She turned her face from his. “I was young, foolish, and naive, and I believed the things ye told me. I am nae such a fool now.”
Frustration gripped him in an iron hold. He felt he would explode with it. She had cared for him. She had. Maybe she had sent word that she was dead after believing he was promised to another? He wanted desperately to tell her that he’d not acted dishonorably toward her. He wanted to explain how he had broken with Edina before traveling to Marsaili’s home and meeting her. He could tell her how he’d returned to Urquhart with every intention of obtaining his father’s blessing to marry her. He could relay how he’d chosen her over his clan’s needs. But what good would it do for her to know he’d plunged his clan into war for her, lost his father because of his choices, and that he and his clan still suffered greatly for his selfish choices.
It would not serve her to know these things. They could not wed. He needed an ally, and her father was his enemy. The truth burned his mouth like fire. It clawed his throat, desperate for release. He would need to take care to guard his words and emotions when Marsaili was around him, but he intended that to be as little as possible while she was at the castle. “I did not believe it honorable to marry her after what had occurred between us,” he said, forcing himself to not say more.
“Dunnae expect me to praise ye because ye discovered a sliver of honor within ye,” she bit out.
“I’d nae ever expect it,” he replied. “But it is that sliver of honor which compels me to insist ye take the protection I can offer.”
She pursed her lips. “I dunnae need yer protection,” she growled.
“Nay?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Ye seemed to need it nae long ago when the English swine was chasing ye. And exactly who was that swine?” Callum asked, all his questions coming to him at once.
“That is nae any of yer concern,” she snapped. “Now release me, if ye please.”
“Shortly. I’m afraid I need a few more answers, whether ye wish to give them or nae. I must ken if more people will be pursuing ye and bringing more strife to my home.” He needed to know in order to protect his clan and her.
A long silence stretched, in which she inhaled several times as if to speak but fell back into silence. He was trying to think of how else to force her to tell him what he needed to know when she said, “The man ye killed was Godfrey of Antwerp, knight to the Earl of Ulster.”
Possession and denial hit him, and fury almost choked him. “So yearethe earl’s leman?”
“Nay, ye swine!” She wrenched back, and he released her, feeling a great war within himself to hold her close, keep her as his, but it could not be.
“Tell me what has occurred,” he demanded, realizing as he did that such demands pulled him further into her world when he was required by his fate to stay out of it.
“I have managed to avoid becoming his leman with cunning,” she replied, her voice flat. “My father pursues me, unwilling to relinquish his plot to tie himself to the brother of the possible future King of Scots, and the earl, it seems, refuses to relinquish his wish for me, as well.”
He wanted to tear the Earl of Ulster apart limb from limb, and he wanted to do the same to her father. The Campbell was without honor. “I will protect ye.”
“Nay,” she said, her tone fierce and hard as any man’s he’d ever heard. “I am nae yers to protect. Ye should concern yerself with yer soon-to-be wife.”
“I have nae forgotten Coira,” he said tightly. “I will have my brother see ye to safety. Tell me, if ye will, what cunning kept ye from the earl’s bed?” He found he was desperate to hear what her life had been since they had parted.
“Clever cunning,” she said, her voice hard as stone.
She was going to answer as little as possible, he understood this clearly now. Perhaps not knowing what had happened was best. Yet, the need to know if it had been her or her father who had sent false word of her death, burrowed into his head and would not leave go. “Did ye ever speak of us to yer father?” he asked, unable to stop that one question.
“Nay. Of course nae. That would have been quite foolish on my part. It is not as if I wanted my father or anyone else to ken that I had dishonored myself by joining with ye.” Her words were like a well-placed dagger in his heart. That she viewed herself as dishonored made his insides twist into knots. He’d done this to her, and he could not undo it.
“Dunnae ye need to make haste to supper?” she bit out suddenly, eyeing him. “Is nae yer future wife awaiting ye?”
“Aye, she is.” And she could wait a bit longer, too. “Where will ye go when ye depart here?”
Distinct wariness came into her eyes. “To Dunvegan Castle,” she answered slowly.
“The MacLeod hold?” He frowned. He knew the MacLeods were enemies of her father, so it was odd that she knew them at all, let alone sought them out. “Yer family’s enemies?”
“Myfather’senemies, nae mine. I call them friends.”
“How? How did ye even come to ken the MacLeods?”
“It dunnae matter. I did, and that is all ye need to ken.”
Jealousy he had no right to feel gripped him. “Are ye going to a particular MacLeod? A man?”
“Aye,” she said, giving him a cool smile.
He wanted to deny her leave, but it was not his right to do so. She was not his. She would never be his. Yet the idea that someday she would be another man’s wife stirred something primal within him. “When ye and yer friend are ready to travel, I’ll have my brother attend ye.”
“That will nae be necessary,” she replied without hesitation.
“I insist.” He sensed suddenly that something was amiss, though it could just be that she wanted to rid herself of any association with him as quickly as possible.
She nibbled on her lip for a moment, then finally nodded. “That’s verra generous of ye, considering the MacLeods are nae allies of yer clan. Dunnae ye fear that ye will be sending yer brother into danger?”
“Nay,” he replied. “I will send word ahead that he is travelling with ye so that they will grant him safe passage.”
“A good thought,” she said, but her voice was strained and the worry that pinched her face made him aware that she was lying. The only thing was, he had no notion why.
