Highlanders Collection. Ann Lethbridge

moved closer, sliding her arms around him. ‘Something else is troubling you.’ Whether he wanted her or not, she needed to offer him some form of comfort.

      ‘Callum hasn’t spoken once, not since we left Harkirk’s fortress.’ Bram drew her tightly against him, his hand clutching her hair. ‘Not a word. It was as if he didn’t know us.’

      ‘That will change when he’s home,’ Nairna predicted. ‘You’ll see.’

      ‘I left him there too long.’

      While she held Bram, the burden of guilt pressed down on him so hard that she wished she could shoulder it for him. ‘He’ll heal. Give it time.’

      But he let go of her, his face growing stoic. ‘I hope so.’ He walked to the door, and reminded her, ‘Prepare our belongings. I’m going to see my brother now.’

      He didn’t wait for a reply, but closed the door behind him. A hard lump formed in her throat, but Nairna knew she could do nothing more. Bram had returned home to her unharmed, with his brother safe, and that was everything she’d prayed for. Yet, as she waited alone in her chamber, she feared that the demons of her husband’s past were not at all gone.

      They didn’t stop to sleep on the journey home, nor did they take more than a few minutes to rest or eat. Nairna thought her legs would drop off from the gruelling pace, but the men were convinced that Harkirk would follow them. She’d nearly fallen asleep on horseback, once they’d reached the area surrounding Glen Arrin.

      Tall green mountains rose up, while a light rain fell down upon them. Rivulets of water creased the mountains, while fir trees skirted the lower hills. Nairna’s clothing was completely soaked, but she hardly cared anymore. It had done nothing but rain since they’d left.

      And her husband hadn’t spoken to her in that time, either, keeping at Callum’s side. Now that it was daylight, she took a moment to study Bram’s younger brother. With long dark hair and a bearded face that hid his features, he looked a great deal like his brothers. It was only the emptiness in his expression that made her understand that he had endured far more than Bram. Though she’d sent fresh clothing to Callum, he still wore the stained, ill-fitting clothing he’d worn for the years of his imprisonment.

      When she’d tried to question why he’d refused the clothing, Bram wouldn’t answer. He’d ignored her attempts at conversation, spending all of his time at Callum’s side.

      They stopped at a stream to let the horses drink and Nairna came closer to the men. She’d hoped to introduce herself to Callum, but they’d shielded him from her. It was only when they were moving back to the horses that she caught a glimpse of their brother’s back.

      His ragged tunic was the colour of rust and she covered her mouth when she understood why he hadn’t removed his garments. They were coated in blood; it was likely that removing the clothing would cause him pain.

      Nairna swallowed hard, remembering the scars upon Bram’s back. He wouldn’t talk about them, nor share anything about his captivity, but it was clear that Callum had suffered a great deal.

      Once they started up again, she brought her mount beside Bram’s. ‘Your brother needs a healer.’

      ‘I know it.’

      ‘His clothing is stuck to his flesh, isn’t it?’ she murmured beneath her breath.

      He nodded. ‘We tried to take it off him yesterday, but he fought us. He’s not in his right mind. He isn’t aware of what’s going on.’

      ‘Is there something I can do?’ she asked. ‘Tell me and I’ll arrange it.’

      ‘There’s nothing, Nairna.’

      ‘I don’t believe that.’ She met his gaze with resolution of her own. ‘He’s alive. And we can help him recover.’

      Her husband shook his head, a weariness in his eyes. ‘There are some wounds that never heal, Nairna.’

      That night, after they arrived home at Glen Arrin, Bram tried again to talk to his brother. Callum sat, staring into the distance while a bath of hot water grew cold.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Bram murmured, though he knew the words meant nothing. ‘We tried to go back for you sooner. For a time, we didn’t know where you were.’

      Silence. His brother made no response, gave no indication that he’d heard a single word. A knot swelled up in the back of his throat and Bram tried to think of something he could say that would get Callum to open up.

      His brother’s face was filthy, his hair matted with mud. Bruises and cuts marred the surface and his clothing smelled of blood and decay.

      ‘Let me help you, Brother,’ he pleaded. He took a step forwards, hoping that Callum would let him closer. But as soon as he tried to reach for the tunic, his brother’s mouth twisted into a snarl. Like a cornered animal, he refused to let anyone near.

      When Bram reached out to touch him, Callum’s knuckles smashed into his eye. Pain exploded from the blow and Bram released his frustration.

      ‘Damn it, Callum, why won’t you let me help you? I know you’re hurt. I’ve seen the blood.’

      But his brother refused to speak. Bram sat upon a bench, his head lowered, his hands shaking.

      The door opened quietly and Nairna stepped inside. ‘Has he eaten anything?’

      ‘Very little.’ Bram met his wife’s worried gaze and she walked over to his side. ‘I don’t want to restrain him, but we need to treat his wounds before they get worse.’

      ‘Will you let me try to help?’ Nairna asked.

      Bram lifted his shoulders in surrender. He’d done all he could; if Nairna could break through to him, so be it.

      His wife bade him, ‘Wait here. I’ll return in a moment.’

      Callum stared at the wall and Bram set a cup of mead near him. It remained untouched.

      When the door opened again, Nairna entered with Lady Marguerite. Bram couldn’t understand why, but the moment Callum laid eyes upon Marguerite, something stirred in his expression. Though he didn’t speak, he stared at her instead of into the empty air.

      ‘Let Marguerite try,’ Nairna said. ‘She met him weeks ago.’

      From the way the maiden was already approaching Callum, it seemed that they did know one another.

      Marguerite wore a sapphire silk gown trimmed with grey fur, her hair spilling over her shoulder, though it was covered with a veil. Callum watched her as though he were dreaming and Bram felt Nairna take his hand, guiding him out.

      ‘We’ll wait just beyond the door if you need us,’ Nairna was saying. She led Bram into the hallway outside the chamber, closing the door all but a few inches.

      ‘How do they know each other?’ Bram whispered, peering through the crack in the door.

      ‘He was beaten after you left,’ Nairna said. ‘Marguerite found him and tended his wounds. He was sent away the next morning.’ She moved beside him, resting her head upon his chest while they both watched over the pair. ‘He allowed her to help him then. He might again.’

      Marguerite was speaking to Callum in soft tones, seated across from him. In the flickering light of the torch set within a sconce, Bram spied a tear running down the woman’s face. She continued talking, though she spoke in the French tongue. And after several minutes, Callum turned his back to her. Lady Marguerite came near, still talking. And when she reached him, her hands came to rest upon his shoulders.

      Nairna’s fingers moved inside Bram’s tunic, tracing the scars there. As if shadowing Marguerite’s movements, his wife soothed his skin, her face pressed against his heartbeat.

      He’d been like Callum once. It had been so hard to face the outside world, so hard to accept that he was finally safe.