by Paula Quinn
“I will do it,” Kate promised. “But you will release her now.” When the earl laughed, she continued quickly. “If you do not let her go, I will not move from this spot. Are you prepared to die, Uncle? It is only a matter of time before Callum’s men come barreling in here. You stand no chance against them, I assure you.” Her muscles spasmed when he inched his blade closer to Maggie’s flesh, ready to refuse her demands. “Do it,” she challenged him, suppressing the need to scream, the urge to throw herself at his feet and plead for Maggie’s life. “And then cut my throat, as well. But know this, you will die this day, also.”
She almost staggered with relief when he tossed Maggie aside. When Kate moved to go to her, her uncle snatched her by the back of her neck and dragged her to the door.
“Betray me,” he warned silkily against her ear while he covered his face with his plaid, “and I vow I will escape and return to Kildun—and to your brother.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ROBERT GROANED and struggled to open his eyes. Searing jolts of fire shot through his head. He brought his hands up to cradle his forehead and felt warm, sticky blood drying over his eyes. He waited a few moments and lifted his lids slowly. A swath of bright noontide sky greeted him. He blinked as the memory of the night before returned to him. His uncle had struck him with something, a tree trunk if his tormented skull had anything to say about it. With a tight moan and a muttered oath, he pushed himself up on his elbows. He looked around, already knowing Duncan was not there with him. The madman was most likely dead. Robert hoped it was so. He dragged himself to his knees, too weak to stand, and began to crawl down the sloping hill toward the castle. He had to find Kate. If MacGregor found him first, so be it. He would worry over it when the time came.
He almost crawled over the dead body of one of the Menzie men. “Och, God.” Robert moaned. His gaze glided a little to the left, where he found the others, as dead as the first. Sickened, Robert had no doubt about who had killed them.
He turned his attention to the fortress ahead. Where was his uncle? Was he already inside? Everything was too quiet. If the MacGregors had discovered Duncan and killed him, the entire holding would be alive with commotion. The Earl of Argyll was still alive, lurking somewhere, waiting for an opportunity to kill. Rising to his feet, Robert fought the desire to pass out from the pain exploding through his skull, and he began to run.
When he was just a few yards away from the castle, the heavy doors began to open. He skidded to a halt, his heart crashing against his ribs.
Someone stepped outside, his mop of golden curls glimmering like a halo beneath the sunlight.
Graham Grant!
The commander looked around and then stopped dead when he saw Robert. “Christ!”
Robert lifted his palms to quiet him. “Nae, Graham, wait.”
“Guard!” Grant bellowed, dragging his sword from its sheath at the same time.
Robert shouted his name. “My uncle is here somewhere . . .” He looked around at the vast landscape. “. . . hiding.”
“Step closer!” Graham commanded.
Robert took a step forward and then swayed. He rubbed his head to help clear it, but it only made the ground spin faster. The MacGregor was being alerted. Soon the chieftain would rush out of the castle and kill him. “Graham . . . damn you, hear me. My uncle is here and he means to kill Margaret Mac—”
Graham began running just as Robert fell flat on his face.
Without pausing at the barn door, Graham kicked it almost off its hinges and braced himself for an attack. “Maggie!” he shouted over the angry honks and squeals of her barn friends. His eyes settled on a body sprawled in the hay. “Nae,” Graham choked and then rushed forward. When he reached his brother, he dropped his sword and fell to his knees. “Jamie! Callum!” he screamed toward the door for help.
Men began racing into the barn, blocking the sun from the entrance. Callum led them, his sword drawn. He slowed his pace when he saw Graham leaning over Jamie, but he did not stop. Panic engulfed him, so terrifying it made his legs feel like butter. He shoved heavy bundles of hay aside as if they were as light as leaves. Searching . . .
Brodie found her first. When Callum reached them, he crouched before the trembling form of his sister. He reached out and touched her shoulder and she reeled back, her eyes huge and haunted. But she did not scream.
Callum controlled himself from going mad as he looked at the dried droplets of blood on Maggie’s face. She was too far away for it to be Jamie’s blood.
“Maggie, where is Kate?”
At the sound of his voice, Maggie suddenly grabbed for him. “He . . . he killt Jamie.”
“Nae,” Brodie soothed her. “Jamie lives. He was hit too far to the right to cause a fatal wound,” he said, more to Callum. “He has lost much blood, though. Graham and Angus have already taken him to his sisters. They will know what to do.”
Callum closed his eyes in silent thanks. When he opened them again, he stood up and roared a command of orders that made his sister shrink back. He wanted men searching the castle, the stable, and every bothy in the vale. He wanted others saddled within the instant and ready to cover every inch of his land, in every direction. He wanted Kate found. Now!
As he strode toward the door to leave, Angus returned from the castle with Graham close behind him and Robert Campbell’s collar clutched in his fist.
“Mayhap he can tell us where to find her,” the beefy Highlander suggested.
Callum took a step forward and lifted his sword. There was no mercy in his gaze, only raw, uncontrolled rage. Robert closed his eyes and turned away. Callum whirled his massive blade over his head, preparing the most lethal blow he could deliver. Angus released his prisoner and leaped backward to avoid being cut in half along with Robert.
“Nae!” Graham leaped forward and landed with the full weight of his body on Callum. Both men tumbled to the ground. The sword flashed beneath a beam of light as it hurled end over end into the shadows. Callum sprang to feet, his fury fully unleashed. He snatched fistfuls of Graham’s plaid and lifted him until their eyes were level. Then, as if his commander weighed nothing more than a thought, Callum flung him into the nearest wall.
With determination void of anything save its single purpose, Callum reached Robert and hauled him closer using only his fingers wrapped tightly around Campbell’s neck.
But Graham appeared again and valiantly wedged his body between his friend and his friend’s enemy. “I beg ye, do not kill him.” His hands shook when he placed them on his friend’s shoulders. “Callum, look ye to yer sister, please. Do not make her witness this again, I beg ye.”
Callum swallowed so suddenly a slight moan escaped him. He did not want to look at Maggie. “Brodie, get her oot of here. Guard her with yer life.”
“Callum.” Graham still had not let him go. “Ye cannot kill this man. He is Kate’s brother. Ye vowed not to harm him. Hear me, we will find her, I vow it. He had the chance to ambush me outside, but he warned me of Argyll instead.”
Slowly, Callum lifted his gaze to Graham. He waited until his sister was safely out of the barn before he spoke. “If she dies, he dies with her.”
Graham nodded, finally breathing again, and gave Callum’s shoulders a firm pat. “Just let me speak to him, aye?”
Turning to face their captive after Callum nodded, Graham was first struck with pity at the terror in Robert’s eyes. He understood it, for he had felt it, as well, a few moments before. “Rest easy. He is a man of his word and will not kill ye.”
Robert’s eyes darted from Graham’s to Callum’s, then back again. “Where is my sister?” he asked, ignoring his throbbing skull and the fear that made his mouth dry.
“We were hoping you could tell us,” Graham said. “Where is your uncle?”
“I do not know,” Robert told him, tunneling his fingers though his hair and then grimacing at the huge knot on his head. “He struck me last eve. I awoke to find him gone. We came here for my sister, bu
t he said he was going to kill—” Robert paused when he looked at the chieftain. “—MacGregor’s sister.”
Callum moved forward again and Robert took a step back. “When I find Argyll, and I will, his screams will be heard in England.”
“I do not mean to stop you,” Robert promised him. “It was he who put the blade to my father and my grandfather. We must move quickly. I am confident he is not still here. Your men are wasting time searching the castle.”
In one fluid motion, Callum seized Robert’s plaid in both hands and hauled him closer. “Then where should we be searchin’?”
His sister had been trapped here with this beast, Robert thought, unable to look anywhere but into the Devil’s unholy gaze. “Leave Kate out of this feud,” he managed with more courage in his voice than he felt.
Graham closed his eyes, praying that Callum would give him a wee bit more time. He knew Robert feared for Kate at the hands of the outlaw MacGregor. “Robert,” he said hastily. “She has come to no harm here. Camlochlin is her home now—by her choice.”
Robert shook his head with disbelief. He would have laughed if he was not so terrified.
“Aye, she loves him, I swear it,” Graham stunned him further. “And look ye to him. Ye have seen him before—at Kildun—remember? Look at him now and believe that ’tis his love fer her that drives him mad with concern.”
Robert looked, but he was not relieved at what he saw. Instead, his eyes darkened with something worse than horror. “My God, what have you done?” When the MacGregor’s murderous glare impaled him, he did not flinch. “He will kill her. Just as he killed our father for being a sympathizer.”
“Nae,” Callum breathed on a mangled groan, his dark intent fading into complete sorrow he could no longer control. He had done this. He had known Kate’s life would be forfeit for loving him, and he allowed her to love him anyway. “Nae!” This time the word came down like a hammer. He released Robert and headed for the door but turned when he reached it. “You are the one who taught Kate about heroes. Tell me where to look fer yer uncle and help me save her, Robert Campbell, if there’s any honor in ye.”
Robert nodded. He had no other choice but to trust this man. “He has a boat waiting to sail him to the mainland. It is . . .”
Callum was already gone. Robert turned to look at Graham, and then they ran, as well.
Chapter Forty
KATE GRIPPED HER BELLY with one hand and the side of the boat with the other. It felt as if she had been on the water for hours. The waves crashed beneath her, rocking and dipping the vessel until Kate’s skin turned pale green. She felt like she was dying a slow, sickening death, but she used the time leaning over the edge to try to think of what she was going to do about the man watching her. Duncan Campbell looked quite pleased with himself, smiling at her when she met his gaze.
“Why did Robert not come with you?” she asked him, straightening.
“I ordered him to stay at Kildun. I knew I would lose many men coming here, and I was correct.” Duncan gave her a somewhat rueful look. “Many died trying to save you, Katherine.”
She thought of Jamie, and immediately tears clouded her vision. “How many MacGregors did you murder?” she asked, sickened by the sight of this man who was her blood kin.
Duncan’s regard on her grew so dark, Kate thought he was going to haul her over the side. She waited, unafraid. She had no weapon but her feet, and she would use them to render his male organ useless for the next fortnight.
“Your concern for them is most alarming, niece,” he said, remaining where he was.
“You find so many things alarming, Uncle,” she retorted icily. “But I am no coward.”
Duncan wanted to strike her for her cheek, but he would wait until she was in his bed. He felt too jubilant at his own cunning to do anything but grin. He’d outfoxed the Devil! He had walked straight onto MacGregor land and taken his niece from under the rebel’s nose. Hell, but he was clever . . . and braw! His father would even have to admit it, were he alive . . . the bastard. Aye, he had stepped into the hornet’s nest with the courage of a thousand men and walked away unscathed and taken back his pride. He almost laughed at how easy it had been. Colin would never have had the resolve to do such a thing. But then, most sympathizers were afraid of the MacGregors. It was why they aided the outlaws. Liam Campbell despised sympathizers, save one.
Duncan let his eyes graze over Kate’s fine curves. He would not be so forgiving.
Robert Campbell was so relieved to be off his battered feet and on a horse that every so often he almost forgot he was riding with a troop of the most aggressive outlaws ever to inhabit Scotland. Remembering was simple enough, though. All he had to do was cast his glance left or right, in front or behind him. They were everywhere, and according to Graham, the MacGregors of Rannoch would meet up with them once they left Skye and entered the main Highlands. That they did so on horseback and not by boat was because there simply were none large enough at Camlochlin to bear the weight of the horses, and they would need them when they reached the mainland. Robert did not think they would lose too much time, for they flew across the landscape like a plague on the wind.
At first, the idea of being one Campbell amongst hundreds of his clan’s centuries-long enemy chilled Robert’s bones to the marrow. But traveling with them was quite different than when he had fought them at Kildun. They were a rowdy bunch, most certainly, and definitely hard as granite around the edges, but they possessed a wildness that appealed to Robert’s most basic nature. He almost pitied his uncle and anyone else who came against them. They had suffered years of persecution. But instead of growing weaker, they possessed the power of raw brawn and unmatched belligerence. Who, indeed, could stop them?
“How do ye fare, Robert?” The sudden appearance of Graham Grant at his side almost startled him off his horse. Only his sense of pride kept Robert’s exhausted body seated in his saddle. His surprise that Graham would be concerned for his well-being was another matter entirely.
“I fare well. You have my thanks for inquiring.”
Then Graham did something else Robert did not expect. He smiled before he kicked his horse’s flanks and raced on ahead.
They had to stop and refresh their horses by a flowing stream. The decision to halt was not Callum’s, though he knew the animals would never make it through the night at the speed with which he and his men rode them if they did not rest. He also knew Argyll would reach Kildun before him, so he ordered his men to make haste.
His gaze cut to a large boulder where Robert Campbell sat alone. Graham joined Kate’s brother a moment later, causing a scowl to mar Callum’s brow. Graham had pleaded for the lad’s life at Kildun, even going so far as to declare Robert Campbell his friend. He near got himself killed this day by protecting Robert yet again. Callum wondered if Graham harbored some fondness toward Argyll’s nephew.
Curiosity got the better of Callum, and he strolled over to where the two men sat together now.
“Robert was just telling me how his small troop arrived at Camlochlin.” Graham looked up briefly when Callum reached them.
“And how was that?” Callum asked and sat right beside Robert, who visibly paled at the sheer size of the MacGregor laird so close. Callum caught the apple Graham tossed him, tore his dagger from his boot, and began slicing.
“We . . .” Robert eyed the dagger. “We climbed along the cliffs from Elgol to Camlochlin.”
“On foot?” Callum asked, sincerely surprised. “’Tis a wonder ye were no’ killed.” He cut a wedge of apple and handed it to Robert.
“We lost men.” Robert accepted the offering and took a bite.
“’Tis a long way doun,” Callum said, then, “Are ye certain ’twas he who killed yer grandfaither? I’ve wondered who was responsible fer that.”
“Aye, he told me.” Robert admitted and then grew quiet again.
“Ye were correct about yer sister,” Graham said, sensing the young Campbell’s unease and hoping to ease
it. “She is quite braw.”
Robert smiled before he even realized he did. “Aye, I told you she fears little.” He looked up as Callum rose to his feet.
“We’ve wasted enough time,” the laird snapped. “Get back to yer horses.” He walked off without another word. When he reached the others, he barked at them to move their arses, then leaped into his saddle with surprising grace for a man his size.
Graham rose to follow, but Robert’s voice stopped him.
“I considered you my friend. The first I had, if the truth be known. You led me outdoors that night . . .” Kate’s brother rose to his feet and set his gaze directly on Graham. “Was it an easy thing to betray me?”
What was there to say? It didn’t matter if Graham liked the lad. Their names made them enemies, made them do things they might not have done under another set of circumstances. Finally, Graham shook his head before he turned for his horse. “Nae, ’twas verra difficult, indeed.”
They crossed the narrows a little before dusk and then continued on without stopping again. Robert was bone weary, but he was grateful they did not tarry. And even more that the fearsome Devil MacGregor was going to help him save his sister.
Chapter Forty-One
THEY REACHED INVERARY leaving a trail of whispered rumors that an army of MacGregors was heading south, unharmed and unhindered by a Campbell knight who led them! Callum would have preferred the truth of it be known; they rode unharmed and unhindered thanks to the staggering fear that settled over anyone unfortunate enough to come upon them. They might be an outlawed clan whose heads were used to pardon the most offensive crimes, but they were bloody fierce, and people knew it.
Duncan Campbell knew it, as well, which was why he had wasted no time in gathering his allies to his side on his journey home. Callum and his men found themselves facing an army of Menzies, Drummonds, and Robertsons when they finally arrived at Kildun. True, the men looked less than confident when they saw the feral-looking Highlanders thundering toward them, each warrior taller in the saddle than the next. But Campbell’s army outnumbered the MacGregors by at least two to one, and that, according to Callum’s way of thinking, was what gave them the courage to draw their swords.