The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  Hot tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. “You don’t need to explain. I should go.” She tried to lever her body off his, but it was like trying to bend steel. The hard, muscular wall of his chest didn’t budge, nor did the arm holding her.

  He uttered another oath, muttering something about her being too damn innocent.

  In that he was wrong.

  “Look at me,” he ordered, his fingers gently tipping her chin. Reluctantly, she complied. “I don’t want you to touch me, because it feels too good.” The muscle below his jaw pulsed. He leaned closer, his mouth a hairbreadth from hers. Her heart fluttered wildly—erratically. Startled, she felt the slightest brush of his lips against hers, like the whisper of a feather—so soft that she wondered whether she’d imagined it—before he pulled back with a groan. “It’s all I can do right now not to pull you down on top of me and kiss you until you beg for me to take you.”

  The heat in his voice left her no doubt that he meant what he said. The idea of ravishment didn’t frighten her as much as it should. Two spots of color burned high on her cheeks. She swallowed hard. “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh.” He dropped her wrist, releasing her, but she didn’t move right away. Couldn’t even if she wanted to. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own—being near him like this felt too good.

  His confession shouldn’t have made her so absurdly pleased … but it did. A flush of pleasure rushed up her cheeks. She bit her lip and said shyly, “I didn’t realize …”

  “I know.” His gaze deepened. “But now you do. I want you, and I’m not gentleman enough not to do something about it.”

  Her eyes widened again, taking in the dangerous-looking man lying half-naked beneath her. He was right about that—he didn’t look anything like a gentleman. He looked like a warrior. Like a man hanging very close to the edge of civility. Why wasn’t she frightened? “I see.”

  “So if that makes you change your mind about your offer—”

  “I’m not changing my mind,” she said firmly. The look that passed between them in the silence that followed was so thick with intensity, it was almost palpable. She felt the connection, the cinch that was pulling them closer and closer. Tighter and tighter.

  She realized her words might have sounded like an invitation. Blushing, she pulled away. “I mean, well, these are unusual circumstances. There’s no reason to think something like this will ever happen again. One of the maid servants can tend to your bandage from now on.”

  He gave her a look that suggested it might not be so simple, but she chose to ignore the implications.

  She moved toward the door, stopping suddenly and turning to give him one last glance. “So you’ll stay?”

  Their eyes connected with an intensity that told her she was a fool. What sparked between them was not confined to this room.

  “Aye, lass, I’ll stay.”

  She smiled, more relieved than she wanted to acknowledge. But a small part of her wondered whether she’d just opened Pandora’s box and invited in more than she could handle.

  Chapter 6

  Two days later, Patrick could no longer contain his restlessness. To hell with what the blasted healer said, he would not stay abed for one more hour, let alone one more day. He was a chieftain, a warrior, not a bloody invalid. Every minute that he and his men spent in the bosom of their enemy increased the danger of discovery. Time was of the essence, and he’d not waste it abed—alone.

  Bathed, fed, and dressed in clothes that had been thoughtfully cleaned for him, he fastened his dirk and sword at his waist and tossed his bow over his shoulder, leaving behind the luxurious accommodations of the Earl of Argyll as he went in search of his men. It was amazing what simple comforts could do to revitalize a man. For the first time in years, more than he wanted to think about, he felt civilized. A strange occurrence for an outlaw, and one he’d best not get used to.

  His stay at Castle Campbell was not likely to be a long one. As soon as he could convince Elizabeth to run away with him, they would leave for the Highlands. It might be some time before she was welcomed back into her home.

  The realization of all she would unknowingly be leaving behind pricked at him like a swarm of pesky midges in August. He didn’t like deceiving her, but Elizabeth would be more likely to throw one of her dirks at him than she would be to entertain the suit of a MacGregor.

  Even with the deception, however, she was avoiding him. Not surprising given what had—and what had nearly—happened between them.

  He couldn’t recall ever having something come over him like that. The all-consuming, almost violent urge to possess. His need for her had filled every pore, every fiber, every bone of his body. He rarely lost control—even in the heat of battle—and certainly not with a woman. No one had penetrated the shell that had surrounded him since the murder of his parents. That this tiny, serious lass should do so now surprised him. It had been the truth when he’d told her that he was moments away from pulling her down on top of him and ravishing her senseless.

  Perhaps he should have. Then she would be in no doubt of what she did to him.

  He couldn’t believe she’d actually thought he wasn’t attracted to her. His blunt appraisal to the contrary had unsettled her. Unsettled, but not discouraged. A subtle but important difference.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. The challenge would be in finding time alone with her. Perhaps he shouldn’t have warned her away from his sickbed, but the thought of her tending him, of her hands on his body and him not being able to do anything about it … there would be nothing “slow” about his seduction at all.

  What happened to his vaunted control? It sure had picked a hell of a time to desert him.

  His shoulders bumped along the walls of the narrow staircase as he wound his way down the three flights to the great hall. Though he knew they’d been built for protection—to prevent attackers from storming up the stairs—he vowed one day to build a keep with doors high enough that he did not have to duck his head, and stairs wide enough not to have to walk sideways. Still, despite his size, he was used to moving stealthily through confined areas, and habit made him do so now. The soft leather of his boots was nearly soundless on the narrow stone treads as he exited the dark stairwell.

  He took one step into the great hall and stopped for a long, bloodcurdling instant before retreating silently back into the safety of the stairwell.

  He leaned against the cool, solid stone, allowing the fierce pounding of his heart to slow. A cold sweat had formed on his brow and down his back. Still in shock, he listened to the voices of the two people he’d seen, knowing that he’d been one step, one chance glance, away from certain death.

  For standing with Elizabeth before the big stone fireplace was the man charged with hunting the MacGregors to extinction: Jamie Campbell.

  Years of hatred erupted inside him. Faces sped by like cards shuffling in a deck. He thought of his family, of all the clansmen he’d lost at the hands of the Campbells.

  The promise of vengeance hovered in the air, so strong that he could almost taste it.

  Ignoring the stab of pain from his wound, he reached behind him and with cold deliberation plucked an arrow from the quiver at his back.

  If he did this, he’d have to flee. The opportunity to reclaim his family’s land would be lost, and Elizabeth Campbell would be forever beyond his reach.

  Jamie Campbell’s voice rang out loud and clear. “Alasdair MacGregor has gone too far. I’ll see every one of their damn heads on pikes.”

  If he had any doubt, the Enforcer’s words erased it. Patrick’s mouth clenched in a grim line as he notched the bow and raised his arrow to the back of the man who’d hunted his clansmen like dogs. Who’d been responsible for the countless deaths of his kinsmen. Whom every MacGregor wanted dead.

  An opportunity like this might never come again.

  His eyes narrowed as he drew back the string and took steady aim, intending to rid his clan of its ruthless pursuer once and fo