The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  Their closeness at night only served to make it worse. It gave him a small taste of how things might be. If only she would give him a chance. But he was beginning to wonder whether that would ever happen. How could it, when every venomous look directed at him by her clansmen widened the chasm between them?

  “What are you doing?” she cried, running up to him. “These are my father’s men.” She turned to one of the bound men and threw her arms around him, not caring that he was layered with dirt and grime from months of living in squalor. Her overt display of emotion for her father’s guardsman when she could barely manage to look at Jamie in the daylight ate like acid in his chest. “Seamus,” she said softly. “I thought you were—”

  “It’s good to see your bonny face, lass,” the older man replied. “We feared the same of you. It was only with news of your marriage,” he sneered, “to Argyll’s Henchman that we were sure you had survived.”

  “I’m so happy to see all of you,” she said, touching the face of another man—this one far younger—with such tenderness that Jamie felt as if she’d just slipped a dirk between his ribs.

  He wanted something from her so badly, he could almost taste it.

  But when she turned to look at him, there was no sign of affection or tenderness on her face—only betrayal and distrust. “Release these men at once.”

  Jamie stiffened but otherwise ignored her demand. He felt his temper—something he hadn’t known he had before meeting her—rise. Cool rationality gave way to hot emotion.

  A kind of hush descended over the crowd as they waited for his reaction. How would the most feared man in the Highlands react to being ordered about by a lass?

  Seamus moved in front of her. “I’ll protect you, lass.”

  “From what?” Caitrina replied, completely oblivious.

  That was some consolation, Jamie reflected, though admittedly small. Unlike these men, she knew he would never hurt her. Not that she didn’t deserve a good tongue-lashing. But right now he didn’t trust himself not to say something he couldn’t take back.

  “I thought I told you to send for me when you wished to come to the castle,” he said, not bothering to mask his annoyance.

  “There was no need—”

  “In the future, wife,” he said with emphasis, “you will do as I say.”

  Her cheeks burned with indignation, but wisely she chose not to argue. He was thinking only of her safety, but damned if he would explain himself again.

  He heard the grumblings of her clansmen but also sensed their grudging admiration. By all rights, he could have done much worse. He was laird, and his word was law—and hardly subject to the dictates of a lass. Even one who was his wife. Her clansmen might not like it, but they would not interfere. Pride reigned supreme for a Highlander. No Highlander worth his salt would stand for his lady questioning his decisions before his men.

  Perhaps realizing that she’d overstepped her bounds, she moderated her tone. “Please,” she said. “What cause have you to bind these men?”

  “None,” Seamus replied. “Except that he’s a rot Campbell bastard who burns and pillages people from their homes to fatten the pockets of a tyrant.”

  “Enough!” Jamie boomed. It wasn’t his fault the men were bound in the first place, but they’d refused to surrender under the conditions he’d granted. He turned to the captain of his guardsmen. “Take these men back to Rothesay. Perhaps after a few days in the dungeon they will change their minds.”

  Caitrina gasped. “No! You can’t—”

  “Yes,” he said with deadly calm. “I can.”

  “Don’t worry, lass,” Seamus said. “The Henchman doesn’t scare us.”

  Jamie met the older man’s stare with such intensity that he dropped his gaze, proving his lie.

  Her husband addressed the rest of the men who’d gathered round to watch the proceedings. “Return to work, all of you.” After issuing a few specific instructions to the two men he’d designated as foremen, he allowed his gaze to settle again on his wife. It almost hurt just to look at her. “If you would like to return to Rothesay, I can have one of my men escort you.”

  “I don’t need—”

  The furious look on his face stopped her.

  “Please,” she said, moving in front of him. She placed her hand on his arm. Already on edge, every nerve in his body leapt at her touch. “Will you not speak to me? In private.”

  He turned his gaze, not daring to look at her hand. “I’m busy.”

  “A few minutes are all I ask. Surely you can spare a few minutes?”

  Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation in his present mood, he nodded stiffly and motioned her toward the gate. They walked down the path to the loch in silence. When they reached the edge of the water, he turned to her, his face expressionless. “What is it you wished to say?” Or accuse him of, which was probably more likely.

  “Will you not explain to me why you have imprisoned my father’s men?”

  Tired of her thinking the worst of him, he was tempted not to, but the soft plea in her voice tugged at the part of him that still sought her understanding. “I believe I told you when we married that I’d taken surety for your clan—making me responsible for their actions. I’ve been charged with clearing Bute of outlaws, and I damn well intend to do so.” He’d shocked her with his language, but he didn’t care. She thought him a brute, so be it.

  She studied his face as if looking for a crack. “I thought you’d come here to help rebuild Ascog.”

  “I did. But I have other duties.” He gave her a long look. “Just what is it you think I do, Caitrina?”

  “I …,” she stammered, eyes wide.

  He took her elbow and pulled her against him, his body a mass of gnarling tension. He couldn’t be this close to her, breathe in her seductive scent, and not want to take her into his arms and kiss her. To claim her body, even if she was determined to give him nothing else. “If men break the law, it is my responsibility to see them brought to justice.”

  He was not ashamed of what he did; without men like him, there would be anarchy and chaos.

  He could feel the pounding of her heart. No matter what else, she was not unaffected by his touch. “But what have they done?” she breathed, her voice shallow.

  “Do you mean after giving shelter to the MacGregors? They tried to attack my men and relieve them of some silver that I’d given them to purchase materials for the rebuilding of Ascog.”

  Clearly, he’d shocked her. “I’m sure they didn’t know.”

  “I’m sure they didn’t, but is that an excuse?”

  “No, but couldn’t you give them a chance? Once they know that you are only trying to help.”

  He gave her a hard look. “I did. I offered them a reprieve if they would agree to surrender and swear to me as their laird.”

  “Truly?” Her face lit with happiness. “That is wonderful.”

  “Your father’s men refused.”

  Her face fell. “Oh.” She swallowed thickly. “I see.”

  And he could tell that she did. She’d misjudged him and knew it. He released her, but she didn’t move away.

  “So what will you do now?” she asked.

  “If they do not reconsider, I will send them to Dunoon.”

  “No!” Her horrified gaze flew to his. “You can’t do that.”

  He clenched his jaw, a reaction to her again telling him what he could and could not do. “It is your father’s men who give me no choice.”

  “Please,” she said, putting her hand on him again—this time on his chest. It burned like a brand over his heart. She had to dip her head back to look at him. “Please. You can’t. They’ll be hanged.”

  Blood pounded through his body. He was achingly aware of the subtle persuasion of her body. He knew what she was doing, but damn her, it was working. Something stirred in his chest. He wanted to stay aloof, but he was not immune to her pleas. Would he ever be? And that perhaps more than anything ange