Michelle Willingham - Tempted by the Highland Warrior

Callum reached out and pulled her to sit beside him. Then he laid his head upon her lap.

The gesture should have made her uneasy. Instead, as she stroked his long hair back and watched him close his eyes, heavy tears pricked at her. He’d suffered for so long, chained in the dark. Was it any wonder that he yearned for human comfort?

Although the weight of her own exhaustion burdened her, Marguerite didn’t move. Callum clasped her other hand in his while he slept. She let him rest against her, though her back ached.

In time, she succumbed to the need for sleep, lying back against his pillow.

The raucous cries of a raven haunted him. The birds were known for circling the camp, awaiting the moment when a prisoner died. Callum hated them, for they fed upon the flesh of the dead. Just the sight of the birds sickened him, and he’d chased dozens of them away from the corpses .

Though most of the other prisoners were nameless companions, they didn’t deserve to be dishonoured, their flesh picked away by black-winged predators .

And so he’d begun collecting their feathers. He couldn’t say why, but when the guards watched him making more arrows, he’d glued their dark tips to the shaft. It was as if he could honour the memory of the fallen .

One day, he would avenge them. He’d grown to hate Lord Harkirk as much as his former master. While Cairnross had believed himself superior to the Scots, punishing them for imagined crimes, Harkirk cared nothing for men’s lives. Men were killed for no reason at all, simply as entertainment .

But Harkirk would die one day. And, God willing, he’d be struck down by a black-feathered arrow, one of his own .

Callum’s eyes opened as the remnants of sleep slid away. Against his cheek, he felt the softness of Marguerite’s hair and their bodies were tangled together. Her delicate scent surrounded him, his arms cradled her body close. He savoured the moment of holding her, wishing to God he could make it last.

It wasn’t yet dawn and in the faint light, he saw the golden outline of her hair. For a moment, he listened to her breathe, watching her sleep.

He’d never dreamed she would let him kiss her. It hadn’t been his intention, but when she’d put her arms around him, resting her cheek upon his, he’d lost sight of the world. Her lips had tasted sweet, but beneath her innocence, he’d tasted the promise of more. She’d tempted him, until he could do nothing except savour the moments that wouldn’t last. She was a duke’s daughter and despite the fierce desire to be her protector, he knew he’d never be a part of her life.

A sound from outside caught his attention. Callum reluctantly got out of bed, listening to the sounds of night. In the corner, he saw Bram sleeping and he wondered why his brother had allowed him to sleep with Marguerite. Silently, he moved to open the shuttered window. In the darkness, he spied faint pinpricks of light moving towards them. He didn’t know what it was, but within seconds the light vanished. Instinct warned him that whatever the source of the light was, he had to warn his brother.

Before he could say a word, he heard Marguerite moan in her sleep. She clenched the sheets, murmuring words in French that he didn’t understand. And when he tried to awaken her by touching her cheek, her eyes flew open.

She sat up and gripped him hard, still shaking from the nightmare. Callum held her tight, stroking her hair to soothe her.

It’s all right. I’m here .

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I was dreaming about the tower and the fire that night. I dreamed I couldn’t get out.’ Her face rested against his neck and he kissed her hair, moving his mouth lower to console her in the only way he knew how.

She drew back, closing her eyes and lifting her mouth to his. Before he could taste her lips, the door swung open and Alex entered. His brother’s face darkened with misunderstanding, as if he thought Callum was trying to dishonour Marguerite.

‘Get away from her, Callum,’ Alex warned.

At the sudden sound, Bram woke up from his place on the floor and stood. ‘Leave them,’ he said, stretching. ‘She calms him.’

‘Did he hurt you?’ Alex asked Lady Marguerite. She shook her head, her face turning dark red.

‘I should go,’ she murmured. ‘I never meant to fall asleep.’ Embarrassed, she fled the room.

Callum stared at his brothers, needing to tell them what he’d seen. He pointed toward the window, trying to signal to them, but they didn’t understand.

He saw in their eyes that they believed he’d gone mad, as if he weren’t aware of what was going on.

‘Did he sleep at all last night?’ Alex asked Bram.

‘He kept waking up, but Marguerite stopped him from lashing out.’

‘We should keep her close, then, if she’s able to get through to him.’

Callum’s temper exploded. He moved between the men, grabbing each of his brothers by the shoulder.

Look at me. I hear your words. I understand them .

But not a single sound came, despite his mouth moving. Frustration clawed at him that he was unable to communicate anything at all.

He grabbed Bram’s tunic and hauled him towards the window, pointing outside once again.

‘There’s nothing out there,’ Bram said. ‘You’re safe now.’

He didn’t believe it. And they were fools if they did.

Alex poured a cup of wine into a goblet and handed it to him. ‘Have something to drink. Whatever it is, we’ll look in the morning.’

He drank the wine and, too late, tasted the bitter herbs within it. Staring at his brother’s betrayal, he wondered what they’d done to him.

‘It will help you sleep,’ Alex said. ‘You need rest, to regain your strength.’

Despite his efforts to fight them, the heavy narcotic effects of the herbs pulled him under. As he slipped into the dark dream, he inhaled the scent of Marguerite upon the sheets.

Callum awakened with his mouth dry and the aftertaste of the herbal brew lingered. His back still hurt from the lash marks, and he struggled to open his eyes. He overheard Bram’s wife Nairna talking to her husband and caught the last few words of his brother’s conversation.

‘I don’t know if he’s even aware of where he is.’

Callum gritted his teeth. He knew exactly where he was, yet no one trusted him. He struggled to rise from the bed, thankful that Alex and Bram were focused upon Nairna instead of himself.

‘When I was out walking this morning, I saw a torch light in the hills,’ the young woman said. ‘Do you think any of Lord Harkirk’s men might have followed us?’

No doubt of it. From the flickering torches he’d seen, it was impossible to tell how many men there were.

‘I’ll inform the men,’ Alex replied. ‘If it is an attack, send a runner to Locharr and alert the Baron that we may need his help.’ He turned to Nairna. ‘Tell Laren—’

‘She’s already gathering the women and children.’

‘Good.’ Alex turned back and Callum met his gaze steadily. His brother’s face held a magnitude of worry for all the people they had to protect. There weren’t enough men and if they were invaded, many would die.

In an instant, his older brother assessed him, as if to decide whether or not he was dangerous. Callum stared back, meeting the silent question with a determined look of his own. He had no doubt of his ability to defend them, especially with a bow.

‘I’ll need your help guarding the women and children,’ Alex said at last, unsheathing his sword. ‘Even Lady Marguerite.’ He held out the weapon, hilt first, and Callum inclined his head in answer.

Though he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling, he managed to grasp the sword. Alex had offered him the chance to fight and he wouldn’t fail his brother, though a sword wasn’t his first choice. From the corner of his eye, he caught Bram’s wife Nairna eyeing him with uncertainty.