Laird of the Mist (7 page)

Just beside him, one of Duncan’s men screamed and fell to the floor. Duncan’s body shook as he gripped his hilt with both hands. He’d managed to swing his blade, but it whooshed across empty air. Something whistled just in front of him an instant later and another guard crumbled to his knees, clutching the fatal gash across his belly.

Ten breaths had passed while Duncan stood alone in the paralyzing silence of his father’s dungeon. Someone whimpered. A lass’s voice. Duncan’s eyes darted to the eastern wall, knowing who it had to be. Still, he staggered backward when he saw that MacGregor was gone, and with him the chains that had held him. Young Margaret MacGregor’s confines lay crushed on the ground in a heap of twisted steel.

Impossible—Duncan remembered thinking—until the murderer stood before him.

“Fer now, ye will live to tell yer faither I will return fer him.”

Duncan took another swing at him, determined not to die cowering at a prisoner’s feet. His blade was met in midair by a crushing blow that sent fire up his arm. MacGregor’s sword ground against his until the tip was only inches from his eye.

Strewn over her brother’s shoulder, Margaret MacGregor cried out, halting the blade’s deadly course.

“Dinna force yer death. It will come soon enough,” MacGregor had promised him before he fled, taking his sister with him and vanishing into the mists.

Duncan wished the bastard had killed him instead of leaving him to face his father. It was the first time Liam Campbell had ever struck his son. Would that he had never stopped. It would have been more merciful than the contempt hardening his father’s eyes from that day hence.

Duncan surveyed the gruesome scene around him now. The Devil had finally returned to Inverary, and with the same fury. A sound from beyond the western curtain wall startled him. He spun on his heel, his sword at the ready to send the MacGregor straight back to hell this time.

He waited, hearing naught again but the wind. He inched forward toward the heavy portcullis that led to the inner bailey, drawing up his nerves to face his most formidable enemy once again.

Instead, he came upon his nephew, tied securely with rope, to the half-raised thick iron gate.

Robert Campbell stared down at his uncle and felt a tight knot rise in his throat. His great relief at being rescued vanished from his eyes as he noted the absence of any man at mount beside his returning uncle. The knot thickened, threatening to suffocate him if the strip of plaid tied over his mouth was not removed posthaste!

It took far too long for the earl to lower the gate and cut the cloth away from his face. “Where’s Kate?” Robert erupted.

Duncan did not answer him right away but looked around the deserted grounds, then continued cutting the rest of him loose. “Did he kill everyone, then?”

“Nae, anyone who did not lift a weapon was put in the dungeon,” Robert told him quickly. “They need be released. But first, Uncle, where is my sister? Why does she not ride with you?” Panic and nausea vied for his attention. Robert refused them both. The moment one hand was free, he used it to grip his uncle’s doublet. “Give me your reply!”

Eyes of forged steel finally fastened on his, narrowing slightly and stilling any further movement from Robert, despite his freedom. “Why do you fear for her so, Robert? You do not even consider that I might have left her unharmed in the care of my guardsmen in Glen Orchy?”

Robert had spent days helplessly secured to a wrought-iron gate, praying for an act of God to free him so he could save his sister. He prayed now again that it was not too late.

“Because the men you took with you to Glen Orchy are all dead, as these men are. I beg you tell me my sister is not among them.”

Now Duncan gripped his nephew’s tunic and yanked him closer. “How do you know the others are dead? It was the MacGregor, was it not? And you told him where to find me.” His eyes seared into Robert’s. “You chose to give them my life in exchange for yours,” he accused, then pushed his nephew away. “Here you are alive and well while your sister is their captive. You are a coward, Robert.” He nodded at his own words while Robert went pale. “Your grandfather would toss you from Kildun.”

“I did not tell them where to find you,” Robert flung at him before turning for the stable. “You did.”

“I?” Duncan stormed after him and stopped him by closing his fingers around Robert’s wrist. “I told no one but you where I was going!”

“And Graham Campbell,” his nephew informed him. “Or rather, Graham Grant, commander of the Devil MacGregor’s men. Aye, they made certain I knew whose eyes I was staring into ten breaths after we were led past the gates by the traitor that
you
took in as your kin after I arrived here.”

“Nae.” Duncan reeled back, stunned. He shook his head, refusing to believe he had been so easily fooled. “Graham Campbell drank with me, sat at my table.”

“And with me,” Robert agreed, his voice trembling with fury at the man he had come to think of as his friend. “He deceived us all. He led us outside the protection of the castle on the pretense that a band of MacGregors, led by the Devil himself, had captured you and were holding you just beyond Loch Awe. He led us directly into the swords of our enemies, at least two hundred strong.” Robert’s gaze swept over the bodies around him. Bodies he had been left to stare at for days. “We did not stand a chance against the wave of destruction which came upon us. Quickly our men were slain. Without mercy or pause were their bodies torn asunder and trampled.” He returned his gaze to his uncle, checking back the emotion in his voice. “The Devil and his men came here to kill you, but you were gone. Grant told him you were in Glen Orchy. They were on their way there when they left.”

“And they left you alive.” Duncan’s tone dripped with the accusation of betrayal.

“The fighting was over. My sword had been wrested from my hands. After the MacGregor instructed the bulk of his men to take your cattle to his holding, he ordered Grant to hang me, charging you with doing the same to his kinsmen.”

“And hang you he did.” Duncan smiled dryly. “But MacGregor let you live. You were fortunate. When the Devil strikes, he leaves no Campbell alive.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed on his uncle. “How then did you escape him?”

Duncan lifted his shoulders in a hesitant shrug, but he looked away from his nephew when he spoke. “I had gone for a morning ride after helping your sister with her swordplay. When I returned, your father’s land looked much like this. Katherine was gone.”

“And Amish and John?” Robert asked, drawing both hands down his face in an effort to calm his frantic heart. “Were they killed, as well?”

“I don’t know what became of them. They were not among the dead.”

“We must send word to the lord protector.”

Duncan shook his head. “Cromwell will do nothing. He sent over four hundred men to hunt the Devil after he killed my father. Most of those men were killed by Highlanders who side with the MacGregors. He will not tax his army so again. That is why he leaves the duty of killing the outlaws to the noblemen of Scotland.”

“But you are his vassal, uncle. Your entire garrison was killed. Surely he will send reinforcements.”

“It will take time.”

“Then I will find her myself,” Robert vowed.

“Where do you propose to look first?” Duncan did naught to conceal his mocking smirk. “This man holds no patch of ground in Glen Orchy, Glenstrae, or Rannoch. He left the banks of Lammond long ago and disappeared into the north. Since then, he has been as difficult to capture as the mists that hide him. If Cromwell’s army could not find him, you certainly won’t.”

Robert’s expression hardened, reminding Duncan of the lad’s father when Colin had set out to find the MacGregor after he had escaped. Liam Campbell had been pleased. At least, he had accused, one of his sons did not shyt his breeches in the face of a common outlaw. But Duncan had known the truth of it, even if his father was too blind to see.

Colin had been well loved by their father. He was tall and well muscled compared to Duncan’s scrawny physique. His dark good looks had also earned him the favor of the castle wenches at Glen Orchy. Robert’s resemblance to his father was a bit unnerving. Their eyes were the same, light brown flecked with gray and green and glinting with determination. But the similarities between father and son ended with their physical appearance. Robert Campbell was no coward.

“I know in which direction to ride,” Robert said stiffly.

“And when you come upon him,” Duncan challenged, “how will you succeed in gaining your sister back when you could not even keep your sword in your fists the first time you faced him? I fear you will not escape his wrath a second time.”

“I do not care if he kills me. I will free my sister from him first.”

“Braw words.” Duncan searched his nephew’s eyes and was pleased at the raw resolve lighting their depths. The Devil had to be stopped, but Duncan had decided long ago that he would not give his life simply to avenge those who perished at the fiend’s hands. His father might have thought him a fool, but he was not fool enough to think he could live through an encounter with Callum MacGregor. Nae, but he enjoyed taunting the beast. The law was on his side when it came to hanging the rebellious Highlanders and branding their women. But he had not thought the Devil would ever return here. MacGregor had to be completely mad to slaughter Kildun’s garrison a second time.

“Callum MacGregor needs to be dead.”

“If he has harmed my sister, he will be.”

“If?” Duncan tempered his query with a withering sigh. He would never make the same error his father had made in allowing doubt to grow in the heart of his kin. Robert had to know and understand well that the MacGregors were their enemies. Doubting the like gave room for pity, and pity bred sympathy. Nae, Duncan would nurture Robert’s fury and mayhap the lad would succeed in ridding them of the Devil once and for all. “Lad, I’ve no doubt he will violate her. Let us pray he does not kill her.” He smiled tightly when Robert rushed for the stables again. “We will need more men!” he called out.

His nephew slowed to a halt and looked over his shoulder at him. “You said it would take time.”

“Not if they come from Scotland,” Duncan promised. “I can assemble at least one hundred within a few days. But Robert,” his uncle added when Robert turned to face him fully. “When we find the bastard we will employ a more effective strategy than charging his holding.”

“What do you mean?”

Duncan looked toward the castle doors, returning once again to that day—and the only thing that had stopped MacGregor from killing him. “He has a weakness. And I know what it is.”

Chapter Eight

“G
OD CURSE YOU
!”

Kate’s eyes darted to the right to see who had hurled the offense, but the dozens of faces staring back at her all looked equally guilty.

Beside her, Callum lowered his gaze, avoiding the accusation and anger thick in the air. He knew he was not welcome in Roderick Cameron’s village. They were afraid of him. ’Twas why he had dismounted before he entered the village and commanded his men to do the same. Leading his warhorse by the bridle gave him a less intimidating appearance.

“Go back to the hell that spawned ye!”

These people wanted peace, no matter what it cost them.

“Why do they hate you?” Kate tugged on his plaid. “I thought you said their laird was your friend.”

When Callum lifted his eyes and met her incensed gaze, the sudden urge to smile near overwhelmed him. It astonished him that even while he was being so painfully reminded of what he had become, the indignation Kate felt over his rebuke could soften his black heart.

“They dinna all hate me. ’Tis only the MacGregors who curse me.”

She stopped walking, stopping him, as well, with her hand still on his plaid. Her eyes opened wider, and Callum allowed himself a moment to bask in the knowledge that she truly didn’t know who he was. As far as she was concerned he was simply a MacGregor laird, guilty of the same as any other. And some traitorous part of him gloried in it. She didn’t know of the blood that covered his hands. That covered all of him. He should tell her the truth, but the truth was too harsh and ugly, and it would change the way she looked at him.

“Your own kin hate you? Why?” she demanded to know.

A glossy curl obscured the alluring curve of her cheekbone. The tilt of her chin tempted him to lean down and kiss her until she went weak in his arms.

“Many of these people have changed their names and live here now as Camerons. They want the world to ferget us. I keep reminding the world that we still exist.”

“How do you remind them?”

“By keeping our name alive and avenging the wrongs done to my kin.” Hell, she tempted him as no one had ever done before to give account of what his name meant to him.

Her expression on him softened briefly, and he was the one who felt weak. “You sound more like their hero than their enemy.”

For an instant, he wanted to stay in that moment forever. But the lives he’d taken for his name, and in the name of vengeance, were too great an iniquity to be forgiven. He ground his jaw and picked up his steps again. He was an outlaw, a murderer, the most feared MacGregor in Scotland, and the one with the largest price on his head. He was not a hero.

“Come,” he said, grasping her hand as he cut toward the stone keep overlooking the village. “I must be granted permission before we go further.”

They were met just outside the fortress by Roderick Cameron. He was an imposing man with thick gray hair plaited on either side of his weathered face. The plaid draping his expansive shoulders and belted low on his waist was fashioned of many colors. His eyes were the shade of a stormy sea, but when they settled on Callum they softened with fondness.

“How d’ye fare, MacGregor?” He slid his gaze to Kate and smiled in a way that told her he thought Callum was faring rather well. He swept his arm across the threshold to usher them inside the keep. “Enjoy the comforts of my home as is afforded to friends.”

Callum placed his hand on the chieftain’s shoulder. “I must refuse yer generous offer. I would chance nae further peril to yer people. I wish only to see the woman.”