The Campbell Trilogy (43 page)

All at once, Brian’s expression changed to one of concern. “Back? Where are you going? And where’s Niall? Why hasn’t he come to see me? No one will tell me anything.”

Caitrina debated whether to tell him the truth. Though it might be difficult for him to hear, she knew from experience that a pat on the head and being kept in the dark would not protect him. And with what he’d been through the past few months, he’d earned the right to know. “Niall has been taken to Dunoon. I’m going after him.”

He paled at her disclosure but did not otherwise react. Her heart tugged again at the proof of how much the past few months had changed him. Her young brother was old beyond his years. But his controlled reaction also told her that she’d been right to tell him. She wanted to smooth her hand over his brow and assure him there was nothing to worry about, but Brian was no longer a little boy—and she didn’t want to give him false hope.

Instead she added, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I don’t understand how this happened. Niall was so certain we wouldn’t be discovered.”

Caitrina bit her lip. “You weren’t,” she admitted. “It was I who told Jamie where to find you.”

His eyes widened. “You told Argyll’s Henchman where to find us? But he’s a bloody Campbell. Our enemy.”

“He’s not like that.” The instinct to defend him was automatic. She hated the Henchman epithet. Jamie wasn’t a cold-blooded killer or a man who killed without thought on the orders of his chief. He was doing what he thought right. “He’s one of the most honorable men I know. He’s restored our home to our clan and treated them like his own even when our clan did not welcome him.”

Brian didn’t seem inclined to believe her, not that she expected him to. He had, after all, spent the last few months as an outlaw because of the Campbells. “But why now? Why did you think it necessary to tell him where we were?” He paled. “It wasn’t because of me?”

“No, no,” she assured him. She explained how Auchinbreck and his men had arrived at Rothesay followed by Jamie. “I couldn’t take the chance that his brother would find you first. I thought my husband would protect you.”

“But you’ve changed your mind?”

“No, I—” She stopped, realizing what she’d said.
No.
She hadn’t changed her mind. Even after what had passed between them, she still believed that Jamie would try to
help her brother and clansmen; it was his cousin’s mercurial ruthlessness that she feared. How could she explain? “It’s complicated,” she hedged.

Brian studied her. “You don’t think he holds enough influence over his cousin?”

His shrewd appraisal of the situation took her aback. At that moment, he reminded her so much of their father.

She considered his question. Jamie claimed that Argyll had promised leniency. Though every instinct warred against trusting Argyll, it was clear that Jamie still believed in him—Argyll’s deception of Alasdair MacGregor notwithstanding.

If she believed in Jamie, did that mean she must believe in Argyll as well? The very idea was abhorrent, but uncomfortably true. She knew the type of man Jamie was: Was it possible that his loyalty and duty would extend to a despot? Jamie was right: At some point, she had to choose a side. She was either for Jamie and his cousin or she was against them. It wasn’t a simple matter of black and white, but a complicated shade of gray. Whom did she believe in more?

She knew the answer in her heart but was too scared to admit it when doing so might mean she’d made a grave error. “Jamie has influence, and he’s promised to speak on behalf of Niall and the others. But I’m not sure it will be enough. Too much is at stake for uncertainty. I never would have told him where you were if I’d known what he intended.”

“I should have guessed,” Brian said disgustedly. “He tricked you into telling him, then?”

“No, of course not,” she defended automatically. “He would never do that. He just assumed I would realize what he had to do.”

“You tried to convince him otherwise?”

She nodded. “He wouldn’t listen.” Even when she’d thrown down the ultimate gauntlet. The panic and fear of
the moment had made her grasp at anything. “He said it was his duty.”

“What did you expect him to do, Caiti? He’s Argyll’s bloody Henchman. Even a Campbell has to abide his laird.”

God, it was clear even to her thirteen-year-old brother. Unease penetrated the veil of betrayal that had blinded her to anything else when she’d discovered what Jamie had meant to do.

She’d asked him to put his duty to her before that to his cousin, and he’d refused. It had seemed so simple, but when he’d put the same choice to her, she’d realized it had been anything but. Love wasn’t an either-or proposition, but she’d made it one by issuing threats and ultimatums.

His duty and loyalty to his cousin were the very things that bound him to her; they couldn’t be tossed off at will.

As she’d done.

A pit of despair settled low in her belly as understanding dawned. She’d driven him away, left him with no choice when he’d done so much for her.

The more she thought about the past few months, the worse she felt. He was one of the most powerful men in the Highlands, yet he’d married her when she’d had nothing. Without him, her clan would have fallen apart. He’d not only helped her reclaim their land, but had poured his own gold into rebuilding Ascog—the progress of which was incredible. They never could have done it without him. She didn’t have his experience or leadership. The Lamonts might not like him, but they relied upon him. And they still needed him if Niall hoped to reclaim his lands.

But it wasn’t just her clan.
She
needed him. As a woman needs a man, as a soul needs its mate. He was a part of her. He’d brought love back into her life, making her feel safe and happy when she never thought she’d feel that way again.

Brian’s question came back to her in a rush of guilt. What had she expected him to do? “I don’t know. I hoped to have some time, but he said that Niall and the others would eventually have to face what they had done and it was better now than later.”

She could see Brian’s frustration. He liked the idea of Niall and the others in Argyll’s clutches no better than she. “We have no choice but to go along with it. As long as Argyll is the law, your husband is right.” He gave her a considered look. “I suppose he must truly care for you to put your brother before his own.”

Caitrina started. She hadn’t thought of it like that, but Brian was right. Auchinbreck would be out for blood, and because of her, Jamie intended to stand in his way.

“And he must have been very certain of his influence to refuse you.”

“Aye,” she realized. He must have been.

She swallowed hard, a ball of emotion lodged in her throat, feeling the twinge of shame that came with a bit of perspective. Perspective that had been sadly lacking only a few hours ago. Had she been wrong not to give him her trust? She feared she knew the answer, and it might be too late.

“What do you think you can do by going after them?” Brian asked.

She leveled her gaze on her brother. “I don’t know. But I have to do something.” Both for Niall and for herself.

Caitrina felt as if she were racing against a burgeoning sense of doom. Every second of the journey seemed to toll against her as the certainty that she’d made a mistake grew.

She’d failed him. She’d gone to him for help, put him in an impossible situation between two conflicting duties, demanded something of him that he could not give, and then refused to trust him. Once she’d told Niall that she trusted
Jamie with their lives, but when it came down to it, she hadn’t. She’d had a right to her anger, but she’d tried to use their love to bargain with his duty, and she deeply regretted her harsh words.

She couldn’t imagine life without him. She couldn’t forget that he was a Campbell, but neither could she forget what he’d done for her and her clan. Campbells and Lamonts might never like each other, but her love for him was strong enough to overcome the clan hatred. Was his?

Unable to shake the fear that he might have taken her at her word and would not want to see her again, she pressed forward in the saddle, urging her mount a little faster.

“How much longer?” she asked the dour captain.

Despite the growing darkness, she could see William Campbell’s frown. It was clear he disapproved of her last-minute journey across Cowal but hadn’t wanted to risk the displeasure of his laird’s lady. They’d set out shortly after midday and had made their way across the Firth of Clyde to Toward, where they’d exchanged the
birlinn
for horses and ridden about eight miles up the Cowal coast to Dunoon.

“Only another furlong or so. We should be there before nightfall.”

Her nerves, already frayed, set on edge. It wasn’t only Jamie’s reaction twisting her stomach in knots. She was nervous about coming face-to-face with Argyll as well.

She might not like him, but there was no disputing the fact that Archibald Campbell was the most powerful man in the Highlands. It was easy to hate him, but what if the truth was more complicated? Would he confirm her fears or lessen them?

She would soon find out.

Her pulse spiked when the path turned north and the shadow of an enormous keep came into view. The monolithic stone fortress poised on the hilly promontory overlooking the Firth sent a shiver of trepidation running down
her spine. Trepidation that only increased as they drew near. Beyond the
barmkin
wall, the thick stone walls of the keep, crudely built hundreds of years ago, dominated the skyline and up close seemed all the more formidable.

Like its keeper.

The sight of the castle had tested her resolve. She felt a flicker of uncertainty. What was she going to do, throw herself on his mercy? That assumed he had some.

It didn’t matter. She would do whatever it took.

With a determined set to her shoulders, she dismounted and turned to the nearest guard before she could reconsider.

“Take me to the earl.”

Another man, who appeared to be in charge, was marching toward them and had heard her request. He greeted her, identified himself as the porter, and then said, “We were not told of your arrival, my lady. I will have a chamber readied for you and then will let the earl and your husband know that you are here.”

“Thank you, but I have no need of a chamber. I need to see the earl immediately. What I have to say cannot wait.”

The man looked uncomfortable, obviously not used to a lady insisting on seeing his lord and unsure what to do about it. “I’m afraid he’s in a meeting with his men and cannot be disturbed.”

Her heart raced, fearing the subject of that meeting. “Is my husband with him?”

“Aye.”

That was all she needed to hear. She started up the stairs, with the porter following close after her.

“Wait!” he shouted after her. “You can’t go in there.”

But Caitrina wasn’t taking no for an answer. She turned her most dazzling smile on him. “Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

The poor man was flustered witless. “But …”

Caitrina was already crossing the great hall. There were two doors on the opposite side of the entry, and she was guessing that one of them—she opened the first door and smiled—was the laird’s solar.

About a dozen pairs of eyes stared at her as if she were an apparition. The nervousness she had felt on the ride to Dunoon was nothing to what hit her now, but she was determined not to let it show. Plastering a confident smile on her face, she floated into the room as regally as a queen—or, she thought with a wave of bittersweet memory, a princess.

“What is the meaning of this?” A sharp-featured man seated at the center of the table addressed the porter, who’d come rushing in behind her. Caitrina quickly scanned the room, disappointed not to see Jamie. Despite their current state, his presence would have provided some much needed support at the moment, but it appeared she would face the devil alone.

The Earl of Argyll wasn’t quite what she’d expected. Though dressed like a king—his clothing and jewels as fine as she’d ever seen, befitting his role as trusted courtier to King James—there was an unmistakable glint in his eyes, a toughness to his appearance that bespoke his Highland origins. His dark features were sharp and angular, his mouth thin, and his expression every bit as grim as his sobriquet, Gillesbuig Grumach, attested. But he looked older than his thirty odd years, which probably wasn’t surprising given the troubles of his youth. His father had died when he was only a boy, and he’d faced early attacks—even attempted murder—by those supposed to take care of him.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” the porter apologized profusely. “The lady insisted.”

The earl’s gaze narrowed as he looked her over with unflattering scrutiny. “And who is this
lady?
”

Caitrina took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Caitrina Campbell, my lord. Wife to your cousin.”

If he was surprised by her announcement, he did not show it. “What do you want?”

“A moment of your time, if you please, my lord.” When it appeared he was going to deny her, she added through clenched teeth, “I apologize for the abrupt manner of my arrival, but it’s a matter of the utmost importance.”

She waited, heart pounding, sure that he was going to deny her. Instead, she was surprised when he waved away his men.

She felt a small burst of accomplishment that deflated quickly when he motioned her forward. She stood before the massive table, trying not to twist her hands and shift her feet, feeling like an errant child facing punishment. Suddenly shamed by her failing courage, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

Argyll peered down his long nose, taking in every inch of her appearance, including the mud-spattered skirts and slippers. “It seems that bursting in on my solar is becoming a common occurrence in your family—although at least you are dressed appropriately.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. “My lord?”

He waved his hand. “Never mind. What is it that has brought you here with such urgency?”

“My brother and his men. I know they are here. I’ve come to plead on their behalf. If you hear them out, I’m sure you’ll see why they did what they did. But I would see them first, if you would take me to them.”