When they reached Glen Arrin that evening, relief flooded through him. The other women knew more of healing than he did, and he hoped that Nairna or Laren could help revive Marguerite.
As they rode closer, he welcomed the sight of the fortress. All spring and summer, they had continued rebuilding it larger than before, and it was nearly completed. Limestone walls stretched around the Hall, and the wooden tower was being lined with stone, to eventually convert it into a castle.
Yet, the sight of his home didn’t alleviate his fear. Marguerite’s skin was burning hot, and she’d slipped into a fever since yesterday. He didn’t know what to do for her, and never had he felt so defenseless. He could fight against any enemy, but this unseen foe might take her from him.
Nairna and Laren were there to greet them, but their smiles faded as soon as they saw Marguerite in his arms.
“Is she—?” Laren whispered. Her face looked desolate, and she held on to her swollen pregnancy, as if to guard against the possibility of death.
“She’s not dead.” Callum walked past them, toward the fortress. But the fear of losing Marguerite wound him up so tightly, he couldn’t manage more than that.
Nairna, who was also heavily pregnant, struggled to catch up to him. “Bring her inside. We’ll move Adaira in with Laren and Alex.”
She led the way, and Callum shifted Marguerite in his arms as he took her up the narrow winding staircase.
“It’s good to hear you talking again, Callum,” Nairna said quietly. “I always knew you would.” She opened the door leading to a tiny chamber with a single bed within it. A slight smile pulled at her mouth. “If anyone could help you, I always thought Marguerite would manage it.”
He cradled her in his arms and stared at his brother’s wife. “She can’t die.” Gently, he laid Marguerite upon the bed, drawing a blanket over her. “Is there anyone who can heal her?”
“Your mother may have some remedies to help.” She rested against the wall, drawing her palm against her womb. At his look of concern, she confessed, “I get dizzy sometimes. It passes.”
“But you and Laren are well?”
She nodded. “Our children will come in the autumn.” Eyeing Marguerite, she asked, “Callum, does the Duc know she is here?”
“She threw herself off the ship. I think her father believes she’s dead.” He sat down beside Marguerite, touching her hair. “It was the only way he would ever let her go. She broke her betrothal to come back to me.”
Nairna’s eyes filled up with tears. The chamber door opened slightly, and Bram held out a tray with a bowl of a watery liquid. “I have broth, if you think she can drink it.”
Callum pointed for his brother to set it down on a table. “Send for our mother, and I’ll stay with her.”
“You’re what she needs most right now, Callum.” Nairna touched his shoulder and returned to her husband, closing the door behind her.
When they were gone, he sat down again at Marguerite’s side. Though she had finally overcome the effects of being too cold, the fever worried him. Perspiration dampened her brow, and she was so pale, he didn’t know if he’d done enough to save her.
Months ago, she had come to him in this very room. She’d bathed him and tended his wounds, letting him rest his head upon her lap. Her compassion had reached past his shadowed mind, granting him peace for the first time.
It felt awkward, speaking to her when she was unconscious, but Callum sensed that she was there, somehow. That she would hear him.
He moved beside her in the bed, pulling her close. She was so hot, he didn’t think it was wise for her to be wearing so many heavy clothes. With the greatest care, he undressed her, easing the cote off until she wore only her chemise. The linen clung to her skin and he brought her head to rest upon his chest.
“I won’t let you go, Marguerite. Not in life. Not in death.” He pressed his mouth against her temple, stroking her hair again. “I’ve fought too hard for you.”
The weariness of the nights he’d spent keeping vigil were starting to press against his resolve. “You’re going to wed me, when you’re better. I’ll build you a house, anywhere you like.”
A seed of regret pulled inside him, that he could never give her a castle like his brother Alex. “It won’t be very big, but it will do well enough for us.”
Around her neck, he spied the chain holding the glass pendant he’d given her. She’d worn it, even when she was leaving him.
He lifted up the chain, the slight weight resting in his palm. Formed of glass, it should have been fragile. And yet, it remained strong. Like her.
Callum took a breath and began speaking again. He filled her ears with stories, talking to her until his voice grew hoarse. The memory of her had pulled him out of the greatest darkness, when he suffered beneath the lash. If his voice would somehow do the same for her, he’d speak for as long as he could.
When at last he was too tired to voice another word, he stretched out beside her, holding her in his arms. As if he could bind her to him, forcing her to stay.
When his mother Grizel arrived the next morning, she brought a foul-smelling tea.
“They told me you’re speaking again.” She eyed Callum with a curt nod, as if it mattered not at all to her. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”
