Highland Betrayal

by Alyson McLayne

  His fists unclenched, and his shoulders dropped as he released his breath. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  She didn’t answer. There was nothing left to say, nothing more she could do to make things right between them.

  He turned to her finally, and she couldn’t stop her gaze from running over his face, from drinking him in. “I suppose I should be grateful, even pleased that you want to make use of me. But know this, Maggie. If you e’er lie with me, I will consider us married.” He pointed to himself. “Husband.” And then to her. “Wife. There will be no reneging on our commitment, no deciding to carry on to Edinburgh by yourself. Our intent to join in matrimony will be sealed when my body enters yours, when my seed releases into your womb and we possibly bring new life into this world. I willna accept otherwise.”

  He turned away and started walking toward their camp. “Come. I’ve set out our bedrolls, and Finnian has finished with our meal. ’Twill be another hard day tomorrow.”

  She fell in slightly behind him. She had a lead ball in her stomach and a band around her chest that tightened with each step that he failed to take her hand like he had before. She sorely missed the way he’d linked their fingers and kissed her knuckles, the easy way he’d teased her.

  Her chin dropped in misery, and her head ached with all the confused thoughts running through it. She was sick inside that she’d hurt him and wished she’d never opened her mouth, but she was scared too. Frightened that things might never be the same between them. That he might just walk away…

  …or let me walk away.

  She stopped abruptly at the thought. They were on the edge of the camp now, and Callum didn’t wait for her, although she knew he had to be aware he’d left her behind. That hurt too, and she thought about returning to the forest to nurse her wounded heart, but she wouldn’t get ten paces before someone came after her. Not that she was a prisoner, but she was under their protection, and they would never let anything happen to her, not if they could help it. And that meant keeping her close.

  So she sucked in a deep breath, lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders, and crossed through the camp to her bedroll next to Callum’s.

  When she sat down, she picked up the bowl of oats and berries with some dried meat on the side that waited for her. Keeping her gaze lowered, she let her hair fall forward as she ate her meal, so no one would catch her eye or engage her in conversation.

  The men were a little subdued, especially after the way they’d laughed with her earlier and slapped Callum’s back. They sensed the tension between her and Callum, most likely. And how could they not? It was obvious something had gone wrong between them from the way they sat stiffly beside each other and barely said a word.

  When she was done, she washed up her dishes in a stream that meandered through the trees not far away, and Finnian helped her hang some blankets so she could undress and clean away the sweat and dirt from the last two days.

  Feeling somewhat better, she returned to camp in the dark, Finnian by her side, and found many of the men, including Callum, already lying on their bedrolls. He’d doubled up their blankets and spread them over both soft pallets, then lay down on his side, facing away from her, his eyes closed.

  It was the first time he’d ever done that, and a lump formed in her throat as she stared down at him. She knew he wasn’t asleep. Like her, he probably wouldn’t sleep for many hours, and it tore at her. She carefully crawled under the blankets and faced the fire. It wasn’t cold tonight like last night. They were lower in the valley and protected from the wind, so she didn’t need his warmth.

  But I want it.

  Why couldn’t she hold him? Comfort him and weave them back together? Last night, she’d turned away from him, and he’d made it all better between them. Maybe…maybe this was her turn to do the same.

  Feeling awkward suddenly, even though she had yet to do anything, she peered around the camp in the firelight. Everyone was quiet, wrapped up in their blankets with their eyes closed. They wouldn’t notice or care if she turned to Callum and spooned him in the same way he’d slept with her last night.

  And it occurred to her as she looked at the other men, that no one, other than her and Callum, were lying together tonight for warmth like they had last night.

  Which meant Callum may have turned away from her, but he hadn’t separated completely.

  She rolled to her back and let her hand rest in the spot between them, her little finger just grazing his plaid-covered arse. Holding her breath, she waited, hoping he’d roll over, too, and take her hand in his, like he so often did. When he didn’t move, disappointment flooded through her. Disappointment that quickly turned to frustration and anger at her own hesitancy.

  I can ride a pulley from the castle wall, but I canna wrap my arm around my…my…around Callum?

  Scowling fiercely, she rolled to her other side and pressed her body against his, wrapping her arm around his waist.

  “Callum,” she whispered, her lips pressed close to his ear. She did not want any of the other men hearing what passed between them this time.

  He took a moment to answer. “Aye.”

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

  Another pause, then the stiffness in his body released, and he sighed. “I know.” He clasped her hand and pulled it around his body, holding it in front of his chest. “I want you too, Maggie, in that way, but I also want more than that. It worries me you still intend to leave. I’m a planner, a strategist, and methodical in my thinking. But with you, I find myself impatient. I think I was so angry, not only because you would offer yourself and then in the same breath say you would leave me, but…”

  “But what?” she prompted when he failed to finish.

  “But because I wanted to accept.”

  Her hand clenched his as a wave of heat burned through her, and he pulled her even closer. “If you offer again, Maggie, by words or by deed, I will accept. But I willna allow you to leave me afterward.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Aye.”

  “And how would you keep me with you?” she asked, her heart pounding with excitement despite her cool tone.

  He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed her knuckles, then gently bit one before answering. “I think you’ve asked the wrong question, dearling. The question you should ask is how would you get rid of me?”

  Thirteen

  Callum climbed up the mountain, leading Aristotle by the reins, while Gavin climbed by his side with his own horse. They were at a high enough elevation that the trees were sparse and spindly, and the wind had picked up, cooling his skin despite the warmth of the midafternoon sun.

  They’d dropped behind to talk further about the parchments Maggie had given him, discussing any new ideas or remembrances either had had—which didn’t amount to much. It was frustrating, but he suspected they wouldn’t glean much more insight until all five of the foster brothers and Gregor were together.

  Maggie walked ahead of them, surrounded by Finnian, Gill, and Artair and their horses, with Drustan in the lead.

  It wasn’t a difficult climb for the men, especially at their slower pace, but he knew Maggie struggled. It would only get harder from here on out as they left the path behind and began climbing over boulders and along narrow ledges. He wanted to make it as far as a series of caves he knew of before darkness fell. Otherwise, they would spend a very cold, dangerous night out in the open.

  Which meant Maggie was going to have to accept their help.

  “I canna believe you’re going to make me ask,” Gavin said, making an exasperated sound in the back of his throat.

  Callum faced him, his brows raised. “What in bloody hell are you talking about?”

  Gavin nodded in Maggie’s direction. Callum looked ahead, trying to figure out what he meant.

  “Last night?”
his foster brother prompted.

  Understanding hit, and Callum made the same sound Gavin had seconds ago. “Och, you’re naught but an old meddler.”

  “Well, ’twas obvious something was said last night that disturbed you both. The lads were grumbling this morning that you made our lass cry.”

  “And why am I the villain in this? Couldnae it have been Maggie who said something terrible?”

  “Aye, that’s what I told them, but they’d have none of it. So, what horrible thing did she say?”

  Gavin looked a little too eager for Callum’s liking, and suddenly, he wished he’d never started down this conversational path. He flattened his mouth, lips closed tight, and gave Gavin a stern look.

  Gavin shrugged. “All right. ’Twill be more fun asking Maggie than you anyway.”

  “Doona you dare,” Callum ordered, rounding on his foster brother, who stopped too and gave him a cocky grin. Callum considered knocking it off. A rousing fight with Gavin would be just what he needed to get rid of his pent-up frustration over Maggie. As much as he enjoyed sleeping close to her every night, the daily denial of his needs was proving more difficult than he’d anticipated.

  Gavin crossed his arms over his chest and waited. When Callum didn’t respond, he said, “Have you considered that I may be a good source of advice for you? I was married for almost four years, and even though ’twas a bad union, I learned a lot about women.”

  Callum scratched his hand over his beard. Maybe it would help to talk to Gavin, if nothing else than to get Maggie’s hurtful remarks off his chest. “Verra well. But this stays between us and no one else. Not even Kerr, Lachlan, Darach, or Gregor.”

  Gavin nodded, and that eager look returned to his face.

  “Maggie…Maggie…” Callum started, trying to find the words and realizing that Gavin may not be sympathetic to his plight. He tried again. “She…she…”

  Gavin waited and waited, then threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. “Is that some sort of rhyme for the bairns?” He put a little sway in his hips. “Maggie Maggie she she. Maggie Maggie she she.”

  Callum kicked out his foot and toppled the big, blond man onto his arse. Gavin burst into laughter. Callum grabbed the reins Gavin had loosed—not that he expected the stallion to bolt—and glowered down at his foster brother.

  When it didn’t look like Gavin was going to get up, Callum sat down heavily beside him. “Maggie suggested—asked—if we could be intimate without having to marry. She wants my body, but not my ring.”

  There. I’ve said it.

  “She wants to tup you and not marry you?” Gavin asked incredulously.

  “Aye.” He cringed inside, waiting for his foster brother’s response.

  “You fortunate bastard!”

  “Nay, not fortunate. I doona want Maggie for just one or two nights, or even weeks. I want her forever.”

  “Well, just do what Cristel did to me and refuse to tup her until she marries you. Tell her you willna lift your plaid for her until she puts her ring on your finger.” He burst out laughing again and fell backward onto the rock, unable to muster the strength to even sit up.

  “You said you would be helpful. Give me some advice.”

  “I just did. ’Tis what mothers have been telling their daughters for thousands of years.” He shook his head. “Leave it to our Maggie to get it backward.”

  “She’s not your Maggie. Or Finn’s or Artair’s or Gill’s or Drustan’s. She’s my Maggie, and I doona intend to let her just walk away.” He stood, tossed Gavin his stallion’s reins, and strode up the mountain, the others a fair distance ahead now.

  Gavin scrambled behind him to catch up. “Callum, wait. You’re looking at this the wrong way. She’s a woman.”

  “Aye. Thank you for that astounding insight.”

  “You know what I mean. Most of them have soft hearts. And that says a lot coming from me, considering the nightmare my marriage turned out to be. Maggie may pretend to be hard, but she’s not. Aye, she can throw a mean dagger and hold her own among all us scoundrels, but she still wants to love and be loved like anyone. If Maggie desires intimacy with you, use that to bind her to you. Most women canna separate love and lust the way men can. She’s just confused. Her heart hasn’t caught up to her body yet. Or maybe I should say, her body knows what her heart and mind want before they do.”

  Callum grunted. Maybe Gavin had a point. “Aye. But…it’s too late for that. I’ve already told her if she asks me again, I will consent, and in doing so, we will be married.”

  “Is that what made her cry? That she couldnae tup you without tying herself to you—a lack-witted ablach—for life?”

  He stopped, knowing Gavin expected either a jest or a physical blow, but Callum felt shame worm itself into his heart. “Nay, I was…harsh with her. It hurt and shook me that she would crave my touch—enough to ask me for it—yet still mean to walk away.”

  Gavin stopped grinning and squeezed his shoulder. “But she forgave you, aye? She slept with you afterward and held you last night. I saw that.”

  Aye, she did.

  Callum’s heart lifted, and he smiled as he looked up the mountain at Maggie, who had slowed considerably since he’d last checked. “That she did.” He let out a sharp whistle and jogged the rest of the way to the men, who turned and waited for him. When Maggie looked back, she appeared done in—panting, her face red, sweat trickling down her brow.

  He reached her and pulled her into his side so she leaned on him, and he could feel the tremors shaking her body. “We’ll rest for a bit.”

  He scanned the rocks, looking for a place to sit, and saw the others doing the same. Aye, she was their Maggie too.

  After leading her to a flat rock, he retrieved a leather flask of water and an apple from his pack. She took the water gratefully as he began to slice the apple with his dagger, giving her the first piece.

  They ate and rested in silence for a while before she asked, “How much farther today?” as she craned her neck to look up the mountain.

  He pointed to the top in the distance, over rocks and shale, which could be dangerous to both them and the horses. “A few more hours to the ridge—that’ll be hard going—then we’ll have several more hours to the cave where we’ll camp tonight. The incline will not be so bad once we’re on the ridge, but the path will be rough. And the lads willna be able to help you once we reach the shale. They’ll need to steady the horses.”

  She nodded, but he could see her eyes had dimmed.

  Then she sighed heavily and struggled to her feet. “’Tis best we shoot now, then. I doona want my arms shaking so badly I canna aim straight. You’d win by default—the only way, for sure.”

  He let her have her fun. Although truth be told, it might not be a jest. He suspected he would beat Maggie only if she allowed him to.

  And I’d take it.

  Aye, Maggie letting him win would be as good as telling him she would marry him. Until then, he would fight for her hand with everything he had.

  “Choose a spot, then, and I’ll go first. I wouldnae want to be accused of following your arrow’s path again.”

  She smiled, obviously enjoying herself now as she pulled out her daggers. “Not to worry. We’ll use knives instead. And maybe a moving target.”

  The other men had also risen.

  “What did you have in mind?” Finn asked, his boyish face alight with excitement.

  “I’ll show you,” she said. “You doona mind helping, do you?”

  Finn’s smile faded, and he swallowed nervously. “If you think ’twill be safe.”

  “Well, I willna miss. But you may want to jump back when it’s Callum’s turn.”

  The corners of his mouth dipped down, and Callum took pity on the lad. “We willna aim at you, Finn. Maggie would ne’er risk your life that way. I’m sure she means to have you thr
ow a target in the air.”

  “Aye,” Maggie said, her lips twitching. “If Callum’s scared he’ll miss and hit you instead, we’ll do it his way.” She searched the ground, then picked up two flat rocks, both about the size of her palm, and held them out to him. “Choose your target.”

  He did, after making a show of looking them over carefully. He just liked being able to hold her hand, his fingers gliding over her soft skin, until she shivered.

  And if it threw off her concentration, all the better.

  “I’ll take this one,” he said and passed it to Finnian. He reached for his dagger as Maggie passed Finn her target, and the young man hopped across the mountain like a young goat until she whistled.

  He stopped. “Right here?” he yelled.

  “Aye, lad. We’ll let you know when we’re ready—and keep an eye out for the daggers when they fall!” Callum said.

  He turned and saw Maggie flipping her dagger in her hand—almost a ritualistic movement to help her focus. She never once looked at her blade. Instead, she stared above Finn’s head in the distance, no doubt envisioning the shot in her mind’s eye.

  Fortunately, the wind was calm, and it would simply be a matter of anticipating and hitting the target.

  “Do you want to see him toss it first?” he asked.

  “Nay. Let’s just do it.”

  His stomach tightened with anticipation—with nerves, even—and he took a deep breath to relax his muscles. The weight of what was riding on this competition sat heavily on him. He was a good shot and would pit his skills against anyone, but he was afraid Maggie might prove his better.

  And this was a contest he could not afford to lose.

  “I’ll go first,” he said. He adjusted his position, then whistled at Finn. The lad tossed Callum’s target in the air. In a single motion, Callum pulled his arm back over his shoulder and loosed his dagger. It hit the rock seconds later, before the target reached the top of its arc, and the men sent up a cheer.

  Callum resisted punching his fist in the air as he switched spots with Maggie, his heart conflicted. Aye, he wanted to win, but he also didn’t want her to feel the shame of missing her shot.