The Campbell Trilogy

by Monica McCarty

  “You are surprised? Do you doubt your sister’s allure?”

  Niall snorted. “Not at all, I’ve seen her charm even the most impenetrable heart. I just didn’t think you had one.”

  Jamie’s mouth tugged. He studied the other man. “She told you the truth. I mean to do what I can to help you.”

  “Why?”

  “You need to ask?”

  “But Auchinbreck is your brother.”

  “Aye. If she’d confided in me earlier, I might have prevented this. I had no wish for your father to die. I can understand your anger, but my brother had cause to attack your castle.” At the look of outrage on Niall’s face, Jamie added, “I didn’t say I agreed with what happened, but it wasn’t wholly my brother’s fault. Had I been there, I might have been able to avoid a battle, but you know as well as I do that fighting is the way men settle disputes in the Highlands.”

  “Aye,” Niall said reluctantly. “My father never backed down from a battle. But it wasn’t only my father’s and brother’s deaths that I was avenging.” Jamie watched as his face twisted with an emotion he could describe only as raw anguish. “He ordered the rape of an innocent woman.” Niall met his gaze, his eyes glowing with rage. “My woman.”

  Jamie cursed. He didn’t want to think his brother capable of such a despicable act, but he did not doubt Niall’s word. “I’m sorry.”

  The apology seemed to surprise the other man, and he nodded in acknowledgment. After a moment, he asked, “What do you intend to do with us?”

  “What I can,” Jamie responded. “We’ll stay the night at Rothesay and then tomorrow depart for Dunoon.”

  Niall’s jaw hardened. “It was as I thought, then. We won’t die by your hand, but by Argyll’s.”

  “You won’t die by anyone’s hand. My cousin has promised to show you leniency.”

  “I can imagine,” Niall said dryly. “Drawn, but not quartered?”

  “I hope to have more influence than that,” Jamie said with a crooked smile. Just then, his men came out of the darkness carrying a makeshift pallet with an enormous dog tracking after it.

  Niall’s demeanor changed in an instant. “Careful. He’s hurt.”

  “Niall, what’s happening?” Brian asked, his voice weak and delirious.

  “Shush,” Niall said. “We’re taking you to the castle.”

  “But the Enforcer,” Brian protested. He tried to lift up his head, but Jamie knew he couldn’t see him.

  He felt sick, hating the fear in the lad’s voice.

  “Don’t worry, Brian. Caiti will keep you safe.” Niall met Jamie’s gaze as he spoke, and Jamie nodded.

  At that, the boy seemed to relax and eased back down on the pallet as the men carried him out.

  “I hope you won’t make me a liar,” Niall said.

  “The lad will come to no harm. He was not involved in the attack on my brother, though when he is well enough to travel, he will have to account for the fighting with the MacGregors. I’ll pay whatever fines it takes to see him cleared.”

  Niall nodded. With the cave cleared of Lamonts, Jamie led his prisoner out into the forest. Leaving them to his men, Jamie started toward the place where he’d left his horse.

  “Campbell.”

  Jamie looked back over his shoulder.

  “I know I’ve no right to ask …”

  Jamie moved his head, indicating for him to continue.

  “If anything should happen to me, when he’s old enough you’ll see that Brian takes his place as chief?”

  The odd request took Jamie aback. “ ’Tis the position that rightfully belongs to you. Would you not ask it for yourself?”

  “You really think you can convince your cousin?”

  “I do,” he said confidently.

  Niall paused, considering. “Still, I’d have your promise if you’re willing to give it.”

  Jamie bowed. “Then you have it.”

  For the first time since Jamie had burst into the cave, maybe for the first time in months, hope flared in Niall Lamont’s gaze.

  Caitrina suffered the frantic ministrations of her former nursemaid, all the while worrying about what was happening with her brothers. She’d heard the men ride through the castle gates not long after her, and from the numerous servants who rushed back and forth fulfilling Mor’s requests for herbs, salves, water, and clean linens, she’d learned that her brother and his men had been taken to the old, unused south tower. She admitted to a certain relief that Niall had been wrong and they’d not been imprisoned in the dungeon. She’d been right to trust Jamie.

  Mor was about to send a girl on another errand—this time for more pillows—when Caitrina sat up, having suffered enough. “ ’Tis nothing more than a scratch, Mor. Truly, I’m fine.” The blade had sliced about a two-inch cut at the base of her jaw.

  The old nursemaid put her hands on her hips and pursed her mouth disapprovingly. “ ’Tis deep enough to scar.”

  “You’ve put your salve on it and bandaged it. Any scar that remains won’t be visible.”

  “I’ll know it’s there,” Mor said stubbornly.

  Aye, and so will I. A lasting memory of my betrayal of

  my clan. But she would wear the badge with honor if her brothers were spared.

  The door opened again and another young serving girl rushed in.

  “ ’Tis about time,” Mor said angrily. “What took you so long? I sent you for those herbs hours ago.”

  More like a few minutes ago, Caitrina thought wryly.

  “I’m sorry, mistress. The kitchens are in an uproar at the laird’s bequest, readying everything for the morrow.”

  Caitrina froze, every instinct flared. “Tomorrow? What is happening tomorrow?”

  The girl cast her a furtive glance, then looked to the floor. “I thought you knew, my lady. The laird is taking the prisoners to Dunoon.”

  Caitrina felt the blood drain from her face. No!

  There has to be a mistake.

  Not long afterward, Caitrina sat woodenly before the fire, staring into the dying embers of flaking ashy peat. The incident that had almost taken her life was far from her mind as she waited for a more painful blow to fall. She’d sent Mor and the others from the room, knowing that he would come to her soon—if only to check on her injury.

  She fought the bitter swell of betrayal; she would hear his explanation first.

  At last she heard the familiar heavy footfalls. Her heart pounded. The door opened and closed. She lifted her eyes to his.

  He spoke first. “Your wound—”

  “Tell me it’s not true,” she said, cutting him off, her injury insignificant in the face of what she’d just discovered.

  He seemed perplexed by her tone. “What’s not true?”

  Her hand gripped the wooden arm of the chair. “Tell me that you have not arrested my brother and his men. Tell me that you are not taking them to your cousin.”

  He straightened, clearly taken aback. “I thought you understood. It’s my duty—”

  “Duty?” Pain seared through her. Caitrina wanted to wail like a wounded animal. The affirmation of his betrayal cut more deeply than she could imagine. She’d trusted him with what she held most dear, and he’d betrayed her. “I don’t care about your duty! I would never have told you where they were if I’d known what you intended. You swore you would help them.”

  His mouth fell in a tight line—a look she recognized when he was trying to control his temper. A temper that seemed to exist only around her. “I will help them. Brian will stay here until he can recover, but Niall and the rest of the men must go to Dunoon to face the charges against them.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Her chest squeezed so badly, she couldn’t breathe. “You’d help them by turning them over to the hands of an executioner? Dear God, Jamie, they’ll die for what they’ve done.”

  His eyes leveled on hers. “I told you before that my cousin has promised to act fairly—and leniently—with them.”

  �
�I’ve heard Argyll’s promises before,” she scoffed. “Will he act as fairly with them as he did with Alasdair MacGregor? Did you convince me to help turn them in so that Argyll can kill them also?”

  He took her arm and lifted her out of the chair, pulling her hard against him. She could feel the tautness of his muscles and the heat radiating from his body. His face darkened with barely contained fury. “Damn you, Caitrina, you know I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Do I?” She turned her head sharply away, refusing to look at him. “I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

  He was silent, but she could see the ominous tick at his neck and knew he was furious. But she didn’t care. She wanted him to feel as hurt and betrayed as she did.

  His voice was low and forbidding. “I warned you once not to interfere with my duty.”

  She remembered: when he’d imprisoned her father’s guardsmen. “That was different.”

  “Was it? You said you trusted me. I believe you even claimed to love me not so many hours ago.”

  How dare he throw her feelings back in her face with what he intended to do! “It’s not that simple.”

  “Actually, it is.” He took her chin in his hands and forced her gaze back to his. “Love can’t be by half-measure. It’s all or nothing. Either you trust me—and my judgment—or you don’t.”

  He asked for too much. Heat gathered behind her eyes. “How would you know? You, who hold yourself so apart. You, who don’t need anyone. What do you know of love?”

  “Plenty.” His voice snapped like the crack of a whip. “Though right now I wish I didn’t.”

  Her heart faltered and then started to pound furiously. Her gaze raked his face, searching for a crack in that implacable façade. “What are you saying?”

  “Damn it, Caitrina, don’t you know how much I love you? So much that there is almost nothing I wouldn’t do for you. But I can’t change who I am.”

  For a moment, she savored the overwhelming burst of joy. He loves me. The words she’d longed to hear.…

  But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. When they confessed their love, it was supposed to be perfect—a moment of unparalleled closeness and intimacy—it wasn’t supposed to make her feel more uncertain. Nor was it supposed to be spoken in anger and frustration.

  Instead, it felt like a final offer. Blinking back tears, she turned her head from his hold. “I wish I could believe that.”

  “You can.” He lifted her chin gently, examining the bandaged area of her neck, assuring himself that it was not bleeding. “Don’t you know how I felt seeing you with a blade at your neck? I’ve never been more terrified in my life. I could have lost you.”

  “It’s nothing,” she dismissed. “No more than a scratch.”

  His jaw hardened. “I never should have let you go, it was too dangerous.”

  “I needed to be there. I needed to explain.”

  “Your brothers will understand.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because I’m confident that it will all work out for the best.”

  She lifted her chin. “I don’t share your confidence. It’s my brothers’ lives at stake.” Her voice thickened with emotion. “I just got them back. Please don’t take them from me again.”

  “I’m not taking them from you,” he said with exaggerated patience, each word uttered with careful precision. It was clear he was near the edge, holding himself by a very thin thread. “I’m trying to protect them.”

  “How?” she asked, incredulous. “By arresting them?”

  “While they are in my custody, Colin can’t do anything to them. If I can clear their names, they’ll be out of his reach for good. Would you rather I waited until my cousin was forced to send his men after them? Your brother and his men are outlaws—they can’t stay here indefinitely. Eventually they will need to face what they’ve done.”

  Caitrina felt as though she were beating her head against a rock. The law. Duty. It was always the same. “Is that all that matters to you? The law?” She held his gaze, knowing where his rigid adherence to law and order came from. “You are not your brother, Jamie. Don’t hurt mine to bury the memory of yours.”

  He flinched at the reference to Duncan. His eyes flared and she wondered if she’d gone too far. “You know nothing of what happened with Duncan. This has nothing to do with my brother, only with yours. I thought you wanted Ascog restored to Niall.”

  “I do.”

  “The only way that can happen is with my cousin’s help.”

  She didn’t want to hear justification—even if there might be an element of truth. “It’s too soon,” she said stubbornly.

  His gaze bit into her. “I’m asking you to trust me.”

  If only it were so simple. “I do. It’s your cousin I don’t trust. After what he did to you, I can’t believe you would trust him either. Dear God, what if you are wrong?”

  “I’m not.”

  She heard the unwavering confidence in his voice, but it wasn’t enough. “Well, it’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

  He stared at her with those slate blue eyes, hard and unyielding. “I’m afraid that it’s not your decision to make.”

  Jamie knew his words were harsh, but she needed to understand. Caitrina was blind when it came to Argyll—understandable, perhaps, but if she was going to be married to him, she needed to accept his loyalty to his cousin. How could she claim to love and trust him and believe the man he gave his loyalty to a monster? He’d thought she’d started to believe in him.

  Her accusation where his brother Duncan was concerned was misplaced, but it pricked nonetheless.

  He had to get the hell out of here. No one could penetrate his defenses the way she could. Caitrina had an uncanny ability to make him feel raw, exposed. To make him lose control. She riled his anger with her accusations and persistent lack of faith. What more could he do to prove himself? He’d told her he loved her, yet it had barely seemed to penetrate.

  He was confident that he was doing the right thing, though it didn’t make him deaf to her heartfelt pleas. He just didn’t know how else to explain.

  “Please,” she said, her eyes soft and beseeching. “If you care for me at all, don’t do this.”

  Jamie looked at her, feeling his insides twist. The urge to please her was nearly overwhelming. He ached to take her into his arms and love her until she smiled at him again, until her eyes softened with tenderness.

  She leaned closer to him. The innocent brush of her breasts stirred his already burning hunger—his blood fired from their argument and from the fear of almost losing her in the cave. His need for her rushed over him like a firestorm, blasting him with liquid heat. He fought the urge to bring an end to their argument in the most basic way, because he knew it would not be resolved. But damn, he was tempted.

  What was she trying to do to him? Was this what being in love was supposed to feel like? Was it supposed to make him feel out of control? Was it supposed to rip him apart, pulling him in two opposite directions? Was it supposed to make him want to tear his hair out in frustration? If it was, he didn’t need it.

  “Care for you? Haven’t you been listening to anything I said? I love you. Do you think I want to hurt you?”

  Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I don’t think you care who you hurt. Maybe they are right what they say about you, that you are a ruthless henchman without a heart.”

  Her barb had struck flesh. He snapped. His carefully tethered anger whipped around like a banner in a storm. He pulled her to him, not quite sure what he meant to do. “After all these months … is that what you really think?”

  She seemed to realize that she’d gone too far. “I don’t want to, but what else should I think when you won’t listen to reason?”

  “I am listening, but my duties and responsibilities cannot be ignored.”

  “What about your duty and responsibility to me? Do I not matter?”

  Everything was still so damn simple with he
r—it had been that way from the first. She never probed below the surface. “Of course you do.” He released her and took a step back. This was getting nowhere. He wondered whether they would ever be able to breach the barrier between them. He wanted to think that love would be enough but had begun to fear that it wasn’t. “You said you didn’t want me to treat you like a child, Caitrina. You wanted to see the real world in all its vivid complexity, where decisions aren’t always so clear-cut and where loyalty can be divided. Well, this is it. I know you don’t understand right now, but I’m doing this for you.”

  She shook her head, her chin quivering. “For me? You’re wrong if you are trying to convince yourself that you are doing this for anything other than yourself and your precious duty to your cousin. No wonder you have been so alone. Nothing can come between you. I’ll never understand how you can do this and claim to love me.”

  He clenched his jaw, fighting to stay calm, but it was a lost battle. “One has nothing to do with the other.”

  “Of course it does. You are choosing your duty to your cousin above your love for me.”

  “Dear God, what do you want from me?” he asked roughly.

  “All of you.” Her eyes locked on his. “What if I asked you to choose between us? Would you choose me, Jamie?”

  He gave her a long, penetrating stare, furious with her game. “Aren’t you choosing your outlaw brother above me? What if I gave you the same choice: your brother or me?”

  As he’d expected, his ultimatum was met with silence. It was an impossible choice for either of them. Life—and love—was not that simple.

  And if she couldn’t understand that, to hell with it. He’d hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. That she would not ask something of him that he could not give her. That she would love him enough to trust him to do what was right for her brothers. He was done asking for her to believe in him, and he wasn’t sure where that left them.

  He felt stretched as taut as a bowstring, ready to fire. Not trusting himself to stay another minute longer, he said, “It seems, then, my lady wife, we are at an impasse.” After giving her one long glance, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.