The Campbell Trilogy (128 page)

She buried her head in his shoulder and started sobbing even harder. Duncan stroked her head and soothed her with words Jeannie could not make out.

Quite a crowd had gathered at the commotion caused by the new arrivals. Jamie and Caitrina had appeared at the top of the stairs, and a tall, powerfully built man with a black look on his face had quickly dismounted from his horse and followed Elizabeth to hover protectively a few stairs below.

With his dark hair, brilliant green eyes, and finely chiseled features, he was a strikingly handsome man, though it had taken Jeannie a moment to realize it, probably because of the fearsome expression on his face.

“Lizzie, you’re overwrought,” the man said. “It’s not good for you or the—”

“I’m fine!” Lizzie said, giving him an exasperated
look over her shoulder. “As I’ve told you a hundred times in the last hour, I’m fine. I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”

The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Lizzie …”

“You’re having a babe?” Duncan asked, holding her back to look in her face.

Elizabeth nodded, a shy smile playing upon her mouth.

“I’m happy for you, lass,” Duncan said. “Congratulations.”

The other man moved up behind Lizzie, sliding his hand around her waist. “She
insisted
on coming when she received the hench”—he stopped at the sharp glance from his wife and cleared his throat—“Campbell’s note that you’d arrived.” It was clear from his disapproving tone that he’d tried to convince her otherwise. “Despite the less than ideal travel conditions.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned back to her brother. “This overbearing, aggravating man is my husband, Patrick MacGreg—”

“Murray,” he cut her off with a nod to remind her of their audience.

Jeannie had moved closer to hear the conversation and gasped when she realized what Elizabeth had been about to say. Elizabeth
Campbell
had married a
MacGregor?

Jeannie eyed Jamie Campbell, Argyll’s Enforcer, waiting for the call to arrest the outlaw. Though he didn’t appear happy to see the man, he didn’t seem inclined to toss him in the dungeon either. But she didn’t miss Caitrina’s restraining hold on his arm.

Elizabeth had heard the sound Jeannie made and her gaze shot to her. They stared at one another in silence. Though they’d crossed paths a number of times at court since that day when Jeannie had arrived at Castleswene
looking for Duncan, until now they’d avoided speaking to one another.

Except for the initial surprise, Elizabeth’s expression gave no hint of her thoughts at finding Jeannie here with her brother. She gave a short nod of her head. “Lady Gordon.”

Jeannie returned the curt gesture. “Lady Murray.”

Elizabeth’s husband had had enough. He took his wife’s arms and tucked it firmly in his. “Why don’t we finish this inside, where you can rest?” The suggestion came out as more of a growled order.

When Elizabeth started to protest, her husband bent and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widened in outrage, but MacGregor appeared unmoved. He gave her a look as if to say “try me.” MacGregors were a wild, fearsome lot and Patrick gave proof to the reputation.

But Jeannie fought back a smile. Unless she’d missed her mark, Patrick MacGregor/Murray had just threatened to carry his wife in whether she wanted to go or not.

With her solemn expression, Jeannie would have said Elizabeth followed her husband meekly up the stairs, but she’d caught the glint in Elizabeth’s eye that promised retribution.

Jeannie hung back as the crowd dispersed and Duncan followed his sister and her husband up the stairs. Her chest squeezed with longing that she couldn’t deny. She wanted to go, but it wasn’t her place. He had his family; he didn’t need her.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned. Embarrassed to be caught staring, she quickly looked away, but he called down to her. “Will you join us?”

Her heart pounded. “I wasn’t sure …”

His gaze held hers. “You’re a part of this,” he paused,
“if you want to be.” Not waiting for her response, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the keep.

Jeannie watched him go, knowing he was forcing her to make a choice, which meant she had to make a decision.

Duncan kept his eye on the door to the laird’s solar. The adjoining great hall had already started to fill with clansmen awaiting the midday meal and the solar would enable them a small measure of privacy.

The minutes ticked by. He sat stiffly on the bench, his neck and shoulder muscles tight with tension. He didn’t expect her to come.

It doesn’t matter.

But when the door opened a moment later, he knew that it did.

Her gaze went immediately to his. Seeing the uncertainty on her face, he gave her a reassuring nod. There was still much to be said, but she was here, and for now it was enough.

Lizzie lifted her brow at him in question, but he ignored it and offered Jeannie a seat on the bench beside him.

Her very presence at his side gave him an unexpected charge. He felt stronger. Lighter. And for the first time since he’d arrived back in Scotland bolstered by hope. Hope that not even Lizzie’s next words could dampen.

“Archie has men looking for you everywhere since he heard the rumors of your return.” Her gaze flickered to Jeannie. “Please tell me you’ve found something to prove your innocence.”

Duncan shook his head. “Not yet.”

He repeated what he’d told Jamie, leaving out the part about meeting Jeannie at the alehouse. When the time came, Jamie removed the map and letter from his sporran and handed it to Lizzie who read it and passed
it around to the others. Jeannie shook her head when it came to her—she knew what it said.

He could feel the weight of the question that was surely on everyone’s mind: With her father and husband implicated, what was Jeannie’s role in the plot against him? Instinctively, he moved closer to her, angling his shoulders like a shield, as if by blocking her from view he could protect her.

Not knowing the history between them, Lizzie’s husband Patrick asked, “But how did Grant get the map? You said you had it in your sporran.”

Jeannie stiffened at his side, her fingers gripped the edge of the bench. He covered her hand with his, and for once, she didn’t jerk it away. “Not the whole time. I removed my sporran when I returned to my tent the night before the battle.”

He was facing his sister and brother, but he could feel the weight of Jeannie’s gaze on his profile.

Lizzie and Jamie were watching him with equal scrutiny. It was his brother who spoke first. “No one else could have taken it?”

Jeannie froze, her hand like ice under his. They both knew what his brother was asking: Did he still believe Jeannie had betrayed him?

Nothing had changed. He had no proof with which to disprove his original assessment. No proof but the certainty in his heart.

Jeannie hadn’t betrayed him. He’d stake his life on it, which, in a way, he supposed he was.

Ten years ago he hadn’t been able to give her the blind faith and loyalty that she deserved. He’d been too young, too unsure of himself, too caught up in ambition and the need to erase the stain of his birth. But he was no longer that unsure lad. He’d achieved everything he’d ever dreamed of—wealth, reputation, infamy—but had lost the one person that had made any of it matter.

It wasn’t rational, but what was between he and Jeannie had never been so. It had been passionate and undeniable. A connection so strong he’d never felt anything close to it since.

He loved her and always would. The realization didn’t surprise him as much as it should. She’d always been a part of him, even for the years they’d been apart. If there was a small chance for them, it was worth the risk.

He didn’t hesitate, meeting Jamie’s gaze full force. “Nay. No one else could have taken it.”

He heard Jeannie’s sharp intake of breath as shock rippled through her, but he didn’t trust himself to look at her. Not with a room full of people. Not when admitting that he’d been wrong meant he’d taken her innocence, promised to marry her, and deserted her. The girl who’d lost her mother and who’d looked to him as a rock to hold on to. God, what had he done?

Lizzie turned to Jamie. “Surely you can do something? Archie will listen to you.”

“I’ll try,” Jamie said. “But I doubt it will do any good. You know how stubborn our cousin can be. He’s believed Duncan guilty for ten years. It will take more than a map and a vaguely worded letter to convince him otherwise.”

Duncan sensed his sister’s rising agitation. “But we have to do something.” Her voice held a frantic edge. Lizzie turned to Duncan. “If you don’t find something to prove your innocence before Archie’s men catch up with you …”

“Don’t worry, Lizzie. I don’t intend to make it easy on them,” he said.

Her husband put a hand on her arm to try to calm her down. “From what I hear your brother can take care of himself. He can take refuge in the hills with Niall Lamont if need be. Getting yourself upset won’t help him.”

Lizzie nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We should focus on finding proof that will convince our cousin. What of the men in the tent that night,” Lizzie said. “Who would have a reason to see you or the Campbells harmed?”

“And who would my father know to approach?”

Duncan turned to meet Jeannie’s gaze, surprised by the observation. He wasn’t the only one. Her cheeks heated as Jeannie suddenly found herself the center of attention.

She was right. Grant must have been fairly certain that the person he convinced to steal the map would do so.

“Who was in the tent that night?” Patrick asked.

Duncan repeated the names he’d told Jamie, but when he got to Colin, Patrick and Caitrina reacted instantly. Both stiffened, but where Caitrina’s gaze flashed with pain, MacGregor’s turned ice cold and deadly. Having learned of Colin’s role in both of their tragedies, Duncan could understand why.

Lizzie paled, putting her hand on her husband’s arm in a silent offer of comfort. MacGregor cooled a bit, but his eyes still burned with hatred. “If Auchinbreck was there,” he said. “You can be damn sure he had something to do with it.”

Caitrina looked as if she wanted to add to his assessment, but seemed to be biting her tongue.

“Jamie told me what happened,” Duncan said to them both.

“Colin? What has he done?” Jeannie asked, surprised.

Duncan shook his head and murmured that he would explain later. To Patrick he said, “I know you’ve reason to distrust my brother, but there are others with better motives.”

“Auchinbreck doesn’t need a motive, only an opportunity,” Patrick said through clenched teeth.

Duncan looked at Jamie and Elizabeth, both of whom looked as uncomfortable as he felt. None of them wanted to think that Colin could be responsible.

“I was no threat to him,” Duncan said. “Colin had everything he could possibly want. If anyone should have been envious it was me. I was the first born, but he was the heir.” Duncan glanced at Jeannie, his throat suddenly hoarse as the memories flooded him. “He was the one betrothed to the woman I wanted to marry.” He turned back to the others, one corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Not that I can blame him for that. No one knew.” Catching Lizzie’s frown, he corrected himself. “Except Lizzie and my father when I returned from court.”

Lizzie’s frown turned to a grimace. “Colin
did
know.”

“After I left,” Duncan said.

Lizzie shook her head. “No, he must have known before. When Jean—Lady Gordon—had come to Castleswene looking for you, Colin was furious. He said you should have gotten over your attachment to her after his betrothal. That you’d been a fool to think you could ever marry her.”

Duncan didn’t know what to make of Lizzie’s pronouncement. Had his brother purposefully engineered a betrothal with Jeannie to hurt him or had he, like Duncan, simply fallen for the same woman? Colin’s recent efforts to secure another betrothal seemed to suggest the latter.

Jamie seemed to have reached a similar conclusion. “Colin’s actions have been reprehensible, but he’s always been loyal to the clan and to our cousin. It’s hard to believe he would turn traitor over jealousy. Our father died at that battle.”

“But what if he didn’t know what my father intended?” Jeannie posited.

“She’s right,” Lizzie said. “We’ve all been assuming that whoever took the map was conspiring with Grant to betray the Campbells, but what if it was simply to discredit you? What if Grant’s defection to the other side was just as much a surprise to him as it was to everyone else?”

Jeannie tried to slip her hand away, but Duncan held firm. Her father’s actions hadn’t been a surprise to everyone—not to her at least—but he found he no longer blamed her for not telling him. He’d been too angry to realize the difficulty of the position she’d been in—choosing between him and her father. It was a choice no one should have to make. She’d done what she could, he realized. At great risk to herself.

Something about Lizzie’s words rang true. “And then the gold was planted afterward to cover it up.” Aye, it was possible. And rash enough to sound like something Colin would do.

But still he wasn’t convinced.

Something was missing—a piece of the puzzle that would make it all fit into place.

In any event, right now all they had was conjecture, which wasn’t enough to keep him from the hangman’s noose.

“Where is Colin?” Duncan asked Lizzie.

It was her husband who answered. “If he’s smart not within a hundred miles of Niall Lamont.”

Lizzie shot him a look and then glanced back at Duncan. “Last I heard, he had returned to Dunoon.”

Damn.

“What is it?” Lizzie asked, seeing his expression.

“That’s where I sent your letter—the letter intercepted by the person who sent troops to wait for my man in Inverness.”