Ravished by a Highlander (30 page)

Aye, a slow death would suit well, Rob thought, pushing his way through the herd. That he’d allowed Asher to live at all still
galled him, but the bastard’s boldness in speaking to Davina was too much.

“Look there, Robert,” Jamie called out to him. “He’s leavin’ with Caitlin, and yer wife is safe and sound on her way back
to the castle. Dinna’ go chasin’ after her. We need three of us to bring the sheep in.”

To hell with the sheep. Rob had a fox to deal with. He was halfway to the castle when a fiery arrow pierced the sky followed
by a cry from the battlement walls.

Rob was still too far away to hear it clearly, but he didn’t need to. The arrow meant there were riders approaching. Quickening
his pace to a run, he spared a look toward the hills leading out of Camlochlin. Gilles could not have found them. Not so soon,
anyway. When he saw no one in the distance, his heart thudded in his chest. The cliffs. Och, hell, ’twas worse than Gilles.

“’Tis the laird!”

He heard the call plainly now and came to a dead stop. His father was home. And he was early.

R
ob watched his father top the crest of Camlochlin just as the sky turned dark with rain, and for the first time, mayhap in
his life, he felt like a child. ’Twas discomforting to know that even as a man of seven and twenty years, he was a wee bit
afraid of his father—not of his anger, but of his disappointment.

“Why is he early?” Jamie puffed out, reaching him.

“What the bluidy hell does it matter why?” Brodie caught up and spit out his stem. “He’s here.”

Hell. Hell.

“Look at him,” Maggie said, appearing at Rob’s side. “Must have frightened the shyt out of them English noblemen when they
saw him coming.”

Rob summoned his courage to the task ahead. Here was the true guardian of Camlochlin, father over everyone in this vale. Protecting
his children from harm was the Chief’s duty, but for Callum MacGregor, ’twas his passion, a passion that burned from someplace
in his father that Rob could never understand. How was Rob going to tell him that he had put his entire clan in dire risk
in his father’s absence? And as if that wasn’t enough, that he’d wed the king’s daughter?

But even hating what he had to tell his father, Rob did not regret his decisions, nor would he change a single one.

His mother waved at him, easing his troubled thoughts. Rob was glad she was home. Camlochlin was not complete without her.

“Welcome home, Callum.” Maggie was the first to greet her brother, thankfully giving Rob a short reprieve. “How was yer journey?”

“Much more uneventful than some others, I’m told.” Callum slipped from his saddle, kissed his sister’s head, and pulled off
his gloves. “How is it here?” He deliberately turned to Rob, waiting.

“I’m certain Rob has much to tell you, my love.” Kate MacGregor looped her arm through Rob’s and aimed her smile at her husband.
“But it can wait until after we’ve enjoyed our homecoming, can it not?”

Without waiting for his answer, she spun her son around and pulled him toward the castle.

“Angus told him some of what happened at the beginning of your journey,” Kate leaned in close and told him. “Your father wanted
to leave right then, but Angus said it would alert the girl’s enemies.”

“I hear we have a most interestin’ guest,” said Tristan, smiling at him when Rob turned to find him keeping pace at his side.
“Where might she be?”

“Did ye have to bring
him
home?” Rob asked his mother tightly, then cut his brother a dark look when Tristan quickened his pace and entered the castle
before him.

“Is she truly King James’s daughter, Robert?”

“Aye, mother, she is. Did Colin tell ye then?” he looked over his shoulder, but saw only Angus and his father. “By the way,
where is he?”

“Colin stayed in England with Graham and Claire, as did Mairi. And it was Connor who told us.”

“Where is our guest, son?” his father asked behind him when they entered the castle.

“She must be dryin’ off.”

“Drying off?” His mother raised a curious brow at him.

“Aye, she was runnin’ in the loch with Will and Finn.”

His father stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for something more. When no more came, he gave his wife a quick sigh
when she shook her head at him. “Ye’ll explain that later, as well.” He squeezed Rob’s shoulder. “Come, we’ll wait fer her
in the Great Hall. I’m hungry fer somethin’ hot.” He rubbed his flat belly and looked longingly down the corridor. “At least
tell me if there’s beef in the kitchen.”

Rob smiled. Mayhap, his father wouldn’t kill him after all. Then again, he didn’t know that the king’s daughter was now his
daughter as well.

Trying desperately to dry her thick locks before the hearth, Davina rubbed her hands through her hair until her palms itched.
She’d heard the guard call out that the laird had returned. Without wasting a moment to look out the window, she’d dashed
around the room, pulling off her wet clothes for something dry, warm, and presentable.

She was already taking too long. What a horrible impression she was making as each moment passed, but her blasted hair wouldn’t
dry!

Settling for damp, she finally scrambled to her feet, pulled back the handful of hair that was falling over her eyes, pinned
it in place above her forehead, and raced out of the room.

She and Rob should have known his parents would return earlier than expected. Colin probably had told them who she was. She
should have been better prepared. Now, she looked like…

She walked straight into someone’s chest. Instinctively, hands came up and closed around her arms to keep her from falling.

“Oh, pardon me!” She looked up and smiled at a man she hadn’t seen in Camlochlin before. “I was not watching where I was walk…”
Her words trailed off as his broad, breathtaking smile washed over her like a cool, refreshing rain shower. For a moment,
she forgot where she was rushing off to.

“Ye must be Lady Davina,” he said, slipping his palm down her arm and taking her hand in his. “Now I understand that daft
smile on Colin’s face when he spoke of ye.”

Tristan. It wasn’t his strong resemblance to Colin that convinced Davina who he was, though one had only to examine the chiseled
angles of his face with a clear head to see the similarities, even down to the dimple in his chin, a feature he shared with
both of his brothers. It was the effortless magnetism he exuded, the hint of something dangerous and unattainable beneath
the warm veneer of his rich hazel eyes, the promise of a swift defeat in the sensual curl of his lips, that made Davina pity
Caitlin MacKinnon and even Brigid MacPherson… and every other woman in Camlochlin.

“You must be Tristan.”

“Ah, ye’ve heard of me, then?” He flashed her a grin that was neither vain nor modest—the absence of both somehow lending
to his appeal. His lashes were long and lush, as was his hair, but he was saved from perfection by a slight bend in his otherwise
strong nose. He leaned in a little closer and bent to her conspiratorially. “Dinna’ believe everything ye’ve been told. ’Tis
only half true.”

“It is that half that I was warned about.” Davina smiled right back at him, appreciating his stark, male appeal, but less
affected by it as the seconds passed. No one could compare to Rob.

Rob! His father! She suddenly remembered where she was heading and pulled her hand free of his.

“Oh, dear, I must go. I should have been outdoors to greet your parents long ago.”

“I’m sure they’ll agree the wait was worth it. Come, we’ll find them together.” He offered her his arm and a softer, reassuring
smile when she paused. “I assure ye there is nae half of me that wishes to incur my brother’s wrath should I lay one of my
treacherous hands upon ye.”

“Nonsense,” she said, accepting his arm. “Rob would never hurt you overmuch.”

“I was speaking of Colin.” He quaked a little beneath his plaid for emphasis. “That one might seem unassuming, but when it
comes to me, he is a merciless despot. I have nae idea why.”

She laughed, tugging him along. She liked Tristan and his cavalier manner, so different from Rob’s or Colin’s. She hoped his
father shared his easy nature.

“Ye should no’ worry yerself so over making a good impression on my faither,” Tristan said while she practically pulled him
down the stairs. “Ye’re the Princess Royal. What does it matter what anyone thinks of ye?”

She stopped so quickly, he almost continued down the next step without her. “Then, you know? They all know?”

“Of course. Why d’ye think we hastened our return?”

“Is your father terribly angry with Rob for bringing me here?” she asked, chewing her bottom lip.

Tristan smiled, tracing his gaze over her features. “He’ll understand when he sees ye.”

She didn’t believe him for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she continued her hurried pace. “I do look forward to meeting Graham’s
wife, Claire. Tell me, is she easy to get along with? She is my cousin, after all, and I—”

“She isna’ here. She remained in England with my sister and Colin.”

Davina paused again. “Colin remained in England?”

“Aye.”

“With the king?” She turned to look at him.

“Aye.”

“That is most interesting,” she said, thinking about what it meant. Did Colin find the king worthy of her praise? Or had he
remained in order to scrutinize him further? Suddenly, she had to know. She had always wondered what kind of man her father
truly was beyond what she’d been told by the sisters. If Colin liked him, it boded well.

“Colin likes him then?”

“I dinna’ know. But yer faither seems fond enough of him. He invited us to sit with him at the dais the night Colin arrived.”

Hmmm, whatever did that mean? Colin wasn’t the friendliest soul in Scotland; that much was certain.

“And what did
you
think of him?”

“The king?”

Davina nodded as they approached the Great Hall. Tristan shrugged his shoulders. “I found him to be a wee bit quiet and reserved.
No’ what I expected actually.”

Davina was about to ask him what he’d expected when he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.

Her eyes settled immediately on the family table, to Rob first, her rock, her anchor, and she drew strength from the love
in his tender gaze.

She looked to the man sitting across from him next and felt her legs shake a little beneath her skirts. He looked more dangerous
than any man at the table—bigger, rougher, like he’d been born to wield a sword and rain terror down on his enemies. His eyes
were a startling shade of blue, even from where she stood, and they held the power to immobilize.

“Faither,” Tristan called out, confirming her presumption of who the man was and moving her toward the table where the laird
was now rising to his feet. “’Tis my profound pleasure to present Lady Davina Stuart.”

Callum MacGregor’s gaze seared on the crook of Tristan’s arm where her hand rested lightly. When he raised his eyes to his
son, he did not have to speak a word. The warning in them was complete. She was a princess, and no one was permitted to touch
her—especially not his rogue son.

Unfazed by his father’s rapier-sharp glare, Tristan offered her an unrepentant smile before he released her. “Now ’tis clear
to see why Rob brought her here. Aye, Faither?” he murmured, giving her one last look before going to his chair.

Davina caught Callum’s uneasy gaze shifting to Rob as Tristan’s implication settled in. She could almost hear him praying
that Rob hadn’t touched her… or worse. Before Davina had time to worry about what they needed to tell him, the tall, broad-shouldered
chief returned his attention to her. “My lady.” He dropped to one knee, and the others around the table whom she did not know
did the same. “We are honored by—”

“Oh, no, I beg you, don’t do that.” Davina reached for the laird with one hand, waving him up with the other. “Stand to your
feet. Please, my laird.” He looked up at her and Davina cursed herself for the emotion in her eyes. “Please, don’t bow to
me.”

He straightened and Davina saw Rob in his softening smile.

“Oh, aren’t you just the loveliest young lady to grace Camlochlin’s halls.” The compliment came from a breath-taking woman
standing to the right of Callum. Her eyes were the color of onyx, large and round and ringed by lush black lashes. Her hair
was just as dark and fell in glossy waves down her back. “I am Kate, Robert’s mother.” Her smile was as wide and inviting
as Tristan’s as she pushed past her husband and took Davina’s hands in her own. “Heavens, you look more like Claire’s daughter
than the king’s. I trust our son has made your stay here comfortable?”

“Oh, yes, my lady, thank you. Everyone here has been wonderful.”

Kate patted her hand and offered Rob a pleased smile. “We’re delighted to have you here, are we not, darling?”

“Aye,” her husband said with just a little less enthusiasm. “Rob told us aboot the men who came fer ye at Courlochcraig.”

“But it can wait until after you’ve eaten,” Kate insisted, offering her a chair.