The Campbell Trilogy (32 page)

The contents of Argyll’s missive haunted Jamie on the journey from Rothesay to Dunoon:

“The deed is done. The Arrow of Glen Lyon hanged for his crimes in Edinburgh three days past.”

Alasdair MacGregor dead
in Edinburgh?
What the hell had happened?

The MacGregor chief was supposed to be in London. Jamie had given his word to that effect. He could think of only one explanation: Argyll had reneged on his promise to conduct Alasdair MacGregor to England. And if he’d done so, he’d blackened Jamie’s name in the process and unleashed a maelstrom of violence, giving the outlaws a martyr and even greater reason to rise in rebellion. Jamie didn’t want to think his cousin so rash, but when it came to the MacGregors …

Damn.

He stormed up the stairs to the keep. Tired and dirty from riding all day, not to mention in considerable pain from his shoulder, Jamie didn’t stop to rest or wash but headed straight for the laird’s solar. Not bothering to knock or announce himself, he pulled open the door and strode right in.

The most powerful man in the Highlands sat behind a large wooden table surrounded by a retinue of about a dozen guardsmen, all poring over documents and maps. The Earl of Argyll glanced up, his sharp Gallic features frowning at the interruption. Seeing Jamie’s dark expression,
however, he quickly waved the other men out, bidding them take their piles of parchment with them.

“I hope you have a good excuse for the manner”—he looked down his long nose at Jamie’s Highland garb—“and appearance of your arrival.” Argyll prided himself on civility, distancing himself from the “Highland barbarians” and always dressing in the finest court fashion.

Jamie hadn’t missed the subtle set-down, but right now he didn’t give a damn. He’d known Argyll too long to be put off by the reminder of his authority. Though Argyll was only a handful of years older, after the death of Jamie’s father and his brother Duncan’s subsequent disgrace, Argyll had been more like a father to him, standing in for the man who’d lost his life fighting for Argyll. They were bound not only by family ties, but by something far stronger—honor, duty, and sacrifice.

His father had believed in Argyll enough to give his life for him, and Jamie did not take it lightly. Thus far, Argyll had lived up to his father’s expectations, making the Campbells the most powerful clan in the Highlands. That power, however, could not be absolute or he would be no better than a despot. Jamie believed in justice even more than he believed in his cousin.

“You know damn well I do,” Jamie said. “If this”—he slammed down the missive on the polished wooden table—“is true.”

Argyll flicked his gaze over the piece of wrinkled parchment, sat back, and tapped his fingertips together, completely at ease. “Of course it’s the truth.” His eyes shone with triumph. “Alasdair MacGregor has been eliminated. The king will be delighted.”

Jamie knew the extreme pressure his cousin was under to quiet the Highlands—and eliminate the MacGregor chief in particular—but it was no excuse. He struggled to keep his anger in check and met his cousin’s gaze. “How can the
MacGregor have been killed in Edinburgh when he was supposed to be in England?”

One corner of Argyll’s mouth lifted in a semblance of a smile. “He did go to England.”

The answer took Jamie momentarily aback. His gaze turned on his cousin skeptically. “Explain how that is possible.”

“My men took him to the other side of the border, set him down upon English ground, and returned him promptly to Edinburgh.”

Jamie went rigid, disbelief mingling with an acute feeling of betrayal. The man he’d fought for, helped, believed in, had stabbed him in the back. When he thought of all the times he’d defended his cousin … Jamie more than anyone knew his cousin had his faults—including a reputation for wiliness. But never had Argyll so abandoned honor. He pinned the earl with his gaze. “God damn you, Archie. How could you? I’m not going to let you get away with this. You made a mockery of our bargain and of me.” The hot rush of anger surged through his veins. He remembered his long negotiations with the MacGregor and the assurances he’d given him. His voice shook with fury. “I gave my word.”

Argyll did not shrink from his rage, though Jamie could tell he was uncomfortable by the way he shifted in his chair. “Your word was preserved. The terms of the agreement were met.”

Jamie planted his hands on the table and leaned toward his cousin, more furious with him than he could ever recall—and they’d disagreed plenty in the past. “But not the spirit. This trickery is not worthy of you. You are the representative of law, the king’s justice general. If people do not trust in the rule of law—in justice—you are nothing more than a tyrant.” He gave him a hard look. “And I will not support a bloody despot.”

For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his cousin’s face. “What do you mean?”

“What the hell do you think I mean?” Jamie seethed. “If this is how you intend to quiet the Highlands, I want nothing more to do with it. You will have to find someone else to fight your battles.”

Argyll’s eyes narrowed. “I’m your chief. You’ll do what I say.”

Jamie laughed in his face. His cousin was nothing if not opportunistic—he’d claim his Highland heritage when he had use of it. He leaned over, looking his cousin squarely in the eye. “Don’t try that crap with me, it won’t work. Intimidation might work for others, but I know you too damn well. I won’t fight for a man I don’t believe in, and I’ll not serve a chief any more than an earl who has no honor.”

Argyll’s face hardened. “Have care, lad. You grow too bold.”

The control he’d been fighting for let loose in an explosion of rage. “No, cousin, it is you who grow too bold. I’ve stood beside you all these years against recrimination because I thought you were the best choice for the Highlands. Up until now I believed we wanted the same thing: restoring law and order to the chaos created by feuding and outlaws, ensuring the prosperity of our clan, and protecting the Highlands against a king who wants to steal our land, crush our people, and see our way of life destroyed.” He drew in a deep breath and spoke concisely so there would be no mistake. “But I’ll be damned if I’m going to support you in your personal vendettas.”

“I did what needed to be done to bring a criminal to justice,” Argyll said defensively.

Jamie slammed his fist down on the table. “Alasdair MacGregor did not get justice, he got trickery and deceit. We might as well go back to feuding as a way of solving problems, living up to the barbarian name the king calls us. We are the men in charge. We have to show leadership.
Vendettas are exactly what I’m fighting against. If this is your solution to instilling law and order in the Highlands, I want nothing to do with it.”

“It wouldn’t have been necessary had
you
brought the outlaw to me in the first place.” Argyll’s mouth fell into a flat line. “As was your duty.”

Was that what this was about? Jamie knew his cousin had been angry, but he thought he’d understood. “I explained to you why I felt it was necessary to negotiate with the MacGregor—after the disaster with the Lamonts.”

Argyll dismissed the destruction of Caitrina’s clan with a short wave of his hand. Jamie clenched his teeth. At times, his cousin’s callousness annoyed the hell out of him.

“Your brother acted rashly,” Argyll conceded.

An understatement if there ever was one. “And he did so in your name,” Jamie pointed out. “You would have lost support of some of the other chiefs if amends were not made. Handing MacGregor over to the king was to remove any taint of his death from you. Alasdair MacGregor’s blood would have been on his hands. Instead you’ve made it worse. God, Archie, don’t you realize what you’ve done?”

“I’ve gotten rid of a notorious outlaw, a murderer, and a rebel.”

“Aye,” Jamie said through clenched teeth. “And with your deceit and trickery you’ve made him a martyr. This will unite the outlaws like nothing else. There will be renewed fighting.”

“Bloodshed is to be expected. Your brother has gone to help our kinsman Campbell of Glenorchy in putting down the rising.”

Well, that was some measure of relief. At least Jamie would not have to confront Colin while at Dunoon. They’d argued badly the last time they’d met over his attack on the Lamonts.

There was a gleam of satisfaction in Argyll’s eye. “Every
one of the thieving, murderous vermin will be rooted out and put to death.”

Argyll’s irrational zeal and single-minded determination to see the MacGregors destroyed jeopardized Jamie’s hopes of seeing a lawful society emerge in the Highlands. Not for the first time, he wondered what was behind his cousin’s hatred—it almost felt personal. “Your hatred for the MacGregors has made you blind to anything else. With this one rash act you could well lose the support that we have carefully constructed over the past few years. It’s not only MacGregors who will retaliate, but other chiefs will look at this as an example of what they can expect from you—and from me.”

Jamie could tell his cousin was a little taken aback, perhaps realizing the truth of his words. “I don’t know why you are so upset. It’s not as if you exactly have a laudable reputation in the Highlands. Your name has been blackened before.”

“Aye, for the sake of our mission I’ve been willing to be known as your ruthless strong arm, but I’m not willing to be known as dishonorable or deceitful. Up until now I’ve never been ashamed of anything I’ve done. But your clever play with words has impinged upon my honor and my word.” Jamie shook his head. “I thought better of you.”

The disappointment in Jamie’s voice finally penetrated Argyll’s defenses. He sagged a little in his chair. “Alasdair MacGregor has been a thorn in my side for a long time.” He met Jamie’s stare. “And I may have acted rashly in my eagerness to remove him. I can’t say I’m sorry to see him dead, but I regret that doing so may have reflected poorly on you. It was not my intention. Surely you must realize that?”

Jamie arched his brow in surprise. His cousin rarely apologized. The acute feeling of betrayal was softened a bit by his cousin’s words. He did believe him. “Perhaps it wasn’t your intention,” he pointed out. “But it was the effect.”

“You’ve always had an appalling amount of integrity.”

Though Argyll said it as if it were something to be ashamed of, Jamie knew that his integrity and loyalty were what Argyll most admired in him. Contrary to popular opinion, his cousin—known as “Archibald the Grim”—did have a sense of humor. “It’s served you well,” Jamie reminded him.

“Aye, it has.” Argyll sighed. “We’ve been through a lot together.” His face hardened. “When your brother …” He paused, searching for the word.

“Left,” Jamie filled in, rather than “betrayed us,” as they were both thinking. If anyone had been hurt more than Jamie by Duncan’s betrayal, it had been Argyll.

“Left,” Argyll continued. “I never blamed you or your brother and sister, though many urged me to do so.”

Jamie nodded, knowing it was the truth. Many of the young earl’s advisers had been eager to see the Campbells of Auchinbreck lose their favor. But instead, Archie had taken them in and rallied around them, showing the loyalty to their father that Jamie’s father had shown him. “I’ve always been grateful for what you’ve done for us,” Jamie replied. “And I’ve paid you back with years of service and loyalty—but my loyalty is not blind.”

“You can’t really mean to walk away,” his cousin said. “Not after everything.”

Though Argyll did not posit it as a question, Jamie sensed his anxiousness. If Jamie broke with him and laid down his sword, Argyll knew it would not bode well with the other chiefs—many of whom viewed him as a check on his powerful cousin, in addition to being his strong arm. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

Argyll looked him in the eye and said flatly, “I need you.”

It was said with such honesty that Jamie couldn’t help but feel some of his anger dissipate. “No more tricks, Archie. No more vendettas. If you ever—”

“No more,” his cousin stopped him. “You have my word.” The earl stood and walked to the sideboard, poured two glasses of claret, and offered one to Jamie. Argyll studied him appraisingly. “I’ve never seen you so angry before. This doesn’t by any chance have something to do with your bride?”

Jamie swirled the dark liquid in his glass. “Of course it has something to do with my bride. Her acceptance of my proposal was predicated on the negotiations for the surrender of Alasdair MacGregor.”

Argyll stroked the point of his beard and considered him thoughtfully. “So the lass refused you at first, did she?” Jamie clenched his jaw, provoking outright laughter from his somber cousin. Not a particularly handsome man, Argyll had always envied Jamie and his brothers’ ease with the lasses. “I’d like to meet her.”

“The sentiment isn’t mutual. She has no great love for Campbells and blames you almost as much as Colin for the death of her family.”

Argyll shrugged. “Perhaps she should look to her father as well. The fighting at Ascog was regrettable, but not without cause.”

Jamie could tell there was something Argyll wasn’t saying. “What is it?”

Argyll slid his finger around the rim of his glass with deceptive nonchalance. “Rumor.”

“What kind of rumor?”

Argyll shrugged. “That not all the Lamont’s whelps perished in the fighting.”

The air sucked out of his chest. “What?”

“It’s rumored at least one of the lads survived.”

Jamie studied his cousin’s face, but he appeared to be in earnest.
God, if this is true.
Excitement radiated inside him. If he could return part of her family to her …

“Has anyone been seen?”

Argyll nodded.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where?”

“If rumor is to be believed, somewhere around the Lomond Hills.”

The excitement Jamie had felt a moment ago at the prospect of earning his wife’s eternal gratitude slipped. “Fighting?”

“One would assume.”

Damn.
If any Lamonts were fighting with the MacGregors, they would be outlawed. Though he was anxious to get back to Caitrina to explain before news of his alleged perfidy in the MacGregor’s death spread to the Isle of Bute, he knew it would have to wait. Jamie met his cousin’s gaze. “I’m going to Lomond.”