The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  “That’s not the way it happened,” he clipped, reminding her that she’d been the one foolish enough to seduce him. His eyes blared with something she’d never seen before—recklessness. He started to say something, but his words were cut off. If he’d meant to tell her his secret, she wouldn’t hear it now.

  “Chie—Captain.”

  Lizzie jerked around at the sound of Robbie’s harried voice, breaking above the din of stomping hooves. The young warrior had been scouting behind them, and from the anxious look on his face, there was a problem.

  Chief. He’d been about to call Patrick chief. That was a strange mistake to make. Her gaze shot back to Patrick, but he’d already turned away from her.

  Robbie dismounted by jumping from the saddle and strode quickly to Patrick’s side to confer with him. He spoke in a low voice, but she was able to make out one word. A word that sent chills sweeping across her already cold skin: followed.

  Patrick knew it was useless to rail against the injustice, against the capricious fates that seemed intent on forcing them apart, but he couldn’t prevent the anger. At her for being a Campbell, for being so damn sweet and trusting. And at himself for allowing himself to care.

  And God, he cared about her. More than he’d imagined possible. Just looking at her, knowing that he couldn’t have her, made him want to lash out wildly. Cruelly. What limited possibilities they’d had for a future had been all but extinguished by the executions of his kinsmen at the hands of her cousin and the rape of his sister.

  He knew that she was confused, that she didn’t understand his frustration, but it would be better for her to hate him. It would make leaving her easier.

  There was one way he could ensure her hatred. And for one reckless moment—despite the danger presented by the handful of Campbell guardsmen that accompanied them—he contemplated telling her. I’m a MacGregor. An outlaw. Chief of a broken clan since your cousin murdered mine.

  There was no reason to hide his identity any longer—only the need to get her to the safety of Dunoon without getting his men killed stayed his tongue.

  Then Robbie arrived and the impulse was gone, his attention focused immediately on the threat at hand. The only question was who it was from.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Robbie’s voice was hard and succinct. “We’re being followed.”

  Patrick’s gaze darted meaningfully to Elizabeth, who was making no effort to hide her interest in their conversation. Robbie lowered his voice. “Campbells, Chief. The guardsman Finlay and ten other men, not two miles behind. I wanted to be sure, but they are definitely tracking us.”

  Finlay. And ten men? Hell. With the five Campbells he’d brought with him, that would leave him and his five men vastly outnumbered. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t worry him, but he had Lizzie to consider. The threat he’d expected was from his brother, not from the Campbell guardsman. Patrick’s mind went to work with the possible explanations for Finlay’s sudden arrival hard on their heels, but none of them boded well. “Tell the men to ready the horses.”

  “We will attempt to outrun them?”

  Patrick shook his head. If it was just him and his men, it would be different. But Lizzie was already about to fall off her horse. “Nay, but I would like to be closer to the hills before we find out what they want.” Though he’d picked a relatively protected area in which to rest, they were still in the valley of the river Forth—and a few leagues away from the forested hills and glens that separated the Lowlands from the Highlands.

  If necessary, they could disappear into those hills.

  Robbie nodded. “What about the lass?” he asked, broaching the question Patrick didn’t want to contemplate.

  What about Lizzie?

  Though he’d wanted to see her to Dunoon himself, if Finlay had discovered who he was, they would part much sooner than that.

  His chest pinched. Perhaps it was for the best. “She’ll be safe enough with her clansmen.” And if his fool brother was tempted to attack almost a score of Campbell guardsmen with only a handful of ragtag outlaws, Patrick would keep him at bay.

  Surprisingly, Lizzie made no complaint when their re spite was curtailed and once again they were riding at a hard—if not breakneck—pace across the moors. But her eyes haunted him, wounded and full of silent recrimination. Recrimination he could not answer for.

  In spite of the circumstances, with each mile that brought them closer to the lush border of hills, forests, and secluded lochs that separated the Lowlands from the Highlands, Patrick felt his excitement grow. This was MacGregor land. His land.

  And he’d been gone too long.

  After an hour of hard riding, they reached the easternmost edge of the forest just south of Aberfoyle and the great shadow of the mountain of Beinnmheadhonaidh; at last, they slowed. It didn’t take long for Finlay and the other Campbell guardsmen to come into view behind them.

  Lizzie, who’d been looking over her shoulder with enough frequency to tell him that she’d heard at least part of Robbie’s report, saw them and pulled up. “Wait. They’re Campbells.”

  Patrick made eye contact with Robbie and Hamish, giving them silent communication to be ready.

  Lizzie was studying him suspiciously, as were a few of the Campbell guardsmen they’d brought with them. “Why are we running from my cousin’s men?” she asked pointedly.

  “We weren’t running,” Patrick replied. It wasn’t an answer and she knew it, but the arrival of Finlay and his men prevented any further questions.

  If Patrick’s suspicions proved correct, her question would be answered soon enough.

  “Finlay,” she said, swinging her horse around and moving toward him, “what are you doing here? Why are you following us?”

  “Move away, my lady,” Finlay said.

  Patrick and his men readied. One look at the triumphant expression on the Campbell guardsman’s face was enough for him to know that they’d been compromised. But if Finlay thought he’d won, he was mistaken. They might be outnumbered, but they were MacGregors—and the Campbells were on his terrain now. If there was a fight, the only thing that worried him was ensuring that Lizzie stayed out of harm’s way.

  “Move away from what?” Lizzie asked, clearly confused.

  “From me,” Patrick said flatly, his gaze never once leaving the guardsman.

  Lizzie looked back and forth between them. “What is this about, Finlay?”

  “Aye,” Patrick taunted, cocking a brow in a manner designed to get a rise out of the other man. “What is this about?”

  Anger turned Finlay’s already red and sweaty face scarlet. “This man is not who he says he is.”

  The pronouncement was met with dead silence. Lizzie didn’t gasp or make any other sound of surprise, nor did she look at him, but Patrick saw the slight stiffening of her shoulders. “Then who is he?”

  Her voice sounded hollow—empty.

  Finlay scowled. “I don’t know. But the Laird of Tullibardine has never heard of Patrick Murray.”

  Like a musket shot, the sound of a horse tearing through trees from the forest to the west was greeted with the steely sound of blades being drawn from scabbards.

  “Wait,” Patrick said. “It’s my man.” It was Tormod, the man he’d sent scouting ahead of them. “What is it, Tormod?”

  The warrior looked around, grasping the situation. “MacGregors,” he said. “Coming fast.”

  Patrick swore. Could this get any worse? Damn his brother to hell. He thought quickly and turned to Finlay. “Take the lady and make for the road to Lennox. I’ll hold them off.”

  Finlay scoffed. “Think you I’m an idiot? This is just a ploy for you to make your escape.”

  Patrick wanted to grab him by the throat and shake him. He didn’t bother to hide his rage. “This isn’t a ploy, and if you don’t leave right now, you’ll find out soon enough that I’m telling the truth. But by then it will be too late. We can settle this later, but right now your duty is to th