by Paula Quinn
Callum was ready for battle—more than that, he was eager for it. He dragged his blade from its sheath and held it up, ready to plow his way through the wall of soldiers and take back the woman he loved.
Robert thundered past him and tugged his reins to a halt a moment before he, too, would have plundered through Duncan’s army. “Put down your weapons!” he called out with all the authority of a king. “Hear me! I am Robert Campbell, grandson of Liam Campbell, Ninth Earl of Argyll. These men have come here at my request to save my sister from the clutches of a madman, Duncan Campbell.”
“You speak treason against the earl,” one of the men shot back.
“Aye,” shouted another. “You ride with MacGregors and would turn your kin over to them. You betray your clan!”
“Nae!” Robert shouted. “It is my uncle who has betrayed his clan by killing his . . .”
One man broke rank and sped toward the MacGregors and Robert. His sword unsheathed for battle, Callum’s mouth hooked into a snarl as the rest followed immediately behind, emboldened by their comrade’s bravery.
Raising his sword, Callum dug his heels into his mount and charged into the oncoming legion.
For an instant, Robert simply sat atop his steed with a look of disbelief and horror on his face. Indeed, it seemed just an instant had passed while the MacGregor chieftain’s heavy claymore fell upon his enemy’s head, cutting down to between the soldier’s eyes. The bloody blade came up again, and before his first victim’s body fell from its horse, another rider’s head was cut from his shoulders. Blood splashed across the Devil’s face giving credence to his worthy title. A third man only had time to stifle a gasp while looking into the burning vengeance of his executioner’s eyes before he was run through to the hilt.
Angus’s giant sword found its mark, smashing bones like glass under the strength of his arm. And Brodie’s merciless sword left even horses dead.
Fools! That was all the time Robert had to consider his uncle’s men before ten of them were upon him. He barely had time to unsheathe his blade and deflect a blow to his chest before another swipe just missed severing his arm. Hell, he hadn’t trained his whole life to die after just two battles, and certainly not during one that didn’t even need to be fought! Lunging forward, he thrust his sword into the belly of another attacker, yanked it back, and struck at the next man closest to him. His swings were well practiced and almost elegant in their delivery compared to the brutal skill of the MacGregors. But just as efficient. Until one particularly huge soldier brought down his blade hard enough to bend Robert’s suddenly meager weapon.
Seeing his opponent’s disadvantage, the soldier looped his sword, holding the hilt with both hands, and brought it down just above Robert’s skull.
But the fatal blow was blocked in midair. Sparks rained down on Robert as he watched Graham make a quick end of his would-be assassin.
Within minutes, most of the Earl of Argyll’s men were cut down, with the same savage proficiency Robert had witnessed the first time he saw the MacGregors fight at Kildun. The rest took off running. No matter what his uncle had lied about, he had been correct about one thing. The MacGregors were to be feared.
With no one left to bar entrance into Kildun, Robert gathered his courage around his shoulders and brought his mount to stand before Callum’s. “You may go inside with me to find my sister. Many have died today. I would ask that you spare my uncle’s life.” Callum shook his head. “I fully intend,” Robert continued, “to bring charges against him in Edinburgh. He will be hanged for killing the earl. Reconsider, I pray you. There is no honor in revenge.”
When Callum made no move to answer him, Robert started toward the castle. He paused for just a breath when he heard the conversation behind him.
“He’s a braw lad. What think ye?” It was Graham’s voice, answered a moment later by Callum’s.
“I think he is the second Campbell I’ve met that I didna want to kill.”
“Well done, Robert!” Another voice, this one less deadly than the one before, but no less chilling, halted Robert completely. He rounded his mount and reached for his hilt as his uncle stepped out from behind the western wall.
With his sword pointed at her throat, Duncan Campbell held Kate before him like a shield to ward off the enormous MacGregor dismounting a few feet away.
“Nephew, pardon me for not applauding you and your companions’ swift execution of my countrymen, but as you can see, my hands are otherwise occupied.” Duncan adjusted the sharp edge of his blade beneath Kate’s chin. “I want you to know that I blame myself for what you and your sister have become. I should have known Amish and John would teach you your father’s ways, and killed them sooner.”
Hearing this, Kate struggled to be free, but his hold on her was firm.
“Release her, Uncle,” Robert demanded, “and there will be a chance you will not die this day. You need only look around to know it is your only option.”
Callum spotted the flash of panic in Argyll’s eyes as they swept the ground and the dead around him. Men did deadly things when they were afraid. “No one else here will lay a hand on ye.” Callum did not move as he spoke. “Let her go and we will meet as men.”
“Ah, MacGregor.” Duncan glared at him and backed away, dragging Kate with him. “You mean as savages, do you not?”
Callum offered him a lethal smile. “If ye like.” He spared a glance at Kate. She appeared unharmed. “Come,” he spoke softly, calmly. “Ye were braw enough to take a swing at me once, long ago. Ye have no’ turned coward since that day, have ye, Argyll?”
“Coward?” Duncan spat, enraged. “I will mount your head in my solar this very night. And if I don’t, you will be dead by nightfall. You see, I’ve sent word to our Lord Protector, giving him the location of your holding. I also informed him that you kidnapped my niece, killed the men I sent to find you, and were on your way here to kill me next.” Duncan’s grin was a slash of victory. “If I die, he will know it was by your hand. You will bring the law down hard on your people for many more years to come.” He turned his cold gray eyes on Robert. “I am not the man with no options. He is.”
“Nae!” Kate screamed. She tried to claw her uncle’s arm away, but he dug his blade deeper into her skin. She didn’t care. “Callum! Do not kill him!” She caught his gaze and held it. “You are not what he calls you.”
Duncan yanked her back by her hair to quiet her and then turned to Callum. “You will not be pardoned but by my mercy, if I am alive to give it.”
“It is no surprise”—Robert’s voice dripped with revulsion at his uncle—“that your father found you so unworthy. You are worse than a coward.” He squared his shoulders and turned to Callum. “I offer you another option. Whether he dies by your hand or the law’s, I will be the next earl. Leave him to the law and you and your people will have my mercy.”
“This is why we hang sympathizers,” Duncan sneered.
Callum looked at him with the fury that had waited nine years for release blazing in his eyes. “Argyll, ye should have waited fer me to kill yer faither. Ye knew I would come back fer him. Ye took what was mine, just as he did, and inherited his crimes as I did fer my faither.” He held his hilt in both hands and waved the blade at Duncan. “Stop pissin’ in yer hose and come kill me, Campbell.”
“Nae! Callum, please!” Kate screamed and was tossed aside as her uncle readied his sword for battle.
Robert leaped from his saddle and ran to her. They both watched Callum whirl his long blade with a simple twist of his wrist. “Come on.”
Duncan obliged by springing at him and swinging. Callum avoided the blow with ease and returned with a backward strike that left Duncan’s arms trembling. Duncan whirled around and jabbed, barely coming close to his target. Callum brought his arms down for a savage blow that near felled the earl to his knees. Each time Duncan attacked, Callum parried and returned with twice the power. It was clear to all who watched that the mighty laird could kill Duncan Campbell at
any time. He chose to humiliate him first.
When Argyll finally did fall to his knees, Callum waited, challenging him to get up. With a final swing, he smacked Duncan’s sword from his hands when the earl held it up and then shattered Duncan’s nose with his fist. Argyll reeled backward, his eyes glazed above a spray of blood.
Not so long ago, Callum would have been satisfied with nothing less than death to this enemy. But another massive blow that broke Duncan’s jaw was as sweet a victory as he would get this day. ’Twould be enough, Callum knew. For he was not a monster.
As Duncan lost consciousness, Callum turned to look at Kate clutched in her brother’s arms. Suddenly, a hundred men and their mounts vanished into thin air and only a lass, more bonny and more beloved than all the land in Scotland, existed.
“Come here, Katie.”
She did not move but stared at him, her dark eyes furious. “You frightened the hell out of me, MacGregor.”
He ached to hold her. “Fergive me,” he repented sincerely. “I had nae intentions of killin’ him and losin’ ye, but I would no’ have had the satisfaction of kickin’ his arse had I just walked away.” He thought of his sister, his future with Kate. One now filled with hope. “It’s over. It ends with me.”
Kate smiled with him and then ran into his arms. He caught her up in an embrace that near crushed the life out of her. When he finished kissing her senseless, he swept his fingertips over her smile. He had escaped Liam’s dungeon, but he had remained a prisoner to his own hatred and guilt. Kate’s love had set his heart free to love again, to feel again.
Angus helped Robert carry the unconscious earl back to the castle. When they passed him, Callum stopped them, untied the leather cuffs at his wrists, and tucked them under Duncan’s belt. He was alive, and he had Katherine Campbell to thank for it.
Epilogue
KATE STOOD ATOP the coal-black battlements of Camlochlin Castle and looked out over the landscape swathed in mist, suspended forever in time. She lifted her arms over her head and closed her eyes to the bracing tingle of winter’s breath. Had it been only a few months ago that she did not know who Callum MacGregor was? Now she knew she could not live a single day without him.
Much had happened since Callum had taken her home from Kildun. A council of Oliver Cromwell’s most esteemed nobles held trial over her uncle and found him guilty of murdering the Ninth Earl of Argyll in cold blood. He was not charged for killing her father or for any of his crimes against the MacGregors, but he was hanged nevertheless. After Robert became the eleventh Earl of Argyll and chief of the clan Campbell, he kept his promise and pardoned Callum for his crimes against the Campbells. He had since sent his sister a missive blessing her marriage to the MacGregor chieftain, along with an invitation to her and her husband to visit Kildun in the spring. Callum had torn the invitation in half, grumbling for a good hour that he’d be damned before he set foot in the “cesspit of the Campbells.” Although she desperately wanted to see her brother, Kate had not argued, but merely nodded and left him to rant in the solar. It wasn’t long after that he found her, shoved a parchment and quill in her hands, and ordered her to write to her brother and gracefully accept. Kate smiled to herself now, remembering how she had looked up from her writing to find her husband watching her, shaking his head, and mumbling something about how soft he had become.
She wondered if his notion of soft included hanging draperies on his windows and filling their chambers with wild sprigs of heather. Or mayhap when he thought of soft, it meant not smashing his sword over Brodie’s head. He had been angry enough to do it after Kate had rushed headlong into the men while they practiced their swordplay and Brodie’s blade nearly sliced off her head. Of course, it was not Brodie’s fault. She had been chasing Matilda, who had escaped from the barn, and if Kate had not caught her, supper that night would have been roasted duck. She had saved Brodie’s life and Matilda’s, as well, with naught but a smile and a gentle peck to her husband’s mouth—which seemed to melt him to his very core. If that was soft, then aye, mayhap he was soft indeed.
Even after he found out that she had not only accepted Robert’s invitation but invited him to Camlochlin to celebrate Jamie and Maggie’s marriage, her husband simply glowered at her and moved his lips around a few words Kate was sure would have been quite unpleasant had he uttered them. He finally managed a somewhat tight “Verra well” before he politely excused himself and stormed off to pound poor Angus into the ground. She knew he was angry, but she made it up to him that night and many nights after, proving to him that he was anything but soft.
Good heavens but she loved him. She loved his smoldering eyes that lit when she entered a room, and the sound of his deep, musical laughter, which had become a common occurrence in Camlochlin rather than a rarity. Callum MacGregor was happy, and she was the reason for it. She hoped to make him even happier when she told him of his bairn growing in her womb. Mayhap tomorrow, after the ceremony. He would be in a fine mood, for as she had suspected, he was pleased when Jamie finally asked him for Maggie’s hand.
She dipped her hands to her belly and rubbed the soft roundness of it.
She startled, then sighed with joy when two powerfully large hands came around her waist from behind and covered her fingers.
“What are ye doin’ up here, love?”
“Thinking about how wonderful you are,” she muttered, tilting her cheek to his when Callum buried his face in the folds of her hair. She lifted his hands from her belly and brought them to her lips for a kiss.
“How many times must I tell ye, wife, that I’m a coldhearted bastard?” She felt him smile against her nape and giggled in response. He wrapped his arms around her chest and looked out over the glen. “Ye’re simply blind to my shortcomins.”
“I have yet to see them, husband.”
He turned her in his arms and pulled her close against his body. He traced the soft contours at her temple down to her jaw with gentle fingertips. “How long will I be blessed to look into yer bonny eyes and see a hero reflected there?”
“Forever,” she breathed, her lips curling into a smile he longed to kiss.
“Then I want to live forever, Katie.”
Perhaps this was the perfect moment she had been waiting for. She parted her lips to tell him, but he moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness, and all her thoughts fled save one that made her burn below her belly.
His breath was ragged when he swooped down to lift her in his arms. He wanted to take her to his bed and make love to her like tomorrow might not come. He almost made it to the archway leading down the stairs when one of the tower guards called out, alerting him that a small group of riders was approaching.
He narrowed his eyes, looking toward the hills, then rolled them toward Heaven.
“Robert!” Kate near squealed and leaped from his arms. Callum forced himself to smile when she lifted her beautiful grin to him. But the moment she looked away, he mumbled an oath or two under his breath. Campbells in his castle! He had to be daft, damn him, daft indeed. He scowled in full force when his wife began talking incessantly about how wonderful it was going to be having her dear brother here at Camlochlin. “And will it not be delightful to see Graham again? I’ve missed him, but I am happy he and Robert have become such good friends.”
“Aye, delightful,” Callum brooded.
“I’m certain you will come to love my brother as much as I after a few months.”
“A few months?”
“Aye.” She offered him her softest smile. “I’ve invited him to remain for the winter.”
“Nae, Kate.” He scowled darker than Kate had seen in months. “I willna—”
She leaned up on the tips of her toes and whispered something in his ear.
“Yer what?” He stared at her, his face a mask of many emotions, anger not among them.
“With child,” Kate repeated softly, then lifted her fingers to her husband’s eyes, thinking that what she saw there could not be real. For how
could a mere woman bring this strong, proud mountain of a man to tears? He blinked and then snatched her up clean off the ground in a crushing embrace. She thought about telling him she could barely breathe but decided against it. As he had once promised, he held her heart in his hands in much the same way, and it did not hurt. She had known from the moment he saved her from the McColls that it never would. For he was her outlaw knight in the most radiant armor.
Of course, Callum MacGregor would have disagreed. For ’twas she who had done the rescuing.
Author’s Note
In gratitude for the MacGregors’ support in his struggle to regain the throne, Charles II repealed the laws against the MacGregors in 1661. Their name was restored, but their lands were not. In 1693 the proscription was fully imposed once again by William of Orange. The persecution of Clan MacGregor finally ended in 1774 when the proscription against them was lifted once and for all, 171 years after it was enacted.
About the Author
PAULA QUINN has been married to her childhood sweetheart for seventeen years. They have three children, a dog, and too many reptiles to count. She lives in New York City and is currently at work on her next novel. Write to her at [email protected].
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
Dear Reader,
While rummaging together through an antique store full of furniture and clothing, we came across two curious books. The first, bound by leather so soft and worn it almost fell apart in my hands, was the journal of Highland laird. The second book was more modern with sketches in the margins written by an ancient vampire bent on revenge.
