TENDER FEUD

by Nicole Jordan

  Katrine stared at him, finding nothing to say in response to that incredulous statement. Raith smiled and then lowered his lips again. There was another long interval before Katrine was allowed up for air.

  “My own heart,” Raith murmured against her mouth.

  His tender endearment arrested the beating of that particular organ for the longest moment, it seemed, before it finally began racing again.

  Katrine shut her eyes. Her hard-hearted, bitter Highland lover was proving to be a silver-tongued devil like his cousin. But she wouldn’t allow herself to be swayed by honeyed blandishments.

  “No, it won’t work, Raith,” she murmured as tartly as her breathless state would allow. “You won’t win me over with sweet words.”

  “Very well, then, I’ll be more plainspoken. I want you to return with me because I miss your nagging.”

  Katrine’s eyes flew open. “My nagging!”

  “Yes, my sweet shrew, your nagging. I need your sharp tongue to keep me alert. No one ever argues with me the way you do. You’ll make me an excellent wife, once you have a bairn to occupy your time.”

  “No, I won’t! I won’t make you any kind of wife at all!”

  “And you’ll make Meggie an exceptional mother. I can’t think of anyone who would better fit the position.”

  Katrine glared at him. “I would have made her a good mother two months ago, but you were too pigheaded to see it.”

  “I agree—and I’m willing to admit I was a fool. Meggie’s new governess is good, but she can’t hold a candle to you.”

  Katrine started to ask how Meggie was faring in her absence, but then caught herself. “Don’t you dare use that child again to make me feel guilty,” she demanded, her eyes shooting green sparks.

  “All right then, I won’t mention Meggie. But I will admit that I’d like for our child to have my name.”

  “The Campbell name isn’t good enough, is that it?”

  “I didn’t say that…but MacLean is definitely better. And you can’t have considered the consequences of refusing to marry me. It won’t be easy for you, a lass trying to rear a child alone.”

  “See, I knew it! You don’t want me, you just want to provide for your ‘issue.’ Well, let me tell you, I can provide for my child without you.”

  “Our child,” Raith corrected. “And I do want you, Katrine.”

  “No, you don’t! You only want to satisfy your male esteem, not to mention your clan pride.”

  “What is so wrong with wanting to provide for you? To protect you and cherish you and keep safe?” His voice had softened again, its insidious gentleness curling around her. “Ah, Katie, come back home with me. You’ll never know how unbearably dull my life has been without you. The sunrise isn’t nearly as lovely with you not there to share it.”

  He was doing it again, trying to get around her with his smooth appeals. But she wouldn’t listen!

  “No,” Katrine cried in frustration and pain. “I won’t marry a lawless brigand who can’t bear the thought of my English blood, a low-life cattle thief who is always fighting with my clan. I don’t want a marriage founded in hate! I won’t settle for it.”

  “And I would never ask you to, sweet Katie. I love you, Katrine…” Raith paused, sliding his hand between the folds of her dressing gown, against her nightshift, splaying his fingers over her abdomen. “I love both of you.”

  Katrine fought the tiny shivers that emanated outward from his palm, trying vainly to squelch the anguish in her heart. “I don’t believe you.”

  Raith’s expression contorted in a grimace of impatience. “Now, who is being pigheaded?”

  Katrine set her jaw, determined not to give in.

  “I won’t return without you, Katrine. My clan wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace if I did—”

  “Good, you don’t deserve a moment’s peace.”

  “And my heart won’t give me any respite, either.”

  She refused to respond to such a patent falsehood. He hadn’t shown any sign of a broken heart two months ago when he had sent her away. “I’m not going anywhere with you. The only way you will get me to leave is to abduct me again—”

  “Well, I suppose I could if there was no other way to convince you.”

  Katrine regarded him uneasily. His tone was light, but the look in his eyes was entirely serious. Suddenly alarmed, she pushed against his chest and managed to struggle out of his embrace. “No! You won’t get away with it this time. My uncle is here to protect me.”

  Raith gave a weary sigh. “You mean to force my hand, I see. Very well. Kiss me once more, my sweet Katie, for it may be the last opportunity we ever have. No?” he asked when she simply stood there, eyeing him warily.

  “Last opportunity?” Katrine repeated. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t bother to explain. Instead he picked up the candle and strode to the door, throwing it open.

  “Raith, shut the door!” she exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “Uncle Colin will hear you!”

  “I hope he does. In fact, I should be obliged if you would conduct me to him, my love.”

  “Conduct—?”

  “Which is his chamber?” Raith asked, stepping out into the corridor.

  “You must be daft!”

  “No doubt, but it’s entirely your fault. I was perfectly sane before I met you. Campbell!” he shouted. “Colin Campbell, where the devil are you?” Abruptly Raith raised a fist to hammer on the next door down from hers.

  “Dear God,” Katrine breathed. “Raith, what are you doing? Raith…don’t!” She ran after him as he strode down the corridor, pounding on each door he came to. “Raith, please!” she cried, frantically tugging on his sleeve. “You’ll be hanged!”

  “That is quite possible. But you left me no choice, my love. You won’t believe my sincerity any other way.”

  They both came to a halt as farther down the corridor a door was flung open. Colin Campbell stood there in his nightshirt and cap, blinking at the sudden exposure to the candle’s glow.

  Desperately Katrine edged in front of Raith in an absurd attempt to shield him with her body. He gently set her aside, however, and bowed to her uncle.

  “There you are, Campbell,” Raith said easily. “I beg your pardon for disturbing your sleep, but I’ve come to give myself up.”

  Katrine’s gasp was audible in the quiet hallway. Her uncle simply stared.

  “Who the devil are…? Ardgour? Is that you? What are you doing here at this time of night? Do you have any notion what hour it is?”

  “Shortly after ten, I believe. And the sooner you arrest me, the sooner you can return to your bed.”

  “Arrest you? Why the deuce should I do that?”

  “I’m the brigand who abducted your niece.”

  “You!” The older man stared in astonishment. Katrine groaned and covered her face with her hands.

  “Damn! You can’t be,” Campbell sputtered. “Ye’re a gentleman—or ye were the last time I encountered ye.”

  “Nevertheless, I must confess to the crime. I fell in love with Katrine nearly at first sight, you see—” Raith grinned at her when she turned to gape at him “—though I didn’t know it at the time. And now she won’t believe me.”

  “I certainly won’t!” Katrine asserted in indignation.

  “So you see, I have no choice but to turn myself in and allow you to hang me. Once I’m dead, your niece will no doubt be filled with remorse.” Raith’s expression turned sad as his blue eyes lingered on Katrine. “I hope you’ll regret having my death on your conscience, my love. And it will leave poor Meggie without a guardian, too. Such a shame.”

  Katrine stared at Raith, torn between wanting to do him bodily harm and wanting to whisk him away so he couldn’t pursue whatever mad scheme he had concocted, a scheme whose purpose totally eluded her. “You are mad,” she declared in exasperation. “And I told you to leave Meggie out of this.”

  “Who the deuce is Meggie?” her uncle demanded, obviously
impatient at being left out of the conversation.

  “My ward,” Raith supplied, obviously unperturbed by the green sparks flashing in Katrine’s eyes. “A child who has a great fondness for your niece and needs her almost as much as I do.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake—” Katrine exclaimed.

  “Would you hold this, sweeting?” Raith interrupted her. Handing her the candle, he pulled a pistol from his belt and moved toward the older gentleman. Colin Campbell’s look of bewilderment turned to extreme wariness at the sight of an enemy Highlander brandishing a weapon. But Raith merely held out the pistol to him, butt first. “Here, you’ll want this to arrest me.”

  Campbell took it gingerly and turned it on Raith, his expression growing angrier by the minute. Her uncle had apparently, Katrine realized with a sinking heart, made the mental connection between her abduction and the trouble the MacLeans had given the Campbells lately. His face was turning red with the effort at control. But he was also determined to be strictly fair, it seemed.

  “Do I understand you correctly, sirrah?” her uncle demanded of Raith. “You are responsible for the abduction of my niece?”

  “Indeed, I am.”

  “And the plaguey cattle thievery that has bedeviled Clan Campbell over the past three months? You are the villain behind it?”

  “I wouldn’t phrase it quite that way,” Raith replied easily, “but you could hold me accountable, yes.”

  “But you came here to give yourself up?”

  “Actually, I came to claim my bride, but I ran into a slight difficulty. She declares she won’t have me now.”

  “Bride?” Campbell nearly barked the word, while his sharp gaze sliced to Katrine.

  “Indeed,” Raith admitted. “Katrine wed me while she was at Ardgour, you see—”

  “That isn’t so!” she broke in. “There was no marriage, you said so yourself!”

  “The trouble is,” Raith continued, giving her a quelling glance that was at odds with the dancing gleam in his blue eyes, “I didn’t wed her in return. But I’m willing to remedy that at once.”

  “No, you won’t. I won’t have you—”

  “Don’t interrupt, my love. I’m trying to explain to your uncle what happened. You see, Campbell, Katrine fell in love with me while she was at Ardgour—”

  “I did not!”

  Raith raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t in the habit of telling falsehoods. Do you mean to deny now that you love me?”

  Katrine refused to reply, but the flush that rose to her cheeks was answer enough. Raith grinned. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes, your niece. I should like to remedy this situation by asking for her hand in marriage. I assure you, I hold her in the greatest esteem and affection.”

  Ignoring this dubious piece of flattery and the teasing manner in which it was delivered. Katrine stamped her foot. She didn’t know whether to be more incensed by Raith’s assumption that he had only to wed her in order to win her, or by the way he was making a mockery of the peril he was in. But his next words scattered her current thoughts.

  “Before you decide the merits of my suit. Campbell, there is one other small detail I neglected to mention. You and I will shortly be related by blood. Katrine is to have my child.”

  Katrine gasped at Raith’s perfidy, while her uncle’s fingers tightened around the pistol.

  Unconcerned by this new danger, Raith regarded her with a bland look. “You didn’t tell him, my love?”

  “Is this true, Katrine?” Colin Campbell thundered, making her jump with the fierceness of his tone.

  Avoiding her uncle’s scowling gaze, Katrine didn’t answer. She simply glowered at Raith, her cheeks flushed with anger and frustration.

  If it is true,” her uncle pronounced grimly, “then there is no question but what you should marry. At once. Without delay.”

  Katrine turned incredulous eyes on her uncle. “You want me to wed a criminal?”

  “Alleged criminal, my love,” Raith amended. “Pray don’t convict me before all the facts are weighed.”

  “That is quite enough from you, sirrah!” Campbell blazed, his limbs, his chin and the tail of his nightcap all quivering with rage. “I will not tolerate this…this disgrace to the Campbell name. Criminal or no, you will wed my niece at once!”

  Genially Raith gave the elderly gentleman a deep bow. “Naturally, I am at your service, Mr. Campbell.”

  “No, Uncle Colin!” Katrine interjected. “I won’t marry him! Disgrace or no, I refuse to accept him as my husband.”

  Still scowling, Colin Campbell turned to glare at his niece. “Why the deuce not?”

  “Because he doesn’t love me, that’s why!”

  “Humph, what does love have to say to anything?”

  “Raith is only offering for me in order to claim his child,” she added rather lamely.

  “As well he should!”

  Raith grinned at the expression of rebellious frustration on Katrine’s face before he addressed her uncle once more. “I should prefer to avoid any delay, if possible. I am quite willing to marry Katrine immediately, if you wish, even before you throw me in prison.”

  Colin Campbell’s gaze narrowed on Raith then, a fierce look of suspicion crossing his features. “I don’t suppose you think to wed my niece simply in order to avoid punishment for your crimes?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Raith said blandly. “I doubt my marrying your niece would sway Argyll, in any case. But I should like to prepare for any eventuality. If you hang me, Katrine will still have a name for our child. I should rather he not enter into this world a bastard.”

  “So indeed should I,” Campbell agreed sternly, appearing somewhat mollified. The next moment he raised the pistol again, aiming it at Raith. “Very well, Ardgour. In the name of the Duke of Argyll, I hereby arrest you and charge you with the abduction of my niece and the violent possession of his grace’s property.”

  Katrine couldn’t believe it. “No! Uncle, what are you doing? You can’t arrest him! The duke will hang him.”

  “It may not come to that,” Campbell muttered. “Ardgour is a laird, after all. But I intend to let his grace decide what is to be done with him.”

  Raith smiled again, not a pleasant smile, though. “Very wise. In fact, I should like to speak with the duke with all possible speed, and should count it a favor if you would be kind enough to arrange it.”

  “You can be assured I shall.”

  “And as a token of my goodwill, I should like to return this to you.” Fishing in his belt, Raith presented the Argyll seal ring to the duke’s factor.

  “Oh, the devil!” Katrine flared, her exclamation one of total exasperation. A confession of guilt could hardly have been more damning to Raith’s case.

  Washing her hands of him entirely, she whirled and marched down the corridor to her bedchamber, slamming the door behind her with enough violence to shake the rafters. Yet once the vibrations had settled, she strained to listen as the murmur of male voices passed outside her door.

  When they were gone, Katrine edged her fingers to her lips, still swollen with the passion of Raith’s kisses. Dear God, what would happen to him? Argyll was sure to make him pay for his crimes. And if all she had heard about the duke was true, his grace was unlikely to show mercy to so formidable an enemy of his clan.

  Briefly she considered the suspicions her Uncle Colin had voiced—that Raith was offering to marry her in order to prevent his being hanged. But even Raith had thought Argyll’s leniency in the event of their marriage was unlikely.

  Katrine shivered violently, but it had nothing to do with the cold night air sweeping in through the open window. It was entirely the fault of the chill seeping into her soul.

  If Raith were hanged, her child would never have a father. And she would never again have a heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The following afternoon Katrine stood outside the cell where Raith was being held, her heart pounding. The past eighteen hours ha
d been the most wretched of her life, and the next could prove to be worse yet if she failed in her mission.

  During the long sleepless night and succeeding morning, she’d agonized over what to do about Raith. Her uncle had only been concerned with providing a name for her child. Upon waking, he’d immediately renewed his demand that she marry the Laird of Ardgour, but Katrine didn’t believe that would help Raith’s case. Uncle Colin had interrupted his ranting then, saying he would talk to the duke and plead for leniency, but she didn’t believe that would do any good, either.

  She had to help Raith escape, she knew, but how? Kilchurn Castle where he’d been imprisoned was a formidable pile of stone, swarming with English troops. Moreover, the duke of Argyll had been summoned from his family seat at Inveraray, some dozen miles away, and his grace was expected to arrive sometime before nightfall. She had to act quickly.

  After innumerable desperate hours of racking her brain, Katrine had finally hit upon an idea that, with luck, might just succeed. Dismissing her misgivings, she’d hastily put her plan into motion, gathering up the articles of clothing she would need and taking a pistol from her uncle’s study. Afraid for Raith’s life, she was prepared to lie or steal or possibly even kill to save him if necessary—although the later prospect made her shudder.

  She’d thought she would have to bribe her way into the castle, but amazingly she was admitted with little difficulty. When she pleaded to be allowed to see the prisoner, claiming Raith was her sweetheart and that she needed to assure herself that he wasn’t faring too poorly, the English officer, whom she’d seen frequently at her uncle’s house during the past two months, had taken pity on her.

  The hinges of the heavy oaken portal squealed in protest as the officer drew open the door to allow her entrance to the chamber. Katrine gave the young man a grateful smile, then stepped inside.

  As the heavy door clanged shut behind her, she stood letting her vision adjust to the dappled shadows. A shaft of late afternoon sunlight speared through the high, barred window to illuminate dancing dust motes and give an illusion of warmth to the cold stone cell. In one corner was a straw pallet, upon which reclined the familiar form of a man. The dear sight made Katrine’s heart contract. Raith seemed to be asleep, apparently unconcerned that these might be his last few hours on earth.