by Paula Quinn
He withdrew from her, and she watched in sorrow as he closed his eyes, distancing himself from her again. “It was difficult.” She fought to keep her voice light. “You are not an easy man to care for, Callum. And Maggie loves you, as well. How can you not know that? Let us love you and prove you are no devil.”
A low-pitched moan drew Kate’s gaze back to the tent.
The flap opened, and Maggie left the comfort of her safe haven. She stopped upon seeing her brother. Kate paled at the hollow, vacant look in Maggie’s large eyes. Maggie stared at Callum but didn’t seem to see him at all.
A moment later, Kate knew the horrible truth of it. Maggie did see him, and she was afraid. She was terrified.
“They were dead,” she said in a quivering voice that teetered on the edge of madness. “All of them were dead.”
Callum did not blink. In fact, Kate was stunned to find his gaze on his sister almost as empty as Maggie’s.
“His head. His head fell away.”
“Kate?” At the sound of Callum’s voice speaking her name, Kate near leaped off the floor. “Ye should leave now.”
“Nae.”
“Callum.” Maggie’s voice shattered on a throaty sob. She swiped her hands over her face. “The blood was on me!”
“Aye, Maggie, I know,” her brother whispered on a strangled moan of his own.
“Nae more!” she shouted. Huge tears teetered on her lashes, and her bottom lip trembled. “’Twas on my hands.” Suddenly she ran to her brother and he caught her up in his arms. “Ye must cease! Please, cease!”
Callum held her, but he did not speak, and Kate knew it was his own guilt that silenced him. He had caused this terror.
“Cease, Callum!” Maggie screamed, and he closed his eyes, helpless to do anything more.
“Oh, dear God.” Kate breathed, seeing the images of what happened that day. Callum had carried his tiny sister over his shoulder while he hacked at men from every direction. Nine years of torture, of watching his sister suffer, of hearing her scream, helpless to stop it. He lived in hell and had become a monster painted red with the blood of his victims.
“Please . . . nae more.” Maggie’s wails faded into a muffled sob. “Or they will surely kill ye.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie, m’love.” Callum groaned into her hair. He was only faintly aware of Kate slipping quietly from the room.
Chapter Twenty-Five
KATE CLOSED THE DOOR behind her and then sank down it. Graham and Jamie appeared over her an instant later.
“Come away,” Graham urged gently while Jamie stared at the door, anguished by the sounds coming from inside, a slightly bloodstained bandage wrapped around his flaxen head. “All will be well with them.”
Kate buried her face in her hands and wept softly. “If my grandfather was not already dead, I vow I would kill him myself.”
Graham knelt beside her and then helped her to her feet. “Ye look like ye could use a warm cup of mead.” He called over his shoulder as he led her away. “Come, Jamie, leave Maggie to her brother.”
“I’ll stay,” Jamie called back, still staring at the door.
Graham brought Kate to the solar rather than to the great hall, since many of the men would be settling down for the eve. The only drink in the solar was whiskey, so Graham warmed it by the hearth fire and poured her a cup. Cool night air chilled the room. He pulled two oversized chairs closer to the fire and covered her shoulders with a blanket.
Kate folded her legs under her and sipped her brew. When she blanched, Graham laughed and warned her to go easy, lest she singe her insides.
“It does burn going down, doesn’t it?”
“’Tis another of old Gillis’s concoctions,” he told her, settling into the chair opposite her. “’Twill warm ye fer certain.”
She took another sip, slower this time, and stared into the flames. “Will it help me forget what my grandfather did to them? I do not blame Callum if he killed him.”
“Callum did not kill him,” Graham assured her. “If he had, mayhap he would have been satisfied.”
Kate nodded, then looked at him beneath the veil of her lashes, too ashamed to look at him directly. “Did my father know of this?”
“I don’t know.”
Kate drank more of her brew and thought about everything. After a few moments, she spoke again. “Callum thinks he is a monster in Maggie’s eyes. But she is not afraid of him, Graham. She’s afraid for him. She wants him to stop fighting his war.”
The commander swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, then closed his eyes as fire lanced through him. “I am afraid fer him, too,” he admitted and leaned back in his chair. “He’s determined to kill yer uncle. When he does, I fear the full power of the realm will come down upon him. Argyll knows it, as well, and taunts Callum with his cruelties against MacGregor women.”
Kate shivered beneath her blanket. She knew her uncle was depraved. “He never came for us when we were children, though he promised to. He left us for the servants and my father’s guardsmen to raise. As I grew older, he paid more attention to me than to Robert. I found out why last winter when he tried to kiss me.”
Graham leaned forward in his chair and set his flagon on the floor. His gaze on Kate was unblinking, his voice low with controlled anger. “Does Robert know?”
“I never told him,” Kate said. “I hope Duncan never finds us,” she added into her cup.
“Us?”
When she looked at him, Graham was watching her with a mixture of concern and admiration sparking his gaze.
“’Tis a dangerous thing to align yerself with us, Kate.” Graham’s expression softened when she hiccupped. “Feeling better, are ye?”
She nodded and focused her attention on him. With the firelight softening his beguiling features and pouty mouth, he looked more angelic than even his younger brother. “I’m glad to see Jamie has recovered.”
“Aye. ’Twas a minor wound. He fell from the rafters saving Maggie’s cat.”
“Who taught him such chivalry?” Kate smiled at Graham and cuddled deeper into her blanket.
The commander poured her more brew, his roguish grin proving to Kate it was not him who taught his brother such noble ideals. “Jamie is young.”
“He cares so for Maggie.”
“Then he is foolish, as well.”
Kate regarded him while he smiled into his cup, his dimples twinkling in the flickering light. She was quite fond of Graham. From the moment they met he had treated her kindly. Though he was fiercely devoted to Callum, he had never shown her contempt because of her name. He was kind and terribly charming. With that halo of curls falling carelessly over eyes of deep emerald, and a sinful smile that could melt the heart of the most stoic matron at twenty paces, it was not surprising that almost every woman in Camlochlin sought his attention.
“Love is not foolish, Commander.”
He looked up. “I was bred fer war. ’Tis the only thing lasting and constant in this life. Love is fleeting.”
“I see you laughing quite often with Aileen,” Kate pointed out, “Do you mean to tell me you feel nothing for her?”
“Aye, I care fer her deeply. She is my sister.”
“Och, forgive my hasty assumption.” Kate blushed all the way to her roots.
“My sisters Sineag, Murron, and Mary live in the bothys outside the castle with their husbands and bairns.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “How many sisters have you here?”
“Just the four. But I have eleven sisters in all.”
“How wonderful to grow up in a large family.”
“Nae.” He laughed. “I learned more about women than I’ll ever need to know. The rest live in Edinburgh and Moray. One has even taken a Campbell fer a husband.” He nodded when Kate raised an eyebrow. “This feud began long ago, and though it wasn’t our feud to fight, the Grants have always been good friends to the MacGregors. Yer grandsire was a cruel man, but not all Campbells are like him. Ye, fer one, are quite enchanti
ng.” He couldn’t help but grin at the delicate flush painting her cheeks. “And I did grow fond of Robert during my stay at Kildun.”
Kate’s eyes grew misty upon hearing about her brother. It felt like centuries since last she saw him. “How is he, Graham? I miss him terribly. Tell me, how did you come to know him?”
The commander dipped his eyes to his drink and then quaffed the remainder of its contents before he spoke. “I was sent to Kildun to befriend yer uncle and gain his trust.”
“Why?”
“Because Callum could not infiltrate Kildun. I was to lead Argyll’s men to—”
Angus and Brodie saved him from having to continue by crashing open the solar door. “There ye are, ye knave.” Angus entered first, a flagon of brew clutched in his giant paw. When Kate belched and waved at them, the brutish Highlander smiled like a puppy that had just been petted behind the ears.
“I guessed Graham was spendin’ his night wi’ a bonny lass. I was right.”
“That makes one time in yer accursed life.” Brodie snickered and moseyed inside. He found a seat, fell into it, and closed his eyes.
“Brodie, why are ye not in bed with yer wife?” Graham asked him, ignoring the string of oaths muttered by Angus while he searched for a place to sit.
“Because there’s nae room fer me in our bloody bed. If Netta doesna deliver soon, I’m leavin’ her.”
Angus howled with laughter, but Kate frowned at them all. She wanted to chastise them, and she knew she should. She just could not remember what for. She did suddenly remember her conversation with Graham, though, and turned back to him.
“Did Robert send you all to Glen Orchy?”
“Nae,” Graham said. “In truth, he was against our going.”
“Think ye he’s still wrapped aroond that gate ye tied him to?” asked Brodie, opening one eye.
“Tied . . . to a gate?” Slowly, Kate turned to fasten her eyes on Graham. “You tied my brother to a gate?”
“Brodie, ye bleedin’ whoreson,” Angus barked at him. “Ye made her weep.” He looked around the solar. “Where are all the fokin’ chairs?”
“Angus, mind yer damn tongue,” Brodie admonished him sternly.
“Well, did you?” Kate demanded, untangling herself from the blanket. She would have leaped from her chair, but she felt dizzy and clutched the arms instead to keep from spinning. “Was he not your friend?”
Graham was about to tell her when the door opened again and Callum filled the doorway. His eyes fired with something so dangerous, Graham instinctively bolted to his feet. Callum’s gaze wandered over each of them in turn and then came to rest on Kate.
“Ye’ll tell me where yer goin’ from now on, Kate.”
“And you will never speak to me again, you heartless ruffian.” She yanked the blanket completely off and sprang to her feet. Then almost toppled over. Graham caught her by the elbows. She didn’t take her eyes off Callum while she righted herself. “You tied my brother to a gate?”
“Nae, Graham did,” Callum told her.
She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of him and burped instead.
In his chair, Brodie leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and smiled.
“Which one of ye gave her the brew?” Callum demanded, suspecting Angus.
“Graham did,” Kate told him. “And though he is a very sweet man, I shall never forgive him for tying my brother to a gate.”
“Ye should be thankin’ him, lass,” Angus said before downing the contents of his flagon. “’Twas Graham who convinced Callum to spare the lad’s life.”
Callum shot Angus a murderous glare, which Angus answered by stepping behind Brodie’s chair.
Kate blinked up at the commander and then took a step toward him. Graham moved back, unsure if she meant to hug him or rake out his eyes. She swayed on her feet for a moment, then turned her green-tinted face to Callum. “I feel ill.”
Callum watched her pass out in Graham’s arms, then sent his friend a scorching look before he snatched her from him and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Send Aileen back to Maggie’s room,” he commanded. “And if ye ever feed Gillis’s brew to her again, I’ll remove the teeth from yer head.” He narrowed his eyes on the other two before he left. “Ye’ll watch what ye say in front of her, or I’ll take ye both to the fields and thrash yer godforsaken hides.”
When he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, Brodie looked up at Angus and then both men roared with laughter. “Our laird is turnin’ soft!”
“Aye.” Graham felt his mouth hook into a smile while he stared at the door. “Finally.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
KATE SLEPT SOUNDLY nestled beneath the warm furs on Callum’s bed while he watched her well into the night. At first he paced before the bed, torn between his body aching for her and his heart aching to send her away. Dear Christ, she loved him. Was she daft? Didn’t she understand that it was a death sentence for her? God’s blood, it was his fault. He knew she didn’t hate him. He had done nothing to stop her tender smiles. He let her think him a hero of sorts. He’d kissed her and more, knowing . . . He should have done all to protect her, for he was the gravest danger to her well-being. He’d even brought her to his bed! God, he wanted her there. He could not even think properly around her. And now, in her innocence, she had fallen in love with him. He might as well have killed her.
After the first hour of pacing like an anguished lion, he finally sat in the corner in a chair hidden by shadows. Flames from the hearth lit Kate’s sleeping face and he watched her while another hour passed away. He already knew every contour of her features, every bonny curve that shaped her. He longed to know more of her. But the cost was too great. She had fallen into his arms, pierced by an arrow meant for him. How was he to know at the time that she would wreak such havoc on his heart? He was so sure of his defenses he hadn’t bothered to guard them. And in so doing, he allowed her entrance into his hell. He had dragged her to his fortress and scribed the word death onto her forehead.
He clenched his teeth, his fists. He tossed his head back, needing to curse the heavens. He had hauled Maggie through the gates of damnation to save her. From what? He had become the very demons he sought to kill. And now he did the same thing to Kate. Death to MacGregor sympathizers. ’Twas the motto of the realm. God, nae. He knew he had no right to ask the Almighty for anything. But please, just this one thing. “Please,” he whispered. “Strengthen me.”
He stood up, determined to do what he must. She was forced. Taken against her will. Aye, ’twas all she had to tell them. He had not taken her. She remained unblemished. There was only sympathy. And sympathy was easy to destroy.
He walked to the edge of the bed and squatted, bringing his face close to hers. She was his redemption for sins he thought too foul to be forgiven. But he could not accept her gracious gift without putting her in mortal peril. His hatred ran deep, with no room for love. He would make her believe it. He would do it in order to save her life.
“I’ll no’ love ye, Kate Campbell. No’ ever.” He rose to his feet, vowing to himself that she would never know what a tortured liar he was.
Kate dragged her eyelids open and then slammed them shut again at the ray of sunshine blaring like a herald’s trumpet through the window. Lifting her hand to her head, she released a groan that sounded to her poor ears like she was dying. And she felt like she was doing just that. She willed herself not to move, since even the merest breath shot bolts of pain to her head. Damn old Gillis and his poison. After a few moments of reeling, she slowly lifted her lids again.
God’s blood, what happened to the window coverings? She shifted as cautiously as her body would allow in order to escape the blinding beam of light. Thick cobwebs tangled her thoughts and muddled her brain, and then, like a curtain being drawn, she realized she was in an unfamiliar room, a strange bed. Still too pained to move her head, her eyes darted left and right. The ceiling offered her no answers, so with great effort
she sat up, still holding her head to keep it in place.
She was in a man’s room, that much was clear to her. Everything in the room was carved of dark waxed wood. Even the walls were paneled with thick slabs of it, making all the furniture in the room blend into an enormous view of deep magenta brown. An intricately carved wardrobe, taller even then Callum, stood between two great chairs that could seat at least two people each. There were three tables set up to house everything from tankards of whiskey to a carved wooden chess set and assorted weapons. A silver bowl for hand and face washing rested on another table, along with a small candlestand. No tapestries decorated the walls; neither shield nor banner offered cheer. The windows were bare, and the absence of draperies around the poster bed told Kate that whoever slept here cared nothing about privacy. Yet despite the absence of color and fabric to offer warmth, the cavernous chamber heated Kate to the deepest corners of her heart. Of course, there was the giant alcoved hearth with its roaring fire to warm the bones, but Kate knew instinctively what made her feel like she belonged here all her life. It smelled like Callum, of wild heather and mist. Aye, she thought, closing her eyes to draw him to her. This was his chamber, his bed.
She was still smiling when Callum entered the room.
The sight of Kate sitting in his bed, her lush ebony curls tumbling around her shoulders and arms, set Callum’s heart to pounding. He experienced a sudden rush of something so strong he near doubled over. When she turned her head and aimed her heady smile at him, he had the urge to drop to his knees and pay her the homage she deserved. He almost smiled.
Death to MacGregor sympathizers.
He scowled so fiercely at her it wiped the smile clean off her face. Propelling himself forward, he avoided her gaze while he crossed the chamber and stopped at the window.
“Is all well with you?” she asked, sensing by his cold, hard gaze that it wasn’t. Her voice was low, pained, but Callum did not turn to look at her.
“Nae,” he answered tightly. He gazed out the window at the distant heather. “There’s a Campbell in my castle.”