Their teasing diminished the tension somewhat, and the words came easier to him. “It doesn’t mean . . . I trust . . .”
While his brothers busied themselves with taking care of the fire and heating water for a tea, Callum carried Marguerite’s body into the tent and laid her upon the furs. He closed the edges of the tent to give them privacy. With a hand upon her throat, he could barely feel her pulse.
You have to live, he prayed. With shaking hands, he lifted the wet gown away, and then her chemise. Her skin was freezing cold, and Callum cocooned her in the blankets.
When he exited the tent, he saw Alex with a wooden cup of steaming liquid. “You might try to get her to drink this. It’s not much, but it might help warm her from the inside.”
The drink was little more than heated water, but he took it from his brother. Before he entered the tent, Alex reminded him, “Skin to skin, Callum. That will warm her the fastest.”
His brother Bram sent him a knowing look. “And there’s nothing wrong with enjoying some time with a beautiful naked woman.”
“Dougal will volunteer, if you’re too shy,” Alex teased. “He has no wife to take his head off.”
Their youngest brother’s face blushed crimson, and he hurried back to the horses, ignoring the remark.
Callum pointed toward the coast and ordered, “Must . . . find the ship.”
“You’re afraid the Duc will come after her,” Alex predicted.
He nodded. They would be searching, and he wasn’t about to let them find her.
“They might believe she’s dead,” Alex responded. “Most women wouldn’t survive what she did.”
The reminder only fueled Callum’s fear that she still might not live. She was so cold and unresponsive. “Find them,” he repeated to his brothers, and saw Bram nodding his assent.
He trusted them to learn how close the soldiers were while he tended to Marguerite. Hastily, he ducked back inside the tent and tried to raise her head.
“Open your eyes,” he pleaded. “Marguerite, you must.”
When she remained unconscious, he gathered her in his arms, supporting her. “Drink,” he murmured, trying to lift the cup to her lips. The warm liquid dribbled down the side of her face, and he realized he would have to try a different tactic.
Taking a small sip of the liquid, he drew his lips over hers, coaxing them open. Then he released the warm water into her mouth with deliberate slowness. When she didn’t cough or sputter, he tried it again, transferring the warm water until she had drunk half the cup. It was enough for now.
He stripped away his own clothing and pulled back her blanket. Her body was pale, but the sight of her breasts and slim hips made him grit his teeth against the memories of touching her, their bodies joined together.
When he moved his body upon hers, rolling them up in a blanket, he felt the extent of her cold skin. She never moved, never gave any reaction to him.
He drew her so close, her head was tucked beneath his chin, her freezing skin against his. “You’re going to live, a ghràidh,” he swore. If the force of his will would keep her heart beating, he would do everything in his power to make it so.
She slept against him, her soft skin gradually getting warmer. He spoke to her, in a stream of words telling her what she meant to him. How he would take care of her and love her for the rest of their days.
Hours passed, and his brothers left food just outside the tent. Callum tried to get Marguerite to eat, but she remained unresponsive. He covered her in blankets and dressed himself, before returning outside the tent to speak with his brothers. “Where is the ship?”
“Still south of us,” Dougal answered. “While you were with the Lady, I rode down the coast with Bram. It looks as if they’re still searching the water.”
“We need to take her back to Glen Arrin,” Alex warned, “before anyone finds us here.”
Though Marguerite was no longer quite as cold, Callum wasn’t certain it was wise to move her. But he agreed that her father would likely return and find her if they remained here.
“All right,” he agreed. “We’ll take her back.”
He studied his brothers and glanced at the tent. They had only a few hours to disappear into the hills, where the Duc and his men wouldn’t find them.
He could only pray she’d survive the journey.
Callum held Marguerite throughout the grueling ride. When she hadn’t awakened on the third day, Alex decided to hasten their pace, for fear that she would die of starvation. Last night, Callum had tried to get her to drink more water, but though she took it, she remained motionless.
She was holding on to life by the barest thread. And he didn’t know how to save her.
