Fourteen
Hours later, still under cover of night, Marsaili began to whimper and tremble almost violently in her sleep. Callum decided it was safer to halt and seek shelter than to keep riding. They seemed to have lost the Gordon warriors in the mountains, and Marsaili could well die if he pushed on farther.
“We stop,” he called to Broch. Callum looked around the thick woods, slowed his panting destrier, and led him toward a nearby stream. Once there, he dismounted, steadying Marsaili, then slid her off the beast.
Broch pulled his own panting charger up beside Callum’s. “I dunnae care to be ordered about,” he growled, dismounting his horse and then helping Maria down. Callum noted the lingering look that passed between the two of them, and he also noted the way Broch’s fingers stayed in contact with Maria’s hip, even after they were both standing and she clearly was not in need of his aid. Something was developing between those two.
“Tell me,” Callum said to Broch, “how did ye come to be in Maria’s company? I ken that she escaped my castle, but how did she come to meet up with ye?”
“I’ll tell ye what ye wish,” Broch said in a fairly amicable tone, “but I want ye to acknowledge what I said to ye. I dunnae take orders from any man but my laird, ye ken? So if ye wish for me to do something, propose it, ask it, but dunnae command it.”
“Fair enough,” Callum said, then strode to where Maria had made a pallet from a plaid Broch had given her and was now waving him over. He squatted and gently laid Marsaili on the plaid that Maria had spread out under some trees. “What should I do?” he asked, his chest tightening with worry that Marsaili had still not awoken.
Maria waved a hand. “Ye’ll sit and let me wrap yer shoulder quickly, and then ye’ll take yer leave. I need to examine her, and ye and Broch need to hunt. When I’ve a need of ye, I’ll call ye to return.”
He nodded and did as she bid. Maria made quick work of wrapping his shoulder, and then she gestured for him to depart. But he lingered a moment, so many questions in his mind that he longed to have answered. He knew Maria had been Marsaili’s friend and at the Campbell hold with her. “Did ye ken I had a son?”
“Nae until verra recently,” she replied, “but I saw the child when he was born. He was a braw bairn with a head of dark hair. I marked his foot with anX. I thought his mother was Marsaili’s chambermaid, and that she might reconsider ridding herself of him. If he is still with the Summer Walkers, ye will be able to ken him from that marking.”
Callum nodded, too choked up to talk. He was reluctant to leave Marsaili’s side, but he knew she needed to eat; therefore, he needed to hunt. He withdrew his dagger and started toward the thick woods. He’d hunted many times at night with nothing more than a shaft of moonlight to guide him, so he was not overly worried that he would not be successful. Broch fell into step with him as Callum shoved through the thick shrubs to find the best spot to conceal himself and wait.
“So,” Callum said, picking up his earlier question to Broch that had gone unanswered, “how is it that ye find yerself with Maria?”
“As I was leaving the Campbell hold, a band of four men tried to rob me. I fought them off, killing all but one. He had a MacLeod plaid stuffed in his bag, and with a little persuasion,” Broch said, a deadly tone in his voice, “he admitted he’d taken a plaid from a lass named Marsaili who he’d helped their leader, a man named Lucan, take to yer home to wager away. So I went to yer castle, but on the road that led up to yer home, I found Maria racing away. She saw that I wore the MacLeod plaid and told me what had occurred, and of Marsaili being taken to Ulster.”
“But the earl’s home is in the opposite direction from here,” Callum said, not ready to trust this man just yet, not totally.
“Aye, it is. We started toward the Earl of Ulster’s and came across Lucan, who was almost dead.”
Callum inhaled a long breath. “And?”
Broch held Callum’s gaze a long moment. “And he told us Marsaili had spared his life. So Maria gave him a potion to aid him and we offered him food and water. I’ll nae undo the good deed of another,” Broch said defensively.
“Nay, nor would I. So ye started for Inverurie after aiding Lucan?”
Broch nodded. “We had just gotten to the edge of Gordon land when we came across two bards. We sat to take a short respite, and one of the bards started composing a song he called ‘The Caged Woman of the Gordons.’ I recognized Marsaili’s description in the song”—he smiled—“as did Maria, and we kenned Marsaili had to be here, somehow having been captured, likely when the two of ye were trying to travel to Inverurie. Ye ken most of the rest already.”
Callum nodded and paused, shoving a low-hanging branch out of his face. “Ye said when ye left the Campbell hold that ye were headed to Inverurie because of learning that the Summer Walkers may well have Marsaili’s—my—son. How did ye ken they might be there?”
“Marsaili’s half brother Graham MacLeod married Isobel Campbell, who ye surely ken is Marsaili’s half sister on her father’s side.”
Callum shook his head, feeling the fool not knowing such important things about Marsaili’s life. “I did nae. I still have much to learn about Marsaili.”
Broch chuckled. “Dunnae fash yerself too much. Isobel, who told me of the Summer Walkers once and where they travel, did nae ever live with Marsaili, so she likely did nae think to mention Isobel to ye when the two of ye kenned each other.” Broch’s face suddenly took on a fierce, angry expression. “Regarding that—”
The MacLeod warrior shot out his fist so fast that Callum managed only to jerk to the left enough to avoid his nose getting punched again. His right cheekbone, though, felt the Scot’s blow down deep in the bone, which seemed to vibrate with the punch. Seething, Callum grabbed Broch’s hand as the man was pulling back from the freshly delivered hit, and he held him still. “What in God’s name was that for?”
“That,” Broch said, trying to jerk his fist from Callum’s grasp, which Callum responded to by jerking back, “was for seducing Marsaili when ye were to marry another, getting her with child, and then nae ever returning for her and the child. I dunnae ken why she has nae killed ye yet.”
“First,” Callum said, releasing the man’s fist, as he did not wish to make an enemy of Marsaili’s clansman, “I did nae seduce Marsaili.” If anything, the lass had beguiled him. “And at the time I met her, I already had broken my promise to wed Edina. I take it Maria is the one who has told ye what ye believe ye ken?”
“Aye,” Broch confirmed, sounding and looking unconvinced that Callum was speaking the truth.
“Well, she did nae have good information because Marsaili did nae have good information.” He would have gone through Hell itself to reunite with Marsaili had he known she was alive, but he was not going to speak of such things to anyone but Marsaili. “I was told the lass was dead,” he said instead. “So ’tis plain to see that I did nae ken about my son, either, and she did nae tell me until we just rescued her from the cage.” His pulse sped up just trying to imagine his son, and quickly following that thought was one about Marsaili. How had she felt when she had been told their son was dead? It enraged him to even think upon it. What had she endured and suffered, with child and alone? Had she been shunned? Treated poorly? He wanted to kill her father for all his treacheries. The man had lied to Marsaili, was intent on using her, and had lied to Callum and his parents when he had told them Marsaili was dead, among other things.
Anger pulsed within him.Three years. He had lost three years he could have been with her. Two years they could have been with their son. His chest squeezed so tightly, he had to suck in a sudden breath. “I will kill the Campbell,” he ground out.
“Ye will make an enemy of the king if ye do so,” Broch replied.
