Ten
Marsaili gulped a deep breath and reached for a tree to keep herself upright. His revelation left her so shocked that her legs shook. Had he truly told Edina he would not wed her before he had come to the Gathering? Marsaili could forgive him and understand why had had not told her if he honestly had thought the deed done, but had he really thought he would return home, tell his parents of it, and be finished with Edina? And what of him saying he had thought her dead and that was why he had not returned for her? Why would he think her dead?
The need to ask him burned her tongue, yet he was now to wed Coira. That was a fact. It was also a fact that Coira was barren and could not give him an heir. Marsaili could not be certain he was telling the truth, or that she could trust him, so she still could not be certain he would not take her son if he knew of the child. Their son would be his only heir; she had to keep her secret.
“My horse is tethered over that hill,” Callum said, pointing and interrupting the train of torment in her head.
“Lead the way,” she replied, praying her voice did not sound shaky. She needed a moment to compose herself. His wary look almost made her laugh. If she’d not known it was because there was no trust between them, it would have been humorous, but the fact that the man who had been her first and only love was a stranger, made her sad. Still, she forced a smile, wanting to conceal how she really felt. “I vow I’ll follow ye.”
He nodded, turning in the direction he had indicated and setting out at a clipped pace, despite the darkness. As she followed, she tried to think how best to tell him that they were headed to find the Summer Walkers. She also needed a believable explanation for who their son was when they found him. Despite her anger and the fear that Callum would take her son from her, knots of guilt formed in her stomach. She would never have imagined keeping such a thing from him.
She came to a huffing stop beside him, where he was already untethering his horse. The silence stretched thick, heavy with the past that lay between them. Once the horse was freed, Callum turned to her. The darkness concealed his expression, but she could sense his frustration, as well as his curiosity.
“Well?” he demanded.
An idea of what to say came to her. “I travel to Inverurie,” she said, glad that she had learned the path the Summer Walkers took from Maria before she and Maria had been separated.
“Inverurie?” he repeated, confusion in his tone. “That is on the other side of the Gordon’s lands.”
“Oh,” she said, only just making the connection that they would have to pass through Gordon land to reach Inverurie. That would be dangerous for Callum given the Gordons were his enemy. “I did nae ken. It’s too dangerous for ye to accompany me—”
“Nay. We will be careful. Why do ye make yer way to Inverurie?” he asked.
“Because,” she said slowly, thinking carefully about each word. It would be best to keep the deception as close to the truth as possible, “I vowed to my chambermaid on her deathbed to find the Summer Walkers, and I happen to ken that they convalesce in Inverurie for a short time before the summer solstice.”
“Why did ye give such a vow?”
Marsaili cleared her throat. “She believes they have her bairn, a boy, who was stolen from her by her father.”
“Why would her father do such a thing?”
The anger and incredulity in his tone increased her doubts. Was she misjudging him? Would he allow her to keep her child if he knew?
“Her father wanted her to marry a certain warrior, and he knew she would not agree, as she was in love with another, the father of the child.”
“Well, where in God’s name was the father of this child when it was born and then taken? He should have damn well been there and stopped such an atrocity.”
She was glad for the darkness because tears pricked her eyes. His words mirrored the thoughts she’d had about him. She licked her lips, her palms tingling from vexation. “He died,” she said, not wanting the story to be so close to the truth that he would recognize their story in it.
“I see,” he replied and sighed. “So the father did nae want yer maid to have ties to the dead man that would make her nae marry the other warrior?”
“Aye, exactly.”
He nodded and looked up at the sky thoughtfully. “We will pass my home on the way to Inverurie. Is time of the essence?”
“Aye,” she said, forcing herself to keep her emotions under control. “The Summer Walkers are always gone by the summer solstice, which means we only have a fortnight to get there.”
“Then we must make haste. I’d prefer to fetch some warriors, as we will have to travel through the Gordon’s land, but we will travel by night and do so carefully. Making our way to fetch warriors could delay us too much.” Callum swung himself onto the horse, surprising her.
“Take my hand, lass. We’ll travel by moon for a bit before we rest for the night. I want to put distance between us and Lucan, as I dunnae have any notion if there are other Black Mercenaries afoot.”
She’d not even thought of that. Lucan had originally traveled to Callum’s home with other mercenaries, but when he had returned to take her the second time, he had been alone. Quickly, she grasped Callum’s hand, his strong fingers closing around hers, and then she swung onto the horse with his help. She settled in front of him, trying desperately to put as much distance as possible between them while on the horse.
Even without touching him, his body heat enveloped her, and the memories of lying with him flesh to flesh stirred. To her horror, her stomach fluttered. She would have shifted forward, but there was nowhere to go. His arms suddenly brushed each of hers, and he leaned near to grasp the reins. His chest touched her back, and it was every bit as hard as she recalled. Her belly tightened with recollections of running her hands over his taut chest. His thighs flexed, squeezing closer to her legs, and she felt trapped in every sense of the word. She desired him as much as she had the day she had given herself to him, and she was disgusted with herself.
She concentrated on that irritation, as he said, “Get, Lightning.” His warm breath caused gooseflesh to rise on her neck, her chest, her arms—everywhere, really. She tried and failed to repress a sudden shiver, born of yearning and not cold.
“Are ye cold, lass?”
