The Campbell Trilogy (39 page)

Caitrina was lifted off the ground, a heavy arm wrapped around her waist and the long sharp blade of a dirk pressed to her throat.

“One more step and she’s dead.”

Dear God, it was Seamus.
The edge of the blade nicked the tender skin below her jaw and she cried out, more surprised than pained. Jamie froze in his tracks.

Niall’s gaze darted back and forth between Jamie and the old guardsman. “What in Hades are you doing, Seamus?”

“Trying to get us out of here,” the old warrior answered impatiently.

“By using my sister?”

“Who has betrayed us! It was she who brought the Henchman here.”

Caitrina said, “I was only trying to help—”

“Shut up!” Seamus ordered, pressing the blade deeper into her throat. She gasped in shock, feeling a sharp sting followed by the wet trickle of blood sliding down her neck. Any hope that Seamus might be bluffing shattered.

Jamie made a sound of such animalistic rage, she felt it deep in her bones. Clearly, it had rattled Seamus as well, because his hand began to shake dangerously.

“Let her go,” Niall demanded with deadly calm, though Caitrina could see that he was feeling anything but.

“No,” Seamus said more anxiously. “He’ll let us go as long as we have the lass.”

Niall dropped his weapon and kicked it toward Jamie,
raising his hands in surrender. He shook his head sadly. “It’s over, Seamus. Let her go.”

“No!”

Caitrina could feel the old man’s heart race against her back and knew that he was panicking—his rash plan hadn’t gone as he’d anticipated. His arm tightened around her waist. She sensed what he was going to do but could do nothing to prevent it. Up until now it had almost seemed unreal, but for the first time she felt fear. His hand shook as he started to draw the knife across her neck.

She could hear the wild desperation in his voice as he turned to Niall, his voice laden with apology. “The lass is a traitor. It’s all her faul—”

The sound of a blade whizzing through the darkness followed by a dull thud stopped Seamus cold. He stiffened with shock and released her as he fell back. The knife he was holding to her neck dropped, landing at her feet in the dirt. She glanced down and then jumped back, horrified. Her father’s old warrior lay glassy-eyed, with Jamie’s dirk planted deep in the side of his throat.

It was deathly silent as she processed what had happened. If not for Jamie’s considerable skill with a blade, she might be lying there instead.

Regret washed over her. Jamie had killed him, but it was her hands that were stained with blood.

She felt herself swept up in her husband’s embrace. “God, are you all right?”

She nodded mutely, and he cupped her head against his chest. She inhaled the deep masculine scent—savoring the warmth and safety of his embrace. He’d looked so calm a moment ago, but she could feel the frantic race of his heart against her chest. He squeezed her to him harder and pressed his mouth against her hair. He held her for a long moment, as if he didn’t want to let her go. She wanted to thank him for saving her life but was too horrified by the one that had been lost in her place.

With some reluctance, he released her. His hand brushed the side of her face with aching tenderness. For a moment, in his eyes she saw the emotion he normally kept hidden. He tilted back her chin and looked at her neck. “Bring me some damn light.” A man moved forward with a torch.

“Is she all right?” Niall asked.

“Aye, thank God ’tis not deep.” She could hear the anger in his voice and knew he was blaming himself for allowing her to come. Jamie grabbed hold of the edge of her cloak and pressed it against the cut to stanch the bleeding. “Hold it like this,” he instructed, “all right?”

She nodded again, and he ordered one of his men forward. “Take her back to the castle and see that the wound is tended to immediately. Don’t let her out of your sight.” His eyes met hers. “I’ll be back soon.” He leaned forward and dropped another kiss on her forehead.

“Yes,” she managed, then looked to Niall hesitantly.

“Go, Caitrina,” her brother said roughly. “See to your wound.”

Numb, she allowed Jamie’s guardsman to lead her out of the cave and back to Ascog, having no wish to see her brother’s face as he was forced to surrender to her husband.

There was nothing left for her to do here; Caitrina feared she’d done enough already.

Jamie watched as Will led Caitrina to safety, his stomach lodged firmly in his throat. Only now that the danger was gone did the fear settle in as he realized just how close he’d come to losing her. It had happened so damn fast—he hadn’t had time to think. Years of battle, of honing his instincts, had paid off. When the old warrior had turned, it had been the only opening he needed. He hadn’t hesitated; seeing his target, he’d thrown his dirk with a precision born of a lifetime of practice.

“You really do care for her?”

Jamie turned, not realizing Niall Lamont had been watching him. His hands had been bound behind his back while Jamie’s men cleared the tunnels of the outlaws.

“You are surprised? Do you doubt your sister’s allure?”

Niall snorted. “Not at all, I’ve seen her charm even the most impenetrable heart. I just didn’t think you had one.”

Jamie’s mouth tugged. He studied the other man. “She told you the truth. I mean to do what I can to help you.”

“Why?”

“You need to ask?”

“But Auchinbreck is your brother.”

“Aye. If she’d confided in me earlier, I might have prevented this. I had no wish for your father to die. I can understand your anger, but my brother had cause to attack your castle.” At the look of outrage on Niall’s face, Jamie added, “I didn’t say I agreed with what happened, but it wasn’t wholly my brother’s fault. Had I been there, I might have been able to avoid a battle, but you know as well as I do that fighting is the way men settle disputes in the Highlands.”

“Aye,” Niall said reluctantly. “My father never backed down from a battle. But it wasn’t only my father’s and brother’s deaths that I was avenging.” Jamie watched as his face twisted with an emotion he could describe only as raw anguish. “He ordered the rape of an innocent woman.” Niall met his gaze, his eyes glowing with rage. “My woman.”

Jamie cursed. He didn’t want to think his brother capable of such a despicable act, but he did not doubt Niall’s word. “I’m sorry.”

The apology seemed to surprise the other man, and he nodded in acknowledgment. After a moment, he asked, “What do you intend to do with us?”

“What I can,” Jamie responded. “We’ll stay the night at Rothesay and then tomorrow depart for Dunoon.”

Niall’s jaw hardened. “It was as I thought, then. We won’t die by your hand, but by Argyll’s.”

“You won’t die by anyone’s hand. My cousin has promised to show you leniency.”

“I can imagine,” Niall said dryly. “Drawn, but not quartered?”

“I hope to have more influence than that,” Jamie said with a crooked smile. Just then, his men came out of the darkness carrying a makeshift pallet with an enormous dog tracking after it.

Niall’s demeanor changed in an instant. “Careful. He’s hurt.”

“Niall, what’s happening?” Brian asked, his voice weak and delirious.

“Shush,” Niall said. “We’re taking you to the castle.”

“But the Enforcer,” Brian protested. He tried to lift up his head, but Jamie knew he couldn’t see him.

He felt sick, hating the fear in the lad’s voice.

“Don’t worry, Brian. Caiti will keep you safe.” Niall met Jamie’s gaze as he spoke, and Jamie nodded.

At that, the boy seemed to relax and eased back down on the pallet as the men carried him out.

“I hope you won’t make me a liar,” Niall said.

“The lad will come to no harm. He was not involved in the attack on my brother, though when he is well enough to travel, he will have to account for the fighting with the MacGregors. I’ll pay whatever fines it takes to see him cleared.”

Niall nodded. With the cave cleared of Lamonts, Jamie led his prisoner out into the forest. Leaving them to his men, Jamie started toward the place where he’d left his horse.

“Campbell.”

Jamie looked back over his shoulder.

“I know I’ve no right to ask …”

Jamie moved his head, indicating for him to continue.

“If anything should happen to me, when he’s old enough you’ll see that Brian takes his place as chief?”

The odd request took Jamie aback. “ ’Tis the position that rightfully belongs to you. Would you not ask it for yourself?”

“You really think you can convince your cousin?”

“I do,” he said confidently.

Niall paused, considering. “Still, I’d have your promise if you’re willing to give it.”

Jamie bowed. “Then you have it.”

For the first time since Jamie had burst into the cave, maybe for the first time in months, hope flared in Niall Lamont’s gaze.

Caitrina suffered the frantic ministrations of her former nursemaid, all the while worrying about what was happening with her brothers. She’d heard the men ride through the castle gates not long after her, and from the numerous servants who rushed back and forth fulfilling Mor’s requests for herbs, salves, water, and clean linens, she’d learned that her brother and his men had been taken to the old, unused south tower. She admitted to a certain relief that Niall had been wrong and they’d not been imprisoned in the dungeon. She’d been right to trust Jamie.

Mor was about to send a girl on another errand—this time for more pillows—when Caitrina sat up, having suffered enough. “ ’Tis nothing more than a scratch, Mor. Truly, I’m fine.” The blade had sliced about a two-inch cut at the base of her jaw.

The old nursemaid put her hands on her hips and pursed her mouth disapprovingly. “ ’Tis deep enough to scar.”

“You’ve put your salve on it and bandaged it. Any scar that remains won’t be visible.”

“I’ll know it’s there,” Mor said stubbornly.

Aye, and so will I. A lasting memory of my betrayal of

my clan.
But she would wear the badge with honor if her brothers were spared.

The door opened again and another young serving girl rushed in.

“ ’Tis about time,” Mor said angrily. “What took you so long? I sent you for those herbs hours ago.”

More like a few minutes ago, Caitrina thought wryly.

“I’m sorry, mistress. The kitchens are in an uproar at the laird’s bequest, readying everything for the morrow.”

Caitrina froze, every instinct flared. “Tomorrow? What is happening tomorrow?”

The girl cast her a furtive glance, then looked to the floor. “I thought you knew, my lady. The laird is taking the prisoners to Dunoon.”

Caitrina felt the blood drain from her face.
No!

There has to be a mistake.

Not long afterward, Caitrina sat woodenly before the fire, staring into the dying embers of flaking ashy peat. The incident that had almost taken her life was far from her mind as she waited for a more painful blow to fall. She’d sent Mor and the others from the room, knowing that he would come to her soon—if only to check on her injury.

She fought the bitter swell of betrayal; she would hear his explanation first.

At last she heard the familiar heavy footfalls. Her heart pounded. The door opened and closed. She lifted her eyes to his.

He spoke first. “Your wound—”

“Tell me it’s not true,” she said, cutting him off, her injury insignificant in the face of what she’d just discovered.

He seemed perplexed by her tone. “What’s not true?”

Her hand gripped the wooden arm of the chair. “Tell me that you have not arrested my brother and his men. Tell me that you are not taking them to your cousin.”

He straightened, clearly taken aback. “I thought you understood. It’s my duty—”

“Duty?” Pain seared through her. Caitrina wanted to wail like a wounded animal. The affirmation of his betrayal cut more deeply than she could imagine. She’d trusted him with what she held most dear, and he’d betrayed her. “I don’t care about your duty! I would never have told you where they were if I’d known what you intended. You swore you would help them.”

His mouth fell in a tight line—a look she recognized when he was trying to control his temper. A temper that seemed to exist only around her. “I will help them. Brian will stay here until he can recover, but Niall and the rest of the men must go to Dunoon to face the charges against them.”

This couldn’t be happening. Her chest squeezed so badly, she couldn’t breathe. “You’d help them by turning them over to the hands of an executioner? Dear God, Jamie, they’ll die for what they’ve done.”

His eyes leveled on hers. “I told you before that my cousin has promised to act fairly—and leniently—with them.”

“I’ve heard Argyll’s promises before,” she scoffed. “Will he act as fairly with them as he did with Alasdair MacGregor? Did you convince me to help turn them in so that Argyll can kill them also?”

He took her arm and lifted her out of the chair, pulling her hard against him. She could feel the tautness of his muscles and the heat radiating from his body. His face darkened with barely contained fury. “Damn you, Caitrina, you know I had nothing to do with that.”

“Do I?” She turned her head sharply away, refusing to look at him. “I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

He was silent, but she could see the ominous tick at his neck and knew he was furious. But she didn’t care. She wanted him to feel as hurt and betrayed as she did.

His voice was low and forbidding. “I warned you once not to interfere with my duty.”

She remembered: when he’d imprisoned her father’s guardsmen. “That was different.”

“Was it? You said you trusted me. I believe you even claimed to love me not so many hours ago.”

How dare he throw her feelings back in her face with what he intended to do! “It’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is.” He took her chin in his hands and forced her gaze back to his. “Love can’t be by half-measure. It’s all or nothing. Either you trust me—and my judgment—or you don’t.”

He asked for too much. Heat gathered behind her eyes. “How would you know? You, who hold yourself so apart. You, who don’t need anyone. What do you know of love?”