The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  Was it fate that had brought them together?

  It took her a moment to find the words she’d dreamed of someday saying, if ever given the opportunity, to the man who’d been so kind to her. She smiled, sheer wonder making her eyes shimmer with tears. “Thank you.”

  Her praise seemed to make him uncomfortable. “It was nothing.”

  But they both knew it was much more than that—he’d risked his life in helping her. He’d stood beside her when no one else would. How could she be anything but eternally grateful? Gazing up into his handsome face, she shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I couldn’t. You would have known I was a MacGregor.”

  She nodded and then frowned. “But why not after? Why not tell me once I discovered your identity? You must have known how grateful I would be.” His gallantry had been the only bright spot in that horrible day.

  “I thought the memory might cause you pain—I thought it better left in the past.”

  She winced, suddenly picturing with embarrassing clarity the scene he’d witnessed. Tripping and landing in the puddle on her backside. Sitting there, dripping with mud, utterly humiliated. No one coming to help her.

  Had he heard what John and his friends had said?

  Her cheeks heated with mortification. Of course he had.

  She dropped her gaze, too embarrassed to look at him, scared that she would see pity on his face.

  He tipped her chin in his strong fingers and forced her gaze back to his. “It’s their shame, not yours, Lizzie.” He pressed his lips on hers in a tender kiss. “Forget about it. That day was a long time ago and means nothing to us now.”

  He was right. What happened then was the past and he was her future. The memory would always be a painful one, but now perhaps knowing his part would make it a little more bearable.

  She covered her embarrassment with a wry smile and a self-deprecating attempt at humor. “What must you have thought of me? I must have looked quite the pitiful sight.” She laughed self-consciously. “Not exactly a good first impression. I can’t believe you would even want to try tricking me into marriage after that. I suppose you drew the short straw.”

  The jest fell flat in a thud of uncomfortable silence.

  She looked up at him expectantly, waiting for reassurance, surprised instead to see a flash of something akin to guilt.

  Her poor attempt at eliciting a compliment had misfired—badly. The smile slid from her face and she stepped back, eyeing him uncertainly.

  “It wasn’t like that,” he said an instant too late. “I’m the one lucky to have you, Lizzie. I never thought I could have a woman like you and jumped at the opportunity. I wouldn’t hear of it being anyone else.”

  All of a sudden, the implication of what he’d seen—and then done—hit her with enough force to take her breath away. He tried to pull her into his arms again, but she backed out of his reach. “Patrick”—her eyes locked on his taking in every facet of his reaction—“did what you saw that day play a part in your decision to pursue me—to seduce me into marrying you?”

  Her heart thumped wildly as she guessed the answer.

  The look in his eyes said it all.

  Please, anything but pity. Her insides curled. She wanted to crawl into a tight ball.

  She took a step back, the burning in her chest excruciating. “God, it did,” she said, her voice hoarse with pain.

  “It’s not what you are thinking,” he said fiercely.

  He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. He’d probably never felt a moment of self-doubt or insecurity in his life. Her eyes raked over his too perfect face, her heart straining to beat in her tight chest. Tears swam before her eyes. “P-p-poor, pathetic Elizabeth Campbell.” She took a deep breath, forcing the stammer from her voice. Could she be any more humiliated already? “A plain girl with a stammer and three broken engagements would be grateful for the attention of any man, let alone a sinfully handsome one like yourself. Did you think me so desperate that I would fall at your feet?” The memories stabbed. She would lap it up like a grateful pup. And she had. She’d fallen right into his seductive trap. But look at him—she’d never had a chance. A sob tore from her chest. Eyes wide, she gazed up at him and asked in a tiny voice, “Did you laugh at me?”

  He pulled her fiercely against him in a tight embrace, not letting her push him away. “Never! Don’t ever think that. Aye, I admit I thought you might have been left vulnerable by what had happened, but that is not the reason I wanted to marry you. I wanted you from the first moment I saw you, and it had nothing to do with pity.”

  She heard the vehemence and sincerity in his voice, but it couldn’t completely pierce the veil of hurt or repair the damage to her pride. Pride that had taken years to rebuild. “I’m to believe that?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  She wanted to believe him, and perhaps deep down she did, but she couldn’t get the images out of her head. Had they laughed at her? Made fun of her?

  She cringed, unable to think about it. He’d thought her an easy mark—a scorned woman who’d be only too grateful for his attentions. She’d thought she’d put that day behind her, but perhaps there was still a part of her that believed that her deep-rooted desire to fall in love made her susceptible to being taken advantage of—just as John had done. “I don’t know which is worse,” she said miserably, “to be pursued for my land or for being an easy mark.”

  But certainly not for me.

  “Stop.” His expression was as hard as she’d ever seen it. “I will not let you think that way. You are making more of this than there ever was. Even if I suspected you would be susceptible to seduction, I quickly learned that I was wrong. If anything, you had been made more wary by what had happened before. My motives for finding you again might have been ill conceived, but I’ll never be sorry that I did. I wanted to marry you because I fell in love with you. Not for your land, but for you.” His thumb swept over the curve of her cheek, wiping away a single tear. He looked right into her eyes. “I love you, Elizabeth Campbell, with all my heart.”

  For an instant, happiness broke through the pain. I love you. Words she’d dreamed of but never heard. Not until now. Why now? “You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better.”

  His jaw flexed, and pride radiated from him. “I’ve never said those words to anyone before.” His penetrating gaze moved over her. “Nor do they come easy for me.”

  Lizzie heard the censure in his voice and understood—he’d held himself apart for so long because of all that had been taken from him. Relinquishing that control over his emotions would have not come easily. Those words had cost him a lot. “I want to believe you.”

  He took her chin in his hand and turned her face to his, his gaze tender and … loving. “Then do. Does knowing I was there that day really change anything, Lizzie? However it started, I do love you. That isn’t a lie. After all we’ve been through, all that we’ve shared, can you really doubt my feelings for you?”

  She looked up at him with watery eyes. Could she? She knew the answer in her heart.

  A sound in the distance behind them, however, drew his immediate attention. He swore and grabbed her hand. “I will prove it to you if it takes me a lifetime, but the rest of this discussion will have to wait. They’re coming. We have to go. Quickly.”

  She nodded, not wasting any time arguing, and ran. After a few minutes, an old stone church—now a kirk—came into view on the other side of a small hill. What looked to be a small waterfall ran alongside it. A large crowd of men and horses filled the yard.

  Patrick turned to her with an encouraging smile. “Not much farther. My men—”

  He stopped in his tracks and swore.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He turned to her, eyes blank. “Those aren’t my men.”

  “Then who?” Her gaze shot back to the kirk, and she easily recognized the man who was mounting his horse, obviously intending to give them chase.