“I’ll not let any harm come to you.” The wool crunches as he bolts upright. “So long as I draw breath, Rosie MacGregor. I swear it.”
“You sound so dire.” I try to laugh it off, but it comes out a shaky puff of air. I lay back down, tugging the wool back into place. “Now come on, before it gets cold again. Seriously, Callum. The past, the future, it must be changeable. Think about it. Just me coming back has probably already changed things. Nothing bad will happen to me. We’ll stay together. And soon we’ll find a way to leave here. Together.”
Callum stiffens. But he’s no longer looking at me. His eyes are trained into the distance. His breathing changes—quieter, controlled. “Wheesht,” he whispers.
The air shifts. Something in the night has changed.
He gently sets me aside, extricates us from his plaid, and stands up. The only sound is him winding the heavy, crunching wool around his waist and buckling on his sword. Then the hiss of steel as he pulls it from its scabbard.
I get to my knees, but I’m trembling now. Because I sense it too. The air is thick with it. The acrid, resinous stench of a pine pitch torch. The crackle of branches, intermittent, like someone trying to approach quietly.
The back of my neck prickles. I feel the weight of unseen eyes.
Callum steps in front of me. His voice is sharp as a blade. “Show yourself.”
A man steps from the trees. Then another, and another. Flickering torchlight dances across their features, revealing faces I recognize.
Campbell faces.
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Callum snaps out his arm, shielding me. Every line of his body goes taut. His stance tells me everything: He’s here. He’ll guard me. With his life, if it comes to it.
I try to step forward, but his arm is immovable, keeping me behind the shelter of his body.
Callum shouts, “Declare yourselves.”
“Easy, pup.”
“Pup, is it? I’m not the one set loose like a Campbell dog.”
Another man steps forward. “Stand down. There’s nae much time.”
I recognize him from the stables. Callum does too, because he lowers his sword arm slightly. “Angus. I see friendship has made a fool of me.”
“Stop your havering, lad, before it’s words what prove you the fool.”
Callum looks from man to man. “Are you nae here representing the Campbell?”
“We’re here to help, not harm,” Angus says, and I believe him. They aren’t rushing toward us. Their swords aren’t drawn. “I’m here to warn you.” Catching my eye, he adds, “Both of you.”
I startle. “Warnme?”
Callum stiffens, pointing his sword at Angus. “Is that a threat?”
“Calm yourself. We’re not the threat, daft lad. Aye, Campbell sent us, but it’s for the lass’s sake.”
“Why? What’s happened?” I cross my arms, shivering from more than cold now. “How’d you even find us?”
Callum is bristling with suspicion. “The laird didnae send you to kill us?”
“If you’ll both stop your blathering for one minute, I’ll tell it. As for the how, it doesnae take a wise man to figure you’d head to water. And the likeliest spot to launch a boat to the isles is Loch Long.”
“Fine.” Callum gives a brisk nod. “I’m still waiting to hear the why.”
Angus shrugs. “The Campbell fears for your lass. First he raved about Janet’s child, then about Rose. The connection’s nae my business”—he taps his forehead with a nod to me—“but Donag wants blood spilled.”
