The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  “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.”

  His cousin didn’t appear too surprised. “The lass means that much to you?”

  Jamie met Argyll’s bold stare with one of his own. “She does.”

  “What’s she like?”

  Jamie thought for a moment; how could he put in words the complicated woman who was his wife? How could he explain that from almost the first moment he’d realized she was different from any other? “Strong. Loyal. Caring. Spirited.” He felt his chest tighten with a hot swell of emotion. “More beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.” Passionate.

  Argyll must have read his thoughts. “Never thought I’d see the day when you were smitten. Even when you asked me to intercede on Alex MacLeod’s behalf a few years ago, I had the sense that it wasn’t so much for Meg Mackinnon, but for yourself. But this is different, isn’t it?”

  Jamie nodded. “It is.”

  “And what will you do if you find them?”

  He eyed his cousin with full understanding of the significance of his question. It was Argyll’s not so direct way of asking him whether he still had his loyalty.

  Jamie realized that he did. He hadn’t forgiven his cousin for using him in his trick with the MacGregor, but though his loyalty had been pushed to the limits, it hadn’t been broken. Despite his cousin’s flaws, in the end Jamie still believed that Argyll was a better choice than the alternatives and the best hope for the future of the Highlands. If Jamie walked away, Argyll would suffer, but Mackenzie or Huntly would be the beneficiary. There was also Jamie’s clan and Caitrina’s to think about. Without Argyll, Jamie wouldn’t be in as good a position to help them. He needed his cousin’s influence as much as Argyll needed his.

  Finally, he answered, “Whatever my duty requires.”

  “And if he is fighting with the outlaws?”

  “I will arrest him.”

  Argyll smiled, well pleased.

  “After all …” Jamie paused to return his smile. “I’ve heard you have a mind to be lenient where the Lamonts are concerned. Very lenient.”

  Argyll’s smile fell, knowing he’d just heard the terms of his recompense for the rash act that had jeopardized everything they’d strived for and maligned Jamie in the process. He scowled and then said dryly, “Oh yes, I’m often regaled for my leniency.”

  Jamie grinned and shook his head. “And people say you are without humor.”

  Argyll’s mouth quirked. He well knew his grim reputation. “And what if you don’t find anything?”

  “If one of my wife’s brothers is alive, I’ll find him.”

  They both knew it was only a question of when, not if.

  “Just make sure you find him soon, before he does something I cannot undo. My ‘leniency’ is not without limits. Remember, you are charged with clearing Bute of outlaws and took surety for the Lamonts. Ultimately you will be held responsible for their actions.”

  Jamie nodded. The sooner he found any survivors, the better—before one of his wife’s brothers put them all at risk. Argyll, he knew, could be pushed only so far.

  Chapter 18

  A week later, Jamie rode through the gate of Rothesay Castle, exhausted and disappointed. He’d scoured the mountainous area north of Loch Lomond to no avail. If one or more of the Lamont’s sons had survived, they’d ventured too far into the treacherous mountains for Jamie to find them now. With winter bearing down on them, he’d have to wait until spring and then try again. Assuming he wasn’t chasing a ghost. There was always the possibility that the rumors of survival were unfounded.

  The entire journey back to the Isle of Bute, he’d debated what to tell Caitrina. Should he wait until he had proof—or tell her what he’d heard, even if it turned out to be only rumor? Did he dare set fire to her hopes with so little? She was still so vulnerable and just coming to terms with their deaths. Would further disappointment send her catapulting back into the dark abyss of loss?

  Hell, he still didn’t know what to do—an unusual state for a man who prided himself on his decisiveness. Perhaps when he saw her the answer would come to him. He was also not looking forward to telling her about the MacGregor’s death, assuming the news had not arrived before him. After over a week of separation, the closeness they’d shared before he left seemed tenuous and fragile.

  Gazing around the barmkin, he half expected to see her. The closer he’d drawn to Rothesay, the more anxious he’d grown. He’d missed her more than he thought possible.

  But there was no sign of her. He frowned. He’d hoped she’d missed him as well, but apparently she wasn’t eagerly awaiting his return.

  He dismounted and tossed the reins to a waiting stable lad as his men filed in behind him. “Where is the lady?”

  The boy shook, refusing to meet his gaze. “I–I do-don’t know, my laird.”

  The lad’s terror rankled; Jamie did not relish inspiring fear in children. His fearsome reputation, it appeared, had not lessened any with his marriage. He bit back his impatience and asked calmly,