When her father caught sight of her, his visage transformed. There was immense relief, followed by anger and renewed determination.
She continued walking, until she stood before his horse. Then she held out her hands as if to greet him. “Will you come and accept my kiss of welcome, Father?”
Her father did not dismount. Instead, he stared at her. “I thought you were dead.”
“I almost died,” she agreed. “Callum found me and brought me back here.” She turned her attention to the priest, who was riding a mule nearby. “I hope that you have come to join in our wedding celebration.”
“I will not celebrate your marriage to a common Scot.”
Callum rode up at that moment. The look of vengeance that passed between him and her father made her uneasy, so she offered, “Will you accept our hospitality and continue our discussion in private?”
The Duc said nothing, and his silence stood as a refusal. Marguerite wondered if she would ever break through to him. She reached up and took Callum’s hand. When her father still did not speak, she added, “Your men may wish to refresh themselves in the castle. If that is agreeable to you, Laren?” she asked the Lady of Glen Arrin.
Alex’s wife held on to her babies and nodded. “So long as they leave their weapons behind.”
Her father looked as if he wanted to openly attack the fortress, but Callum met his unspoken threat with a promise of his own.
“I will speak to you, Marguerite,” the Duc agreed at last. “But not with him.”
“You will speak to both of us. Or not at all,” she countered.
They were at an impasse and her father looked as if he’d rather give the command to attack.
“I was willing to face death than live without Callum,” she said quietly. “If need be, I will face it again.”
Her father’s hardened expression held disbelief. He stared at her, as if trying to guess whether she would follow through with her threat. Callum dismounted and brought his hand around her waist. At his side, she faced the Duc, waiting for his response.
“Please,” she asked gently. “If you love me at all.”
There was no expression on his face, but eventually, he drew his horse forward in a walk, refusing to lower himself. She led him into the fortress, not at all knowing what she would say to him.
Nairna busied herself with getting the Duc wine and food, while Laren began changing the orders for the feast to accommodate more guests. Marguerite held on to Callum’s hand, but in his grasp, she felt the tension. He wasn’t about to negotiate with the Duc—he was well past that point. She had to intercede before they killed each other.
When they reached the Hall, the Duc refused to sit. Instead, he stood and faced her. With a discreet signal, Callum ordered the others out. Then he stood at her side and waited.
Marguerite squared her shoulders and faced her father. Though she tried to keep her expression calm, her insides felt like ice.
“You let me believe you were dead,” he raged. “Do you have any idea what that felt like?”
She saw the pain in his eyes and the anger that went deeper into his heart. “I am sorry that it had to be this way. But you never heard what I had to say. You dismissed my feelings and behaved as if I didn’t matter.
“And when you made me drink the potion, I realized that you were never going to hear what I had to say. You wanted what you believed was best for me. Never what I wanted.”
She let go of Callum’s hand and said, “When you are ready to see that I am happy here, that I am loved by this man, you are welcome to join in our celebration this night.” With a step toward the Duc, she said, “For this night, you could be my father again. Not my enemy.”
The Duc studied her, his face intent. “And what have you to say, MacKinloch? I presume you can still speak.”
“Thanks to Marguerite, yes.” He came forward and rested his hands upon her shoulders. “You and I may never come to an agreement. But I would slay a thousand enemies to protect your daughter. I would give my life for hers, and I swear I will make her happy.”
His words filled her with such joy, Marguerite stepped back into his embrace, bringing his arms around her. “Let me go, Father.”
The Duc said nothing, watching her. In the space of a few moments, he seemed to age, his expression holding bitterness. “I always wanted the best for you.”
“I’ve found my own happiness. And if you would only bend your convictions, you’d see that.”
“You would truly turn your back on your birthright?” he asked. “On all the wealth you would have possessed?”
She reached up and touched the flowers in her hair. “These will be my jewels now.” Stepping away from Callum, she asked, “Will you not put aside your anger?” She closed the space between them, reaching up to touch her father’s cheeks. “For this night, simply be happy for me.”
