with their children, Callum could only hold his position until Marguerite disappeared into the forest. He resumed his place on the bank beside the fortress, the arrow poised to shoot. And yet, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. It wasn’t fear—only the raw anticipation coursing through him.
Nairna’s dog began barking and Callum spun, taking aim at the emerging soldiers. He stretched the bowstring taut, adjusting his aim. Slowly, he waited for the soldier to draw near and when he loosed the arrow, it struck the man’s face.
Too high.
He followed up with a second shot to the heart, dropping the man where he’d stood.
A slight motion caught his attention and, while Callum readied another arrow, he saw Marguerite watching from the trees. Whether it was her thanks or a quiet farewell, he met her gaze with the promise to defend her.
His brother Dougal cried out a warning and Callum seized another arrow. When more men crossed to the opposite side, the boy panicked and fired too soon. The arrow struck the ground, but before his brother could run, Callum sent a steady stream of his own missiles into the charging soldiers, one after the other, each arrow striking its intended target.
He dulled his mind to the fighting and death around him, focusing only on bringing down the threat. For the first time in years, he could defend his clan. With his bow, he was no longer less than a man, but equal to his brothers. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t speak, only that he could wield a weapon.
In this, he had a purpose. And soon enough, the women and children would be within the forest, away from the worst of the fighting.
Behind him, Callum heard the groaning of the keep’s tower, while Nairna brought the last of the women out of the water. He kept his gaze focused on his surroundings and saw his brothers Bram and Alex approaching at a full run.
Bram crossed through the water, helping his wife up the hillside before he pulled her into his embrace.
At the sight of them, a tightness expanded through Callum’s chest. Nairna gripped her husband as if she never wanted to let go. He envied them, for he wanted to be with Marguerite, to reassure himself that she was all right. Letting her go while he stayed behind was the only choice, but he didn’t like it.
A shower of fire sparks drifted in front of him and a prickle of awareness caught him. Behind him, a cracking noise resounded, just as his brother roared, ‘Callum, dive!’
He threw himself into the ditch, just as the tower collapsed. The icy water numbed him, but Callum swam to the opposite side, dragging himself out. His bow and arrows were soaked, and he rested on his knees, catching his breath.
Nairna was pushing Marguerite back inside the forest. ‘He’ll be all right. Take the women up to the ridge and I’ll send him soon.’
Callum’s gaze snapped to hers. She was holding on to Nairna, as if she didn’t want to leave. It seemed that she’d started to lead the women away, only to return when the tower had fallen.
As if she cared about him, despite the danger to herself.
If he could have, he’d have abandoned all else, taking her away from the chaos of battle. But that wasn’t a choice. He was bound to defend his family and the only home he’d ever had.
As if to remind him of that, Bram extended a hand and helped him up. And for a moment, he saw the gratefulness on his brother’s face. ‘Thank you for defending them,’ he said below his breath, so that only Callum would hear. ‘And I’m sorry for every day you spent in captivity. I blame myself for it.’
Though he could make no reply, he squeezed Bram’s hand in forgiveness. After what they’d been through, he knew his brother had done everything possible to free him. Nairna sent him a smile of gratefulness, still standing by her husband.
Before his brother Dougal could join the women and children, Callum offered his sword. The lad needed a weapon of his own, now that he’d spent all of his arrows. After taking it, Dougal disappeared into the forest, just as more enemy soldiers emerged, surrounding them on all sides.
Though Callum wanted to reassure himself that Marguerite had escaped with his youngest brother, he forced himself not to look, for fear of drawing the soldiers’ attention there.
Too late.
One of the archers fired several arrows towards the forest before he could bring the man down. Not all of the women had made it to the top of the ridge, and Callum worried that one of them could have been struck. The thought of Marguerite lying prone, her life ended by an arrow, sent a dark rage pulsing through him.
Bram and Alex split off on either side to meet the men, their shields and weapons ready. Callum kept firing at the enemy archers, dropping as many as he could, until he had only a single arrow left. Alex handed him a shield, but he refused it, needing both hands to wield the bow. They were completely outnumbered by the enemy and he saw no way out.
Nairna held fast to Bram while their enemy awaited the order to kill. Callum held his bow steady, hoping he could take out Cairnross or Harkirk with his last arrow.
Even if he did, there was one unavoidable truth. Today he was going to die.
Marguerite clenched her hands together, her heart racing. Though she’d made it into the forest, away from the battle, she couldn’t stop herself from returning to watch. She chose an isolated place near the edge of the trees, her heart numb with fear as Lord Cairnross and Lord Harkirk closed in.
Through a haze of tears, she sat, wondering if she could plead with Cairnross for their lives. Was it possible that he might spare them, on her behalf?
No. She’d fled with the MacKinlochs, betraying their betrothal. Though the earl might still want her for his wife, she didn’t trust him to free the others. Especially Callum.
She stood, resting her hand against a tree, her heart sick with terror. Because of her, Cairnross had come. If she’d remained behind, none of these men would have died.
Marguerite took a step towards Callum, but before she could emerge from the trees, she saw Bram explode in fury. His claymore flashed as he brought down man after man and Alex stood at his back to defend him.
They fought for their lives and in the midst of the battle, Callum seized a quiver of arrows from a dead archer. As he released the arrows, one after the other, he moved into the forest, moving straight towards her.
Marguerite didn’t move, not understanding why he was leaving his brothers behind. When he reached her side, he pulled her veil free and dropped it, pulling her to higher ground. She suddenly realised that the white colour had made her visible from below. And she was still in range of their arrows, where she’d been standing.
‘You can’t leave them behind,’ she pleaded, looking back at Bram, Alex and Nairna. ‘They need you.’
Callum’s face hardened and he climbed atop a large boulder, drawing back his bow. He released another stream of arrows toward the enemy, bringing down one man after another.
Shame reddened her cheeks when Marguerite realised she’d accused him of cowardice. That wasn’t it at all. He’d been moving into a position where he could better defend them.
‘I misunderstood,’ she apologised. ‘I’m sorry for what I said.’ By leaving his brothers
