He tensed only the tiniest bit before he spoke. “I had no choice. They owned me. Every time I tried to escape, they brought me back.”
Her heart lurched at his words. By the ragged note in his voice, she could tell they had made him suffer greatly for those attempts at freedom. Her gaze dropped to the long, jagged scars across his back and she wondered how many beatings he must have suffered at their hands.
And he had been just a lad. No older than Dermot. She swallowed as it dawned on her that he would have been even younger than Dermot.
She carefully made another stitch. “How did you finally get away?”
“Henry. They sent me to kill him and as I was sneaking through his camp, I had a thought that if ever I was to have freedom again, Henry would be the only one who could help me. So instead of cutting his throat, I bargained with him.”
She tied off her thread and cut it. “I’m still surprised he helped you.”
“As was I. I honestly expected him to kill me once I let him up. But I figured either way I would be free.”
The horror of it. She couldn’t imagine trying to make such a decision. “How old were you?”
“Ten-and-eight.”
“You were just a child.”
“I was never a child.”
Nay, he wasn’t. And that was the worst part about all of this. He’d spent the whole of his life an outsider. Here, in England and in Outremer. She couldn’t imagine living like that.
Callie silently stitched the wound on his chest, then looked at his forearms where her sword had cut him. “I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
Sin looked up at her words. The sincerity scorched him. “You didn’t hurt me.”
She alone had never hurt him. Not yet anyway.
He stared at the tendrils of her red curls falling over her shoulders, the gentleness in her green eyes. He felt her unwillingness to hurt him as she touched his skin. It made his entire body burn ferociously, demanding he take her in his arms and ease the ache in both his heart and his loins.
She was so incredible. And he wanted her with a passion so fierce, he wondered if it would destroy him.
Callie dipped her head down to his and just as he opened his lips to taste her, a loud commotion filled the air.
People shouted as a group of horses came into the courtyard below.
Callie pulled away instantly, leaving him to curse the interruption while she went to the window to see what was going on. He joined her there and looked out over her shoulder.
In the courtyard below were three riders. Her clansmen and servants were rushing about to welcome them like long lost family as Aster and Dermot left the castle and offered up a greeting to their guests.
“The MacAllisters are here,” Callie said with a note of reverence in her voice.
Sin forced himself not to smile. She had no idea what was in store for her now.
His brother Braden rode his fierce stallion Deamhan, who pawed and stamped at the ground in aggravation at having to stop. The horse and man had much the same temperament.
Braden’s long black hair was tangled by the ride and his dark green and black plaid was worn as haphazardly as ever.
Ewan rode next to him on the back of a roan while the fair-haired Lochlan swung his leg over his dapple-gray and slid masterfully to the ground.
It was good to see them again.
Callie turned to face him, her cheeks bright. He arched a brow at her exuberance, somewhat stung by it. She seemed happier to see them than she did to be with him.
“I’ll go make sure they have food and drink. You dress and I will meet you below.”
Sin frowned as she rushed from the room with a light step. He looked back out the window at the cheerful crowd below that warmly welcomed his brothers. Their shouts of greeting rang in his ears as Aster clapped Lochlan on the back like a father welcoming home his beloved son and Dermot laughed with Braden.
