Eleven

Callum added another stick to the low-burning fire and leaned against the rock overhang, the wind tugging at his hair and nipping at his skin. Maggie sat beside him, wrapped in her extra plaid, shivering. He’d tried to pull her close, to share his warmth and blanket with her, but she’d refused. She was still mad at him, obviously, despite asking him to hold her up when they’d first made it to the top of the ridge.

His belief that the journey across the mountain would be too difficult for her might have been unfounded. Aye, she was sore and tired, but she’d done far better than he’d expected. And even though she’d been exhausted upon cresting the ridge, she’d insisted they keep moving after a brief rest. They’d ridden the horses for another hour or so, mostly to give Maggie a break, but then the ground had become too rocky, and they’d had to dismount. By the time they found a suitable place to camp that offered some shelter from the wind and hid the light of the fire, the sun was already low in the sky.

Callum had checked behind them continuously throughout the day for anyone who might have followed and hadn’t seen a soul—but they stayed hidden just in case.

It looked more and more likely that they would escape the MacDonnells unscathed. As long as they could make it over the mountain without mishap.

“Maggie,” Gill said quietly from across the fire.

Callum looked up at his marksman, who huddled deep in his blanket just like the rest of them. They’d finished eating, a fresh rabbit that Gill had shot with his arrow earlier in the day and some oats cooked with apple that Finnian had boiled—a task that always fell to the newest member of the group.

Maggie looked up and gave him a wan smile. “Aye?” She sounded drowsy, which caused warmth to spread through Callum’s chest and down into his groin. He wanted to reach out and tuck her up tight beneath his chin. Instead, he rubbed a frustrated hand along his scruffy cheek and over the nape of his neck.

“How did you make the shot?” Gill continued. “You knew where the tree was, of course, even if you couldnae see it in the dark. But you only had one chance to land the bolt with the rope attached. It’s a big tree, but the odds against hitting it securely were completely against you.”

“I practiced,” she said.

Gill’s brow wrinkled at her answer, and Callum understood his confusion. If she’d practiced with the rope from the castle wall during the day, the guards would have seen her. On the other hand, if she’d practiced at night, how could she have seen the target to adjust her aim?

“But how did you do it without your cousin knowing?”

It was her turn to wrinkle her brow. “I ne’er practiced where he could see me. ’Twas in the forest to learn to compensate for the weight of the rope, or up on the turret with no one about.”

“At night?”

“Nay. During the day. I had to be able to see my target in order to hit it when the time came.”

Gill looked more perplexed than ever. “So you practiced using the bolt with the rope tied to it in the forest and then on the turret. Did you shoot at the tree with just the bolt?”

“I ne’er shot the bolt into the tree until last night.”

Everyone’s eyebrows shot up at that, including Callum’s.

“But…but…that’s impossible,” Gill sputtered, sitting forward, forearms on his knees. His blanket fell to his elbows, forgotten.

“Apparently not. She made the shot,” Gavin said dryly.

“Maggie, how did you practice in the turret if you ne’er shot the bolt?” Callum asked. “And how could that have helped you anyway, when it was almost full dark last night?”

She raised her arms in front of her as if she held the crossbow. “Shooting the bolt was the least of my concerns. I had to practice raising the bow and getting my position exactly right with my eyes closed. As you said, it would be dark, and I wouldnae be able to see a target. There was no point in practicing to shoot a bolt into a tree I probably wouldnae be able to see when the time finally came. I had to be able to feel my shot. So I would close my eyes.” She closed her eyes, her hair blowing away from her face as a gust of wind puffed through the opening in the rocks. “Get into position.” She raised her arms a little higher. “Then open my eyes and see if I was lined up properly.” She opened them and looked into the distance over the fire. “My muscles and my mind had to learn the shot. Not my eyes. I had to remember the exact position of my feet, my body, my arms—every time. Not see it.”

The men sat quietly, staring at her, eyes wide with wonder, and Callum could see she was suddenly self-conscious. Her cheeks flushed, and she raised her hand to push back her hair. “It really wasn’t that hard.”

Gavin scoffed, and Gill looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “I’m the best marksman in Clan MacLean—in any clan I know—and I couldnae have made that shot. I wouldnae have even tried.”

“Well, that’s your first problem right there. You’re defeated before you even start. Aren’t there things you do in the dark, using your hands, that you doona even think about? You just do by feel?”

Silence fell, then a swath of bright red filled Maggie’s cheeks. “Other than that!” she yelled.

They all burst out laughing, and he suspected if they hadn’t been sitting, they would have fallen to the ground. Finnian did flop over and actually rolled back and forth, his stomach heaving so hard, Callum could see the rise and fall of his belly through his blanket. Gill and Artair leaned heavily on each other as if their laughter had drained their strength, and Gavin had his head in his hands as his shoulders heaved, which pleased Callum to no end. Even six months ago, his foster brother wouldn’t have cracked a smile—just a baring of his teeth when he felt it was necessary to make people feel more comfortable. It gave Callum hope that even if they didn’t find Gavin’s son, his foster brother would still be able to live a happy life.

Callum sighed contentedly, warmed from the inside out. His heart was full as he watched Maggie, who was looking down into her empty bowl, still flushed but with a small grin on her face.

Movement caught his attention, and he looked over to see Drustan shed his blanket and rise from his seat. It struck Callum that his second-in-command looked about as grim as he’d ever seen him. His mouth flat, jaw clenched, his eyes hard and bright.

Callum rose too, alarm ringing though him. He strode to Drustan’s side, his eyes scanning the darkness surrounding them. “Is everything all right?”

The others fell silent, feeling the change in the air.

Drustan took a moment to answer, moving to his mount’s head and adjusting the bridle. When he finished, he rubbed his hand over his stomach. “Aye, ’tis naught to worry you. I have a wee pain in my belly, that’s all.”

He smiled at Callum, but it was the same false smile Gavin had given his foster brothers for so long after Ewan had disappeared, and a chill ran up Callum’s spine.

“Are you sure, Drustan? If something’s troubling you, you must tell me.”

“’Twill pass by the morning. I’ll go for a walk and feel better after that.” He squeezed Callum’s shoulder—hard—then walked out into the dark.

Callum looked after him, then turned to the fire and met Gavin’s gaze.

“We can follow him, if you want,” Gavin said. “But if his gut’s bothering him, he’ll not want to be disturbed.”

“Agreed. Let’s give him some privacy. Who’s on watch first?”

Artair rose with his weapons and his blanket. “I am. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“Good. Let me know if he hasn’t returned within an hour or so, and I’ll go look for him.”

“Nay, let me know, and I’ll go look,” Gavin said. “Maggie will freeze otherwise.” He nodded at Maggie, who leaned against the rock overhang with her eyes closed.

Suddenly, her eyes popped open. “I’m awake!”

“Of course you are,” Callum said as he crossed to her side of the fire. It would have been easier to just lie next to Maggie once she was asleep, like he had last night, but she was determined to be just as strong as the men, which wasn’t possible. They’d trained most of their lives for circumstances like these.

He placed another stick on the flames, then moved his bedroll and extra blanket toward her. She frowned at him, but he could see that her lips were blue from cold, her fingers stiff as she held the blanket. He gave her a direct, no-nonsense stare to match her frown and kept moving until his roll was right beside hers.

She was probably tired enough to sleep despite being cold—fitfully, at least. But it was his job to take care of her, to see to her needs, and it was a task at which he’d failed for too long. As long as he was by her side, she would never be cold again.

“We’ll all be sharing heat, lass,” he said, nodding to Finnian and Gill who were also moving their bedrolls closer together. “To do otherwise would be foolish and dangerous. Which means you and I will lie together side by side—like we did last night, and the night in the glade. If you hope one of the others will share with you, think again. They willna sleep beside my bride-to-be.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he lifted his hand, saying, “And before you say we’re not betrothed, know that in their eyes, and in mine, we are—whether you accept it or not. You promised me time to woo you,” he added.

She sat up on her bedroll and crossed her arms over her chest, her mouth set mulishly. He placed his pack at the top of the roll to use as a pillow, then spread his extra blanket over both their sides and slipped underneath.

“Come here, Maggie. Please. Let me warm you.”

He’d made sure she had the side closest to the fire, and eventually, she lay down and faced the flames, allowing Callum to warm her back. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in tight, but she stayed stiff in his embrace, the occasional shiver wracking her frame.

“I’d wager Gill isna holding Finnian this close,” she said tartly, loud enough so only Callum could hear.

He laughed. “Maybe not. Although Finnian is a bonnie lad.”

She huffed out a short laugh, as if it had been surprised out of her, then fell silent. Eventually, she relaxed a bit in his hold. He was just beginning to wonder if she’d fallen asleep when she said, “I suppose this is one more way that I’ve failed to live up to the lads. None seemed as cold or as tired as me.”

He pushed himself onto his elbow and looked down at her. When she refused to meet his gaze, he nudged her onto her back. Finally, their eyes clashed. Hers flashed up at him defiantly.

Callum formulated his words with care, knowing he was at fault here—that he’d driven her to doubt herself. “Maggie, they are brawny men. You are a wee woman and not as used to grueling travel.”

“I’m. Not. Wee.”

He resisted looking down to see if she’d grasped her daggers in her fists and was ready to lodge a sharp point beneath his chin again. “You are compared to me and the other men. You doona have my strength or stamina—and you know it. Even Finnian, who is the smallest of us, is stronger and faster. To pretend otherwise would be addlepated. Just as it would be addlepated to believe that Finnian, Artair, or even Drustan could beat you when it came to your accuracy with arrows and daggers.”

She sniffed. “I could beat all of you.”

“Possibly,” he said, grinning at her conceit. “I have no doubt that none of us could have made the shot into the tree like you did.”

She looked a little mollified, and he pressed his advantage. “And I honestly ne’er thought we would travel as far as we did today. I didn’t think we’d reach the first ridge. Would we have gone farther if you hadn’t been with us? Aye. But not by nearly as much as I expected. I apologize for doubting your strength, your stamina, your determination to forge ahead. I have great admiration for your abilities.”

Her eyes softened at his words—her body too. He was hard-pressed not to lean down and steal a kiss, wanting her lips to open beneath his, to invite him in.

“Thank you,” she said finally, and he could tell she meant it. “I may be slower tomorrow, and the next day too, but then I’ll wake up even stronger. We’ll be o’er this mountain in no time.”

“Aye, we will. And then we’ll be in MacLean territory and safe.”

“And you willna have to worry about me anymore.”

He smoothed his fingers over his top lip and lay down on his back.

“What?” she asked, sounding suspicious as she came up on her elbow this time and looked down at him.

He took another moment to craft his words, not wanting to run afoul of her again. He had to say this just right.

“Are you going to do that every time we talk?” she asked suddenly, frowning at him.

“Do what?”

“Think of the exact, perfect way to phrase something. ’Tis most annoying.”

It was his turn to frown. “Well, I didn’t do it this morning, and you ended up being mad at me all day.”

“I’m not mad now, so just spit it out.”

“Verra well. Just because we’ll reach Clan MacLean doesn’t mean I’ll stop being concerned about you. ’Tis because I care, not because I think you’re incapable. Nay, you’ve proven yourself more than capable in every respect, but…it’s in my nature.”

“You doona worry about Gavin or the others.”

“I’ve done naught but worry about Gavin since his son disappeared—before that even, when he was so miserable in his marriage. And I worry that Finnian will make a mistake because of his youth and it will be my fault for allowing him to come with us, and that Artair will indeed slow us down because of his size, and he or someone else will get hurt because of it. I plan things and fix things and keep everyone safe and happy. I worry. ’Tis my job as laird.”

“I thought Finnian and Artair were Gavin’s men?”

“In all other respects, they are, but I approved them coming with us. Gavin felt they both had skills that would add to our group. And they do.”

“Well, what about my skills? ’Twas me who helped us escape from Alpin and the other MacDonnells.” She glared down at him indignantly.

He grasped her hand, then brought it to his mouth and kissed her palm. “Aye,” he said soothingly. “And I shouldnae have doubted your skills. I’m sorry. Your foresight in planning your own escape, which aided ours, was astounding. Not to mention everything else you’ve done to escape Irvin and stay alive. But…”

“But what?”

“I canna lie to you, Maggie. My need to protect you is different than it is with the others. If we’re in danger, I will always look to defend you first, no matter how good you are with your daggers. Maybe ’tis a failing, but I doona know how to change it. You are a woman—a skilled one—meant to be my wife, and I want to protect you.”

Maggie flopped down on her back beside him and huffed. She sounded frustrated, and he clenched his jaw, knowing she would object. How could he possibly woo her if they were always at odds?

“All right,” she said.

“All right?”

“You can worry about me and help me more than the others, and I willna take offense. And some days, I will take care of you. ’Tis a woman’s right to take care of…a man too. In whatever way she sees fit. Whether it’s with a dagger or in some other way.”

He rose quickly onto his elbow. She looked straight past him up at the dark sky before flicking her eyes to him and away. He couldn’t see her blush in the darkness, but he could feel the way her skin had heated. Had she been about to say her man? ’Tis a woman’s right to take care of her man? And what exactly did “some other way” mean?

A slow smile spread across his face. “With a kiss, perhaps?”

She huffed and rolled over on her side to face the fire. “You have to beat me at daggers first, and I doona see that happening any day soon.”

He spooned his body around hers, excitement pulsing through him with every pound of his heart. “Is that a challenge, Maggie MacDonnell? You’ve thrown down the gauntlet, and you’re waiting for me to pick it up?”

She scoffed. “What are you going on about?”

“A contest. You said I could woo you. Well, let me woo you with my skill at archery and tossing a dagger. We’ll compete. Whoever wins gets a kiss.”

She laughed, that short, sharp puff of air he’d heard before, and he knew she did it despite herself. “So you get a kiss no matter who wins?”

“Nay, you get a kiss no matter who wins. And I shall give it to you with resigned acquiescence. But a kiss only, no more. No matter how much you press me to continue.”

“I see,” she said, sounding amused. “And is this why your foster brothers revere your sharp, analytical mind? For coming up with plans that are fail proof?”

“’Tis part of it, aye. And for finding solutions that benefit everyone—like mutually beneficial kisses. But ’twas not me who thought of it. You challenged me.” By God, he loved pitting his wit against hers. She was the one with the sharp mind and the skill to back it up.

“You’re an addlepated man for expecting a kiss so easily.”

“Then how about this. We doona compete for kisses; those can come at any time. Like this…” He pressed his lips into the soft, exposed skin at the crook of her neck, and she shivered, gasping for breath. He was tempted to go on, but he didn’t want her to refuse to sleep next to him because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He lifted his head. “We compete for something else, something we each want. If you win, you can go to Edinburgh when it’s safe to find John, and I willna protest. If I win, you will stay with me. Marry me.”

“I’ll go to see John whether you want me to or not, and I’ll go when I deem it’s safe.”

“Aye, but the wager is that I willna fight you on your decision. Isn’t that worth something? If you believe in your skills as you say you do, it’s not a risk. Unless you’re afraid that—”

She made a scoffing sound, and he could just imagine how she must have rolled her eyes. He couldn’t hold back his grin. He knew when a negotiation was going in his favor, and he almost had this one tied up.

“You canna sway me so easily, Callum. For such a good negotiator, you’re verra transparent.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? No trickery. You didn’t like it before when I tried to choose my words carefully, so here it is. I believe I can beat you. I’ll win the wager, and you’ll marry me. If you believe in your skills the same way I believe in mine, accept the wager and defeat me.”

She didn’t answer at first. When she did, her voice was soft. “And if we tie?”

“Then we compete again the next day, and the next.” He held his breath, knowing this was it. She would agree.

“Doona expect to beat me, Callum. We will compete, just you and I, until we reach your castle. If no one has won by then, the wager is ended.”