Thirteen

Callum climbed up the mountain, leading Aristotle by the reins, while Gavin climbed by his side with his own horse. They were at a high enough elevation that the trees were sparse and spindly, and the wind had picked up, cooling his skin despite the warmth of the midafternoon sun.

They’d dropped behind to talk further about the parchments Maggie had given him, discussing any new ideas or remembrances either had had—which didn’t amount to much. It was frustrating, but he suspected they wouldn’t glean much more insight until all five of the foster brothers and Gregor were together.

Maggie walked ahead of them, surrounded by Finnian, Gill, and Artair and their horses, with Drustan in the lead.

It wasn’t a difficult climb for the men, especially at their slower pace, but he knew Maggie struggled. It would only get harder from here on out as they left the path behind and began climbing over boulders and along narrow ledges. He wanted to make it as far as a series of caves he knew of before darkness fell. Otherwise, they would spend a very cold, dangerous night out in the open.

Which meant Maggie was going to have to accept their help.

“I canna believe you’re going to make me ask,” Gavin said, making an exasperated sound in the back of his throat.

Callum faced him, his brows raised. “What in bloody hell are you talking about?”

Gavin nodded in Maggie’s direction. Callum looked ahead, trying to figure out what he meant.

“Last night?” his foster brother prompted.

Understanding hit, and Callum made the same sound Gavin had seconds ago. “Och, you’re naught but an old meddler.”

“Well, ’twas obvious something was said last night that disturbed you both. The lads were grumbling this morning that you made our lass cry.”

“And why am I the villain in this? Couldnae it have been Maggie who said something terrible?”

“Aye, that’s what I told them, but they’d have none of it. So, what horrible thing did she say?”

Gavin looked a little too eager for Callum’s liking, and suddenly, he wished he’d never started down this conversational path. He flattened his mouth, lips closed tight, and gave Gavin a stern look.

Gavin shrugged. “All right. ’Twill be more fun asking Maggie than you anyway.”

“Doona you dare,” Callum ordered, rounding on his foster brother, who stopped too and gave him a cocky grin. Callum considered knocking it off. A rousing fight with Gavin would be just what he needed to get rid of his pent-up frustration over Maggie. As much as he enjoyed sleeping close to her every night, the daily denial of his needs was proving more difficult than he’d anticipated.

Gavin crossed his arms over his chest and waited. When Callum didn’t respond, he said, “Have you considered that I may be a good source of advice for you? I was married for almost four years, and even though ’twas a bad union, I learned a lot about women.”

Callum scratched his hand over his beard. Maybe it would help to talk to Gavin, if nothing else than to get Maggie’s hurtful remarks off his chest. “Verra well. But this stays between us and no one else. Not even Kerr, Lachlan, Darach, or Gregor.”

Gavin nodded, and that eager look returned to his face.

“Maggie…Maggie…” Callum started, trying to find the words and realizing that Gavin may not be sympathetic to his plight. He tried again. “She…she…”

Gavin waited and waited, then threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. “Is that some sort of rhyme for the bairns?” He put a little sway in his hips. “Maggie Maggie she she. Maggie Maggie she she.”

Callum kicked out his foot and toppled the big, blond man onto his arse. Gavin burst into laughter. Callum grabbed the reins Gavin had loosed—not that he expected the stallion to bolt—and glowered down at his foster brother.

When it didn’t look like Gavin was going to get up, Callum sat down heavily beside him. “Maggie suggested—asked—if we could be intimate without having to marry. She wants my body, but not my ring.”

There. I’ve said it.

“She wants to tup you and not marry you?” Gavin asked incredulously.

“Aye.” He cringed inside, waiting for his foster brother’s response.

“You fortunate bastard!”

“Nay, not fortunate. I doona want Maggie for just one or two nights, or even weeks. I want her forever.”

“Well, just do what Cristel did to me and refuse to tup her until she marries you. Tell her you willna lift your plaid for her until she puts her ring on your finger.” He burst out laughing again and fell backward onto the rock, unable to muster the strength to even sit up.

“You said you would be helpful. Give me some advice.”

“I just did. ’Tis what mothers have been telling their daughters for thousands of years.” He shook his head. “Leave it to our Maggie to get it backward.”

“She’s not your Maggie. Or Finn’s or Artair’s or Gill’s or Drustan’s. She’s my Maggie, and I doona intend to let her just walk away.” He stood, tossed Gavin his stallion’s reins, and strode up the mountain, the others a fair distance ahead now.

Gavin scrambled behind him to catch up. “Callum, wait. You’re looking at this the wrong way. She’s a woman.”

“Aye. Thank you for that astounding insight.”

“You know what I mean. Most of them have soft hearts. And that says a lot coming from me, considering the nightmare my marriage turned out to be. Maggie may pretend to be hard, but she’s not. Aye, she can throw a mean dagger and hold her own among all us scoundrels, but she still wants to love and be loved like anyone. If Maggie desires intimacy with you, use that to bind her to you. Most women canna separate love and lust the way men can. She’s just confused. Her heart hasn’t caught up to her body yet. Or maybe I should say, her body knows what her heart and mind want before they do.”

Callum grunted. Maybe Gavin had a point. “Aye. But…it’s too late for that. I’ve already told her if she asks me again, I will consent, and in doing so, we will be married.”

“Is that what made her cry? That she couldnae tup you without tying herself to you—a lack-witted ablach—for life?”

He stopped, knowing Gavin expected either a jest or a physical blow, but Callum felt shame worm itself into his heart. “Nay, I was…harsh with her. It hurt and shook me that she would crave my touch—enough to ask me for it—yet still mean to walk away.”

Gavin stopped grinning and squeezed his shoulder. “But she forgave you, aye? She slept with you afterward and held you last night. I saw that.”

Aye, she did.

Callum’s heart lifted, and he smiled as he looked up the mountain at Maggie, who had slowed considerably since he’d last checked. “That she did.” He let out a sharp whistle and jogged the rest of the way to the men, who turned and waited for him. When Maggie looked back, she appeared done in—panting, her face red, sweat trickling down her brow.

He reached her and pulled her into his side so she leaned on him, and he could feel the tremors shaking her body. “We’ll rest for a bit.”

He scanned the rocks, looking for a place to sit, and saw the others doing the same. Aye, she was their Maggie too.

After leading her to a flat rock, he retrieved a leather flask of water and an apple from his pack. She took the water gratefully as he began to slice the apple with his dagger, giving her the first piece.

They ate and rested in silence for a while before she asked, “How much farther today?” as she craned her neck to look up the mountain.

He pointed to the top in the distance, over rocks and shale, which could be dangerous to both them and the horses. “A few more hours to the ridge—that’ll be hard going—then we’ll have several more hours to the cave where we’ll camp tonight. The incline will not be so bad once we’re on the ridge, but the path will be rough. And the lads willna be able to help you once we reach the shale. They’ll need to steady the horses.”

She nodded, but he could see her eyes had dimmed.

Then she sighed heavily and struggled to her feet. “’Tis best we shoot now, then. I doona want my arms shaking so badly I canna aim straight. You’d win by default—the only way, for sure.”

He let her have her fun. Although truth be told, it might not be a jest. He suspected he would beat Maggie only if she allowed him to.

And I’d take it.

Aye, Maggie letting him win would be as good as telling him she would marry him. Until then, he would fight for her hand with everything he had.

“Choose a spot, then, and I’ll go first. I wouldnae want to be accused of following your arrow’s path again.”

She smiled, obviously enjoying herself now as she pulled out her daggers. “Not to worry. We’ll use knives instead. And maybe a moving target.”

The other men had also risen.

“What did you have in mind?” Finn asked, his boyish face alight with excitement.

“I’ll show you,” she said. “You doona mind helping, do you?”

Finn’s smile faded, and he swallowed nervously. “If you think ’twill be safe.”

“Well, I willna miss. But you may want to jump back when it’s Callum’s turn.”

The corners of his mouth dipped down, and Callum took pity on the lad. “We willna aim at you, Finn. Maggie would ne’er risk your life that way. I’m sure she means to have you throw a target in the air.”

“Aye,” Maggie said, her lips twitching. “If Callum’s scared he’ll miss and hit you instead, we’ll do it his way.” She searched the ground, then picked up two flat rocks, both about the size of her palm, and held them out to him. “Choose your target.”

He did, after making a show of looking them over carefully. He just liked being able to hold her hand, his fingers gliding over her soft skin, until she shivered.

And if it threw off her concentration, all the better.

“I’ll take this one,” he said and passed it to Finnian. He reached for his dagger as Maggie passed Finn her target, and the young man hopped across the mountain like a young goat until she whistled.

He stopped. “Right here?” he yelled.

“Aye, lad. We’ll let you know when we’re ready—and keep an eye out for the daggers when they fall!” Callum said.

He turned and saw Maggie flipping her dagger in her hand—almost a ritualistic movement to help her focus. She never once looked at her blade. Instead, she stared above Finn’s head in the distance, no doubt envisioning the shot in her mind’s eye.

Fortunately, the wind was calm, and it would simply be a matter of anticipating and hitting the target.

“Do you want to see him toss it first?” he asked.

“Nay. Let’s just do it.”

His stomach tightened with anticipation—with nerves, even—and he took a deep breath to relax his muscles. The weight of what was riding on this competition sat heavily on him. He was a good shot and would pit his skills against anyone, but he was afraid Maggie might prove his better.

And this was a contest he could not afford to lose.

“I’ll go first,” he said. He adjusted his position, then whistled at Finn. The lad tossed Callum’s target in the air. In a single motion, Callum pulled his arm back over his shoulder and loosed his dagger. It hit the rock seconds later, before the target reached the top of its arc, and the men sent up a cheer.

Callum resisted punching his fist in the air as he switched spots with Maggie, his heart conflicted. Aye, he wanted to win, but he also didn’t want her to feel the shame of missing her shot.

He wondered if she felt the same.

She was grinning from ear to ear when she yelled at Finn, “Now!”

Finnian tossed her target high in the air. Callum expected Maggie to pull her arm back and loose immediately, as he had, but she waited until the target was on its way down. The men yelled out with concern, but she waited until the very last moment. Only then did she throw the dagger, hitting the target just before it reached the ground a few feet from Finnian.

The men erupted with loud shouts of astonishment and revelry, and this time Callum couldn’t stop himself from punching the air and yelling along with them. His shot had been precise; hers had been a thing of beauty.

He looked over just as she gave the men a deep curtsy. When she straightened, she looked up the mountain, hands on her hips, and blew out a heavy puff of air. “If only this mountain were so easy to beat!”

His pleasure turned to indignation. “You did not beat me!”

“Tell that to the men,” she replied with a saucy grin, then cupped her hands over her mouth. “Finnian, bring my dagger. And somebody help me up this great, bloody rock!”

* * *

Wind whipped around Maggie’s head, blowing tendrils of hair across her face, even though she’d tied the tangled mess into a tight braid. What she wouldn’t give for a proper bath after all the days she’d been climbing over the thrice-damned mountain range with Callum and the others. They were on day five of their journey, not counting the nights spent in the glade after the wolf attack and at her grandmother’s cottage.

Every night, Callum had slept wrapped around her, and she’d been grateful for the warmth, especially as the weather had turned colder and the hike more difficult. Clouds had filled the sky, and they often had to walk through fog and mist, staying tight to the path that wove along the top of the ridge. When the fog dissipated, they would pick up the pace to as fast as Maggie could go. Fortunately, today she felt a bit stronger.

The men’s joviality from a few days ago had turned quieter with the dangerous weather, but Callum still insisted that he and Maggie compete with their arrows and daggers—even in the fog, which Maggie had found a real challenge. She had yet to win outright, but then neither had Callum.

Not that it mattered at this point. Maggie was just praying they’d make it out of these mountains alive—and this morning, her prayers had been half answered when dawn arrived with a bright, clear sky. It was still windy, now more so than ever. The wind bit through their plaids and threatened to push them over at times, but the damp from the last two days, the cold that soaked through to her bones, was gone.

Drustan, who was on point, let out a loud whistle up ahead.

The others around her didn’t react defensively to his whistle, so she assumed they weren’t being warned of danger. In fact, the men looked eager and had pleased expressions on their faces.

“What was that for?” she asked Callum, who walked by her side.

He grinned down at her, passed Aristotle’s reins to Gill, and then grabbed her hand and strode quickly ahead. The others followed behind them, and she couldn’t help but be caught up in their sudden good mood, even though she had no idea what they were celebrating.

She saw Drustan up ahead, sitting on a rock, and waved to him. He lifted his hand back in greeting, a small, strained smile on his lined but still handsome face.

“Callum, what’s—” She let out a surprised cry as he suddenly scooped her into his arms.

He took a few steps forward then stopped. “Welcome to Clan MacLean, love. We have officially crossed the border and are on our own land.”

He’d carried her over the threshold to his home. For some reason, her chest tightened and she had to blink back tears.

God’s blood! I’ve become a Weepy Wynda.

Gill stepped over the border and let out a cry. “MacLeans! Virtue! Honor!”

“MacLeans!” both Callum and Drustan responded.

She grinned with them, remembering her own clan’s battle cry, which was much more bloodthirsty. When they were young, her brothers would race to the top of the cliff over the creek or all the way from the bailey to the keep’s topmost turret, shoving and laughing the entire way. The winner would shout out the MacDonnell battle cry at the top.

She’d trail behind them, occasionally winning because they’d been wrestling each other too much, and she’d squeeze past them. Sometimes they would lift her onto their shoulders and run with her instead.

If her mother had still been alive and seen how wild she’d become—her father lost to his own grief and her brothers letting her do whatever she wanted—she would have reined them all in. Maggie still missed her terribly and would do anything to have her back, but it was in the first few months after her death that Ross had first taught her how to use a bow, and John showed her how to fling a dagger. Her life would be dramatically different now if her mother hadn’t died.

She fingered the dagger that she’d attached to her forearm. Her skill with knives and a bow was more than just an ability; it was a passion. One she never would have been able to experience had her mother not fallen down the well in her attempt to get Maggie out.

The joy and satisfaction the weapons gave her had come at a high price. The sadness and regret, but also the guilt, ate at her.

Pressure built in her chest as the conflicting emotions bubbled up from where she’d shoved them down. She resisted releasing them, not wanting to look…weak, she supposed, maybe vulnerable, in front of Callum. Still, he frowned at her as though he knew something was wrong.

“Are you well, lass?” he asked, shifting her in his arms so he could see her face—which made her realize he still held her close.

She squirmed to get down, berating herself for wanting to stay there. By the glint in his eye, he’d probably known it. When her feet touched the ground—MacLean ground—she took two steps away from him. “Aye. Just…thinking about my brothers.”

He gave her an assessing look and nodded. A sharp wind blew suddenly, tossing her hair and whistling through her ears. Her blanket was little protection, and the wind pierced right through to her skin. She shivered violently, and her teeth chattered.

Callum pulled her close, opening his own blanket and tucking her inside against his body. Blessed warmth. She did sigh this time, and just let herself be held.

The men gathered around, and no one looked at them askance. Aye, they all thought of her as Callum’s wife-to-be—and for Drustan and Gill, their future lady. Although Drustan had been more distant since he’d had that strange talk with her days ago.

He’d been distant from everyone, it seemed. She’d thought it was just his personality, but by the concerned looks Callum kept throwing his way, she guessed it was not. She’d added him to her list of prayers every night, hoping he was well.

“Do you want to light the pyre and announce we’re coming,” Gavin asked, holding the reins of his and Callum’s horses, “or continue to keep our whereabouts a secret?”

Maggie scrunched her brow in confusion and looked around. “What pyre?”

Callum pointed farther up the mountain at the peak. “’Tis about an hour’s hike. A great wooden pyre. Once it’s lit, it can be seen from farther down the range, where another pyre sits. That one will be lit by a watcher and will be seen from an outpost that’ll send a rider with word to the castle. They’ll send men out to us within hours of the first pyre going up.”

“And send word to our foster brothers and Gregor as well, so they know what’s happened to us. If they received our earlier messages, Maggie, they should be at your castle by now. Laying siege, most likely,” Gavin said.

“Well, what about Irvin’s spy in your keep?” she asked. “If you light the pyre, he or she will know and may tell Irvin where we are.”

“Aye, ’tis a possibility, but ’twill also mean a message will be sent to Gregor and the lads sooner than if we waited until we arrived at the castle. We need them with us to discuss the information in the parchments you gave me. From what’s written, Gavin and I both believe something else is going on that’s bigger than just Irvin’s desire to take over Clan MacDonnell.”

Maggie’s brow rose in astonishment. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s bad, Maggie. Terrible. And he’ll be put on trial for what he did and plans to do, but…”

“But what?” she asked, looking up just in time to see Callum’s and Gavin’s eyes meet. What was in those parchments that she’d missed?

Gavin huffed out a worried breath. “That’s the problem, lass. We doona know exactly. ’Tis just a feeling. From everything that’s written in there, and all the clans mentioned—or whom we think Irvin is referring to—it seems more intricate than just one man’s ambitions. Unless Irvin is planning to take over all of the Highlands.”

Callum rested his chin on top of Maggie’s head and squeezed his arms tighter around her. “We’ll sort it out, sweetling. But all six of us together have a better chance of doing that than just Gavin and me.”

“And you’re on MacLean land now,” Finnian said to her. “’Tis not like the MacDonnells can cross the border and take you without your laird knowing. They’ll ne’er get through.”

He sounded like a child at the adult’s table. No border was impassable, and Maggie waited for someone to tell him how wrong he was. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Nay, Finn,” Gavin said. “Callum protects his borders as best he can, as do we, but there is always room for error. If we understand our limitations, we’ll be better prepared to deal with a breach when it occurs, aye? ’Tis why we set up our defenses in concentric circles. If one ring falls, we retreat to the next line of defense, all the way back to our castle and keep, aye?”

Finn turned a fiery red and dropped his chin. “Aye, Laird. I’m sorry.”

Artair tched and bumped Finn with his shoulder, almost knocking him over with his great strength. Gill caught and steadied him.

“’Tis naught to be sorry for, lad,” Artair said. “’Tis just one of many lessons we have to learn.”

“Aye,” the other men agreed.

Finn nodded, still looking red but not as crestfallen. He’d be all right.

“So we weigh the need for secrecy against the need to have your foster brothers and Gregor here sooner. Is that what you’re saying?” Maggie asked.

“’Tis more than that. The flames will alert my men to our presence, and they’ll follow the same route we do but travel toward us. ’Tis more protection against the MacDonnells in case they breach our borders farther down. I doona think anyone’s followed us over the mountain. Or if they have, they’re at least a day behind us.”

“Aye. The threat will come from ahead of us, not from behind,” Gavin finished. “’Twould be good to have more men.”

“Well, it seems the decision is made then,” Maggie said, realizing that both Callum and Gavin were of the same mind. She looked at the mountain’s peak, seeing another steep and rocky climb. Lucky for her—and the men—her strength and stamina had improved over the last five days. “Let’s just hope the wood will burn, or ’twill all be for naught.”