The Campbell Trilogy (30 page)

She sat back on the bed and watched him finish dressing, securing the
breacan feile
at the shoulder with his chieftain’s badge. His
Campbell
chieftain’s badge, she realized, recognizing the boar’s head symbolizing their fierceness in battle.

When he was finished, he pulled her to her feet and tipped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“You trust me, don’t you, Caitrina?”

“You know I do.” Many times over the past few days, she’d wanted to try to give voice to her feelings. She was tempted to do so again now, but the words tangled in her mouth. Her emotions were still too encumbered by fear. The scars of the past had yet to heal. And though it was obvious he cared for her deeply, she was not yet sure about the strength of his feelings. She was unwilling to complicate the delicate balance they’d achieved in the past few days.

It was too soon.

“Then we will get through this together.”

She wanted desperately to believe him, but she did not delude herself that it would be easy. She prayed their new bond was strong enough to weather whatever storm life had in store for them, for she feared it would be a big one.

The rain began to fall not an hour later.

Caitrina had just popped the last bit of oatcake in her mouth from breaking her fast when she heard the cry go up that a messenger had arrived. As it was not an unusual occurrence, she hardly paid it any mind.

But as Jamie had just departed the great hall on his way
to Ascog, she was surprised to see him reenter the hall a few minutes later. From the grim look on his face, she knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

She stood from the table and rushed to him, heedless of the disapproving glances of Seamus and his men—their resentment palpable. Her newfound intimacy with her husband had not gone unnoticed.

She clasped his arm, feeling the tension coiling under her fingertips. “What is it?”

His face was hard and unyielding, a mask of fierce control. It was the fierce expression of a man going into battle. He looked every inch the leader, every inch the feared enforcer of a king.

“I must leave,” he said without preamble. “Immediately.”

Her heart sank. “But why? Where are you going? Who has sent for you?” All of a sudden she had a terrible thought, one that could explain his reaction. “Is it your sister? Has something happened to Elizabeth?”

He shook his head. “It’s not Lizzie. The missive was from my cousin.”

Argyll.
Her heart sank a little deeper. “Oh.”

“I’m afraid I cannot delay. I must go right away.”

“But you are not fully recovered.”

“I’m well enough. This cannot wait.” He wasn’t even looking at her. His mind was already on whatever was taking him away from her. She’d never seen him like this—distracted, impatient … remote. She hated Argyll, but never more than now. She hated that he could take Jamie away from her to do his bidding at a moment’s notice.

“Won’t you tell me what—”

“When I return.”

His impatience stung. The intimacy they’d shared was seemingly forgotten. She took a step back from him. “Then I will not delay you any longer.”

Perhaps sensing her hurt at his curt dismissal, he bent
and kissed her forehead—just as her father used to do. Never had she so resented it. “I will return soon and explain everything.”

But Caitrina was not so easily pacified, no longer content to be kept in the dark. Danger and death lurked in ignorance. He’d started to turn away, but she clutched his arm. “You won’t be in any danger?”

One side of his mouth lifted in an enigmatic grin. “I ride to Dunoon, Caitrina. That is all.”

It wasn’t until after he’d left the hall that she realized he hadn’t really answered her question.

Once she’d recovered from the shock of Jamie’s sudden departure, anger took over. Dirt and mud sprayed her skirt as she stomped along the path to Ascog, but she paid it no mind. It would serve him right to have her go around in mud-spattered “rags.”

As if departing without explanation weren’t enough, she’d been informed when she’d tried to leave this morning that he’d confined her to the castle for the duration of his absence. She was not even permitted to walk the short path to Ascog to watch the progress of rebuilding.

It had taken her precisely a quarter of an hour to disobey his orders—long enough to find a plaid to cover her head and a group of servants to join as they passed through the castle gate. She’d picked up a bucket and acted as if she were one of the women on her way to work at Ascog. Apparently, it had never occurred to him that she would defy his bidding, because no one was paying close attention to the maidservants leaving the castle.

Not trusting herself to control her anger at her husband, she’d fallen back from the other servants as they walked.

Jamie Campbell was going to face a severe tongue-lashing when he returned. If he thought she would be a complacent wife who meekly followed the bidding of her “lord and master,” a wife who waved good-bye with a handkerchief
in her hand and welcomed him back with open arms and a smile, he was in for one rude awakening. If he cared for her, he would show her the respect due his wife, his partner.
Partner.
Yes, she liked the sound of that. She wanted to know everything and refused to be kept in the dark again. When she thought of how he’d kissed her on the head … of all the overbearing, patronizing, loutish—

“It’s good to hear you come to your senses, lass.”

The voice from behind startled her. It took Caitrina a moment to realize it was Seamus.

Apparently, she’d been speaking her thoughts aloud. Not pleased by the interruption, she said sharply, “Senses? What do you mean?”

“We feared we’d lost you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“To Argyll’s Henchman.”

She stiffened at the sobriquet, but as she was in no mood to argue her husband’s finer points, she didn’t jump to his defense—an exercise in futility with her father’s old guardsman as it was. Instead she asked, “Did you wish to see me about something, Seamus?”

“Aye. That I do, mistress. I’ve been trying to tell you for some time, but the Henchman never lets you out of his sight.” He looked around, as if someone might jump out from behind a tree. “Even the castle has ears.”

Caitrina gave her father’s old guardsman a measured look. “It is the laird’s duty to keep himself apprised of all that is going on in the castle. Perhaps caution on his part is warranted given the accident that nearly took both our lives.”

She’d yet to speak with Seamus about what had happened, but Jamie had done so first thing this morning. Her father’s old guardsman claimed that while he’d been hoisting one of the large beams into position, a rope had slipped, knocking another piece of wood off the platform. The knocking was the sound that had alerted Jamie to danger
and saved their lives. To a one, her clansmen swore that it had been an accident. Unfortunately, Jamie’s men had not been in position to prove otherwise.

Without proof, Jamie had been reluctant to further stir up the Lamont clansmen’s resentment by punishing Seamus, but he’d warned the older man that if there were any more “accidents,” he would find himself with a rope around his neck—“proof” or not.

“Aye, that was a terrible mistake,” Seamus said with unabashed sincerity. Caitrina couldn’t tell if it was an admission and he was attempting to offer some sort of apology.

She held his gaze. “Seamus, promise me nothing like that will happen again. I know it is difficult, but we must try to adjust—”

“No!” The vehemence in his voice took her aback. “We’ll never accept a Campbell as laird. It pains me that you would say so, lass.”

How could she explain that she’d done what she’d thought best under the circumstances?

“If you had anything to do with what happened—”

“Not now, lass. It will all make sense soon enough. But hurry, we don’t have much time. Follow me.”

He tried to take her hand and drag her into the trees toward the mountains, but she dug in her heels, refusing to budge. “Where are you taking me? What is all the secrecy about?”

Seamus looked around again and lowered his voice. “I can’t explain now, it’s too dangerous—one of his Campbell guardsmen could come along at any moment—you’ll have to come see for yourself. But trust me, lass, this is something you don’t want to miss.”

Caitrina hesitated, not feeling right about traipsing after Seamus into the wilderness. After what had happened … something in her urged caution. And then there was Jamie’s order for her to stay at the castle. She bit her lip. She hadn’t given much thought to its purpose but merely reacted
against the presumption. What if he had a reason beyond his general protectiveness? A prickle of guilt needled at her. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Perhaps tomorrow—”

A disembodied voice, coming from behind one of the trees deeper in the forest ahead of them, cut her off. “God’s wounds, Caitrina, must you always be contrary? Haven’t I told you repeatedly that men prefer biddable women?”

The hair on her arms electrified as shock froze every bone, every muscle, every nerve ending of her body.

Her hand went to her throat as she stared wildly in the direction of the achingly familiar voice. She shook her head.
Dear God, it can’t be.
“No …”

A man stepped out from behind a tree, his tall, wide-shouldered body silhouetted by the low light and trees. “I’m afraid so, little sister.”

The blood drained from her body.
Niall.

She was seeing a ghost. It was too much to believe. The rush of emotion to her chest was too much to take.

“Catch her,” he said, taking a step forward. “I think she’s going to …”

But Caitrina didn’t hear the rest as darkness rose up to swallow her.

Ouch.
Someone was slapping her cheek. Caitrina twisted her head and batted the hand away. “Stop that!”

A man laughed. “I’d say she’s fine. Looks like the blow to the head didn’t soften her temper any.”

Caitrina opened her eyes and gazed into familiar blue depths. She drank in every inch of his handsome face. It was lean and weather-beaten and bore a few new scars, but there was no mistake. Tears welled in her eyes as she placed her hand on his rough-whiskered cheek. “You’re real.”

A smile curved his mouth into the roguish grin he’d perfected many years ago—well before it had proved so devastating on the village lasses. “Aye, love. As real as they come.”

She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into the dusty leather of his heavy quilted cotun. Niall. Dear God, it was really him. The happiness she felt at having her brother returned to her from the dead was unfathomable. She felt as if a light had just shone on the dark corner of her heart she’d thought closed off forever.

And now he was here. Her irritating, teasing, cocksure brother was alive and by all appearances well. But she could see that, like her, he’d changed. He was harder, sadder, angrier.

The hot ball of emotion lodged in her chest exploded into a torrent of choking tears. Niall held her, smoothing her hair as he murmured soothing words. “Shush, Caiti, it’s all right, I’m here.”

She pulled back, blinking the tears from her eyes, feeling as if she’d just woken from a terrible dream. “But how?” Her eyes narrowed with sudden realization. “Why did you not tell me?” She swatted him on the arm. “How could you let me think you were dead for so long?”

He chuckled. “Now there’s my sister. I’d begun to fear the sweet sobbing creature in my arms was someone else.” His eyes swept over her meaningfully. “You look different, Caiti. I almost didn’t recognize you.” He took in her dirty gown and worn
arisaidh.
“What’s happened to you, lass?”

A wry smile played upon her mouth. “I’ve changed.”

“So I see. The damn Campbells have made beggars of us all.”

Niall’s anger made her wish she’d purchased the new cloth Jamie had insisted upon, but now was probably not the time to point out that Niall and Jamie were in agreement on the subject of her clothing. Instead she asked, “Where have you been, Niall?”

“I’ll explain everything, but first come with me.” He stood up and held out his hand to help her up.

She looked around and for the first time realized they were not in the forest, but in a cave. The tunnel of stone
was dark and musty, the air cool and damp. “Where are we? How did I get here?”

“We’re in a cave near Ascog, and as for how you got here, I carried you.” Niall rubbed his back. “For such a wee lass, you sure weigh a lot.” She swatted him again, and he laughed. “After you fainted …”

Now
that
demanded an immediate response. Her spine straightened at the affront. “I don’t faint.”

“You do now.” Niall grinned again, and she thought if she weren’t so happy to see him, she might shoot him.

She opened her mouth, intending to give him a few choice words on the subject, but he cut her off.

“I think, under the circumstances, it is understandable.” He called over to one of the men guarding the mouth of the cave. “Isn’t that so, Seamus?”

“Aye, Chief, very understandable.”

Chief.
Caitrina met Seamus’s gaze with dawning understanding. Of course. Niall was Chief of the Lamonts—or would be, if it were known he was alive. Seamus’s attitude suddenly made sense.

“Come …” Niall took her hand and led her deeper into the cave. “Come see why I have brought you here.”

They walked about fifteen feet in the semidarkness and reached a fork.

“Be careful,” he warned. “It’s easy to get lost in here.”

Caitrina clutched his hand a little harder and ducked as they entered a tiny chamber. A few torches had been secured to the walls, and on the dirt floor there was a makeshift pallet with a large deerhound laid out at its foot. It looked almost like Boru. One of her father’s guardsmen was bent over.…

And there in the flickering torchlight, Caitrina had the second biggest shock of her life.

“Brian!” She ran forward and dropped to her knees, gathering his limp body in her arms.

“Caiti!” He coughed weakly. “I knew you’d come. Just like Boru. He was waiting for me when I returned.”