“That is good to hear. I will speak with him of my matters with the king when I speak with him about Marsaili. She will, of course, come with me now, instead of going to the MacLean hold.”
“If Iain agrees,” Broch replied. “He is the one to give his blessing on yer union, if ye can get her to consent.”
“I’ll get her to consent,” Callum assured Broch, willing it to be so, willing Marsaili to recover fully. And hopefully, her brother would offer an alliance, but even if he did not, Callum would wed Marsailiandhe would find a way to protect his clan.
After several attempts by Callum and Maria, they managed to rouse Marsaili enough to get her to take a few bites of the rabbit, but she was near delirious, mumbling about the bairn and moaning about how he was dead. Callum rocked her in his arms and whispered to her repeatedly that their son lived, though, he had no notion if he spoke the truth or not. He had to believe it. To consider that he—they—had a son they might possibly never know was unthinkable.
The chills hit Marsaili hard close to dawn, even with the fire they had built near to the blanket where Callum lay with Marsaili in his arms. Fear gnawed at him that the chills would make her worse, so he slipped under the plaid he had her swathed in and drew her against his bare chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and entangled his legs with hers. Slowly, she ceased trembling, and after a bit, her ice-cold hands, which had been pressed against his chest, slipped between his legs and she burrowed her forehead into his chest. Then she let out a long sigh, and her breathing became deep, even, and peaceful.
Shadows that he had not realized darkened his heart lifted, and he exhaled his own long sigh of contentment. She was meant for him. She always had been. He pressed his mouth to her forehead, giving silent thanks to God for bringing her back to him, for making him realize the futility of trying to forget her, and then he prayed for the right words to say to her brother to forge the alliance the Grants needed.
Callum’s other concern was Coira. He had told her very plainly that he wished to wed for the sake of an alliance, and while he knew the lass did not love him, he had seen how vulnerable she was. He was more than willing to let Coira tell the world she wanted to break their promise to wed, but he had no notion if that would be enough to soothe whatever hurt feelings she might have. He was going to have to talk to her privately, and that caused him unease because he didn’t want Marsaili to worry for a moment that he was moved to speak with Coira alone by anything other than guilt. It was with all these worries fighting for his attention, that he finally succumbed to sleep.
