The Campbell Trilogy (27 page)

At the rate they were going, a child would be a miracle.

Jamie had just reentered the hall and was heading straight for Caitrina when he overheard her unexpected defense of him and experienced a flare of hope.

It was the first sign he’d had in the almost week since they’d been at Ascog that she might be softening. He’d begun to wonder whether he’d done the right thing in removing himself from her bed. He’d wanted to give her time, to make her realize that what they had was special. To miss not only their lovemaking but him. The long, cold nights, however, had begun to chafe. He worked himself almost to the point of collapse every day to take his mind off his lovely bride, but her constant presence was like a burr under his saddle.

He was too damn aware of her and found himself watching her at the most inopportune times. His only conciliation was that he knew she watched him, too. It felt less that they were man and wife and more like two cagey lions circling each other.

At times, he felt as if he were watching a completely different person from the one he’d first met. Gone was the pampered and indulged lass dripping with silks and laces, and in her place was a determined young woman who swabbed floors all day long in a gown not fit for a servant.

For a girl who’d once dressed like a princess, the change was startling. Despite his repeated offers of new clothing and jewels, nothing she wore bore any signs of wealth. Her hair, which had once been twisted in elaborate arrangements, was now tied back simply at her nape with a thin, tattered black ribbon and had lost its lustrous shine.

But the changes went far deeper than appearance. At one time he’d thought her oblivious of what was going on around her, but nothing could be further from the truth. He was surprised by how perceptive she was of her people’s needs. From organizing the men to aid the women who’d lost husbands in the attack with their fields or livestock to offering a hug or the squeeze of a hand in comfort—Caitrina was there.

The open display of love and affection he’d once witnessed her shower on her family had transferred to her clan.

Yet rightly or wrongly, Jamie craved it for himself.

The destruction of her home and family had forced her to grow up and take on more responsibility. He could admire the woman she’d become, but not all the changes were welcome. She’d been disillusioned, and there was nothing he could do to give her back her youthful naïveté. He would do anything to see joy in her eyes, untainted by sadness and loss.

But his more immediate concern was her health. He could see the signs of weariness on her pale face and knew she was probably getting as little sleep as he. She was working too damn hard, and he wasn’t going to sit around and let her drive herself to exhaustion.

She’d claimed once that he’d wanted her as a possession, as a pretty ornament to have by his side. If there had ever been a hint of truth in her appraisal, there wasn’t any now.

He would be proud to have her by his side, not for her beauty, but for her strength and resilience. For her spirit and passion. For the drive that matched his own. And for the compassion he’d witnessed countless times this past week with her clan. It was she who comforted, even though she had lost more than anyone.

His desire for her had nothing to do with possession and everything to do with how she made him feel—she’d touched a part of him he hadn’t even known existed. Feeling.
Emotion. Sentiment. All these things had been alien to him until he’d met Caitrina.

He’d never noticed how alone he’d been.

The very first time they’d made love, he’d known she was different. He’d lusted for many women, but none had ever made him want to hold her in his arms forever. Never had passion and emotion been entwined. When he came inside her, he felt not just physical pleasure, but pleasure that claimed every part of his body and soul.

At least that was the way it had been for him.

Her claim that she’d come to him out of duty still stung.

Duty.
How could one word wield such a powerful blow?

The irony, of course, was that duty was the tenet he held most sacred. Duty to his chief, to his clan, to his family. To his wife.

Never had he expected it would be wielded against him with such devastating effect.

He didn’t want her duty, he wanted her love and desire. He wanted her of her own free will—because she wanted to, not because she had to.

He’d been angry with her a few days ago, impatient with her for not seeing him for what he was. But she needed time. After losing so much, naturally she would be scared to love again.

He’d vowed to hold out until she came to him, but with each day that passed, his temper was getting progressively more strained—at any moment ready to explode. He felt like a bear roused in the middle of winter. Hungry.

He drew closer, but they’d yet to notice him.

Seamus answered her, lowering his voice. “A babe is n—” He stopped midsentence, sensing Jamie’s presence, and turned to meet his gaze.

Jamie arched a brow. “Don’t let me interrupt. You were saying?”

Seamus smiled. “I was just commenting that we will all
look forward to the day when a Lamont rules again over Ascog.”

That wasn’t what he was going to say at all, but Jamie was already on his guard where the Lamont’s embittered guardsman was concerned. “A day that will be a long time in coming,” Jamie countered. “And one that might never come if we don’t get this roof on.”

Seamus took the hint. “Aye, my lord,” he said, and climbed back up the ladder to oversee the men moving the wood up the tower.

Jamie didn’t miss the subtle dig—the English “lord” rather than the Scots “laird”—and neither did Caitrina. She looked as if she were going to say something, but Jamie took her arm. “Don’t. I can handle him.”

“But—”

“It’s what he wants. His taunts do not anger me. I’m just as much a Highlander as he is, though he might like to pretend otherwise.”

The young serving girls Caitrina had been standing with had quickly made themselves scarce, but not without first peeking at him as if he were the devil incarnate.

Their fear appeared to upset Caitrina.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“It must.”

He sighed, having learned something of his wife’s persistence this past week. She would not stop until he answered. “Long ago I stopped trying to change people’s minds. They’ll believe what they want. Whether I’m a villain or a champion depends on whose side you are on.”

She wrinkled her nose. A tiny, not-so-crooked nose that was currently smudged with soot. “I never thought about it like that.”

“Not everyone despises me, Caitrina. I do have my admirers,” he said dryly.

Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of admirers?” He shrugged. “The female variety, by any chance?”

He grinned at her expression, realizing she was jealous. “Oh, there’s lots of variety,” he teased, and laughed when her mouth drew together in a tight line. He ached to soften that mouth with his lips and tongue. “One day I’ll take you to Castleswene to meet a few of them.”

He waited for her reaction. He’d spoken of a future, though it wasn’t at all clear whether they had one.

She nodded, and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He took a step toward her. “Caitrina, I …” He dragged his fingers through his hair, not sure what he wanted to say.

“Yes?”

How could he tell her he wanted her back in his bed? He’d vowed to give her time.… Oh, hell. “We need to speak,” he said instead.

The edge of wariness in her eyes told him he was right not to press. “About what?”

He took her hands in his and turned them over, palms up. They were red and dry, with angry-looking blisters and jagged scratches. “About this.” She tried to pull her hands away, but he held firm. “It has to stop,” he said gently. “You are working yourself to the bone. If you don’t slow down and get some rest, you are going to collapse.”

She turned her eyes from his gaze, and he could see the stubborn set of her mouth. “I’m fine.”

“You are my wife, not a scullery maid.”

“Is that what this is about? Appearances? There is work that needs to be done, and it doesn’t care by whom. This is my home. You’ll not force me to sit by and let others work while I embroider and play the lute.”

The picture of domesticity sounded fine to him. He would love to hear her play for him. But he did not think she would appreciate his honesty at this point, so he tried a
different tack. “It’s not safe with all the dangerous work on the roof going on. You could be hurt.”

She lifted her chin a little higher and met his gaze, not giving an inch. “If it’s safe enough for the others, it’s safe enough for me.”

His mouth fell in a grim line. “I don’t—”

He stopped, stunned by what had been about to come out of his mouth.
Love. I don’t love the others.

Was that what he felt for her? At one time, Margaret MacLeod had accused him of not knowing what the word meant. Perhaps she’d been right, because he’d never felt this irrational intensity of emotion for anyone. He’d never had to fight to keep such a tight rein on his emotions, because emotions had never been a factor for him at all. Until he met Caitrina.

She must have read the shock on his face because she was giving him a strange look. “You don’t what?”

He knew she would not welcome his feelings. They would terrify her. Send her running from him like a startled hare. Masking his expression, he shook off his disturbing thought and said, “I don’t want to have to order you back to Rothesay.”

Her eyes sparked like wildfire. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” She would soon find out that he could be every bit as stubborn as she was.

The mutinous expression on her face said it all, but wisely she chose not to give voice to her thoughts.

He gave her a long look, taking in every inch of her tousled, tired appearance. “I’m willing to be reasonable.”

She uttered an unladylike snort. “How gallant of you. And what, pray tell, is your definition of reasonable?”

“You are the lady of the keep, and you will act accordingly. You may supervise, but that does not mean you will be on your hands and knees scrubbing floors. And,” he said, looking pointedly at her dress, “you will gown yourself as befitting your station as my wife.”

She was furious. “So you can chop wood like a common laborer, but I am not accorded the same privilege.”

Privilege to scrub floors? He couldn’t believe they were arguing about this. He took a step closer. “I saw you watching me.”

She blushed to her roots. “I wasn’t watching you,” she huffed. “But you still didn’t explain why it is fine for you and not for me.”

“It’s different for men.”

She took a step closer to him, close enough for him to feel the points of her nipples brush his chest. Heat rushed through him. He ached to take her in his arms, knowing exactly how all that lush softness felt against his skin. This was the closest he’d been to her in days. Her delicate floral scent wafted up to his nose, tempting, despite her obvious temper.

“That is the most pigheaded, ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. It makes no sense.”

“Nonetheless, it’s the way of it.”

“And that is all the explanation I am to receive?”

“I already gave you the one that matters most.” He wiped the smudge of soot from her nose, looking into her eyes. “Can’t you see that I’m only thinking of you? I want to keep you safe.”

Some of her anger melted away with what he’d revealed. “Didn’t you accuse me once of being too safe? Of being cosseted and protected from the real world? Now you are trying to do the same. Don’t you understand that I’ll never be that girl again?”

His finger slid along the gentle curve of her jaw to rest under her chin, then tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “I never meant for this to happen, Caitrina. Surely you know that now?”

She looked a little dazed but nodded.

“I know things will never be what they were, but I only want to keep you safe. You can’t go on like this.”

“All I want to do is help.”

“And you shall, but not by working yourself to the point of collapse.”

“You’ll not ban me from here?”

He could hear the edge of desperation in her voice. “No, not if you do as I ask.” He reached in his sporran and pulled out a small leather bag of coins. “Here, take this. I want you to go to the village and purchase some cloth or a dress if it can be found. I will send to Edinburgh for some finer gowns, but this will have to do for now. Today, Caitrina. You will go today.”

She looked as though she wanted to refuse, but she took the bag and slipped it in her skirts. She bowed her head and curtsied with a great flourish. “As you wish, my laird.”

His mouth twitched as she started to walk away, but halfway to the door she spun around and started back toward him.

“I forgot my bucket.”

“I’ll get it.” He took a few steps to the side and reached down to pick it up as Caitrina stopped right where he’d just been standing. He heard a crash, then a shout.

He looked up and didn’t think but just reacted. Diving for her, he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her to the ground underneath him, shielding her with his body.

He braced himself. The impact from the falling wood slammed into him, tearing a groan from his lungs. Though he’d avoided most of it, the jagged edge of the beam struck his shoulder with enough force to rip through his shirt and tear a gash in his arm. He could feel the warm rush of blood running down his arm.

He rolled off her, fighting the blazing roar of pain in his shoulder. Pain that engulfed him in a haze. The hall exploded in chaos. He heard yells from above and screams from the serving girls. Everyone rushed around, but he had eyes only for her.

Caitrina was safe. Thank God. His enemies claimed ice
ran in his blood, that nothing ever penetrated his deadly calm. They should see him now. His heart was pounding like a frightened hare. He’d never been so damn scared in his life.

If anything had happened to her … Something hot and tight lodged in his chest. If there had been any doubt before, there was none now.