The Campbell Trilogy (89 page)

Jamie shook his head. “Nay. I’ve sent out scouts, but there’s been no sign of him. It’s probably nothing more than rumor.”

“Then what is the problem?” Lizzie asked.

Her brother gave his wife an angry glance, to which Caitrina responded immediately with one of her own. “I swear I will give you nothing but daughters,” she warned, her voice heavy with foreboding. “So that all of your overbearing, overprotective male ‘wisdom’ can be put to good use.” She smiled wickedly. “Girls. A whole bevy of them. Just like me. For you to worry about and fret over”—her eyes gleamed—“forever.”

Lizzie could have sworn she saw her fierce, not-scared-of-anything brother pale. “What is this about, Jamie?” she asked.

“Tell her,” Caitrina ordered.

Lizzie’s pulse spiked as she waited for him to continue.

Not one to be intimidated, even by the wife he loved, Jamie drew himself up to every inch of his six-foot-plus frame, towering over his petite wife. “I’ll not be raked over the coals,
wife,
for doing what I think is right. Nor will I apologize for trying to protect someone I love.” Looking none too pleased, he turned to Lizzie. “I was only thinking of your happiness.”

Caitrina’s mouth quirked, and Lizzie could see that she was softening. For all her brother’s fierce overprotectiveness, it was difficult to stay angry with him in the face of such equally fierce emotion.

“Does she look happy?” Caitrina asked softly.

Jamie gave Lizzie a long look. Though she’d been trying to hide it, her unhappiness was palpable. “What I told you about Patrick MacGregor was true,” he said. “However, I did neglect to mention one thing.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “And what was that?”

“When I first offered MacGregor the land and his freedom, he refused. Quite adamantly, actually.”

Lizzie felt as if a weight had just been lifted from her shoulders.
He did care for me. I knew I couldn’t have been that wrong. It wasn’t just about the land.

“Then how did you convince him to take the offer?” As if she needed to ask. She glanced at Caitrina in shared understanding.

“We thought—” Jamie started, but was cut off by a sarcastic scoff from his beautiful wife.

“That was your first mistake.”

Lizzie had an inkling of the source of her sister-by-marriage’s irritation and felt her own temper rise. She’d warned Patrick not to make decisions for her, but it seemed he—and her interfering brother—couldn’t resist.
Men.
Was there a more protective breed around than a proud Highland warrior? “Let me guess. You and Patrick decided that I would be better off not married to a MacGregor—”

“An
outlawed
MacGregor,” Jamie clarified.

“Not any more,” Lizzie quipped back. “So you decided to make me believe that he didn’t want me.”

Jamie shrugged uncomfortably. “Something to that effect.”

Lizzie felt her face flush with anger. She rose to her feet and crossed the room to stand toe-to-toe with her overbearing lout of a big brother. “How could you! How could you let me sit here in misery for weeks believing that the man I loved cared so little for me that he turned his back on me at the first opportunity? How could you both be so high-handed and cruel? I love him, Jamie. And if that means I live in a hovel, I will gladly do so. Wouldn’t you do as much for your wife?” He had the good grace to grimace guiltily, but Lizzie wasn’t finished. “How could you let my child grow up without a father?”

Jamie swallowed hard with a wince. “Child?”

“Oh, Lizzie, that’s wonderful!” Caitrina exclaimed, rushing over to give her a hug. “When?”

Lizzie smiled, the excitement contagious. “I’m not sure. I’ve only just suspected. Perhaps a few months after your babe.”

Jamie started to slink back, obviously happy for the change of subject, but Lizzie stopped him. She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not finished with you yet. I’m not a girl anymore. I don’t need my big brother to fight my battles.” She shook her head. “I should have said something and put a stop to this interfering after what you did to John Montgomery.”

Jamie smiled. “I’d like to take credit for that, lass. But someone beat me to it.”

Lizzie frowned. “But if you didn’t, who …”

Her gaze shot to her brother.
Patrick.
It amazed her to think that he’d felt enough of a connection even then to exact vengeance on her behalf. The knowledge soothed her lingering hurt and made her even more certain that she hadn’t been completely wrong about his motives and feelings. “Did you know it was him?”

Jamie shook his head. “Nay. I’d recognized him at the gathering, and knew he’d come to your assistance, but that was all. Though after what happened a few weeks ago, I suspected.”

Lizzie swallowed.
I will kill anyone who harms you.
John should be glad he’d only suffered the loss of an ear and part of his arm—if Patrick knew then what he did now … She shivered.

Though there was a certain poetic justice to it, Lizzie wasn’t sure she liked the idea of such violence in her name.

“He’s a Highland warrior, Lizzie. You can’t make him something he is not,” Jamie said, reading her thoughts.

Jamie was right. Patrick had been fighting for survival
most of his life. Like most Highlanders, he was used to exacting vengeance and solving problems with his sword. “Do harm to mine and I’ll do worse to yours” was part of the Highland credo. Barbaric? She supposed some might think so, but it was the way of it. Not to say that she didn’t plan to work on his skills at diplomacy.

“You must have made some impression on him,” Jamie said. “ ’Tis a lot of trouble to go to for someone he barely knew.”

I wanted you from the first moment I saw you.
His words that day when she’d realized that he’d been her gallant knight came back to her. He
had
cared about her, even from the beginning.

“What will you do?” Caitrina asked.

Lizzie thought for a minute. She was tired of being the one to fight for their happiness. If he wanted her, he was going to have to decide on his own—perhaps with a bit of prodding so he didn’t wait too long.

“After all the effort my brother and Patrick went to just to see to my happiness, I hate to disappoint them.” She smiled. “Now that I am free to marry, I think I shall do so. Perhaps I shall send him a wedding invitation?”

Caitrina’s eyes went wide with admiration. “You wouldn’t.”

Lizzie smiled. “Oh, I just might.”

Jamie looked back and forth between them. “I never thought I’d say this about a MacGregor, but I almost feel sorry for him.”

Patrick might be going to hell in the form of the Campbell’s dungeon for this, but he didn’t bloody well give a damn.

He rode through the gates of Dunoon ready to do battle, barely heeding the formidable stone walls of the impenetrable fortress or the mass of equally formidable warriors lining them.

“Are you sure about this?” Robbie asked in a low voice. “Riding into the devil’s lair is hardly the best way to test your newfound freedom.”

Patrick gave him a sharp look. “It’s you who insisted on coming along. I told you to stay back with Annie.”

Robbie locked his jaw and shook his head. “Nay, she has Lamont to watch over her.”

Because Patrick knew a little something about jealousy, he added gently, “She won’t talk to him.”

“Aye, but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love him.”

Patrick couldn’t argue with that. But in this case, love didn’t seem to matter. It broke his heart to see how the life had been sucked out of her. Annie was a shell of the happy, spirited sister he remembered.

But one thing hadn’t changed: She was still the most stubborn woman he had ever met. Patrick didn’t know whether his sister would ever forgive Niall Lamont for not returning her love until it was too late. He could commiserate with Lamont—
what if I’m too late?

Every instinct had told him he was making a mistake as he was riding away from the kirk. But he hadn’t listened until he’d seen his sister and Lamont; it was then that he knew he had to do something.

But his duties as chief—trying to instill order in a clan dispersed by chaos after the death of so many of the clan elite—had interfered, and he hadn’t acted fast enough.

Married.
His stomach turned. It still seemed incomprehensible.

Word of her marriage had filtered up to him in Molach a few days ago, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. But when the missive from Campbell had arrived with his pardon, mentioning a wedding feast …

He’d never forget the shot of searing pain that knifed through him.

How could she think about marrying someone else?
It had been only thirty-six bloody days!

The worst part was that it was his own damn fault. He’d had her, and like a fool, he’d let her go. But if Patrick knew anything, it was how to fight for what was his. And Elizabeth Campbell had belonged to him from the first moment he’d held her in his arms. Hell, from the first moment he’d helped her out of that damn puddle.

As his arrival at Dunoon had been announced at the gate, Patrick wasn’t surprised to see Jamie Campbell coming out of the keep to meet them. He wore a grim look on his face when he saw Patrick, but he actually smiled when he noticed Robbie at his side. If there was any MacGregor who need not fear the Enforcer, it was Robbie. Campbell would never forget Robbie’s loyalty to Margaret MacLeod, an old friend of the Enforcer’s, during some trouble they’d had at the hands of Dougal MacDonald back on Lewis.

“Robbie, lad, ’tis good to see you.” He checked Patrick with a hard look. “MacGregor. I thought you agreed not to seek out my sister.”

Patrick met the other man’s challenging gaze, cold steel on cold steel. “You know damn well why I’m here. I’m afraid I can no longer abide by the terms of our agreement, so if you intend to arrest me, you better do it now.” When he didn’t move, Patrick said, “Where is she?”

Campbell had a strange look on his face—almost pitying. “I’m not sure she wants to see you.”

“Too bloody bad, because I’m not leaving until she does.”

Patrick knew he was acting irrationally, but he didn’t give a damn. They were meant to be together, and if she didn’t listen to reason, he was going to do what he should have a long time ago—carry her away and make love to her until she did. Even if he had to defeat an entire Campbell garrison to do so.

He was done trying to do the right thing. Honor was overrated.

Jamie led him up the wooden staircase and into the great
hall of the keep. It was near dusk and the servants were preparing the evening meal, but otherwise it was quiet. He’d expected Jamie to have him wait and thus was surprised to be led immediately into the laird’s solar.

Half expecting to see his nemesis, Argyll, Patrick heard the door close behind him and instead found himself alone with the very person he’d ridden hell-bent for leather to see.

His heart stopped when he saw her. She had her back to him. She loomed so large in his mind, he’d forgotten how tiny she was. She wore a dark blue velvet gown encrusted with tiny seed pearls. Her long flaxen hair tumbled down her back in silky waves, set off by a diamond-and-sapphire tiara as fine as any royal crown.

For a moment he hesitated, the disparity between their circumstances as sharp as ever. Wealth, power, privilege, she had it all. And though his situation was much improved—he was no longer being actively hunted, he had land to work and a place to live—it would still be a long time before his clan recovered from the destruction wrought by years of abuse and persecution.

But if she was willing to have him, he would cherish her and not look back.

She turned. If he’d hoped for a sign that she was happy to see him, he was to be disappointed. As smooth and expressionless as alabaster, her face betrayed no emotion.

Never had she looked at him with such … nothingness. Dread sank like a heavy stone in his stomach. He felt a prickle of uncertainty.

What if I’m too late?

Their eyes met, and still nothing. Were her feelings so shallow that they could be changed so easily? So damn quickly?

She arched a delicate eyebrow. “Did you come to offer me congratulations?”

Her cool, even tone and blunt question sent his already
hammering chest into a violent spin. Anger surged inside him, and he could barely restrain himself from crossing the small room and venting his frustration in an altogether less civilized manner. “Nay, I didn’t bloody well come to offer you congratulations.”

“No? Then why, may I ask, are you here?”

He took a few steps toward her and forced himself to stop. The muscles in his arms flexed and unflexed.
Be rational, not a barbarian.
“You can’t marry someone else. You are bound to me for a year. The handfast can’t be repudiated until then.”

“Oh, that.” She waved her hand dismissively. “My brother assured me that since there were no witnesses, it would be difficult to prove valid.”

Patrick’s fists clenched at his side. The little wave almost pushed him over the edge. His body tightened with anger, and it took every ounce of his strength to rein it in. “It was valid to me.”

“Is that so? Strange way you have of showing it.” She smiled. Actually smiled. “In any event, it was for the best. It was so lovely of you and my brother to see to my happiness like this. I don’t know what I would have done without you two looking after me.”

The lack of sarcasm in her voice was the first inkling he had that something wasn’t right. Uneasy, he studied her face, not exactly sure what he was looking for.

“If that is all that you have to say, I’m afraid I’m quite busy.” She turned to dismiss him, but he had his hand on her arm before she could move away.

“That is not all that I have to say. You can’t marry someone else, because you love me, and I love you.”

Tiny white lines appeared around her mouth, the first sign that she was not as unaffected as she appeared. “Love? You certainly have an odd way of showing it.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and forced her gaze to his. The raw emotion radiating from her pale, upturned
face socked him right in the gut. He’d hurt her terribly. “I love you with all my heart. It’s because I love you that I left. I thought I was doing what was right. I thought you would be better off without me.”