Campbell's Redemption

by Sharon Cullen

  “Mrs. Cait?”

  Reluctantly, she met his gaze. He grinned a thin-lipped grin. “Your thoughts were far off.” He leaned forward, so close that she had to lean back; he continued to close the distance, and to lean back farther would mean falling off her mount.

  And he kissed her. Not the brutal kiss that she would have expected, but a soft kiss on the lips that was far worse than brutality.

  He drew back, winked at her, and adjusted his blue coat. “It’s probably best you go to your patients. I will come to you this evening.” He leaned forward and took her chin in his hands, his fingers biting into her skin. “I can make things very, very good for you, Mrs. Cait. You’ll never have to worry about the English soldiers bothering you. I am generous with my gifts. None of my past mistresses has ever had a complaint.”

  He let go of her chin and moved away. She resisted the urge to rub her aching jaw. However, she was unable to stop the tears of pain and fear that blurred her vision.

  “And Mrs. Cait?”

  She knew the fear was stark in her expression and that he liked that fear, because his eyes lit up in excitement.

  “Don’t think of not being there,” he said. “And telling someone will not save you but will merely prolong the inevitable.”

  He motioned to his men, and they rode past her, deliberately not looking at her. The injured one was pale and sweating and breathing hard. His face was flushed, and he held his arm tight against his bleeding side. For a blinding moment she hoped his wound putrefied and he suffered horribly for it.

  She sat on her horse in the middle of the road, shivering so hard that her bones were nearly rattling. Her teeth chattered and tears ran down her cheeks. She was paralyzed with anger and fear, not able to move forward, and certainly not able to move backward. So she just sat there and shook and cried and felt so damn helpless.

  —

  The housekeeper let Cait in, but it was Adair who met her in the formal sitting room. He took one look at her and said, “What’s happened?”

  Adair knew of their affair, enough to fetch Iain from her cottage the other night, and she wasn’t in the mood for word games or pretending. She was raw with fear, and after the English soldiers had disappeared, her only thought had been to get to Iain. She had unconsciously turned her mount in the direction of the big house. They’d been here enough times that her mount knew the way, and Cait had let her mind go blessedly blank. Now she asked, “Is Iain here?”

  “He’s with Palmer,” Adair said. “Talking to Graham about the killing of the latest English soldier.”

  “I see.” Her shoulders drooped.

  “What happened, Cait?”

  Her hands fluttered, and for a moment she thought she might be making too much of what had happened on that road. Was she overreacting? Had Donaldson really said those things to her? She felt silly riding all this way, but then she remembered Donaldson’s kiss and his last words. She crossed her arms over her stomach and rubbed them. “Do you…” She swallowed. “Do ye think I can stay here tonight?”

  “Of course ye can.” Adair looked her over critically. “Are ye unwell?”

  “I’m well.”

  “Something happened.”

  She looked away, still rubbing her arms. “Can ye do me a favor, Adair?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can ye somehow get in touch with Sutherland and tell him…” She didn’t know how to word her request without giving it away that she was a safe house for Sutherland.

  “I’ll tell him ye’re unavailable until he hears otherwise.”

  She nodded. Somehow Adair knew, and while that might be alarming at any other time, it wasn’t right now. She felt safe here, and she began shaking again, this time with relief.

  Adair stepped closer with a look of concern. “Can ye tell me what happened?”

  “Stay away from my cottage tonight.”

  He frowned, his brows creasing. “What does that mean?”

  “Just promise ye’ll stay away.”

  “Very well,” he said slowly. “I’ll instruct the housekeeper to prepare a room for ye.” He paused. “Unless ye’ll be using Iain’s?”

  She shook her head quickly. She definitely didn’t need that rumor circulating, although she was certain it eventually would. “I’ll be needing my own bedchamber. Just for tonight.” She couldn’t really think past tonight.

  “Very well.” He still appeared concerned as he left her to instruct the housekeeper.

  Cait’s knees gave out and she collapsed into a chair. She’d always felt so safe in her little cottage. No one bothered her. Occasionally, she’d patch up an English soldier, but they were always grateful. Halloway was the only one she’d struck up a friendship with, and even then she didn’t consider it a real friendship, just a friendly acquaintance with a lonely young soldier.

  This was the first time she’d felt frightened to be alone and the only time she’d ever felt unsafe. She hated it, and she hated Donaldson for making her feel that way.

  Maybe Iain, Sutherland, and both of her grandfathers were right. Maybe it was no longer safe for her out there.

  Chapter 25

  Iain left Palmer with his housekeeper and took the stairs two at a time. Adair had found them riding back to the big house and pulled Iain aside to tell him that Cait had asked to spend the night at the house and that something was wrong but he didn’t know what.

  Iain headed toward the room the housekeeper had said she’d put Cait in but stopped before entering to gather his composure. He wasn’t certain what he was feeling, but it was a volatile mixture of emotions that would do Cait no good if she was indeed shaken. A thousand thoughts had gone through his head, a hundred scenarios of what could have happened, none of them good. He’d been shaking by the time he could extricate himself from Palmer, but racing into her room wasn’t the way to address whatever problem she had come to him with. That she’d come to him at all was a small victory, but that was not what was important now.

  He opened the door without knocking and with as much control as he could manage. She was standing in the middle of the room in nothing but a white dressing gown—where the hell his housekeeper had found that, he didn’t know. She was combing her long red hair, which hung down her back in thick wet coils.

  “Cait?”

  She gasped and spun around, grabbing the front of her dressing gown and pulling it tighter around her. Good Lord, but she looked horrible. She was extremely pale, and her body was trembling. Dressed in just a thin shift, she appeared too thin and extremely vulnerable. Not like the strong Cait he knew.

  “Iain,” she breathed, pressing a hand to her chest. “Ye should knock.”

  “My apologies.” They both knew he wasn’t repentant. “Adair said something happened.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Not now, Cait. We’re not arguing now. Adair said you were frightened and asked to stay here. And you sent him to warn Sutherland off tonight. What happened?”

  She stood there staring at him, and he began to get angry that she wouldn’t trust him with her fears. What the hell did he have to do to prove himself to her? Then he realized that she was silent not out of stubbornness but because she was desperately trying not to cry.

  He closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. She put her head on his shoulder; she didn’t cry, just shook and leaned in to him. Though his mind was whirling with so many questions, part of him just wanted to stand there and enjoy the feel of her in his arms and the sense of rightness and the fact that she was willing to let him hold her without arguing. But something had driven her into his arms. Something that had frightened her so badly she was still shaking, even hours later.

  Eventually, she pulled away. The sleeves of his coat were wet where her hair had lain, but he didn’t care.

  She half turned away from him and fingered the hairbrush that she had put down when he walked in. “I was on the road to visit Alice this morning,” she said, her voice tight. “She
’s close to delivering, and I figured I would stop in to see Murtagh as well because he’s no’ following my orders to sit with his leg elevated. His knee has been paining him awfully lately—”

  “Cait.” He took both of her hands in his. “While I love to hear about my clansmen’s ailments and births, I don’t think that’s why you’re here.”

  She tried to smile, but it wobbled and turned down at the corners as her chin trembled.

  “Just tell me,” he said a bit desperately.

  “I came across four English soldiers on the road.” She looked up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly, her fingers tightening around his. “They wouldn’t let me pass. One was injured but didn’t want the help of a Scottish healer. The other…” She swallowed. “The other rode closer to me and…” She shuddered. “He told me that we will…He would…”

  He was glad that he was holding on to her, because his anger spiked immediately, and at the moment her touch was the only thing anchoring him. “Cait,” he said on a strangled breath.

  She was in her own world now and wasn’t listening to him. “He told me that he would be at my cottage tonight. If I cooperate, I will be well protected from the other English soldiers. And…he said if I told someone then I was just postponing the inevitable.”

  Iain squeezed her hands, wanting her to stop. His anger was choking him, strangling the breath in his lungs. There was a strange noise, and Iain realized he’d growled like a damn dog. “Did this soldier give you a name?” he asked quietly.

  “Donaldson. Lieutenant Donaldson.”

  “He said he would return to your cottage tonight?”

  She nodded. Her eyes were dry, but she was clearly shaken. Hell, he was shaken. And he was furious. Murderously furious.

  He touched her chin with the pad of his thumb, moving her head one way and then the other. There were two bruises, one on either side of her jaw.

  “He touched you.” It wasn’t a question, and he really didn’t need confirmation.

  “He…” She swallowed. “He kissed me,” she whispered.

  Iain was going to meet this Donaldson tonight at Cait’s cottage, and God help the man.

  “Ye can’t go to the cottage,” Cait said. “Please, promise me ye won’t go.”

  “Oh, I’m going.”

  She grabbed his arm, her fingers digging in. “Don’t. It will only make things worse. A Scotsman can’t confront an English soldier like that.”

  “This Scotsman can.”

  She pulled away and struck him in the upper arm. It was so unexpected that he could only stare. “Damn ye,” she said between clenched teeth, her face twisted into an ugly grimace. “Damn ye.”

  “Cait—”

  She hit him again. And again. He didn’t even think about turning away or defending himself. The raw anger inside her paralyzed him. Her blows didn’t hurt, so he stood there and became the outlet of her anger as tears ran down her cheeks and sobs shook her body.

  “Ye don’t listen,” she said. “None of ye listen. Ye just go and do what ye want without thinking of anyone else.” She balled up her hand into a fist and punched him; he’d tensed for it, and it didn’t hurt. “And then ye…die.” The hits came faster, and then she stopped and spun around, grabbing the hairbrush and hurling it across the room. “Ye all die. And ye don’t care about who ye leave behind all alone.”

  Good Lord. She was coming undone. All of those years of staying strong had come to this.

  She sank to the floor and buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Iain knelt next to her and gathered her trembling body to him, rocking her as he stroked her wet hair. “Cait,” he whispered, his heart breaking. Had she ever had a chance to grieve the loss of her daughter and husband? She’d been pushed out of her home by her grandparents, but had she ever given herself time to feel sorrow over that loss? He’d argued with her about confronting Donaldson, and she’d equated it with him marching toward his death.

  He kissed the top of her head, wishing he could take away all of her pain and make it his. He settled more fully on the floor and pulled her onto his lap. He didn’t think she even noticed, she was so far into her grief.

  “I hate him,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  He wasn’t certain whether she was referring to Donaldson or John.

  “I felt safe in my cottage, and now…” She sniffed. “And now I don’t. He took my safety away.”

  Iain tucked her head beneath his chin and closed his eyes. “You’ll feel safe again. I promise you that, Cait. I’ll make it so you feel safe again.”

  She rubbed her wet cheek against his coat. “I hate him for leaving me,” she whispered, and Iain figured she was talking about John now. “If he were here…”

  “He would kill Donaldson.”

  She sighed and turned her head so her cheek was resting against his chest. “I never would have been alone if he hadn’t died. I wouldn’t have been alone on that road or in my cottage.”

  Iain’s heart twisted, and he wanted to say that she wasn’t alone now, but he thought better of it. Now wasn’t the time. She was too vulnerable and too angry to accept him as a substitute for John.

  “Ye didn’t see him. He thinks he’s invincible. He thinks he can do anything and nothing will happen to him.”

  He was finding it a bit difficult to follow her train of thought, but he figured she was speaking of Donaldson again. “He’s not invincible. Not on my land.” And not with my woman.

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “And I hate being afraid. I don’t want to be afraid. I want my life back. It was simple and uncomplicated.”

  Was her life more complicated now because he was in it? Was she accusing him of turning her life upside down? He’d forced her from her comfort and made her face things she’d turned away from for years.

  “I’m sorry you’re so afraid,” he said. “I want you to feel safe again.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible anymore.”

  “It is, and I will see that it happens. For now, know that you’re safe here.”

  “I don’t think any of us are safe anymore.”

  —

  He found the English captain in the study, drinking a Scottish whiskey and thumbing through a book on animal husbandry. Iain went straight to the whiskey, poured a shot and downed it, then poured another while Palmer watched.

  He was shaken. More shaken than he wanted to admit. To watch Cait break down had been heartbreaking and frightening, and his hand was trembling as he raised the glass to take a drink.

  “What do you know about a Lieutenant Donaldson?” he asked after a third shot that didn’t even come close to calming his nerves or blunting his rage.

  Palmer hesitated, and in that hesitation Iain had all the information he needed.

  “He threatened one of my people,” Iain said.

  “Threatened how?”

  “He told Cait Campbell that he would come by her cottage tonight and that she had better be there. He even kissed her, and I have no doubt that he has intentions of raping her. What the hell is that all about?” He wasn’t couching it in nice words. He was too raw for that right now.

  Palmer looked at him sharply. “He told her he was going to rape her?”

  “He told her if she cooperated, then he would protect her. If she didn’t, then things would go badly for her. I don’t know what else you would call that.”

  “He’s a good soldier.”

  “He’s a bloody bastard. No one threatens one of my people and gets away with it.”

  Palmer held out his hand. “I think you need to calm down.”

  “He wants to bed her, Palmer. He was very explicit about it.” Iain’s anger was rising again. “He kissed her. He demanded that she become his mistress. He didn’t ask. He demanded. I don’t care if he’s a bloody lieutenant in the bloody English army. He doesn’t treat my wom—my people like that.”

  Palmer eyed him with interest. “Think before you act, Campbell. Donaldson is a bast
ard, I’ll give you that. But he has connections.”

  “They give him no right to threaten to rape women.”

  “I doubt he said he would rape—”

  “No?” Iain asked quietly. “Then why is Cait Campbell upstairs, afraid to go home? Why did she fall apart upstairs, so frightened she can barely talk?”

  Palmer appeared decidedly uncomfortable, and Iain wondered what it was about this Donaldson that had Palmer warning him away.

  “You and I are going to Cait’s cottage this evening, and we are confronting Donaldson. The English army may let him run wild, but I won’t tolerate his behavior on my land or with my people.” Iain had worked himself into a rage again. He’d never seen Cait so frightened. Not when she had a house filled with runaways and the English at her doorstep, and not when she was healing the sick and injured.

  “Campbell,” Palmer said. “I understand that you are angry at Donaldson, and you have every right to be, but confronting him is not advisable.”

  Iain nearly choked on his drink. “Not advisable? And pray tell me what you advise, Palmer? How do I rectify the fact that one of your soldiers has demanded that one of my clansmen become his mistress? Shall I just let him do it?”

  “No, no. Of course not. But what do you hope to accomplish by facing him tonight?”

  “Kill him?” Iain bared his teeth in a parody of a smile.

  Palmer’s own smile looked a little sick. “That would surely bring the wrath of the English army down on your head.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I will go with you, because if I don’t, you will go anyway, and at least this way I can keep you from murdering someone.”

  It took everything in Iain not to leave right then, but Palmer demanded they eat dinner first. Iain ate little and took a tray up to Cait. She was sleeping, and he wasn’t about to wake her, so he left it for her and hoped she wouldn’t wake up while he was gone.

  When they arrived, the cottage had a strange, deserted feel that put Iain on edge. It appeared lonely without Cait’s vibrant presence, and while he liked that she was at his home, he had to admit that her true place was here.