Laird of the Mist

by Paula Quinn

  Kate’s mouth fell open, and her heart drummed so violently she felt it in her belly. She didn’t hear him right. She couldn’t have. “But I had hoped . . . Callum, you kissed me.”

  Now he looked at her over his shoulder. His eyes glimmered like cold cobalt glass against the sun. “Poor judgment on my part, nothin’ more.”

  Kate sat, numb. Tears pooled her eyes and dripped over her lashes when she blinked at him. His eyes hardened on her. “Ye’re leavin’, Kate. My men will escort ye to the Stewarts’ home on the morrow. Once ye arrive, ye’ll tell their laird that ye escaped the clutches of the fearsome MacGregors. Tell him the truth, that the Devil abducted ye. Ask him to send fer yer brother. He will come fer ye, I’ve nae doubt. If ye see yer uncle alive, tell him I will come fer him.”

  “Why?” It was all Kate trusted herself to say. Her throat ached from the burden of smothering her sobs.

  He turned back to the window and folded his hands behind his back. “I dinna need to give ye a reason.”

  “I want one!” she shouted at him. That her shout sounded more like a withered screech did not surprise her. Her head exploded with the aftereffects of Gillis’s brew, and her heart ached to leap from her chest and into Callum’s arms.

  “Verra well, Kate. I’m weary of ye. I admit ’twas curious to have a Campbell in my midst that I didna want to kill. But I realize now that I canna . . .” He paused and closed his eyes, then gritted his teeth. “I canna stand the sight of ye. Leave my bed. Leave my castle. I dinna want ye here anymore.”

  Callum thought she would weep. He prepared himself for it. She loved him, ’twas obvious by the way she looked at him, spoke to him. She lit up like a brilliant morning sky when he entered a room, and he had just stomped the light out. He expected her to weep, to carry on the way a woman would. But when she rose from his bed and left him without a word to wither her dignity, he clenched his teeth to stop himself from shouting her name and ordering her to come back to him.

  Kate ran directly to the garderobe, where she promptly expelled what was left in her stomach. Callum’s cruel words echoed mercilessly through her mind. Over and over again she was forced to relive his rebuke. He had stood by that window like a warlord cast in stone, his back set straight like an arrow. God help her, but she understood why he hated her so. She did not blame him. She had hated the MacGregors, and she had not gone through one day of torture. He had every right to throw her out of Camlochlin. He had told her from the beginning that he would return her to her brother. She knew he could never love her, but she thought . . . She had hoped . . . Nae, she wept. It was her own fault for falling in love with him, for loving his home, and aye, she would declare proudly, his kin.

  To Graham, who stood on the other side of the garde-robe door, Kate sounded anything but proud. His heart wrenched at the rawness of her sobs, and for the first time in all the years he had known his dearest friend, he cursed the terrible beast who did this to her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  KATE SPENT THE MORNING of her expulsion from Camlochlin alone. She refused Graham’s offer to speak with Callum about his decision for her to leave. She didn’t answer when Maggie knocked at her door, pleading with her to eat something. Kate didn’t want food. She wanted to be someone else. She wanted to be a MacGregor. His woman, his love. But Callum had no love to give her. He seemed at times to be made only of hatred and anger. But there was more to him, she knew. There was humor and tenderness, and passion. A man whose eyes fired with pride and purpose when he spoke his name. A champion to his sister, and to her.

  God, she didn’t want to leave and never see his face again.

  But she had pride, also, and she sat up finally and wiped her eyes. She would not spend her last day with this proud clan weeping with self-pity. She would let them know that not all Campbells were afraid to face their fate.

  Callum stood on the battlements an hour later, heedless of the cold air blowing off Sgurr Na Stri. His eyes fastened on the woman in the training field with Jamie below, bracing her body as she slipped an arrow into its bow. She aimed, mindless of the satiny tendrils blowing across her face, and let the arrow fly. Callum’s lips lifted into a slight smile of victory on her behalf.

  He heard Graham’s footfalls behind him long before the commander reached him. He did not turn around, nor did he take his eyes off Kate when Graham cleared his throat to announce his presence.

  Reaching him, Graham leaned his elbows on the wall and followed Callum’s gaze. “Brodie said ye changed yer mind about hunting this morn.”

  “Aye.”

  When Callum said nothing more and continued to watch Kate, Graham exhaled a slight sigh. “Yer eyes are verra telling, brother. Why do ye send her away when ye do not want her to go?”

  “She’s a Campbell.” Callum slid his gaze to Graham for a moment before returning it to Kate. “She doesna belong here.”

  “That may be so, but it is not the reason you do this,” Graham argued. “Are ye in love with her, Callum?”

  “Nae.”

  “Aye, that’s good to know.” Graham gave him a pat on the back while he let his gaze rove over the woman below. “Because she’s quite bonny and were it me, I’d not be able to think of anything but her in her betrothed’s bed.”

  Callum whirled around and stormed away from him. Graham heard the furious pacing behind him and smiled. Callum did care for the lass. Why, he was as jealous as a squire who just found his milkmaid in the hay with someone else. The commander decided to use that jealousy to convince his friend how foolish he was being. “I hope fer her sake her husband is not old. Someone as braw as she deserves a man who can satisfy her spirited appetite.”

  “What d’ye want, Graham?” Callum clenched his teeth at Graham’s back.

  “Want?” Graham turned and offered him an innocent shrug. “I want her to be happy. I like her. I pray to the saints the bastard does not beat her.”

  Callum’s glacial glare was enough to make Graham clamp his mouth shut. “I know what yer thinkin’, Graham. But I dinna love her, so cease yer games with me. She’s a Campbell, my enemy, and she belongs with her kin.”

  “She is not yer enemy, Callum. She’s in love with ye,” Graham insisted quietly, more serious now.

  “Then she’s a fool!” Callum’s voice exploded into a thunderous roar.

  Ah, Graham thought, understanding finally. “Yer heart is set on protecting her, but think. She is in love with you. She is no longer safe anywhere but beside you.”

  Callum shook his head, refusing to be moved. “She knows the law. She will ferget me soon enough.”

  Graham held his palm up in surrender. “Verra well, then.” He’d had enough and pushed himself off the wall. “I do not know who ye are anymore, if there’s even a heart in ye left to save. But hear me, Callum MacGregor, if there be any part of ye that’s still human.” At his words, Callum blinked as though he’d been struck. “I’ll have no part in delivering her into the hands of her uncle. And I’ll pray that when she’s returned she will have the sense to keep her true feelings silent. But fer hell’s sake, look at her!” He set his eyes on her, obeying his own command. “She’s as open and honest as a babe. They’ll know her heart the moment they speak yer name.”

  “Then I must make certain her heart is against me.”

  Graham heard Callum’s footfalls and turned to see where his friend was going, but Callum was already gone.

  Callum charged down the stairs, taking three and four at a time. Let Graham think what he would of him, Callum was going to make Kate hate him.

  When she came into his sight, his lips hardened into a tight line across his face, and his eyes glittered like a winter’s night.

  Kate stepped back when she saw him, then returned her attention to Jamie and motioned with her sword to continue practicing. But six feet, three inches of brawny male moving swiftly toward her was difficult to ignore. She bit her lip and almost lost a finger when Jamie swung at her.

  Callum snatched J
amie’s sword from his hand and shoved him away, all in one fluid motion. He rounded on Kate, a giant warrior with the cold promise of death in his gaze. “Ready yerself, Kate, or there will be one less Campbell in Scotland.”

  “Callum, I . . .” She began to tell him that she did not want to practice with him. She was frightened by his rage. But he swung, and the thunderclash of his blade against hers near knocked her off her feet.

  At first Kate could only stare at him, in stunned disbelief that he would strike her with such force. Then he lifted his sword over his head, gripping the hilt with both hands, and she knew he was going to kill her if she did not fight back. She forced herself to stop thinking like a woman and act as a warrior. She parried another bone-crunching blow. Leaping backward, she braced her legs for his oncoming assault. Completely on the defense, she managed to block three more swings.

  Just a few moments later she was gasping for breath, her hair damp with sweat and her muscles burning and quivering with spent strength. Even the McColls had not exhausted her this quickly. Then it was over. One hammering clash that rattled her teeth, and then one more that sent her heavy blade careening to the ground.

  Callum advanced one step and pointed the tip of his flashing claymore at her throat. “How does it feel to be so close to death, Kate?” With the metal cold against her throat, he moved his body closer to hers and leaned down until his their noses almost touched. When he spoke, his voice lowered to a bear’s growl. “Remember this day and the fear that suffocates ye. Ye might believe yer ready to face death fer noble reasons, but when the time comes, nothin’ will matter but yer life. Remember this and dinna be a fool.”

  Kate closed her eyes, unable to breathe. He clutched her heart in his hand as he had promised. Why didn’t he just kill her and be done with it? Was he so cruel that he would torture and tease her first? Nae, she had seen him comfort his sister. She saw the terrible pain in his eyes when he became Maggie’s beast. He wasn’t any of the things so many people believed him to be. He was proud and possessive, a defiant rebel who had given his clan a home and kept their name alive. He was a man who had become a monster to protect what he loved.

  “Love is the noblest cause of all, Callum MacGregor,” she said as defiantly as he spoke his name.

  He shook his head at her. The flash of emotion that colored his eyes absorbed most of the hard edge in his voice. “Nae, ’tis poison to us both.”

  He walked away, pleading with God that she could hate him. If she couldn’t, he would butcher any who punished her—and everyone else, until he drowned in their blood and ceased to exist altogether.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  KATE WATCHED HIM walk away. Every muscle in her body convulsed with the need to go after him. But she did not dare move. He had made his feelings for her more than clear. She could not bear to suffer them again.

  She hugged herself to drive out the chill of a coming storm and swept her gaze across the wild moorlands and jagged mountain ridges swathed in mist. She had thought it beautiful here when she first arrived. But now Camlochlin felt harsh and infinitely lonely. It was a land as battle-scarred and unforgiving as her MacGregor. She would never touch him. Finally, she surrendered. She wanted to go home. She wanted her brother.

  She scanned the surrounding hills. Was Robert close? Or at the other end of the Earth?

  She was going to be taken back to Kildun, but Robert would not be there. She knew with her whole heart that her brother was searching for her. She had been so preoccupied living in her new pretend kingdom that she had not thought about what would happen if he found her. Now the reality of it beat against her heart. If he came here, Callum would surely kill him. He had promised not to harm her brother, but Callum’s hatred for her clan was too strong. He could scarcely stop himself from killing her. Robert would not fare any better if he found her on her way back to the Stewarts’. Chivalry would dictate that he fight for her honor. He might be able to kill one of Callum’s men, but he would fall swiftly after that. Kate did not want her brother or any of Callum’s men to die.

  There was only one way to stop it.

  Robert Campbell gritted his teeth as each bone-crunching blow Kevin Menzie delivered to Roderick Cameron resounded off the keep walls. One more and Robert would put a stop to it. He cut his gaze to his uncle standing a few inches away. The man was grinning!

  “The Devil was here,” Kevin spat, clutching the laird’s plaid in his fists. “Ye’ll tell us where he went, or we’ll put fire to the whole fokin’ village.”

  “I have no’ seen him,” Cameron said for the fourth time, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

  “He killed seven of my kinsmen!” Kevin lifted his fist to strike him again.

  The blow was halted in midair by Robert’s hand. “Cease this!” he shouted.

  Kevin spun around, ready to strike him instead, but the murderous glint in Robert’s eyes gave him pause. Then he smiled. “Or what? What will ye do? Go back to Glen Orchy and rut yer sheep. Ye have no stomach fer violence.”

  Robert’s scorching gaze was unflinching. “Touch me and find out.”

  “Nephew.” his uncle’s voice dipped with mocking iciness as he took a step forward. Robert did not look at Duncan while he spoke, but at the Cameron laird. What honor was there in tying an old warrior to a chair and beating him senseless? “This man hinders us from finding your sister. Why do you seek to protect him? Allow Kevin to finish his questions so that we can save Katherine before the Devil kills her, if he hasn’t done so already.”

  Robert caught the subtle look the Cameron gave him beneath his swollen eyelid. Kate was not dead. “I wish to speak to the chieftain alone.”

  “Nae,” Duncan refused.

  Now Robert turned to look at him. “Aye, or I will set my steed toward England and bring this matter to Cromwell, as it should have been done from the beginning.”

  For a moment their gazes locked in battle. The challenge in Duncan’s cool gray eyes was unmistakable, but Robert would not be swayed. Finally, his uncle nodded and motioned for the Menzies to leave.

  The instant they were alone, Robert bent to the laird and clutched his shoulders. “You have seen my sister. Tell me, was she harmed?”

  “Nae.”

  “Where has he taken her?” When Cameron didn’t answer, Robert shook him. “You give your loyalty to a man who butchered Menzies.”

  “Ask your uncle why the Devil killed them,” Cameron replied weakly. “Better yet, go see fer yerself at Stuart MacGregor’s cottage.”

  Robert pulled away from him and raked his hands through his hair. Hell, he didn’t want to see. He’d waited his whole life to serve the realm, to fight at his uncle’s side. But this was not fighting. This was something else entirely.

  “Go to the cottage, young Campbell, and see what made yer sister weep.”

  “First you will tell me where he took her, and then I will see.”

  Robert left Rhona MacGregor’s bedside, stepped out of the bothy, and summoned every ounce of strength he had in him not to retch. Instead, he set his eyes on his uncle staring at him from atop his mount.

  “Why was she branded?”

  “She broke the law, as did her husband and child. All Scotsmen have the authority to hold MacGregors to the law in any way they see fit. You know this.”

  Aye, Robert knew it, but seeing how the proscription was enforced was quite different than hearing about it. Infection festered in Rhona MacGregor’s flesh. She would not live another se’nnight. And for what? Because of her name?

  “You do not hold sympathy for them, eh, Robert?” his uncle asked him, his eyes as sharp as twin blades. “The Devil, and any other MacGregor chieftain, would cut off your limbs and scatter them to the four winds just to satisfy their bloodlust. This is the only way to keep them under control. It has been this way for many years. Now tell me where he has taken Katherine. I grow weary of your curiosity.”

  Robert strode toward his mount, spitting the foul taste from his mouth
as he went. “East.” He told his uncle what Cameron had said. “The Devil took her east toward Badenoch.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “COME INSIDE WITH YE, Maggie. ’Tis goin’ to rain.” Callum knelt over his sister lying on her back in the cool heather not far from the castle.

  She opened her eyes and smiled at him. Then she scowled, making no move to obey his gentle command. “Why did ye send Kate away? Jamie says ye hate her.”

  Callum blew out an explosive sigh and lifted his eyes to the hills so as not to meet his sister’s accusing stare. He did not want to be discussing Kate. Not when the very thought of her made his arms ache with the need to hold her. He was doing the right thing, he told himself. Finally. “I dinna hate her,” he answered. “But ’tis no’ safe fer her to be here with us . . . with me.”

  When he looked at her again, she caught and held his gaze. Her brows quirked curiously at him. “Is it true, then, Callum?”

  “Is what true?”

  “Do ye think ye are so dangerous that even I fear ye?”

  Her question was so unexpected, Callum simply stared at her, unsure of how to answer. His sending Kate away had naught to do with him. Or did it? He was the Devil MacGregor, and all of hell would descend on the Campbells if Kate was harmed. Aye, what he could become frightened him. If anyone should understand that, ’twas his sister.

  “Kate spoke true, then,” Maggie said when the memories that haunted him darkened his expression. “Ye’re no devil, brother. But ye are a fool,” she scolded, though her voice was as tender as his had always been to her. “Ye took me away from that terrible place. Ye gave me back my life.”

  Callum had never hoped for absolution such as this. He had also never wept a day in his life, and he damn well was not about to begin now. “But yer dreams . . . the terror I caused you . . .”

  “Aye,” she agreed. “And each time ye leave Camlochlin to seek yer revenge, and I do not know if ye will return, the verra same terror grips me. This will end only with yer death.”