A Highlander Never Surrenders (20 page)

“Excuse me. I need air.”

James and Graham stood at the same time, both men ready to follow her. “Angus,” Graham called his bulky friend over while he placed a hand on Buchanan’s shoulder to stop him from moving. “What sort of ill-mannered ruffian are ye, MacGregor, to dine in a man’s home and not offer him some of yer brew?” He patted Buchanan’s arm and winked at him. “I’ll see to the lass. Ye stay and have a drink with Angus, lest ye insult his cousin, Brodie.” He leaned in and added in a whisper, “That one isn’t right in the head.”

Before turning away from the table, Graham caught Robert’s eye. Here was the one who should follow her, damn it. Graham would respect it. He would take his seat and try for the thousandth time to keep her from his thoughts. But hell, he had seen her tears and he wanted to go to her.

Seeming to read his thoughts, or mayhap seeing the torn look of his best friend, Robert motioned for him to hurry.

Chapter Eighteen

W
ould that I had learned to better discern the truth in a man’s eyes.

Graham found her in the lists. It was the second place he looked after finding her horse in the stable. Beneath the light of the pale full moon, Claire found comfort in what she did best. He approached slowly, his eyes fastened on the beauty of her form while she swung her blade at an unseen opponent, her flaxen braid whipping around her waist. Softly defined against the golden incandescence of torchlight along the castle walls, she appeared like some warrior princess of old; fair, fervent, and agile. She was so bonny he found it almost painful to look at her for too long. Still he could not take his eyes off her. When she’d fought at his side against the thieves, he barely had time to watch her movements. Now, he stood in silence noting each impeccably timed execution, every seamless combination of parry, sweep, retreat, and jab. Her blade played the air in a flawlessly savage arrangement of skill, focus, and purpose.

“Claire,” he whispered, moving toward her as if pulled by an iron chain he was helpless to resist. She stopped and turned to him with a look of such despair, he almost ran the rest of the way.

With a twist of her wrist, she sheathed her blade and tried to blink away the tears misting her eyes. “Graham, my brother did not doubt my skill.”

“I can see why.”

A smile gently touched her lips, but it faded when she spoke again. “I refuse to believe that James betrayed Connor.”

“It matters not, Claire. I will not leave Ravenglade without ye.”

She stepped closer to him and caught her breath as yearning flooded through her. Never in her life had she felt so alone, so vulnerable. She wanted him to hold her, tell her that all would be well, and that he was wrong about James.

“I did not think chivalry was in your nature, rogue.” She stopped a hair’s breadth away from him and tilted her face up to meet his gaze.

“Nor did I.” He stared into her eyes, wanting her, needing her more than anything in his life. But he did not touch her.

He drove Claire mad with excruciating awareness of every inch of his body. The way his shoulders rose and fell with a deep inhalation of breath, a chest rigid, save for his thrashing heartbeat, with an extravagant expanse of warm muscle. He did not move when she reached for him, but simply watched her with dark, hooded, hungry eyes. Emboldened by his silence, or her madness, she smoothed her palms over his chest and up his shoulders. Driven by a need she barely understood, she coiled her arms around his neck and pulled him down.

“Do not be chivalrous now, I beg you.”

No longer able to resist her, Graham’s arm snaked around her waist, snatching her clear off the floor. He took her mouth with savage intensity, absolute possession, until she felt as if she was drowning in his kiss, dying in his arms.

“Graham?”

Robert’s voice in the night shattered their embrace and pulled a wretched groan from Graham. He turned, already knowing there was nothing he could say; still a dozen words battered against his lips. “Rob, I . . . I’m . . .” God, he was sorry. Why could he not he say it?

Robert simply looked at Claire, then at him, then at his boots. “There’s a brawl going on inside. Brodie broke Steven’s nose. You’re needed.”

Pushing Graham out of her way, Claire stepped around him. “Why did Brodie break his nose?” she demanded. She liked her brother’s captain. He was a brave warrior and a friend of hers.

“The captain made a jest about the MacGregors,” Robert told her quietly, calmly for one who had just stepped out of a brawl. “Too much drink.”

“The damn fools.” Sensing Graham still behind her, she wheeled around. “Well? Are you going to stop them?”

His eyes fell from Robert’s to hers. “Aye. Gather yer sister in the meantime. We are leaving.” He turned on his heel and strode away before she could protest.

Left alone with Robert, Claire angled her glance at him and gave her hair a prim pat. “I know what you must be thinking.”

“And what is that?” He clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at her.

“That I’m a fool.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “He cares for no one.”

“That is not true, my lady.”

She opened her eyes and nodded, her frustration clearly evident. “Aye, he cares for you, and he cares for Callum MacGregor. I can hear it in his voice. But you know exactly what I mean.”

“I don’t think you’re a fool.” His eyes softened on her and Claire realized once again how incredibly handsome and kind he was. Anne would be happy with this man.

“Come.” He held out his arm for her. “Let’s go inside before Angus brings down the castle.”

Taking his arm, Claire smiled and pressed into him as they walked. “You have become a friend to me, Roundhead.”

“That pleases me.”

She looked up at his strong jaw, his soft, dark hair curling slightly at his neck, and those lashes—hell, Anne was right—they were long. “What think you of Anne?” She smiled, feeling his body stiffen. “I see. I used to think James would make a good husband for her, but I see the way she looks at you, and I must admit—”

He stopped walking and turned her around to face him fully. “There is something you need to know, Claire.”

She dipped her gaze. Why did they have to speak of this? “Graham has already told me.”

He blinked. “He has?”

“Aye, he believes James is behind Connor’s death. You believe it too, then?”

“I do, but that is—”

“Nae, you are both wrong. There is an explanation for all of this. I will speak to James about it and he shall prove his innocence to you.”

“Prove my innocence?”

Claire and Robert both started when James stepped out of the shadows and right up to them. “In what matter?” His sapphire eyes settled on Claire first, and then on Robert.

“James.” Claire pulled his attention back to her gently. “May we speak for a moment in the solar?”

Catching Robert’s wary look, James nodded and took her hand.

Robert sprang to the other side of her, refusing to leave her alone with Buchanan.

“We should pick up Commander Grant on the way,” Claire suggested as they entered the castle. “These are things he should hear, as well.”

“Of course,” James agreed pleasantly. “But then I shall have to bring Steven, and mayhap a few others. Claire,” he quieted her with a quelling stare when she tried to protest. “I do not know what these men have told you, but if they have made charges against me, should I sit with them alone and unprotected?”

“Nae,” she amended softly. “Of course not.” Someone would most definitely end up dead. “Lord Campbell can simply tell Grant what he heard.”

“Very well, let us go then.” Buchanan led her toward the stairs. Passing the great hall, Robert looked inside for Graham, but did not see him amid the crowd.

The small solar above was clearly a place Claire had spent much of her time with her brother. Her posture relaxed the moment she entered. She smiled, crossing the room to a high-backed chair of carved oak and velvet claret. She stood before it and gave it a thoughtful look before she turned and sat in it.

“James,” she began without waiting, while Robert pulled a less ornate chair up to hers. James chose to stand, and Claire had to crane her neck to look at him. “Your guests mean you no harm. Like you, they are eager to discover who the man is who betrayed Connor.”

“Then why are they not in Edinburgh accusing him?”

“Because,” Robert answered for Claire. When he looked up, his disdain for Buchanan shone clearly in his eyes. “We hold no suspicion of General Monck.”

James’s lips tightened across his teeth and his hand slipped toward his sword. Claire bolted to her feet, but Robert remained still.

“You accuse me then of betraying my brother?”

Robert met Buchanan’s murderous glare with equal measure. “I have made no such accusation.”

Just when Claire began to relax her shoulders, relieved that the confrontation had been averted, Robert rose slowly to his feet.

“Connor Stuart was not your brother.”

Claire closed her eyes and ground her teeth. How could he say such a thing? And what the hell was wrong with the fool? Robert Campbell did not know how to fight, yet here he was, roaring like a lion. A dead lion, if she did nothing.

Stepping between them, she laid her hand on James’s chest. “I know you did not do this terrible thing.” She looked up into her dear friend’s eyes and saw the deep insult Robert and Graham had cut him with. “But they do not know you as I do. Explain to Lord Campbell how Connor died, as you told me.”

His gaze cut like glass, slicing her to the quick. “You doubt my word, and before a Campbell, Claire?”

“Nae, it is not that . . .” she shook her head.

“You ask me to explain. To him!”

“I would request that you not shout at her,” Robert warned from over her head.

A snarl curled one end of James’s mouth as he swept his sword free of its sheath with one hand and pushed Claire out of his way with the other.

His blade sang while Claire fell against her brother’s chair, slicing her lip on the wood. She could do naught but close her eyes as James swung at poor Robert. His blade, though, did not meet flesh, but steel. The clang made her teeth itch. She leaped to her feet, prepared to block Robert from another swing. Someone had to save him. Instead, her eyes widened as they followed the young earl’s claymore moving in a blinding flash of speed against the hearth’s firelight. He met James’s next assault with a well-timed step to the left, and a combination block, arc, and swing.

Satan’s balls, Claire would have smiled if she wasn’t so terrified for them both. The lad
could
fight! When Robert lifted his sword over his head and brought down a blow that drove James back toward the door, she rethought her first opinion of who would not survive this altercation.

She had made a move to intervene when the door opened and James spilled into Graham’s arms.

Immediately, Robert sheathed his blade and smiled at his friend, thankful that Graham had saved him from having to kill Buchanan.

Graham did not smile back, but fastened his eyes on the blood staining Claire’s lips. His face went hard as he hauled James upright, clutched him by the back of the throat, and hurled him face-first into the wall.

When he turned to check on Claire, letting James’s limp body slip from his grasp, she was right behind him and in midswing. Her fist caught him square in the mouth, tilting his head back. Grasping his jaw, he looked down at her with something akin to stunned disbelief widening his eyes. He reached for her and she swung at him again. This time, he caught her, spun her around, and tucked her under his arm.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.” He cut Robert a look of annoyance on his way to the door. “Ye’ll tell me what happened later.”

“Are you bloody mad?” Claire screeched at both of them as she dug her nails into her captor’s arm and tried to kick him. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” She twisted her arm to punch Graham in his chest, but her swing could gain no momentum. “Why did you do that to him? I think you must have broken his nose!”

“Claire, unless ye want to get us killed, be silent.”

She peered up at Graham while her long braid swept the floor. Damn him, he was right. If Steven saw her being carted down the stairs like a sack of wheat, he would alert the guard. Graham and Robert would never get out of Ravenglade alive. Damn them to Hades, why did she care? “Put me down, you son of a dog,” she ground out at Graham. “Though you do not deserve it, I will do what I can to save your lives, but Anne and I are not leaving Ravenglade with you.”

When her feet hit the floor, she smoothed the wrinkles out of her sleeves and took a step forward. Graham’s chest stopped her from taking another.

“I’m not leaving ye here with him, Claire.” He spoke quickly, his jaw rigid, his gaze impaling her. “If ye insist on staying, I’ll have nae choice but to return to Buchanan right now and make certain he will never be a threat to ye.”

Claire went pale. Dear God, he was serious. He would kill James. “I hate you,” she whispered on a shaky breath.

He swallowed, and for an instant she thought she saw his resolve falter, but then his eyes hardened on her, ruthless, merciless. “Decide.”