“I know you think so, but I’m not ready, Father. I can’t bear the thought of leaving you and my brothers.” Life at Ascog with her family was all she had ever known. It would be like tearing her heart in two to be forced from them.
He brought her into his arms again, and for a moment she thought he would relent. But her time, it seemed, had run out.
“And it will cause me great pain to see you go, my love. But go you must.”
Caitrina nodded, tears streaming down her face. The ache in her heart was unbearable.
She wished she’d never set eyes on Jamie Campbell. This was all his fault.
Chapter 6
No matter how much she cajoled, her father would not be swayed. The knowledge that she soon must wed was like an ax hanging over Caitrina’s head. It tainted her enjoyment of the next few days and forced her to look at each prospective suitor with eyes that were, if not exactly open, then not exactly closed, either. It also forced her to acknowledge that compared with the boring, fawning attentions of the other men, Jamie Campbell’s confident command stood out. He stood out. Not just for his handsome face and impressive build, but for the aura of power and authority that emanated from him. But whether by intent or effect, she also noticed that it served to keep him distant from the rest. He was one of them, but apart.
Why it should bother her that he was alone, she didn’t know. But it did.
As much as she wanted to ignore him, wanted to hate him, something about the man drew her. Throughout the week, she found herself watching him and his interactions with the other Highlanders. For the most part, he kept to himself or with the handful of guardsmen he’d brought with him, though occasionally she would see him speaking with the various chiefs. She supposed it wasn’t surprising; as his cousin’s right-hand man, he would have had dealings with most of the Highland elite. But the guardsmen and lower-ranking men of the clan tended to avoid him, looking at him with a mixture of fear and hatred—particularly the Murrays and the Lamonts, who were both allies of the outlawed MacGregors.
Despite Jamie’s admonition, she knew not all MacGregors were thieves and brigands. Many, including Alasdair MacGregor and his close relations, had dined in this very hall before they were proscribed. Her father disapproved of their wild ways but sympathized with their plight. Blame for which many in the hall obviously put on Jamie and his cousin.
Quite a few times, she noticed Jamie standing with Rory and Alex MacLeod. The three men presented an impressive picture: tall, broad-shouldered, well-muscled, and uncommonly handsome. Jamie had the height of Rory MacLeod but was slightly leaner in build—more like Alex MacLeod, who stood a few inches shorter than the other two, albeit still well over six feet. She sensed a history among the three men that was different from the rest. Over the course of the week, she’d noticed a distinct warming among them. She’d even caught Jamie laughing once or twice. Perhaps it was because he usually held himself so apart, but the effect was devastating, providing a glimpse into an entirely different side of him—an approachable side.
It intrigued her.
He intrigued her, blast him.
But the person Jamie was most comfortable with was Margaret MacLeod, Alex’s wife. Seeing them together, watching the easy banter between the two, made something pinch hard inside Caitrina’s chest. It was a feeling unlike anything she’d ever experienced before—almost irrational in its intensity. Even the knowledge that Margaret MacLeod was so obviously in love with her husband did not lessen it any. Why their easy camaraderie should bother her, she didn’t know … except that it did.
Which was ridiculous, since nothing would ever persuade her to consider Jamie Campbell—her father’s halfhearted request notwithstanding.
Her hatred of clan Campbell had been fed since birth and would not be easily cast aside. It was part of who she was: Lamonts hated Campbells. Too much blood had been shed between the two clans. But her reasons were also personal. She’d seen what they’d done to her mother, how much it had hurt her to be disowned by her father and cut off from everyone in her family. She would never repeat her misery. Her father couldn’t seriously expect her to look at Jamie Campbell as anything other than the enemy. If she married a Campbell, she might as well be banished; the effect would be the same. She would be cut off from her clan by years of hatred.
But it wasn’t simply who he was—though that was cause enough—it was how he made her feel. He watched her with those steely blue eyes that seemed to bore right through her. It was a look of possession and desire that threatened her in a way no man ever had before—that just because he’d kissed her, he had some kind of claim on her. It made her feel trapped by feelings she didn’t understand and longings that made her yearn to escape.
She could not deny the strange connection between them: a heightened awareness that left her feeling warm and prickly, her skin strangely tight and sensitive. At meals when his leg or arm would accidentally brush against hers, it felt as if she were jumping out of her skin. He seemed to delight in tormenting her. As if he knew what his touch did to her and how much he unnerved her. But nothing she did or said seemed to get through to him. Her attempt to treat him with cool disdain was met with wry amusement.
The incident in the barn had not been broached, but it was there, hanging between them—as was the memory of his mouth on hers. It was a memory she yearned to forget, but it seemed the harder she attempted to push it away, the more she could think of nothing else. She tried to think of other men kissing her, but the only face she could visualize was his.
What kept her sane was the knowledge that her discomfort soon would be at an end. Tomorrow the gathering would be over. Jamie Campbell would leave with the rest of the guests, and her life would return to normal.
But for how long? Her father had laid down the law about her marriage.
She fought the spark of panic, refusing to think of that now. When everyone left, she would find a way to dissuade him.
Caitrina sat on a rock under the shade of an old birch tree along the edge of the woods. In the moors beyond, the final competition—archery—was just about to get under way.
She stiffened, sensing his presence even before the mocking words had left his mouth.
“Miss me, Princess?”
She hated that he called her that, but after the first time she had refused to let him know how much it bothered her.
“Like the plague,” she replied sweetly.
He chuckled. “Stubborn lass. But as much as I’d love to sit here and spar with you, my sweet, you’ll have to forgive me.” He gave her an amused look and nodded toward the field of play. “I have a contest to win.”
She noticed the bow slung over his muscled shoulder and felt a prickle of disquiet. “But you haven’t participated in any of the games. With such an unusual affinity for hunting, I thought you’d be off on another ride.”
“Keeping track of me, Caitrina? I’m flattered. But I couldn’t resist the prize for this event.”
Her cheeks burned. She hated how she could never tell whether he was teasing or in earnest. “You know very well that was not meant for your ears. Even if you could best Rory MacLeod, which you can’t, it wouldn’t matter. My offer did not extend to you. Besides, I’ve already told you I’m not interested.”
He gave her a long, dark look. One that made butterflies dance low in her belly.
“I know what you’ve told me, but your eyes say differently.”
She turned away from him in a huff. “You are blind and arrogant.”
“Have care, lass. You might hurt your neck tossing your hair around like that.” He twisted a long tress around his finger like a ribbon and then let it spring free. “Though it is lovely.” Laughing at the outraged look on her face, he bowed. “I’ll be back soon to collect my prize.”
He infuriated her, but her gaze followed him as he walked toward the other men, mesmerized by the flex of muscle in his long, powerful stride. She jerked her head away with a start.
He is
wrong. He means nothing to me. It was simply that he’d dared what no man had before. She was inexperienced in her intimate relations with men (he’d been right about that). His had been her first kiss. But Caitrina intended for that to change. Soon.
Perhaps she’d been too hasty in rejecting Torquil MacNeil. He was young and boastful, but seemingly suitable. And certainly more appealing than some of the other men brought before her.
Her gaze slid down the line of contestants. There were about twenty men set to start. Sacks stuffed with straw and grass had been set up at about fifty paces. Each sack was marked with white concentric circles. After each round, the targets would be moved back another ten paces.
Mindful of her duties as hostess, Caitrina left her solitary position on the rock and joined a group of women who’d gathered to watch the contest. With each round that passed, the hammering in her heart increased. Jamie Campbell was holding his own. And so, surprisingly, was MacNeil.
“He’s an excellent bowman.”
Transfixed by the contest before her, Caitrina suddenly realized that Margaret MacLeod had been speaking to her. She blushed. “I’m sorry?”
Margaret smiled and repeated her comment.
“Who?” Caitrina said nonchalantly, plastering an innocent look on her face.
“Jamie. I saw you watching him.”
The blunt observation brought a guilty flush to her cheeks. The other woman was studying her carefully and no doubt noticed the reaction. “Perhaps,” Caitrina conceded. “But not good enough to best the MacLeod chief.”
Meg grinned. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Jamie’s beaten my brother by marriage countless times before.”
Caitrina’s heart raced, and her voice, which she tried to hold steady, came out like a squeak. “Really?”
Meg nodded. “It’s been a fierce rivalry for years. Rory and Alex were fostered with the old earl, and Jamie spent most of his youth at Inveraray.”
Caitrina’s gaze shot to Jamie. He drew back the arrow and released; it flew to the center of the target. “I didn’t realize …” She looked back to Meg, silently asking for more.
“After the death of Jamie’s father, he and his sister, Elizabeth, went to live with the earl.”
She could no longer hide her curiosity. “He had no other relations?”
“Two older brothers. His elder brother Colin, who was only a lad himself on the death of their father, became Campbell of Auchinbreck. Their mother had passed the year before, and Argyll held their father in the highest esteem. Like Jamie, his father was a trusted captain. He fell at the battle at Glenlivet, taking a shot meant for Argyll, and the earl will never forget it. Jamie is like a brother to him. Argyll values his opinion above all others.”
The bond between Jamie and his cousin went far deeper than she’d realized. “From what I’ve heard, I’m surprised that the earl takes advice from anyone.”
Meg grinned. “Oh, he’s not that bad.”
Caitrina lifted her brow skeptically.
Meg chuckled at her expression. “He’s better than the alternatives of Mackenzie or Huntly.”
Jamie had said much the same thing. Listening to Meg, Caitrina realized just how little she knew of the issues plaguing the Highlands. Embarrassed by her ignorance, she changed the subject. “You said there were two brothers. What of the other?”
Meg’s face clouded. “Jamie doesn’t talk about him much. Though you might have heard of him.” She gave Caitrina a hard stare, as if debating whether to say more. She looked around, making sure they would not be heard, but everyone else was focused on the contest. Only four men remained: Rory MacLeod, Jamie Campbell, Torquil MacNeil, and Robbie Graham. Nerves too frayed to watch, Caitrina was glad of the distraction. Meg continued in a low voice. “His eldest brother, Duncan, is a bastard born. He was their father’s favorite and despite his birth had been named a captain, but he was disgraced after the battle of Glenlivet years ago. His treachery was blamed for Argyll’s defeat, and he was forced to flee Scotland. He’s called Duncan Dubh.” Duncan the Black. Her eyes widened. The Black Highlander? Meg smiled wryly. “Aye, he’s made quite a name for himself on the continent. But the scandal hit Jamie particularly hard; from what I hear, they were very close.” Meg’s expression lightened with amusement. “But no one will ever confuse Jamie with his brother.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whether you agree with him or not, no one can say he doesn’t follow the law.”
Though she’d said it jokingly, Caitrina wondered if there was more truth to Meg’s comment than she realized. Was that what drove him? “And his sister? She is married?”
Meg smiled and shook her head. “Not yet. It will be an impressive man who can please both her brothers and her cousin. Jamie mentioned that Elizabeth will be joining him at Dunoon soon with the earl.”
Argyll, she knew, was the keeper of the royal castle of Dunoon. The earl had numerous castles, including his Lowland stronghold, Castle Campbell, and his Highland stronghold of Inveraray Castle.
Embarrassed by how much she’d revealed by her questions, Caitrina fell silent, her attention returned again to the field—just in time to see MacNeil’s arrow land wide of the mark. He was the farthest away, but she could see the anger and bitter disappointment on his face. He’d acquitted himself well, dangerously well for her comfort, but clearly he’d intended to win. Caitrina felt a twinge of guilt, realizing that perhaps she’d been unfair. She’d treated MacNeil’s offer lightly, but it had obviously meant a great deal to him. Later, she’d find him and apologize.
Robbie Graham shot next, and his arrow landed on the lower right edge of the target. A superb shot from that distance, which was probably at least one hundred paces by now. Rory MacLeod stepped forward. It was clear the crowd sided with him. They swayed as he drew the arrow back, holding their collective breath as he released and …
Thump. A great cheer rang out. The arrow had landed in the center circle near the middle of the target. It would take a perfect shot to beat him.
Caitrina could feel the restless tension build around her as Jamie raised his bow and took aim. She couldn’t breathe. It was almost as if she knew what was going to happen. His confidence left no room for failure. The arrow flew, and she didn’t even look. Her eyes were fastened on Jamie. The gasp of the crowd would have been enough, but at the moment of victory he turned and looked right at her, his eyes pinning her to the ground. Her heart jumped to her throat. The deep, penetrating stare seemed to see everything, seeing her turmoil, seeing things that she didn’t want him to see.
Only after his men and the MacLeods had moved to congratulate him did she glance at the target. He’d hit a perfect bull’s-eye.
While he was occupied with his men, Caitrina took the opportunity to make her escape. She knew he’d come looking for her, and it might be cowardly, but her nerves were so raw that she didn’t think she could take one more confrontation with Jamie Campbell.
Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Not ready to return to the castle and wanting to avoid the crowd, she veered off the path and wandered through the trees toward the loch. There was a small inlet on the eastern edge that was a favorite fishing spot of her brothers. She would relax there for a while until she could sort through the jumble of emotions twisting her stomach in knots.
She was so rattled by what had just happened that it took her a moment to realize someone was following her. She heard a noise, the crush of a branch underfoot, and spun around to look behind her—but didn’t see anyone. Her pulse spiked and the hair at the back of her neck rose.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice wavering as she scanned the trees.
But there was no answer. Icy droplets of fear trickled down her spine. Something didn’t feel right. She hadn’t gone that far, but with all the noise, would someone hear her? Jamie’s warning about outlaws came back to her.
She had opened her mouth to cry
for help when a man stepped out from behind a tree in a ray of sunlight not five feet away.
She exhaled with relief, recognizing Torquil MacNeil right away.
“My laird, you startled me.”
The sun was behind him and she couldn’t see his face clearly, but anger seemed to radiate from him. “I trust you found the competition entertaining,” he said, his voice holding the edge of a sneer.
“No, I—” She twisted her hands, not knowing what to say. He stepped closer, close enough for her to see the fury marring his handsome features. She’d hurt his pride; she must try to soothe it. “I want to apologize—”
“You tricked me.”
Though he sounded somewhat like a petulant child, Caitrina reached out and put her hand on his arm. “It was wrong of me, and I deeply regret doing so.”
He gave her an uncertain look. “You do?”
She nodded and smiled up at him encouragingly. “You acquitted yourself extremely well today.”
For a moment he puffed up a bit under her obvious admiration, then he frowned. “But I didn’t win.” His face darkened. “That Campbell bastard did.”
Jamie Campbell, Jamie Campbell … If she never heard his name again, it would be too soon. She studied MacNeil’s face; he was undeniably handsome, yet for some reason he did not rouse the same fluttering in her stomach or make every nerve ending stand on edge—a fact that only served to irritate her further. A streak of recklessness that she didn’t even know she possessed took hold. There was nothing special about Jamie Campbell, and she was going to prove it.
She put her hand on his shoulders, lifted up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against his in a light kiss. And felt precisely … nothing. Not the merest stirring or faintest yearning or anything. His lips were soft and he tasted pleasant enough, but he did not drown her senses in heat or make her body heavy and sensitive.
Furious, she pressed a little closer, trying to find the spark. He groaned, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her against him. She felt the power of his body, the muscles and the strength, but she did not feel like melting into him at all. Being pressed against him only filled her with unease. It was nothing like she’d felt in Jamie’s arms.
The Campbell Trilogy Page 7