The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  “Bah. What care do Highlanders have for courtly fashion?”

  Lizzie smothered a grin, observing the look of disgust on Alys’s face. “In case you’ve forgotten … we aren’t in the Highlands. And it’s barely decent.”

  Alys stared at Lizzie with a devious smile on her face. “Not decent? Wonderful. Your braw laddies won’t be able to take their eyes off of you.”

  Off quite a bit of her, if Lizzie recalled the tight, low-cut bodice correctly. She arched her brow. “Is that what this is all about?”

  The older woman looked at her as if she were addled. “Of course that is what this is about. Time is a-wasting, my wee lassie. You’ll not be able to keep those two dangling after you forever. Like two snarling wolves, they are. I heard what happened earlier on the hunt.”

  Lizzie blushed and quickly turned away to avoid the maidservant’s eagle-eyed gaze. Instead she made a great show of yanking a brush through her damp hair. “They aren’t dangling and nothing happened.”

  “Don’t you play coy with me, Lizzie lass. Imagine,” she said, sighing dreamily, “two handsome, strapping warriors like that fighting over you. It’s so romantic.”

  Lizzie bit back a smile at Alys’s expression. It was a wee bit romantic, but she didn’t want to encourage her.

  “Too bad you can’t choose both,” Alys said wickedly. “But I don’t think Patrick Murray is of any mind to share.” She shook her head. “Poor Robert will be disappointed.”

  Lizzie shot her a glare. “What makes you think I want Patrick? Robert Campbell is the man my family has chosen for me to marry.”

  Alys’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t love Robert Campbell.”

  “I don’t love either—”

  Alys’s sharp gaze cut off her protest. “Elizabeth Campbell, I’ve known you since you were a wee lass. Don’t try to deny that you are in love with that gorgeous man.”

  Lizzie blanched. Am I in love with Patrick Murray?

  “You practically light up the moment he enters the room,” Alys continued, unaware of how thoroughly Lizzie was reeling. “And he’s every bit as much in love with you as you are with him.” She shook her head. “Why is it that young people are so stubborn and foolish when it comes to matters of the heart?”

  Lizzie didn’t know what to say. Alys made it sound so simple. But it wasn’t. It was complicated and difficult and tearing her apart. “Marriage has very little to do with the heart,” she said softly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It has everything to do with it. Don’t let what happened with that poppycock ruin your chance for happiness. Would you marry a man you do not love?”

  Lizzie twisted her hands. “I have a responsibility to my family. I’m in no position—”

  “You’ve done enough for your family,” Alys said harshly. “They love you and want to see you happy.” It was exactly what Patrick had said. There was a fierce look on the older woman’s face that Lizzie had never seen before. “I’ve never regretted for a moment my decision.”

  Lizzie’s brows wrinkled. “What decision?”

  Alys pushed aside some of the gowns to clear a spot on the coverlet. She patted the space next to her for Lizzie to sit. “Did you know that my father is the Chief of Buchanan?”

  Lizzie’s eyes widened. “I knew you were a Buchanan, but you’ve never mentioned that the chief was your father.”

  “As a young girl, I was betrothed to Lord Aven, the Marquess of Hamilton’s son.” Lizzie let out an audible gasp, which she tried quickly to smother, but Alys only smiled. “Yes, he recently inherited an earldom, I hear. As you can imagine, my father was less than pleased when I decided to marry a young, landless Campbell guardsman instead. But from the moment I first saw my Donnan at court with your cousin the earl, I loved him.” Her eyes sparkled. “Still do, as a matter of fact. And I’ve never regretted my decision for a moment.”

  Lizzie stared at her for a long time. It had taken some real courage to do what she had done. “And your father?”

  Alys laughed. “Oh, he was angry at first, but he eventually recovered from the shock. My younger sister married well. He does still enjoy reminding me of all that I have forsaken, and I figure the least I can do for all the years of happiness he’s given me is let him.” Alys stood up. “Enough about me. That was a very long time ago. But if you aren’t going to be late for dinner, we need to get you dressed. You’ll need your pearls,” she said, going back to the ambry. “And the matching circlet, I think.” She pulled out a thin piece of gauze that matched the gown and could be worn in Lizzie’s hair like a veil, then shook her head. “No. We want them to see your beautiful hair.” Her hands lifted the heavy blond waves and then let them tumble down Lizzie’s back. “Your hair is glorious, Lizzie. You must show it to your advantage.”

  “I’m not wearing that dress,” Lizzie protested, but as before, her words fell on deaf ears. Alys was already searching for stockings and underskirts thin enough to wear under the gown.

  “Try this,” she said, holding out a thin satin underskirt. When Lizzie started to argue, Alys smiled sweetly. “Why don’t we just see how that old dress looks on?”

  An hour later when Lizzie left her chamber for the great hall, it was no surprise what she was wearing.

  Patrick returned to the castle that night for the last time, his trip to the village having been for naught. Given what he’d decided, however, he was glad Gregor had yet to return from the Lomond Hills. He knew his brother wouldn’t be as understanding as his men.

  The guardsmen had taken the news of their leaving on the morrow with nary a word of protest. After today’s events, they all realized they were living on borrowed time. Even Hamish had made only a halfhearted attempt to argue for taking Lizzie with them. It seemed the heart had gone out of their fight. Patrick was not the only one who’d fallen under the spell of Elizabeth Campbell. She’d charmed them all with her kind heart and serene beauty. He shook his head. Look at them now: a pack of ruthless MacGregor warriors brought to heel by a mere wisp of a lass—and a Campbell one at that.

  His men had gone to the hall to join in the evening entertainment, but Patrick was in no mood for merriment. He returned to the barracks, welcoming the solitude. With only one more night to fill their bellies with food and drink their fill of the Campbells’ wine and ale, it would be a while before anyone returned.

  He started gathering his meager belongings in a pile and then fitting them into the leather bags he would tie to his saddle. He’d been a fool to reject Campbell’s gold. Pride wouldn’t keep him warm or his belly full in the coming winter. He would see about procuring some food from the kitchens in the morning. It would need to last them a while—the ride deep into the Lomond Hills to find the rest of his clan might take some time. Though his mind was already on the road ahead of him, he hadn’t figured out how he was going to say good-bye to what he left behind.

  No matter how tempting it might be to simply leave, he knew he could not do that to her. Lizzie deserved some kind of explanation—if only he could find the words to make her understand that what he was doing was for the best.

  Leaving a note wasn’t an option. An education was just one more thing he’d lost when his parents had been killed and his clan broken.

  He was still weighing what to do when the door opened and the decision was wrested from him.

  Lizzie stood silhouetted in the doorway, the torch in her hand illuminating her stricken face as she stared at the bags and belongings strewn across his pallet.

  Every muscle in his body went taut. He froze, as though he’d been knocked senseless, utterly transfixed by the ethereal beauty of the fey creature before him. She looked like a figment of a dream, her flaxen hair and silvery gown shimmering like quicksilver in the flickering flame. An angel.

  His face darkened. Except that her gown was anything but angelic.

  What the devil was she trying to do, drive him mad with longing?

  His eyes slid over her and came back to rest where they had sta