“Ye should nae let yerself be so distracted by a harmless kiss that ye dunnae hear when someone approaches,” the man standing directly in front of Callum said. They locked gazes, and the man assessed him with keen green eyes.
“And ye are?” Callum demanded.
“Lachlan MacLeod,” the man replied. “Half brother to Marsaili.
Before Callum could respond, the fair-haired warrior standing beside Lachlan said, “I’m Cameron—also half brother to Marsaili. Dunnae pay heed to this clot-heid.” Cameron elbowed his brother in the side. “If Lachlan came upon his wife, Bridgette, kissing another man, his logic would flee, and he’d likely get himself killed storming an impregnable castle to retrieve the stubborn lass.”
“I hate to admit it,” Lachlan said, “but my brother speaks the truth. But the difference is that Bridgette is my wife. Marsaili is nae yers. If she cares to kiss another man, then—”
“She dunnae,” Callum interrupted. “She simply does so as a deceit. I’m certain.”
Alex waved a hand at Lachlan and Cameron. “Dunnae pay heed to these two. They ken how Marsaili feels about ye. Broch told us.”
Callum had already concluded that Broch must have crossed paths with them and sent them here to aid him. “When did ye see him?” he asked Alex.
“Shortly after ye parted ways with him. We came upon him in the woods on the edge of Inverurie. We had received word of the Campbell traveling there and had followed in hopes of finding Marsaili. We tried to close the distance to ye after Broch told us what had occurred and where ye were going, but ye made impressive ground, and we trailed ye almost all the way here. How long have ye been here?”
Callum glanced to the darkening sky. “One day.”
Lachlan motioned to the castle. “We will have to swim the moat to reach her.”
“Aye,” Callum agreed, studying the castle and its fortification again. “We’ll move when it’s dark.”
“Dunnae ye think we should wait until the residents are slumbering?” Alex asked.
“Nay,” Callum answered immediately. He had a bad feeling in his gut.
“I agree,” Lachlan said, an odd tension emanating from the man. “My wife was taken before we were married, and I reached her too late.” He paused for a moment, and Callum could hear him audibly swallow. “I will nae ever forgive myself for that.”
Callum had heard some news of what had occurred, and by the tone of Lachlan’s voice and the tortured expression on his face, Callum knew what he had heard was true. Stony anger made Lachlan’s green eyes look like green crystals. The man rolled his shoulders before focusing once more on Callum. “Ye need to ask yerself, if ye are too late, if she is married, if she has been defiled—”
“I will kill the earl with my bare hands,” Callum spat.
Alex clamped a hand on Callum’s shoulder. “He dunnae wish to ken what ye would do to the earl. It’s given ye would kill him.” All three men nodded at Callum. “What Lachlan wants to ken is, would ye still want her?”
“What?” Callum asked, astonished. The three warriors stared in silence at him. “Aye,” he replied. “I would want her always. It does nae matter what happens.”
“Then we will aid ye,” Cameron said.
Lachlan bent over and picked up a stick then crouched near the dirt. “Let us plan how we will breach the castle.”
Callum nodded, kneeled down beside Marsaili’s brothers and spoke. “It’s as ye said. We must swim the moat, but in order to gain entry into the castle, one of us must get the attention of the tower guards, compel them to lower the bridge, and while they are occupied with that person, the rest of us will loop a rope to the bridge, gain it, and enter through the main courtyard. I also considered starting a fire.”
“Nay,” Alex said. “I’ll distract the guards while the three of ye gain entry to the castle.
“Nay,” Cameron replied. “Lena—” He glanced at Callum as if realizing he may not know who Lena was. “Lena is Alex’s wife and our sister, and so she is Marsaili’s half sister.”
“Aye,” Callum said. “I ken.”
“Lena would kill us if anything happened to ye, MacLean. Ye kinnae take the most dangerous task. Ye will be a father soon, and ye need to be there for the birth of yer son.”
Alex grinned, but the grin quickly faded. “Lachlan is a father, and Cameron will be a father soon, as well.”
“Brother!” Lachlan exclaimed. “Why did ye nae tell me?”
Cameron scowled. “There’s nae been time. I did nae tell Alex, either.”
“Yer wife told my wife. Ye ken the lasses kinnae keep a secret.” Alex shrugged. “We will draw a stick. The man with the shortest stick will distract the guards.”
All four men grunted their agreement.
“How will the one distracting the guards get away?” Cameron asked.
“Whoever has that task need only distract them long enough for us to gain the bridge. Once that is done, we can signal, and the man can run. He needs to be fast. Are any of ye faster than the other two?” Callum asked.
“I’m the fastest,” Lachlan said without any smugness.
“And I’ve the best bird call,” Cameron said, showing them by example.
“I believe it’s decided, then,” Alex said, “without the need to pick sticks. Lachlan will distract the guards, Cameron will signal when we have gained the bridge, and it will be up to the three of us to find Marsaili once we are in the castle and then escape, likely by swimming the moat once again.”
“Now we wait,” Callum said grimly, rocking back on his heels and glancing to the sky, which was not yet completely dark.
“The hardest part,” Lachlan said.
“Aye,” Cameron and Alex agreed.
Callum fixed his gaze on the spot he’d last seen Marsaili and wondered what she might be thinking. Did she fear he would not return for her? Did she fear she would never see their son again? His mind turned with all the worst sort of possibilities. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut out the roaring din of worry, but it was to no avail. Until they were together again,—Marsaili, himself, and their son—he would have no peace.
“My lady,” the chambermaid assigned to bathe and dress Marsaili said, “shall I braid yer hair for the wedding?”
Marsaili shook her head. She feared she did not have long before one of her father’s men, or her father himself, came to fetch her to take her to the chapel. “Nay,” she said. “I prefer it down. Now, if ye’ll leave me, I’d like a little time alone to pray to God for counsel.”
Technically, it was not a lie. She would pray to God, just not for counsel. She would pray for the courage to jump into the moat, and that she would not drown. She had swam a few strokes long ago on the day she had almost drowned because of her Campbell half brothers, and she remembered the euphoria she had felt on her first time ever of gliding through the water. It was also her last.
She tried to recall what she had done. She had pulled the water with her hands and arms, it seemed, and she had kicked her legs. She prayed she remembered correctly and would be able to overcome her fear. If there were any other way, she would have taken it, but there was not. She and the maid were locked in this bedchamber by the earl’s command. Marsaili had only one possible way to avoid being forced to marry the earl, and that was the window.
“As ye wish,” the maid answered, went to the door, and knocked. “My lady and I are finished.”
The lock on the door scraped and clicked as it was opened, and then the maid exited the room. The door shut immediately, and the lock once again snapped into place. She wasted no time rushing straight to the window. She tried to open it, but the thing would not budge. Muttering, she strode to the bed, yanked off the quilt, and hauled it over to the window where she dropped it in a pile on the floor. Then she tried to pick up the chest at the foot of the bed so she could stand on it to open the window and escape. The chest was too heavy, though, and she feared that when she moved it, it might draw the attention of the g
uards and they would open her door. But what choice did she have?
She first tried pressing her hands against the chest, but try as she might, the blasted thing would not budge. Her brow was damp from the effort, and her head and heart pounded. She crouched near the chest, lodged her back against it, and dug her heels into the ground while she pushed with all her might. The chest barely budged, and tears sprung to her eyes. But so did an image of her son. She had to keep trying.
Gritting her teeth, she once again positioned herself against the chest and shoved. This time it moved with a great loud scrape. Her breath caught with fright, but a burst of men laughing came from just beyond her door. She started to expel a relieved breath when she heard her father speak, and then the men laughed once more. She breathed in quick, shallow gasps as she grunted and shoved at the chest, finally moving it in front of the window.
She shook badly as she grasped the quilt, wrapped it around her hand, and then rearing her hand back, she threw her body weight into her fist and shoved her hand through the window. The quilt protected her skin and muffled the noise, and without hesitation, she knocked the last of the glass from the window, rid herself of the quilt, and placed her hands on the window ledge, hauled herself up, biting her lip to keep from screaming in pain. Shards of glass sliced into her palms, but behind her, the rattle of the door being unlocked made her entire body tingle with terror.
She dangled for a moment, her arm muscles burning as she struggled to find the strength to pull herself all the way up. Digging deep, she shoved, propelling her body up to wiggle through the space. She ignored the sharp pain of the glass cutting through her gown to slash her thighs, hip bones, and stomach. Her father’s voice boomed from the other side of the door, and she thanked God that he had always loved to be the center of attention. It sounded as if he was telling another one of his hunting stories.
The cool wind hit her hard as she poked her head out of the window. Black had swallowed the night, but the full moon illuminated the area around her enough for her to realize she could not see the loch below. It was so steep. Fear lodged in her throat. The loch was there; she knew it to be so, for she had seen it earlier. But she would be falling blind, eyes open yet unseeing.
She absolutely did not want to plunge into the water headfirst, so she turned onto her bottom, scrunched herself as small as she could, and slid her legs under her. Then, gripping the ledge, she put her legs out the window and dangled there, heart pounding and blood roaring. She could not seem to release herself, though. Terror had frozen her ability to move, but her fingers were slipping, and soon, the inevitable would happen.
Nineteen
Callum crept along the ground, keeping his body as flat as he could manage, not daring to get up until he was at the moat. He rose only enough to slip over the edge of the moat wall, yet when he glanced toward the castle, his heart felt tripped within his chest. The moon shone on a window, and hanging there, seemingly by her fingertips, was a woman. He would wager his life that it was Marsaili.
“Alex,” he hissed, pointing at her.
“God’s blood,” Alex swore under his breath.
Before Callum could reply, she dropped and the darkness consumed her, the only trace of what had occurred a single splash and then horrid silence.
“She kinnae swim,” he growled, not waiting for a response. He dropped into the cold, black water and was swallowed immediately in a slimy liquid with a foul stench. He broke the surface, gulped in a breath, then swam toward where he thought she’d dropped, fear making his strokes choppy. Above him, he heard shouting, and then one by one, torches began to flare to life on the castle allure. A horn blasted from above, and a volley of arrows rained down. He went under again, searching for her, as did Alex and Cameron, who had pulled up beside him.
Nothing! He felt nothing but slime, grass, and water. He rose, gulped in air, and dove back under again. Still nothing. Dark despair entered him as he rose to and dove under the surface several more times, Alex and Cameron doing the same. Arrows dropped into the water around him when next he surfaced, and Alex and Cameron swam over to him.
“We have to flee,” Alex said. “She’s lost, Callum. And if we dunnae go, we will surely die here, as well.”
“I’ll nae leave until I have found her,” he bit out, refusing to believe she was gone.
“Callum,” Cameron said, his tone harsh. “Would ye make yer son lose both his parents? Marsaili would nae have wanted that!”
“Damn ye both!” Callum bit out and dove once, twice, three times more. And when he came up after his last desperate attempt, chaos filled the night, and grief filled his heart. He had failed her. She had drowned, and he had failed to save her. “I kinnae leave her,” he choked out to Alex and Cameron, who were treading water before him.
“For yer son, ye can,” Cameron said.
Yes, for his son. He had to. He nodded, a thousand regrets, a thousand memories, assaulting him. He shoved them down and swam through the darkness toward the shore.
Another volley of arrows flew toward them, and they all ducked under the water to swim the rest of the distance under the surface. When Callum came up for air, he was at the rocky wall of the moat. He gained his purchase at the same time as the other men did. They began to climb upward, toward the sound of shouting. Armed men raced across the bridge on horses, and when they reached the top, Callum paused as confusion swept over him. He had expected knights to be standing there waiting on them, but what he found was mass chaos and fighting.
To the left of him, Cameron muttered, “’Tis the Summer Walkers.” Cameron pointed at the flag that fluttered in the moonlight which bore no emblem. It was white and devoid of anything. As Callum glanced around, he counted, as best he could, twenty Summer Walkers. They were vastly outnumbered, but they had provided a much-needed distraction.
All three of them retrieved their swords from where they had left them, and when Callum stood, he raised his sword as Ulster’s men charged them. He fought through one knight only to be surrounded by three more. He lost sight of Alex and Cameron while he battled the man to his left and then the man to his right. When a sword whistled through the air behind him, he whirled around to meet his foe, his heart lurching. The blade of the knight’s sword came swooping toward him, but then the man grunted, swayed, and stumbled forward. As he did, Callum noticed the dagger protruding from his back, and when he searched the fighting throngs to see who had come to his aid, he could not believe his eyes.
Marsaili stood not four feet away beside Lucan. He had a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. She closed the distance between herself and Callum and jumped into his arms, hugging him fiercely.
“How?” he managed to ask, emotion closing his throat.
“I dropped from my bedchamber window.” She pulled back and bent down to yank the dagger from the fallen knight.
“Aye. I saw ye. I searched in the moat for ye. I thought ye drowned. I—” He shook as he spoke. “I thought ye dead.”
In the moonlight, her eyes widened. “I did nae see ye! I swam!” He could hear the happy shock in her voice. “I swam under the water, but then a hand grabbed me and I thought myself discovered.”
As a knight came toward them, Callum shoved her behind him and fought the man, felling him just as Lucan reached his side. Instinctually, he raised his sword to the man he considered an enemy, but Marsaili shook her head. “Nay, Callum. Lucan followed us. He went into the water to save me and guided me to the wall.”
Callum’s eyes flew to the man who looked battered and ill. By all accounts he should be dead. “Why?”
“She spared me,” Lucan said as a cough racked his body. “I owe her a debt, and I pay my debts.”
Callum nodded. “Take her from here,” he pleaded to Lucan.
“Nay,” she replied. “I will fight with ye. This night we will live or die, and we will do it together.”
He wanted to argue, but he knew she would never agree to leave him. “Together,” he said.
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br /> In that instant, she screamed for him to duck.
He fought with Lucan through four of Ulster’s knights, striking down his opponents with ruthlessness to make his way to the woods, but as the three of them reached the tree line, three more knights appeared. As he battled one, he could hear Marsaili’s grunts as she fought the other. He cut his opponent down by slicing across his legs, but when Callum turned, all he saw was a knight thrusting his sword toward Marsaili’s heart. She threw her dagger as she jumped sideways, and though it lodged in the man’s shoulder, it did not stop him. Callum raised his own sword as he closed the distance to her and took the knight’s head off in one quick blow.
Callum grabbed her hand as Lucan turned to them both. His gaze rested on Marsaili. “We are even now, aye?”
“Aye,” she croaked.
“Then let us flee before we all die,” Lucan said.
Callum shook his head. “I kinnae leave her brothers, the MacLean, and the Summer Walkers to this battle.”
Marsaili gasped. “My brothers are here!”
“Aye,” a voice said from behind them. “It’s good to ken ye would nae leave us, Callum.” Callum turned to see Alex, Lachlan, and Cameron standing there. Lachlan winked at him. “The Summer Walkers are fleeing, what’s left of them. We should, as well.”
With a nod, he turned, taking Marsaili with him as a volley of arrows came through the woods after them, one striking Lucan in the throat.
Marsaili screamed as the man dropped dead to his knees, eyes wide. And then Marsaili’s father and the earl came toward them from out of the mist. Without thought, Callum threw his dagger, and it lodged in the earl’s thigh. The last thing Callum heard as he took Marsaili’s hand and they continued to flee was the earl bellowing her name.
The ride to escape her father and the earl’s men was relentless and exhausting. On the second day of being awake, Marsaili succumbed to sleep, slouching against Callum in the saddle. She awoke to darkness and a much slower pace than the frenzied one that all the men had insisted was necessary to reach allied territory. Her first reaction was fear, but when Callum squeezed her from behind and pressed a kiss to her head, her fears dissipated.
When a Scot Gives His Heart Page 22