The Campbell Trilogy (35 page)

Caitrina held her breath as the last beam was lifted in place. The work on Ascog Castle had progressed well while Jamie was away and she was banned from its halls. In the two days since his return, even greater strides had been made. The roof was not yet weather-tight, but if all went well, it would be soon.

The heavy rainstorms on the mainland had lightened as they crossed the Kyl to Bute, bringing a dense, foggy mist and drizzle, but thankfully not enough to curtail the work.

Mindful of their agreement, Caitrina was careful to stay out of the way as the men worked, unwilling to test the limits of her husband’s temperance. He wasn’t pleased to see her around Ascog, she knew, but as she kept away from the danger by staying mostly in the kitchens and supervising rather than joining in the maidservants’ work, there was little he could object to. Too many decisions required her attention, from what pots and dishes could be salvaged, to what furniture to purchase and what could be made, to where to build the new storage cabinets.

She’d come upstairs to the great hall to speak with Seamus about the rebuilding of the worktables and shelves for the cellars and had lingered to watch the momentous placement of the final beam. When it was secured, a great cheer went up around the hall and she joined in with enthusiasm.

Automatically, she scanned the room for Jamie, her heart catching as it always did when she caught sight of him. With his height and size, it was easy to pick him out among
the other men, but it was the relaxed grin and twinkle in his blue gaze that made her pulse leap.

Feeling her eyes upon him, he turned, and their gazes collided. A moment of connection and shared accomplishment passed between them. She grinned back at him, feeling lighter, savoring the moment—until one of his guardsmen asked him a question and his attention was drawn away.

She sighed, regretting the loss. For an instant, it had felt as it had in those precious few days before he left. Though it was nothing that she could put her finger on, something had changed since he’d returned from Dunoon. On the surface, everything was as it had been before: At night he held her in his arms and made love to her with all the passion she remembered, and during the day he was more solicitous and attentive than she could recall.

But he was watching her.

Did he suspect something? Had she done something to alert him?

Perhaps she only imagined it. She bit her lip, the twinge in her chest belying that claim. Maybe it was her own guilt speaking?

Keeping something as important as her brothers’ survival from her husband was tearing her apart. Caitrina wanted to share her joy; instead, it felt as though she were lying to him.
I am lying to him.

To make matters worse, since Jamie’s return she hadn’t dared venture to the caves to see Niall and Brian—it was too risky. The reports from Mor were not enough. She missed them desperately and worried for their safety.

Jamie had been charged with clearing the area of outlaws—what would happen if he found them or discovered she’d kept them a secret from him?

Unable to find Seamus, she was just about to return to the kitchens when she caught sight of Mor trying to get her
attention from across the room. She could tell from the anxious look on her face that something was wrong.

Dread sank over her. Her first thought went to Brian. No, it couldn’t be him; he’d been getting better.

Caitrina hurried as quickly as she could toward Mor, doing her best not to give any indication of the turmoil burgeoning inside her. She didn’t want to give Jamie any cause for concern.

She took her old nursemaid’s cold hand in hers. “What is it?”

Mor’s eyes flickered around furtively and she said in a low voice, “Not here.”

Caitrina’s chest tightened and her heart pounded even harder, having her fears confirmed: Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Knowing Jamie’s eyes might well be on her, she forced a smile to her face and led Mor out of the great hall, down the stairs to the cellars. With too many people in the kitchen, they passed through the corridor into the buttery. It was cool and bone-penetratingly damp in the cellars. Caitrina pulled her
arisaidh
around her a little tighter, whether to ward off the cold or chill of premonition she didn’t know.

She tensed, preparing for the blow. “Is it Brian? Did something happen to Brian?”

Mor shook her head. “No, my poor wee lamb, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Your brother is as well as can be expected.” Caitrina didn’t miss the censure in her voice. Like her, Mor thought that Brian should be removed to Rothesay. Relief poured from every fiber of her body—until she heard her next words.

“It’s your fool stubborn brother Niall who’s going to get himself killed.”

“Niall? I don’t understand.”

“I told him not to go.”

Fear splayed like icy fingers across the back of her neck.
“Go?” She clutched Mor’s arm, alarm slicing through her. “Where did Niall go?”

Mor’s face sagged. The fine lines around her eyes seemed deeper, etched with trouble. “I don’t know. He left with Seamus and the others, and you can be sure they are up to no good.” She paused. “There was a strange man there when I arrived this morning. And the look on his face …” She shivered. “ ’Twas feral and filled with such hatred as I’ve ever seen.”

“This man … did they mention his name?”

Mor shook her head. “But I’ve no doubt he was a hunted man. If I had to guess, I’d say a MacGregor.”

No. Niall wouldn’t be so foolhardy …

Yes,
she realized,
he would.
It was easy to see why he would identify with the MacGregors—he’d seen his home destroyed, his father and brother killed, and he’d become an outlaw.

Niall had changed. The teasing rogue still lingered on the surface, but there was a layer of cold steel in him that hadn’t been there before. She sensed the bitterness and hatred lurking perilously close to the surface. But there was something else. She’d caught him more than once with a strange look on his face—as if he were a hundred miles away—almost as if he were yearning for something … or someone.

Oh, Niall! What have you done?
“You said Seamus and the other guardsmen left as well?”

Mor nodded. “Aye, and the laird is sure to notice their absence.”

She was right. Jamie would be searching for them now. All of a sudden Caitrina realized something else. “But what about Brian? Who will watch over Brian?”

“Niall said they would be back in a day or two. Brian is safe in the cave until then, being tended to by a lass from the village.” Mor anticipated her next question. “She can be trusted.”

Caitrina tried to think. Dear God, where would they go? Who was this man, and what had he said that would cause Niall to leave Brian—even if only for a short while?

But there was something else that caused her even more trepidation: What would Jamie do when he found out Seamus and the other guardsmen were missing?

Daylight was almost gone. Mist had descended like a heavy plaid, enveloping them in its icy dense fog. Jamie stood outside in the yard, a grim expression on his face to match the bleakness of the day. Seamus and the other Lamont guardsmen had been gone since morning, and the men he’d sent out after them had just returned—alone.

“I’m sorry, my laird,” Will said. “We found no sign of them.”

Jamie cursed. “Why weren’t they followed?”

“They were. My man saw nothing out of the ordinary. He left them chopping wood this morning.”

“And they weren’t missed until the midday meal?”

“They did not usually return before then. I’m sorry, my laird, we should have kept a closer eye on them. But the old man had stopped his grumbling. Clearly he was loyal to the lady and seemed to have accepted the changed circumstances.”

Jamie shook his head. “ ’Tis not your fault.” If anyone was to blame, it was himself. He’d suspected Seamus’s acquiescence was too good to be true. “I took the man at his word.” And had assumed, like Will, that he’d be loyal to Caitrina.

“Where would they go?” Will asked.

He could think of a few places, none of them good. “With the risings after the MacGregor’s death, my first guess would be to the Lomond Hills.” But what could have provoked the Lamont guardsmen to risk their lives? Would they risk so much for the MacGregors? Possibly, but there
could be another explanation. He tensed. They would risk much for a Lamont.

Will frowned. “But why now?”

Jamie clenched his jaw. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.” He spun on his heel and headed into the keep, his body hard with purpose.

He prayed that his suspicions were wrong. He didn’t want to think that Caitrina had anything to do with this, but she was hiding something from him, of that he was sure. He tamped down his anger, not wanting to rush to judgment.

As there was still some time before the evening meal, he began his search for her in their chamber. She’d returned earlier than normal today from Ascog with her serving woman. He recalled thinking that the old woman had looked distressed about something, but as Caitrina appeared in good spirits, he hadn’t given it much thought. Until now.

He’d survived this long partly because he didn’t believe in coincidences.

He opened the door without knocking and froze, finding his wife had just finished her bath.

At the sound, she started. Her head snapped around, and he could swear he detected a flash of apprehension in her fathomless blue eyes—almost as if she suspected the reason for his visit.
Did
she suspect the reason for his visit?

The air was humid and sultry, heavy with the scent of lavender. She sat on a stool before the fire in her wrap, a serving girl combing out the long wet tresses of luxurious ebony hair—as thick and satiny soft as sable. The old woman stood protectively beside her, staunch as a guardsman.

His instincts flared.

He waved the two servants from the room. “Leave us. I wish to speak to your mistress.”

Mor took a step toward him, shielding Caitrina from his view. “As you can see, we are not quite finished—”

“Now,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument, meeting the old woman’s gaze.

Mor stood firm, but the young serving girl dropped the horn comb. It clattered on the wood floor, unnaturally loud.

Caitrina stood and moved around in front of Mor, the full ripeness of her sensual curves displayed to lush perfection beneath the thin, damp silk of her dressing gown. His body heated, the power of her sweet feminine charms over him potent and undeniable.

His eyes slid over her, stopping at her breasts where the fabric of her wrap crossed to reveal the deep crevice between the gently rounded edge of her soft flesh. Her nipples were hard and tight, and clearly visible through the thin silk.

He stirred, his groin heavy with a lust that was even more powerful now that he’d tasted her passion. Passion that was open and honest—or at least it seemed that way. He wanted to believe it wasn’t just lust between them, but something deeper. That he was not alone in these powerful feelings.

From the first moment he’d seen her, he’d known she was special and wanted her. He wished it were still that simple. But she’d changed, as had the complexity of his desire. At one time her body would have been enough for him, but not anymore.

He’d done everything he could to earn her trust, to show her that he was more than a name. But maybe he was a fool to believe that a Lamont could ever trust a Campbell.

But she was his wife, damn it.

Her welcoming smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Disappointment hardened in his chest.

“You’re cold,” Caitrina said, moving toward him. “Come sit before the fire.” She looked to Mor and the terrified
serving girl, who couldn’t seem to lift her eyes from the floor. “I can manage from here,” she assured them calmly.

The girl shuffled out as fast as she could, but Mor gave her a long look as if she meant to argue. At the pleading in Caitrina’s gaze, she made a sharp sound of displeasure and left them alone, closing the door with an impertinent slam behind her.

“That old woman needs to learn her place,” Jamie grumbled. He hadn’t been taken to task so many times since he was a lad.

“Her place is by my side,” she said. “You have to understand … when my mother died, Mor was there. She means no harm, it’s just that she thinks she has to protect me.”

“From who?”

Her gaze held steady as she met his. “From you.”

Jamie’s mouth drew into a tight line. Unrequited love burned in his chest. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know, but when you are angry—”

“Have I cause to be angry?”

“You tell me. You are the one who came storming in here, ordering everyone out.”

“Can a man not have some time alone with his wife?”

She arched a delicate black brow. “But it’s something else, isn’t it?” She walked toward him, the seductive sway of her hips all the more enticing because it was unconscious. Her hands slipped around his neck, sliding over the taut muscles bunched at his shoulders, feeling the tension.

She was so damned warm and soft. Her delicate feminine scent laced with lavender rose up to envelop him in its sensual vise. He ached to pull her against him and take her mouth with his, driving away the thought of anything else but the two of them. Alone. Where nothing could come between them.

Unable to think when she was so near, he took a step
back. She dropped her hands, and the wounded look on her face almost made him reconsider. Almost.

“Your father’s guardsmen are gone,” he said.

Something flickered in her gaze. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?” She sounded surprised. But was her voice just a touch high-pitched?

“I mean that they have not returned from the forest where they were supposed to be cutting down trees.”

Caitrina’s hands twisted in the smooth silk of her gown. “It’s cold and difficult to see. Perhaps they simply took shelter from the weather.”

Jamie shook his head. “They are gone. My men have searched the area.”

The pulse at her neck ticked a little faster. “And what did you find?”

It was said with a nonchalance that he knew she did not feel. She was so anxious, he could almost taste it. “They covered their tracks well, but my men believe they’ve crossed the Kyle to the mainland. They swore to me as their laird, and they’ve broken their bond. I want to know why.”