Her father scooped her son up and thrust him toward her. When her fingers touched his warm chubby arms, her heart felt as if it would explode. Tears filled her eyes, which she did not bother to try to dash away. She closed her grip around him, his skin like silk, and held him tightly. She brought the boy to her chest and wrapped her arms around him. He squirmed a bit, but his crying stopped, and when he nuzzled into her, pushing his head under her chin, a sob caught in her throat.
She lifted her trembling hand to his head and ran her fingers through his soft hair. “Ye’re a fine lad,” she whispered, deeply breathing in his sweet scent. His head popped out from under her chin suddenly, and he looked at her, his eyes so much like Callum’s that she smiled with joy. He brought his tiny hand to her face and patted it. “I hungry.”
“Oh, aye?” She cleared her throat of the clogged tears and brought her gaze to her father, who watched her with a dispassionate look. “Do ye have any food?”
“Norbert!” her father bellowed, bringing one of her father’s menservants scrambling.
The skinny young man rushed over to her father. “My lord?”
“Give my daughter a hunk of cheese.”
The servants did as he was bid, and Marsaili broke off a piece and handed it to her son. His tiny fingers grasped it before he popped it in his mouth and chewed. As he did so, she touched the top of his foot, which dangled near her hip and turned it just enough so that she could see the bottom. She knew before looking that theXbrand that Maria had told her about would be there, but when Marsaili saw it, her throat tightened with the final confirmation that the child in her arms was hers.
She glanced down at him and caught his gaze. “I’m yer mother,” she said, not wishing to frighten or confuse him by telling him who she really was, but she feared she may never get another chance. The possibility that she may never see him again loomed in her mind.
He frowned, as if confused, and she quickly said, “Ye can call me Marsaili.For now,” she added, under her breath, praying they would be granted a future where he would know her as his mother.
He grinned, making two dimples appear in his round cheeks and showing he had most of his teeth. The sight of the little white teeth made her feel warm with joy. He touched her hair, winding a strand of it around his finger. “I Brody.”
“Brody,” she whispered, trying the name out and deciding she liked it. She had not gotten to name him, but it was a fine name, and it was his. He knew it, and she would never dream to confuse him by changing it. She turned then, just enough so that she could see Callum’s face and he could see her and his son. Mayhap it would be the only time he ever saw them thusly.
Their eyes locked over the distance, and through the mask of anger on his face, a smile, as intimate as a kiss, emerged. She felt her own lips trembling with happiness.
“Time to depart, Marsaili,” her father said from behind her.
She turned toward him, hating him more in this moment than she had realized was possible. “The Summer Walkers?” she asked, not lessening her hold on her child. “Did ye kill them?”
“Only those who dared to resist me and did nae wish to hand over the child. The rest fled. Now give the boy to Broch.”
Her chest ached, but she did as bid, and the moment Brody passed from her hands to Broch’s, the child began to wail. Callum roared his anger in the distance. She knew Broch would not hurt her son. She understood in her gut what he had done and said was to try to save them all, yet she felt the loss of her child like a dagger to her heart. Her father flicked his fingers from his guards to her, and they scrambled toward her and seized her. The last thing she saw before she was thrown on a charger behind one of her father’s warriors was Brody being handed to Maria and Callum being bound at the wrists by Broch.
Clinging to the knowledge that Callum would be with their son, she had to believe all would be well for them, and that somehow, she might be saved. To believe anything else was unthinkable.
