Eight

They traveled southwest from the castle, toward her grandmother’s farm. It had been a slow journey of several hours in the dark, and once they were close, she wouldn’t allow them to proceed farther on the horses until the sun came up. Now it was time.

On her orders, the others fell into line behind her and Callum to avoid the snares and traps she’d set earlier in the month. She’d worked hard to make the pitfalls seem like natural deterrents found in the forest and the snare seem like a trap that had been set long ago and forgotten.

She’d also hidden the trail as best she could under fallen trees and piles of rocks—anything to dissuade someone from continuing onward.

“’Tis dangerous here,” she said, and took the reins from Callum to steer Aristotle to the side of the game trail.

Callum wrapped his arms around her waist, and she bit her lip to stop from groaning. Earlier, she’d been brought to the brink of something she’d been craving for years, ever since Callum had first touched her. Then, as now, he’d left her mind a mess and her body in need. And sitting so intimately in front of him for the last few hours, her legs spread, his fingers rubbing tiny circles over her plaid, his hands touching her but not touching her, was enough to drive her mad.

And she was sure he knew it too, the wee ablach.

He dropped his head beside hers and spoke gravely into her ear. “Maggie.”

“Aye.”

“I figured out what you didn’t tell me. What Irvin could possibly hold over your head to make you marry him.”

She glanced to the side and met his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“When I lay on the cliff, watching the castle, I saw you climb out your window and into Ross’s room. I was sick with worry you’d fall, and I thought, ‘when Maggie and I are married, I’ll get her with bairn immediately, and she’ll have to stop putting herself at risk for the sake of our bairns.’ Because you would do anything for your bairns—the same as your mother did for you, aye?”

Pain stabbed through her at the mention of her mother, and Maggie drew in a sharp breath.

“That’s what Irvin intended too,” he continued, “but in a different way. The blackheart would rape you and then threaten the lives of his own bairns if you didn’t marry him and hand over the lairdship and clan. Is that right?”

She licked her lips and cleared her throat before speaking. Still, her voice sounded thick. “Aye, Irvin would blackmail me with my own bairns, but I doona think he would care who fathered them. He intended to let whoever pleased him have a turn with me until I conceived.”

Callum cursed and crushed her in his embrace. She resisted at first, holding herself stiff, unyielding, but he didn’t relent, and finally, a shuddering breath exhaled from her lungs, and she leaned against him, allowed his warmth, his strength, to comfort her.

He rubbed his cheek against hers. “I’m sorry I left you in such danger, Maggie. I thought you would be safer in your home than in mine. But we’re together now, and I willna let him have you. Say you’ll marry me, love.”

“I doona want to marry you just for safety’s sake, Callum.”

“Then marry me for every other reason that people marry. For intimacy, for children, for companionship. Let’s build a life together.”

She hesitated. “And if I say no? Will you agree to end our betrothal?”

He took his time answering. “Aye, but not immediately. I reserve the right to woo you properly. If, after a certain amount of time, it becomes obvious you are steadfast in your desire to end our betrothal, I will do so. But only if I know you’re safe.”

She rolled her eyes. “I fought off a pack of wolves, outsmarted the most conniving man I know, and successfully shot a cross bolt three hundred paces in the dark so I could ride a rope to freedom. Do you really think I need someone to keep me safe?”

“I think you need someone to stop you from killing yourself in the process,” he growled.

She twisted in his arms and frowned at him. “I take my safety verra seriously. I practiced in the woods for months before I executed my plan. I would think you of all people would appreciate that.”

“I do. And I’m proud of your skills and determination—you’ve done an incredible job surviving all this time. But…”

“But what?”

“Maybe I doona want you to just have to survive. Maybe I want you to be happy…to let me make you happy.”

Her gaze clashed with his. How could he make her happy? She didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust he wouldn’t leave like he’d done before, like her brothers had done, and everyone else in her life.

She dropped her eyes as pain blossomed in her chest. She knew she was being unfair, but the emotions wouldn’t let her go, twisting her up inside and clogging her throat. How could she fix that feeling of being…left behind?

“All right,” she finally whispered, so low she wasn’t sure he’d hear her.

He leaned closer. “All right…what? You’ll marry me? Let me make you happy?”

“Nay. I meant that I’ll agree to your bargain. I’ll let you…woo me…for a while. I willna fight you on it. But if, by the time it comes for us to part, you doona willingly let me go, I’ll…I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” he asked, and she heard the underlying amusement in his question.

She grunted and wedged the sharp point of her dagger beneath his chin. “I’ll sharpen my knives and give you a shave.” She trailed her knife down his chest and over his plaid until the point pressed against his sporran. “Down there.”

He puffed out a laugh, his eyes lighting up like the morning sky around them. “You may shave me there any time you like, lass. ’Tis in much need of my betrothed’s…steady hand.”

She huffed and turned back around. She needed to focus on the task at hand—for all their sakes—not on how annoying Callum could be. “My grandmother’s cottage is down this trail. ’Tis the land Ross willed to me. I’ve stocked it with food and supplies. Its location isna a secret, but I don’t e’er remember Irvin coming here when we were kids. My grandmother was verra solitary.”

“You’ve hidden it well,” Callum said.

They passed through a thick copse of trees, careful to disturb as little of the foliage as possible. They came out at the edge of a pretty glade with a sturdy yet abandoned-looking cottage on the far side.

Callum took the reins from her and pulled them to a stop. He whistled, and Finnian and Drustan rode around them and into the glade, scanning it carefully as they approached the cottage. Gill dismounted and drew his bow. She knew from how he held himself that he was a marksman, and her interest sparked.

“I want to set up some watchers before we settle in,” Callum said. “Are there any other traps or pitfalls we should know about?”

“Aye, several.” She was tired beyond belief, and sore, but this had to be done before she could rest. “And there are a few around the cottage too. Your men should wait.”

Callum whistled again, but the warriors didn’t stop as she’d expected. When she looked at him and raised her brow, he said, “They’ve been warned. They’ll know what to look for. We need to check the cottage before we expose ourselves further by riding into the glade.”

“And we’ll need to see your escape routes too,” Gavin added, who’d reined in beside them. “I’m sure you’ve planned those as well.”

“Aye. You can enter or exit the glade through the forest at any point, of course, but Irvin’s men will most likely come by horse, as we did, on one of the trails. This is the main one, and some will still remember it—perhaps even Alpin—but there are two other game trails we can follow where I’ve set some traps.” She pointed to her right behind the cottage. “One heads north and joins up to a trail going west from Castle MacDonnell.”

“Does it connect with the same trail we sent Father Lundie and the rest of our men on?” Callum asked.

“Most likely. ’Tis the only trail I know of going in that direction.” This time she pointed to the left side of the glade. “The other trail heads south, which is the direction we want to go.”

“Maybe not,” Callum said. “Irvin would expect that.”

“True, but you’re relying on Gregor and your foster brothers rescuing us. What if we wait…and wait…and they ne’er arrive?”

“Doona doubt their loyalty, Maggie,” Gavin said. “We’ve sworn a blood oath. We fight as brothers, not just allies.”

“But what if your brothers and Gregor ne’er know you need help? You canna say for sure your men will reach them. If we wait, and your brothers doona attack the castle, we’ve lost our advantage. Irvin will have had time to formulate another plan, and we’ll still be deep within MacDonnell territory. Irvin’s men will have to return to the castle and regroup in a day or two. I say we rest here, plan, and then leave after that.”

Gavin looked doubtful, and she shrugged. “Well, ’tis what I plan to do. You may follow me if you like. I’ll do my best to keep you safe.”

Gavin let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Callum sighed. “She’s right. We canna wait on them. For all we know, our men may be stuck up a tree surrounded by the same wolf pack that attacked Maggie or captured by Irvin. We need to get to my clan—and get Maggie behind my walls—as soon as possible. As long as she’s alive and not under Irvin’s control, she’s a threat to him. We can return in force and take the castle for John after that.”

She twisted to look at him, her brows drawn together. “You plan to lock me up and guard me behind stone walls so I’m safe?”

He tensed before answering. “I said naught of locking you away. Doona put words in my mouth. What I meant was we all need to get to safety. Then we can deal with Irvin from a place of strength rather than weakness. Right now, he’s controlling us because we doona have enough men and we’re on the run.”

She harrumphed and turned around. He’d chosen his words wisely this time, but she still knew what he’d meant. He’d keep her under guard in his home while he went to steal back her castle without her.

She’d had no intention of returning to her castle—at least not for a while—but it still burned that he never once considered she’d be an asset in an attack.

She gritted her teeth. “I’m not a helpless lassie, Callum. If Irvin or his men e’er catch me, I’d make them pay. As I would anyone who tried to harm me or mine.”

“Well, let’s hope we’re all safe soon so that notion isna put to the test.”

She didn’t say it out loud, for she knew Callum would try to talk her out of it, but she wasn’t going anywhere near MacLean lands. Once out of MacDonnell territory, she would stick to her original plan—heading straight to Edinburgh to find John.

She’d stay with Callum as long as it suited her but no longer.

And during that time, she’d promised he could try to woo her. She didn’t know why she’d said the words; they’d just…come out. And now they hung like a sweet treat just in front of her, tempting her to his side, wondering just how and when he might whisper sinful suggestions in her ear or let his hands drift farther down her body.

A tremor shivered through her, and she closed her eyes. Maybe she would stay with him a little while. Just long enough to experience that pleasure at least once.

When a shrill whistle sounded from the cottage and Callum urged Aristotle forward, she hurriedly opened her eyes and straightened in her seat.

Daydreaming with Callum at her back wouldn’t lead anywhere but to trouble.

It took them several hours to go through all the traps and diversions she’d set in the bush around the glade, as well as to set some of their own and determine the best places for the men to keep watch, which they would do in shifts so everyone could rest.

Gavin crouched on the ground in front of Maggie and marked the trap she’d pointed out so his and Callum’s men could see and avoid it; but it would still be hidden from enemy eyes. It was the last trap in the woods and on the trails around the cottage, and she could barely sit upright on the horse any longer. She was sure Callum knew it; his arms had tightened around her until he practically held her up.

It galled her to be so weak in front of him, but seeing as she could barely lift a hand to pull the reins away from him, there was nothing she could do about it.

And if Callum knew she was so weak, Gavin knew as well. The rest of the men too, no doubt. Next, she’d be closing her eyes and falling asleep against his chest. It’s not like she’d done that before. Like a wee, needy bairn.

Weak-willed lass.

She forced her eyes open wide, straightened her spine, and scowled for good measure. Callum grunted behind her and kept a tight hold on her. Finnian was in her direct line of sight, and he paled at her scrutiny.

She sagged again and rubbed her thumb and fingers over her eyes. “’Tis the last one. We can go in now.”

Without a word, Callum turned Aristotle and urged him across the glade to the cottage. She hesitated, then placed her hand over his and pulled on the reins until the horse stopped.

“Did you forget a snare?” Callum asked.

“Nay…” She pushed a hand through her heavy hair and pulled it over one shoulder. She didn’t like revealing any of her secrets, but…

“Have you decided where you’ll put the horses?” she asked.

“Not yet. Artair and Drustan are looking for a place close enough so we can reach them in time but still hidden should anyone come looking. Why? Do you know of such a place?”

Aye, she did, but she didn’t know if she wanted him to know. What if she decided she wanted to leave in the night? Or wanted a place to hide until he gave up on her and left? She may have agreed to Callum’s wooing her, but she hadn’t said for how long.

She gnawed on her lip for a moment, then pointed to the hill that rose at the far end of the glade behind the cottage. The dwelling didn’t butt up against it, but it was close enough that they could make a run for it and still stay hidden.

“There are several caves in the hill. They’re hard to find unless you look closely.” A memory rose of her grandmother working in the caves. She’d been wearing only her shift, her long, gray hair, as wild as Maggie’s in her youth, sticking out in different directions. Maggie smiled despite her exhaustion. “My grandma used to make her whisky there.”

Callum whistled, and Gavin and Drustan rode to his side. Drustan’s gaze fell on her, his eyes burning like brands on her skin as she slumped in Callum’s arms, and she shifted uncomfortably until he transferred his stare to his laird.

Aye, now Drustan knew how weak she was too. And there was something about him that made her want iron in her spine.

She couldn’t see Gill, Artair, or Finnian anywhere, and she wondered where they were. When she peered around Callum’s shoulder on the other side, he said, “They’ve gone to their posts. Between them and your traps, we should have plenty of warning if someone approaches.”

To Gavin and Drustan, he said, “Maggie says we can hide the horses in caves behind the cottage. She’ll be happy to show us where they are. Right, lass?”

There was an edge to his voice, and she glimpsed the glint of anger in his eyes. And it was aimed at her. Most likely, he’d guessed she’d considered keeping the caves a secret and was irritated by it. In his mind, they were in this together. To Callum’s way of thinking, Maggie was already his wife.

Maggie wasn’t nearly so sure, although parts of her were more than willing.

She squirmed in her seat, unable to stop herself from pressing her bottom backward against Callum. His forearm locked around her hips and held her tight.

Verily, it was her own fault.

She huffed out an irritated breath. “Aye, I’ll take you there.”

* * *

Callum sat on the steps that led to the cottage’s front porch, the parchments Maggie had given him only yesterday in his hands, and tried not to listen to the sound of splashing water inside. He could have closed the inward-swinging door, but now that he had Maggie with him—safe and sound—he was afraid to let her out of his sight. Or in this case, his arm’s reach.

So he sat outside her door, attempting to make sense of her notes, while she stood inside, naked in front of a basin of cool water. She was washing away the dirt and grime of their travels despite her obvious exhaustion—which was another reason he kept the door slightly open. She could barely stay seated on the horse; how could she bathe without falling?

Aye, he should go in and make sure she came to no harm.

He stood without thinking, then his brain caught up to his body and forced him back onto the step—for the fourth time. With a resigned sigh, he gave up and shoved the sheaf of papers inside his plaid, knowing he fought a losing battle. All he could think about was Maggie.

He’d given his word he wouldn’t go inside until she was dressed, but God’s blood, he’d never before made so difficult a promise. He was a mass of need. Ever since touching and kissing her so intimately in the tree, then riding with her so close to him, her body rocking against him, her legs spread in front of him… It was all he could do not to go into the cottage and push the basin aside so he could kneel in front of her and feast on her—on his woman.

His wife.

If she allowed him to do that to her, surely she would allow intimate congress too, and then according to canon law, they would be married.

Married.

The word reverberated in his heart and through his body, and he realized how desperately he wanted to be married to Maggie. He’d wanted it for nigh on four years and had almost given up on the idea it would ever happen. And now here they were, so close to it, he could practically feel the warmth of her hand in his as he slid his ring on her finger, hear the whisper of her words as she promised to love and honor him, if not obey.

The corners of his mouth twitched. Maggie was not a woman to blindly obey anyone, nor would he want her to…most of the time.

In their marriage bed, however, he would very much like her to acquiesce. He’d been thinking for years about telling her what to do during their intimate play. And he thought that perhaps she might agree.

Aye, he liked her spirit, but in that, at least, he would love her submission.

When he’d watched Lachlan marry Amber, knowing how right they were for each other, how much they loved one another, even if they didn’t know it yet, he’d felt a fierce longing in his heart for Maggie. For the rest of his life—with her—to start.

Now they were finally together…but not yet together.

He was known for his patience, for making the right decisions wisely and carefully. But that was before the woman who should be his wife stood naked inside her cottage just a few steps away. He’d never been so tempted. Not in the four years he’d waited, forgoing all other women in the hopes he’d soon feel his wife’s touch.

A knife thudded into the door behind him, a sound he’d know anywhere. It snapped him out of his reverie, and he jumped to his feet, heart pounding in expectation, sword out, eyes narrowed. He didn’t see anyone attacking, and none of his or Gavin’s men had sounded the alarm. What was going on? Glancing at the door, he saw that it was still almost closed and no dagger protruded from the wood.

Where was it? He knew the sounds of attack, and a dagger thunking into something solid was one of them. He quickly backed up to the door, opened it, and stepped over the threshold. That’s when he saw the dagger—Maggie’s dagger—embedded in the wood on the inside of the door. And when he heard her shriek, he spun to her, charged forward, thinking the attackers were within the cottage—with Maggie—and came to an abrupt halt.

Oh dear heaven.

His wife-to-be stood wet and naked on a mat in the middle of the room, her wild red hair falling over her bare shoulders, and her breasts, high and plump, jutting out at him. Her nipples had hardened into tight nubs, and he couldn’t take his eyes from them. He wanted to roll his tongue around them, suckle them until they stood bright red against her soft, cream-colored skin. He’d known she was well endowed, had felt the mounds pressed against his body and even squeezed his palm over them when they were younger, but he’d never seen them before. Now he knew how they would flow over his hands when he cupped them, lifted them to his mouth as he tupped her.

Her body was lean and lithe with a tucked-in waist and a small patch of wet, red curls guarding her womanhood, where he’d nearly stroked her just hours ago. She’d jerked her hips against him then, wanted his fingers on her, all over her. Aye, she’d wanted him.

He took a step forward, his body like a rock, cock hard and straining toward her. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. He wanted to put his cock in there too. When he took another step, she jumped.

“Turn around!” she yelled.

He came back to himself with a jolt and quickly scanned the room, seeing she was truly alone. Which meant he’d broken his promise.

He spun to the door, breathing hard, but for a different reason now. Interestingly, she hadn’t told him to get out or tried to cover herself. Nay, she’d liked him looking at her.

His eyes landed on her knife. “I heard a dagger,” he said by way of explanation.

“Aye, ’twas my dagger.”

“I thought you were under attack.”

“Nay, I was closing the door. The wind had blown it open.”

“So you threw your dagger at it?”

“My feet were wet. I didn’t want to walk across the dirty floor.”

“Why didn’t you just call me? I was right outside. I would have closed the door.”

“I didn’t want to chance you coming in.”

“God’s blood, Maggie! I gave you my word I would not.”

“Then why are you standing right in front of me?”

“Because. I. Heard. A. Dagger!”

He huffed out a frustrated breath and dragged his hand down his face. She would be the death of him, surely—either from unrelieved need or from his head exploding during one of their arguments. He needed her under him, soon, where he knew she would submit, all her fight draining away as her body turned compliant and agreeable with her own need.

As it should. She may not want to admit it, but she knew as much as he did they were meant to be together. He’d seen it in her eyes, heard it in the hitch of her breath whenever he touched her.

But he needed her to ask him for that final embrace. It didn’t have to be in words, but he had to be sure she wouldn’t regret it. She had to be certain. Until then…

He set his jaw and sheathed his sword before marching toward her. This time he kept his gaze locked with hers. She still hadn’t covered up, her chaotic thoughts and emotions careening across her expressive face.

“All in good time, love,” he said brusquely upon reaching her. Then he picked up her shift from a nearby chair and pulled it over her head and body. She swayed into him, a soft sob breaking from her lips. His body twitched in response, like a stallion anticipating his mare, wanting to alleviate her need, soothe her uncertainty, and take her under his control.

He grasped her head in his hands and pressed his lips to her forehead, resisting the urge to kiss down her face to her mouth. He could; it was open and waiting for him, her breath puffing erratically against his throat.

Releasing her, he walked to the bed that filled the nook in the corner of the small, bare cottage. It looked like it had been recently restuffed.

He pulled the sheet off the bed, shook out the dust, and refitted it over the mattress, then he shook out and plumped up the pillow. He turned to find Maggie, her plaid wrapped loosely around her body, tossing the water from her basin out the door. They hadn’t lit the fire in the stone hearth, but the shutters had been left open enough to let in the light and air, and her hair gleamed in the midmorning sun.

She retrieved her dagger, then turned back into the cottage, her eyes getting bigger when she saw him watching her. A flush crawled up her cheeks, and he knew she was mortified, either at him seeing her naked or at her failure to cover herself as soon as he’d come in.

The latter, most likely. She’d wanted him to see her, no matter how much she might deny it.

A grin burst out on his face. She scowled at him and tossed her dagger. It went wide and landed in the wall a hand’s span to his left.

A joy-filled laugh burst from his lungs, and he sauntered toward her. “What is it with you throwing daggers in the cottage, lass? Didn’t your grandmother teach you anything? If you’d wanted me to see you naked, all you had to do was ask.”

Her brow lifted. “I did not want you to see me naked.”

“Aye, you did, Maggie MacLean, or you wouldnae have thrown the dagger in the first place.”

“I explained that. And the day I become a MacLean is the day I…”

“The day you what? Make me come running in on you bathing? Tempt me to touch you? You’re a smart lass. You knew what would happen.” He stopped right in front of her, trailed his fingers lightly down her cheek and along her jaw to her lips. “Can I kiss you, Maggie?”

Her chest rose and fell quickly, and the color had risen in her cheeks. “Nay.”

“Even though you want me to?”

She scowled at him, but she’d twined her fingers into his plaid. “Count yourself fortunate I doona have any more daggers on me.”

“I do count myself fortunate, but not because you’re without your weapons. I’m fortunate to be standing here with you, lass.” He nudged a bit closer, until he could feel her heat. “Can I kiss you now, Maggie?” he whispered.

She swallowed, and her mouth parted as she inhaled. Then the tip of her tongue darted out to touch her bottom lip. His eyes narrowed on the movement, wanting to capture her tongue with his.

“The last time you kissed me, you didn’t ask my permission. Why do so now?”

“Because I want you to say yes.”

She dropped her gaze from his, fidgeted her feet on the packed-earth floor for a moment. “I’ll admit, Callum, that I’m drawn to you. The same as I was when we were younger.” She raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “But ’tis not something I want to pursue. So I’ll be saying nay.”

She dropped his plaid and stepped around him, but he stopped her with a light hand on her waist. “For now, Maggie. You’ll be saying nay for now.”