn’t want, to a man who would never love her? It was as if her father were molding her life out of clay, shaping and destroying her own efforts.
She was like an empty vessel, fired from her father’s ambitions, with no power of her own. And the cool anger was transforming her, making her wonder what reckless act would finally achieve her freedom.
Her maids dressed her in a rose surcoat and cream-colored cote, before braiding her hair and gathering it within a golden net. A white barbette covered her head, winding around her throat. Marguerite studied her reflection in a polished silver mirror, and though the woman before her appeared calm and serene, inwardly, the worry consumed her mind.
Before she departed her chamber, she went to one of the trunks and withdrew a bow and a quiver filled with black-feathered arrows.
“My lady?” one of her maids questioned, but Marguerite gave no answer. She kept the weapons at her side, walking slowly down the winding stone stairs.
Outside, her horse awaited her, and she tied the bow and quiver to her saddle. Beyond the first wall, Lord Penrith was supervising the dowry goods being loaded into wagons. Marguerite kept her distance, watching over him. Of all the men her father could have chosen, there was nothing wrong with the earl. Were it not for her love of Callum, she would find no hardship at all in marrying the handsome, kindly man.
But her love belonged to the silent warrior who had captured her heart with a single look. He’d given her passion, making her feel alive. She might have given her promise, to go through with this marriage. Yet, it would never change her feelings for Callum.
Right now, she felt as though she were being suffocated, her life pulled in directions it wasn’t meant to go. She wanted an hour to herself, a time to grieve for her loss.
After the stable master assisted her on to the horse, she drew the animal forward to speak with the earl. “I would like to go riding,” she said to him. “Just for an hour or so, before we depart.”
His expression narrowed when he spied the bow and quiver upon the saddle, “You cannot go alone.” There was a warning in his expression, as if he feared she would try to run away.
The truth was, she couldn’t survive on her own if she wanted to. She knew nothing about how to find food or shelter, and likely she’d die within a day if she tried.
“I promise I’ll return.”
“Are you planning to search for him?” Penrith’s expression remained neutral, though she saw the unrest in his eyes.
“He was taken four days ago,” she said. “I’m not so foolish as to believe I could find him in an hour.”
“We’ll board our ship soon,” he reminded her. He took her hand within his, and his grip turned firm.
“Will you not give me the chance to grieve?” she responded. “I—I need the time.” Even if she did nothing but wander through the trees or go to the loch where Callum had first taught her to swim, it would help her close off the memories.
He stared at her, not at all understanding. “There is much to do here, Marguerite, before we go. And I won’t allow you to back out on our agreement. The Duc left MacKinloch alive. Now you must fulfill your part of the bargain by wedding me.”
Marguerite lowered her gaze to the ground. The energy to protest simply wasn’t in her. She felt so lost, so unwilling to give herself to another, that she didn’t know what to do any more. Her gaze fixed upon the forest, remembering the days she’d spent with Callum and what it had been like to fall asleep in his arms.
The earl released a sigh, raising her hand to his lips, “I am likely the greatest fool on this earth. Go, then, if it means so much to you. I’ll see to it that you have an hour. But no longer.”
A smile broke free, and she squeezed his hand in return. “You’re a good man, my lord.”
“Your dowry will help repair my estates,” was his pragmatic response. “And your father has offered to pay me a great deal for turning a blind eye toward your actions.” He crossed his arms and eyed her with distrust. “But if you do not return—”
“I will,” she promised.
He accompanied her to the gate, and within another few minutes, she was riding alone, toward the forest. The trees surrounded her, blotting out the sunlight in filtered shadows. Marguerite turned her horse in the direction of the loch, letting her mind wander. As she continued deeper into the woods, she felt a sense of uneasiness, as though she were being watched. But there was no one at all, only imagined sounds.
When she reached the shores of the loch, she picked up a handful of small stones and cast them into the water, watching the surface break.
