A Highlander Never Surrenders (33 page)

“The king will not be pleased,” she said an instant later, worrying her lip.

“Aye, Callum worries over that, as well,” Kate confided. “But your union means nothing in England. It will not be recognized, so you are not bound once you leave Skye.”

Their union meant nothing? Like hell it didn’t!

“Och, there is Callum. Quickly, Claire, sheathe your sword!”

“Why? Does he not want you to practice?” She already knew the answer. Most men did not approve of women in arms.

“He has forbidden it while I am with child.”

Claire went pale, forgetting Graham for the moment. With child! Blast her, she should be resting, sewing, whatever women did when they were with child—not swinging a claymore! “You should have told me. I would never have lifted my blade to you!”

“What the hell d’ye think ye’re doin’, Kate?” Laird MacGregor demanded as he strode toward them.

“Just a little harmless practicing, husband.”

“I have forbidden it, lest ye ferget, woman,” he said harshly, then turned his blistering gaze on Claire. “Did she tell ye she is with child?”

“Not until—”

“I am weary of sitting around all day growing fatter and fatter still.” Kate sniffed, pulling his attention back to her. “I fear that my loving husband will soon grow tired of seeing me swell like a calf fattened before a feast.”

God’s toenails, she is good,
Claire thought, watching every trace of anger on Callum’s face fade into utter remorse. When he gathered his wife up in his arms, swearing that he loved the swell of her belly and would spend the next six months proving it to her, Claire returned Kate’s victorious smile over her husband’s shoulder.

So this was what love did to a man. It made him regret his thoughtlessness, toss away his arrogance without caring who witnessed it. It softened his gaze, gentled his hands, and made him pick flowers. Watching the laird and his lady, Claire suddenly felt as if she’d been missing something intensely profound in her life.

With a sigh, she sheathed her blade and turned to head back to the castle. She halted in midstep when she saw Graham standing a few yards away with Rob and Anne.

Did love make a man sacrifice his own desires without even understanding why he was asked to resist them?

His eyes were already on her, drinking her in as if he had not seen her in years. His stance was casual until she met his gaze and he moved forward as if he could not stop himself from rushing to her.

But Claire’s pounding heart almost ceased beating when somehow, he managed to.

Chapter Thirty-one

S
hall I let the faithful child die while the wicked man prospers?

Standing there staring at the woman he loved, Graham had never felt more defenseless in his life. How was he to ignore the suffocating tightness in his chest, calm the violent crashing of his heart, or quell the maddening desire to take her in his arms and promise her anything when she was just a few feet from him? He did know her. She was a stubborn wench who did not like being told what to do. He could live with that. Hell, her strength was the thing that had drawn her to him from the beginning. But had she refused his offer of marriage because she was angry, or because she did not love him in return? He wanted to know, but when he saw her, he wasn’t certain he had the courage to hear what she would tell him.

He had almost reached her when he stopped, his eye catching sight of a rider breaking over the crest. Callum saw him, too, before he disappeared into the castle, and stopped to wait when the rider flagged him down. Graham made a move to go to his laird but slowed when he saw Claire coming toward him.

“I feared mayhap you had gone off and wed someone else,” she teased lightly when she reached him.

Graham smiled, missing the slightly husky pitch of her voice, the way those stray tendrils of flaxen hair eclipsed her bonny blue eyes. “Who the hell could ever compare to ye, Claire?”

He’d meant to sound unaffected, not like some smitten squire who’d just found the courage to speak to a goddess. He almost laughed at his inability to control his own mouth. Hell, he was a damned good warrior, but he never had a chance against her. Better to just accept defeat and quit running.

“Then you’re not angry with me?” She sounded hopeful and looked utterly beautiful.

God, he missed her. Every day without her in his life felt meaningless and dull. All he had done to win her before this day he would do over until he won her heart. “I was not angry with ye.” His body trembled with the need to snatch her up in his arms and vow to fill her days with joy and adventure if she would only have him. “I was thoughtless and a coward.” He took a step toward her. “But I’m telling ye now, Claire, I lo—”

“Graham, Robert!”

Graham looked over Claire’s head at Callum waving him over with a parchment clenched in his hand. The rider was gone.

“Bring the ladies with ye,” his friend called out. When they reached him, Callum held out his hand, offering the missive between his fingers to Claire. “It has just arrived from Kylerhea, sent to us by General Monck. Ye need to read it.”

Claire took the letter with a tentative hand. Why did she need to read it? If it was about her marriage to Robert she would tear it to pieces and fling it to the four winds. The cracked seal confirmed that it came from the governor. She glanced up at Callum, but his hard expression gave her no indication of what was inside.

Unfolding it, her eyes were at once drawn to the brown smudges covering most of the correspondence.

Blood.

The writing was faint, as if penned by a weary hand. A bolder hand had written an addendum in the uppermost corner of the parchment. She read this first.

Found in Wallingford House in London. Unknown when it was penned. Possibility that author still lives, moved to Tower. Make haste. Use caution.

Somehow, Claire knew who had written the rest of the letter, though the weak strokes and jagged lines bore no resemblance to her brother’s strong hand. Her fingers quaked and she brought them to her mouth to silence a shuddering sob. Connor had not been killed on the road, but had been taken captive—taken to the Tower—tortured before he wrote this.

When she finished reading, she wiped her tears and handed the missive to her sister. She turned for the stables when Anne began reading it aloud, but Callum clasped her forearm.

“Let me go,” she warned him. “I will not be hindered again from saving my kin.”

“No one will stop ye, but first we will discuss what course of action is best to take.”

“Saving my brother is the best course of action.”

“Claire.” Now it was Graham who spoke, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It could be a trap.”

“Aye, and ye will not leave Camlochlin until I am certain ’twill no’ get ye killed.”

Claire’s eyes glistened with tears as they turned to Kate for aid, but the laird’s wife only nodded, telling her silently to trust him. Frustrated that she had no other choice in the matter, Claire shot the laird a venomous glare. She could not fight him. She did not want to. But every instant Callum kept her from riding away to London grew more unforgivable. She nodded stiffly and let Anne finish reading. Her eyes darted to Graham listening, but she looked away. There was no time to go soft, to ponder what he’d tried to say before Callum interrupted him. She would not let him stop her this time. No matter what he wanted to tell her, she was leaving Camlochlin by nightfall.

“He knew he was betrayed, then,” Robert said when Anne was done and everyone had grown quiet.

“But by whom?” Callum paced before them. “If this is a trap set by Monck, why wait until ye’re all here in Skye? Why did he no’ send ye to London when ye were in Edinburgh?”

“Because it is not a trap,” Robert said. “Connor was betrayed by James.”

“For the last time,” Claire said gritting her teeth. “You cannot be sure of that. He makes mention of a friend. Both James and Monck are his friends. We do not know who he meant.” Satan’s blasted balls, they were wasting time!

“I do,” Anne said faintly at first, and then lifting her tearful gaze to her sister, she repeated more firmly. “I know who he meant and so does the general. It is why he urges us to use caution.”

“Anne, for hell’s sake. James deserves more loyalty than—”

“Connor used to call me the flower of Scotland, Claire. Do you not remember?”

Claire’s face went pale as the first truth hit her. She snatched the missive from Anne’s hand and reread it.

———the flower of Scotland crying ———Save me from the kiss of the devil!

“Connor promised me to James before his best friend betrayed him.”

Dear God, Claire thought, feeling sick as her sister’s words found their way to her heart. Anne was right. They all were. It was James. She met Graham’s warm gaze and fought a fresh rush of tears. She had almost caused his death by confiding in James. If Ravenglade’s guardsmen had ambushed them in Killiecrankie . . .

“It still does no’ explain why Monck believes Stuart still lives.”

“Aye, mayhap it does,” Robert told Callum, and took the missive back from Claire. She surrendered it with a nod, offering him her sincerest apologies for doubting him.

“. . .
warrior arrayed in the frost of
—” Robert read from the missive and held it closer trying to make out the words. “It looks like ‘winter’.
Warrior arrayed in the frost of winter ——— has perished. And yet, he lives.
” The young earl looked up with regret coloring his eyes to glittering gold. “General Monck thought Connor was speaking of himself. But the warrior he mentions is you, Claire. His twin, fighting in his stead.”

Claire shook her head. “Connor did not die on the road. He could still be alive now.”

“I agree.”

Claire could have leaped over her sister and flungherself into Graham’s arms. She offered him her most grateful smile instead. “I will need you to help me kill James when this is over.”

He flashed her a knee-melting,dimple-inducing grin. “I thought ye would never ask.” He turned to Callum next. “I will accompany her to London.”

Immediately, Robert stepped forward. “I will go also.”

“Nae,” Graham refused his offer. “Claire and I will travel alone.”

“D’ye think ’tis wise?” Callum asked him.

“Rob is the Earl of Argyll. Fleetwood will recognize him, and nae matter how we garb Angus and Brodie anyone with good vision will know they are Highlanders. I don’t want to alert the Tower garrison of our arrival or our intentions before we even reach London.”

“Ye have a plan, then?” Callum asked. When Graham nodded, the chieftain smiled, knowing his commander better than the rest of them did. “D’ye need coin?”

“I have it.”

“When will ye be leavin’?”

“Now,” Graham said without hesitation. “They may be keeping him alive to get to Monck. He is the only one who knows on whose side the general truly stands. If that is the case, then time, right now, is vital.”

Claire listened with a swelling heart while Graham discussed saving her brother with as much passion and determination as she felt, and in that moment she could no longer deny how deeply she had fallen in love with him.

“Then ride swiftly, brother.” Callum placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I shall see ye again soon, and Claire as well.”

“Soon,” Graham agreed, and bent to embrace Kate.

Anne gaped in horror while Kate went to her sister next to offer her good wishes. They were daft! Her sister might know how to wield a sword well enough, but two against two hundred could never prevail. “Claire.” She rushed to her sister’s side. “Reconsider, I pray you. You and Graham do not stand a chance against Fleetwood’s army. Please do not do this foolish thing. You are all the kin I have left.”

Claire smiled at her sister, her and Connor’s joy, his flower of Scotland. “You still have a brother, and I am going to bring him back to you.”

“Rob.” Callum slipped his arm around his wife’s waist and hooked his mouth into a chilling smirk that Claire was certain added to his frightening reputation over the years. “Ease yer woman’s fears. Tell her how Graham brought yer uncle’s garrison to an end with naught more than his wretched smile and well-learned Lowland speech. I have other needs to see to at present.”

When the four of them were alone, Rob vowed to tell Anne the tale later that evening, even though, he admitted, it was not a tale he enjoyed telling. For now, he gave her his word that her sister would be safe with Graham. He took her hand in his and leaned closer to whisper something in her ear. When she nodded, giving him her consent, he set his wide hazel gaze on Claire.

“We were going to tell you at supper. We have sent for Father Lachlan. When you return to Skye, your sister will be my wife.”

Claire simply stared at him for a moment, taking in the firm resolve etching his handsome features. He was not asking for her permission, but hoped for her blessing. Claire would give it, and she would make certain her cousin gave it as well. Aye, her sister was going to wed a Roundhead, but this young lad, whom Claire had thought so inexperienced, had proven his worth, his courage, and his honor to her more than any man she’d ever known.