The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  “No!” The sound he made wasn’t human. Raw pain tore through his chest like a ragged claw, splicing him apart. Not his sister. Not sweet, stubborn, beautiful Annie. He grabbed Gregor by the shirt and shook him as if he could clear away his words. “What the hell happened? I told you to hide them.” His throat was tight and his voice raw. “You were supposed to keep them safe.”

  “I tried, damn it.” Gregor wrenched away. “I had them hidden in the braes of Balquhidder, but they were betrayed for gold, and Auchinbreck exacted his retribution on Annie.”

  Auchinbreck was a dead man.

  “Retribution?” Patrick growled. “For what?”

  “When news reached us of Argyll’s treachery—of the deaths of our chief and kin—there were risings from the braes of Balquhidder to Rannoch Moor. We burned a path of vengeance a mile wide.”

  “And you didn’t think to let me know.” All of a sudden, the ramifications of Alasdair’s death hit him. He pinned his brother with his gaze. “I am chief.”

  Gregor’s eyes flashed as if he wanted to argue, but instead he shrugged. “There wasn’t time.”

  It was a damned insufficient excuse, and they both knew it. Did Gregor intend to challenge his leadership? Being chief was not a position Patrick had ever wanted, but he damn well intended to be a good one—certainly better than his brother. If the MacGregors had any chance of survival, it wouldn’t be with the mercurial Gregor at the helm. He didn’t want to think his brother could be so disloyal, but Gregor had changed. He’d always been able to placate him before. “And the resurgence of fighting is why Auchinbreck sought retribution?”

  Patrick caught the flicker in Gregor’s gaze. “The men were enraged, out of control. Thirsting for revenge.” He shrugged. “A Campbell lass got in the way.”

  Patrick swore, guessing what had happened. “And our clansmen decided to take some of their rage out on a woman?” He looked away in disgust. Poor Annie had been caught in the crossfire.

  I should have protected her. Could he have done something different? If he’d taken that shot at Jamie Campbell, would his cousin and brother still be alive?

  It sickened him to think that less than two weeks ago, he’d sat across the room from the man who was responsible for the rape of his sister. His stomach clenched. He couldn’t think about it. “I have to go to her,” Patrick said. “Where is she?”

  Gregor shook his head. “She won’t see you. She won’t see anyone. Not even Niall Lamont. I knew how Annie felt about him, so I fetched him from Bute. That’s what delayed my coming here. But she sent him away.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Molach, the islet in Loch Katrine, with some of the other women and children. She’s safe for now.”

  Safe? Annie would never feel safe again.

  Black. That was all Patrick could see, all he could feel. Cold. Empty. Dead. Any feeling left inside him had been destroyed by the news of the deaths of his kinsmen and his sister’s rape. All that was left was a simmering rage. Rage that lashed inside him with nowhere to go.

  He clenched his fists, his mouth pressed into a tight line. By all that was holy, Achinbreck and the Campbells would pay for what they had done.

  Only moments ago he’d had hope for the future, and now everything had changed. His cousin and brother were dead, his sister raped; he was chief of a broken clan.…

  And marrying Lizzie had become impossible.

  The return of his family’s land was secondary to saving his clan from destruction and his duty as chief. Any hope of a peaceable solution had vanished with Argyll’s treachery.

  The enormity of his responsibilities hit him hard. He’d been running his whole life, focused on surviving, but now he was responsible for the survival of his entire clan. His duty was clear. His clan would demand vengeance, and he would give it to them—gladly.

  Ironic, he supposed, that at the moment he realized he could never have her, he understood Lizzie better. Understood her sense of duty and the struggle she must have gone through to decide to marry him.

  He’d been a fool to think he could ever find happiness with a Campbell. With anyone. He should have known better.

  “Where is Auchinbreck now?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Gregor replied. “But we have everything we need to find him.”

  Lizzie. Patrick fought the urge to thrash his brother even for the suggestion.

  I will kill anyone who harms you. He recalled his vow but had never anticipated that that someone might be his brother. “I won’t let you hurt another innocent woman,” he warned. “It’s Auchinbreck who deserves our vengeance, not his sister.”

  But Gregor was beyond rationality, and Patrick’s words of caution fell on deaf ears. Eyes wild, Gregor gave him a look teeming with scorn. “You’ve grown soft, brother. The lass has blinded you to what needs to be done. You have a duty to the clan—”

  “I don’t need you to tell me what my duty is.” Patrick’s voice held the edge of a razor. “I know exactly what needs to be done.” And it didn’t include harming Lizzie.

  Gregor studied his face. “You’d put this Campbell slut above your own kin? She’ll die, but first she’ll suffer like our sister. If you aren’t man enough to do what needs to be done, I will.”

  Every muscle in Patrick’s body flexed, but he kept his voice deadly calm. “Raping a woman does not make you a man. Touch her and I’ll kill you. I said to leave the lass be. I’m chief, I make the decisions.”

  “For now.”

  Patrick’s gaze hardened. “Is that a challenge, brother?”

  Gregor looked uncomfortable, proving that he was not completely without loyalty. “Not if you do what needs to be done.”

  “And by that you mean taking revenge on Elizabeth Campbell?” Patrick held his anger in check, though his first instinct was to take his dirk to his brother’s neck and impress upon him the seriousness of what he was about to say. But one of them had to be rational. “Revenge on innocents isn’t going to help our cause.”

  “Cause?” Gregor scoffed. “What cause? The Campbells won’t rest until every one of us is dead. I for one intend to take as many of them as I can with me.”

  Patrick heard the murmurs of agreement from the other men and knew he had to make them see beyond the thirst for revenge. It was a thirst he shared, but one he had to hold in check for the future of the clan. “So your answer is to give up? Go down in a blaze of glory? Don’t you see that every day we survive is a victory? The Campbells have tried for years to get rid of us, but the fact that you and I are standing here shows that they’ve failed.” He looked into the faces of the other men. Men with wives and families. “What about our women and children? Would you leave them unprotected, at the mercy of men like Auchinbreck? Would you see the name MacGregor die, never to be reborn?”

  Gregor had a mulish look on his face. “The clan wants revenge.”

  “And they shall have it. Our murdered kinsmen and our sister will not be forgotten. But if you make war on Elizabeth Campbell, there will be no place for us to hide. Every Campbell will be hunting us, and the other clans will turn against us. Don’t you see?”

  His brother’s eyes had lost a bit of their rabid glaze. Patrick’s words appeared to have finally penetrated. He nodded. “Aye.”

  “Good. Then ride north and send out the crann tara, the fiery cross. I want every MacGregor from here to Rannoch Moor to gather at the kirk in Balquhidder a week hence.”

  Gregor frowned. “What about you? Aren’t you coming with us?”

  “Aye, but first I want to see what I can discover of the Campbell plans and Auchinbreck’s movements. I’ll follow in a few days.”

  “And the Campbell chit, you intend to just leave her?”

  “Aye.” The tightness in his chest nearly cut off his breath. Every instinct rejected what had to be done. His course had been laid out for him. To join his men. To fight. To punish those who’d murdered his kinsmen and raped his sister.

  Only one thing s