The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  His eyes locked on hers, not letting go, but she didn’t take it back. Finally, he bowed his head. “As you wish.” And without another word, he pulled his destrier around and galloped out the gate. Never once looking back.

  Maybe that hurt the most. That after what they’d shared, he could just cut her off without a moment’s hesitation or remorse when her world had just been destroyed.

  He wouldn’t be coming back. To save her brothers, she’d gambled with her heart and lost.

  There was nothing she could do. It was too late. Niall was gone. As was the only man she would ever love.

  Desolation cut through her like a dull knife, the anguish unbearable. Her heart felt as though it were being ripped in two. She wanted to pour out her grief in a torrent of cries, but she was beyond the relief of tears. Dry-eyed, she watched him ride away, watched as his proud, strong back faded into the distance.

  Gone.

  A dry sob caught in her throat. Not again. She could not bear it. Never had she thought to feel this kind of pain again. Never had she thought to feel so alone.

  Love had failed her.

  She sank to her knees in the mud and dirt and bowed her head. Then an uncomfortable twinge penetrated her grief. Or had she failed love?

  Jamie forced his gaze straight ahead as he rode away from Rothesay, knowing it would be some time before he returned.

  It had taken every ounce of his strength to ride away, and he didn’t know when he dared attempt to see his wife again. Being near her would be impossible; the pull was too strong. It would be easier to sever all connection.

  As if cutting out his heart were easy. There was a hollow emptiness in his chest that ached more than any wound he’d ever suffered in battle.

  He squared his jaw, hardening himself against the raw surge of pain and loss.

  It seemed ironic, indeed, that a man who was virtually invincible on the battlefield had been felled by something as ordinary as emotion. He should have avoided the entanglement altogether, just as he’d done with his friendships. A man in his position was better off alone. He’d taken a chance with Caitrina, hoping it would be different, but it had been a mistake.

  Disappointment ate like acid in his stomach. He’d wanted so much to believe that they could come to an understanding, but he’d mistaken sex for trust and love. It might not have been done consciously as he’d first thought—the shock on her face had seemed real enough—but clearly she’d not made love to him as a show of trust, as he’d assumed.

  Apparently, she’d made some assumptions as well. It had taken her ultimatum for him to finally realize that no matter how hard he tried, he would never convince her to believe in him fully. He’d hoped that once she grew to know him …

  No. Her family and his being a Campbell would always be between them. She would never see past the name and reputation to the man. He was better off alone. He should have stayed that way.

  Love, it seemed, was not enough.

  For a man who didn’t allow for defeat, failure was difficult to stomach—especially with something he’d fought so hard for.

  “My sister can be quite stubborn.”

  Jamie turned to Niall Lamont, who sat in the birlinn beside him, watching him, and from his contemplative expression, he’d probably seen more than Jamie wanted him to. He plunged the oar into the water and pulled. “Aye.”

  As Niall’s hands were tied and he was unable to row, he’d made himself comfortable, kicking out his feet and leaning back against the edge of the wooden seat behind him. The relaxed pose was hardly that of a prisoner. “She’s scared. I’m sure she didn’t mean everything she said.”

  “I’m sure she meant every word.” He leveled his gaze on the other man. “She thinks I’ve betrayed her by taking you to Dunoon to account for your crimes.”

  Niall lifted a brow. “Can you blame her? Your cousin is not exactly known for his compassion to outlaws. And neither are you, for that matter.”

  Jamie couldn’t deny it. But the very fact that he would ask his cousin to intercede on Niall’s behalf should tell her how much she meant to him. He wanted to think she knew him better. That even if he wasn’t known for his compassion, he was capable of it. Argyll would be facing pressure from Colin, but Jamie was confident that in the end Niall Lamont and his men would be spared the executioner’s noose. His cousin wouldn’t like it, but he would keep his word. “It’s not my cousin I asked her to trust.”

  “It’s not?”

  Jamie pondered the rhetorical question for a moment. “You seemed to believe my avowal of leniency.”

  Niall shrugged. “What choice did I have? Were it my brother’s or sister’s life at stake, I can assure you I wouldn’t feel the same way.”

  Reluctantly, Jamie admitted that maybe he had a point. Caitrina didn’t know Argyll as he did—and what she did know he could understand might not instill confidence in his temperance.

  But something about what Niall said had bothered him. Jamie studied the other man’s face. His voice held the edge of a man who didn’t care whether he lived or died. Of a man who’d lost faith with the world. Jamie remembered what Niall had told him about the ravaging of his lass.

  He couldn’t imagine what Niall Lamont must be feeling. If someone had harmed Caitrina like that … His entire body flooded with white hot fury.

  He glanced at Niall’s stoic face, knowing the rage that simmered under the surface. Rage that could drive a man to lawlessness. For the first time, Jamie realized what could make a man seek his own justice—outside the law. And it was Jamie’s own brother who’d driven him to it. Twice.

  He hated to think that Colin could be capable of such brutality against a woman, but he knew Colin wouldn’t think of it as such. He’d think of it as the spoils of war, of a way to shame his enemy. Many men would agree with him.

  Jamie clenched his mouth in disgust. He didn’t. “I can understand your anger, but why the MacGregors? Why ally with them? Surely you know they are doomed. The king will not forgive them for the massacre at Glenfruin.”

  “The woman I mentioned …”

  Jamie nodded solemnly for him to continue.

  “Her name is Annie MacGregor.”

  Jamie swore.

  “I’m aware that some MacGregors have been at times”—Niall cleared his throat—“less than lawful. But what choice have they had, driven from their land with nowhere to go? I, too, have felt the brunt of a Campbell sword.”

  Jamie’s jaw hardened. The issue of land had been at the heart of the off-and-on feud between the Campbells and the MacGregors for hundreds of years—since King Robert the Bruce had granted the barony of Lochawe, including much of the MacGregor lands, to the Campbells. “The MacGregors are still clinging to a claim of land that goes back almost three hundred years. At some point they have to accept that they are not going to get it back. I sympathize with their plight, but feuding, reiving, and pillaging are not the answer.”

  “What choice have they had? You can’t poke a snake and expect it not to bite.”

  Niall had a point, not that it would do the MacGregors much good. Even the law would not help them now. “It will not change their fate. They will still pay for what happened at Glenfruin.”

  “Just as my men and I will pay for attacking your brother.”

  “I will see that you have justice.” Given Colin’s part in the lass’s suffering, maybe it was fitting that justice come from Jamie.

  Justice. What was it in this instance? He’d always equated justice with the law, but this time the answer was not so clear-cut. Niall Lamont had not had an easy time of it—the choices he’d made under the circumstances seemed understandable. Caitrina’s accusation came back to him. Had he unknowingly been driven by Duncan’s betrayal and become rigid in his view of right and wrong because of it?

  He’d never questioned Duncan’s guilt, but he wondered now whether he should have. Had he judged his eldest brother too harshly? It was a sobering thought. One with implications that resonat