The Campbell Trilogy

by Monica McCarty

  “I think you’ll remember my response as well,” Jamie said evenly, noting the burst of angry color that appeared on her cheeks. “Listen to what your uncle has to say, lass,” he finished quietly.

  The Lamont cleared his throat. Jamie could tell he was uncomfortable. Hell, he didn’t blame him. “Campbell here and I have been in correspondence for the past couple of months.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath and a look of such betrayal in her eyes that it cut him to the quick.

  Her aunt quickly clasped Caitrina’s hand and eyed her husband impatiently. “You misunderstand, dearest, your uncle did not betray you.”

  The Lamont’s eyes widened in alarm, realizing what she’d thought. “Your aunt is right. I told Campbell nothing of your whereabouts. He contacted me about another matter.”

  Caitrina seemed to relax, but only a little, and she waited for her uncle to continue. But the Lamont still seemed to be having trouble finding the right words.

  Taking pity on the man, Jamie interjected for him. “Your uncle has served as something of an intermediary.” He could see her confusion and explained. “While searching the forest near Ascog after the attack”—for you, he left unsaid—“I captured two of Alasdair MacGregor’s guardsmen—one of whom happened to be his cousin Iain.”

  Her eyes widened a little. “And so my father’s death was for nothing,” she said bitterly. “You found the MacGregors and turned them over to Argyll anyway, or maybe there was no need to turn them over?”

  Jamie’s mouth tightened. Killing them was what he should have done—and no more than Iain MacGregor deserved. That he hadn’t done exactly that was only because of her. If they were to have any chance, he knew that no more death could come from the attack on Ascog. His jaw clenched grimly. Iain MacGregor was one of the worst of the lot—a murderous scourge who’d burned and pillaged Jamie’s clansmen for years. What others might have been driven to, he did for pleasure.

  Alasdair MacGregor, on the other hand, had made a different impression on him. Though they’d crossed paths a number of times in the past few years, during the negotiations Jamie came to see him as a man bound by duty into becoming the unlikely leader of an uncontrollable group of brigands—as their chief, Alasdair would be held accountable. Jamie had come away almost feeling sorry for him.

  Unexpectedly, the Lamont rose to his defense. “No, he didn’t do either, Caitrina. As a matter of fact, Campbell has prevented Argyll from sending more soldiers into the area until an agreement for a peaceable surrender of Alasdair MacGregor could be worked out. As evidence of Campbell’s good faith, while brokering the deal, he has kept the location of the prisoners a secret.”

  Caitrina’s gaze fell on him. He saw her surprise. She realized the significance of what Jamie had done by withholding information from Argyll. Hell, it had surprised him. Never before had Jamie refused to follow an order from his chief. Proof alone of what she meant to him. Initially, his cousin had been furious. Only when Jamie had explained his purpose had Argyll been mollified.

  He knew she wanted to ask why he’d done so, but instead she turned back to her uncle. “And has a peaceable surrender been negotiated?”

  The Lamont nodded. “MacGregor and his men have agreed to turn themselves in to Argyll, and in return the earl has agreed to indemnify him for past crimes and to see him safely on English ground. Alasdair MacGregor believes that he will be treated fairly by King James in England.” Undoubtedly, Alasdair MacGregor would die for his clan’s crimes, but at least his blood would be on King James’s hands.

  She nodded but kept her gaze on her uncle. “It is more than I would have expected from Argyll. But I don’t understand what this has to do with me?”

  The Lamont cleared his throat again. “To seal the bargain, Campbell has asked for your hand in marriage.”

  Her entire body went rigid. Jamie could see her knuckles turn white as she gripped the folds of her skirts in her lap. Fury and outrage radiated from her, but she kept her voice surprisingly calm. “I’m afraid I’ve already refused the laird’s generous offer of marriage. In fact, I planned to discuss another match with you tonight.”

  Blood rushed through Jamie’s veins, his reaction instantaneous. “Who?” His fists clenched. I’ll kill him.

  Her lips pressed together. “It is none of your concern.”

  The Lamont appeared flustered. “This changes everything. I was not aware that your father had arranged another match. I thought you had refused every offer. Who is it, child?”

  Color crawled up her cheeks. “Nothing has been decided … exactly.”

  The Lamont gazed back and forth between the two of them, sensing the tension and probably guessing the cause for it. “You should hear his offer before you refuse him, niece.”

  “There is nothing he can say that will change my mind.”

  Don’t be so sure of that.

  “I think you will want to hear everything, Caitrina,” her aunt said quietly, echoing his thoughts.

  He sensed her rising panic. She turned to her cousin John, but he nodded as well—although he looked none too happy about it.

  “Very well. What is this offer, then?” she asked impatiently.

  Jamie saw the pity in her uncle’s eyes when he answered her. “If you wed Campbell, you can return to Ascog Castle with your remaining clansmen under his protection.”

  She flinched as if from a blow, and Jamie knew he’d guessed correctly. With the death of her family, her home and her clan were what were important to her. But how much would she be willing to sacrifice for them?

  She’d lost her composure; he could see her hands shaking in her lap. “I see. So he offers that which rightly belongs to the Lamonts.”

  No one spoke, but they all knew that Argyll had laid claim to her father’s lands. To encourage the capture of the MacGregors, the Privy Council had enacted laws giving a bounty for the head of any MacGregor, in addition to all the dead man’s possessions. By harboring the outlaws, arguably the Lamont himself was an outlaw. As such, his possessions would be forfeit. With no male survivors, Caitrina would face a long, uphill battle, with little guarantee of success in the end.

  “My cousin has agreed to give the land to me on our wedding.” An arrangement that had taken some negotiating and hadn’t pleased Colin, who felt it should be his. “Eventually, it will go to our second son.”

  At the mention of a child, she blanched. He could see the panic in her eyes and knew that she was close to losing her composure.

  “Leave us,” he said to the others.

  The Lamont frowned. “I’ll not have you force the lass.”

  Jamie checked him with a glare but forgave him for the insult, knowing that the chief spoke out of concern for his niece.

  “Caitrina?” Margaret Lamont asked.

  She nodded.

  The chief escorted his wife, with John following, but when her cousin reached the door, he turned. “You don’t have to wed him, lass. I’d not see you tied to a bloody Campbell.” His eyes narrowed menacingly on Jamie. “Say the word and he’ll feel the edge of my blade.”

  Jamie stood, his hand moving to the hilt of his dirk. “If you don’t feel mine first,” he said matter-of-factly. He was itching for a fight, and from the size and strength of him, John Lamont looked as though he might actually give him a good one.

  Jamie started at the gentle restraint of Caitrina’s hand on his arm. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “Thank you, John, but I’m fine.”

  Her cousin shot one more venomous glance at Jamie and shut the door behind him.

  Caitrina dropped her hand and turned to face him in the candlelight. God, she was beautiful. Just standing so close to her was an exercise in restraint. His nose filled with the bouquet of her delicate perfume. He ached to plunge his fingers through the silky smooth locks of her hair, to touch the soft, velvety curve of her cheek, and to taste the honey sweetness of her lips. But she didn’t want comfort from him.

  Would the day
ever come that she would? He’d never pursued a woman, never had to. What if Caitrina never … No, she would.

  “So this is your plan,” she said, her voice low and full of emotion. “You are every bit as ruthless as I thought. You’d force me to marry you, not caring how much I hate you.”

  His muscles clenched. He knew she didn’t hate him but didn’t like hearing it all the same. “I’ll not force you to anything. It’s your decision.”

  She made a sharp sound of derision. “What kind of choice is that when you hold everything that I want in the palm of your hand? Why are you doing this to me? Is it because of what happened before? Is this some kind of revenge? I dared to refuse the great Jamie Campbell, so now you will bend me to your will and humiliate me.”

  “Is that what you really think? Is it so hard to believe that I want you?”

  “No, that’s not hard to believe at all,” she said flatly. “But that does not require marriage. If that’s all you want from me, then take—”

  He grabbed her arm, his reaction instantaneous. “Don’t,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t say it.”

  He was doing a horrible job of this. He dropped her arm and raked his hands through his hair. “That is not all that I want from you.” He’d never tried to explain himself to a woman before. He didn’t know how to describe what he was feeling. “I care for you.”

  “If you care about me, then don’t do this.”

  “It’s because I care about you that I am doing this.” To get Argyll to agree, he’d had to take surety—to assume personal responsibility—for the conduct of the Lamonts. If they broke the law, he would be the one held accountable. “I’m trying to help you. Can’t you see this is the best way to get your home back? And I can protect you.”

  “I don’t need your protection.”

  “Don’t you?”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “No.”

  Unable to resist, he reached down and stroked the gentle curve of her cheek with his finger. “Would marrying me really be so horrible?”

  He felt her tremble, but she didn’t respond.

  He held himself still, asking the question that he feared the most. “Is there someone else you wish to marry?” The very thought sliced like a dirk across his chest.

  He felt her eyes on him, studying his face, as if she might have glimpsed a little of his torment. “I …,” she started, then hesitated. “No. There is no one else.”

  He took a step closer to her, looking down at the feathery fan of black lashes on her pale cheek. The faintest hint of a few new freckles dotted the top of her tiny upturned nose. He took a deep breath but didn’t touch her. “Give me a chance. I will do my best to make you happy.” It was as close to begging as he would ever come. Without thinking, he reached out and gently tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers sweeping the velvet of her cheek, startling them both with the tender touch.

  After a moment he said, “You will consider my offer?”

  She nodded.

  She was wavering, but there was one more thing she had to know. He didn’t want anything between them. “You should know something before you make your decision.”

  She tilted her head questioningly, caught by something in his voice. “What?”

  “The man who led the attack against your father”—her eyes locked on his—“he’s my brother.”

  “No!” But the cry strangled in her throat. The leader’s face came back to her. There had been something that reminded her of Jamie, and now she knew why. Her mouth soured. Dear God, his brother had killed her father.

  Just when she wanted to think something between them might be possible …

  “I’d not force you to accept him, but I thought you had a right to know. He didn’t know what you were to me—”

  And what am I to you? But she couldn’t ask that. “And that is supposed to be an excuse?”

  Jamie shook his head. “No. But it might have made a difference. I’ll leave you now. Send word to Dunoon when you have made your decision. Should you decide to accept, we can be married right away.”

  “But the banns—”

  “The banns have already been proclaimed.”

  Caitrina felt the noose tightening around her throat. “You were so confident of my response, or was I even allowed to have one?”

  “I only wanted to be prepared. I’d assumed you would be anxious to return to your home.”

  “It’s gone. There’s nothing left.”

  “It can be rebuilt.”

  “Not everything,” she said quietly.

  He gave her a long look that seemed to touch inside her. “I’m sorry for your loss, lass.”

  He was. She could feel his sympathy and understanding, and for a moment she let it wrap around her and give her comfort. He would be a rock to lean on if she wanted him.

  He lifted her chin. “You’re right; not everything can be rebuilt,” he admitted. “But we can try to build something new.”

  It was an olive branch of sorts. One that she wasn’t ready to accept. “I don’t want something new”—you—“I want my family back.” She thought he flinched, but he covered it so quickly, she wondered if she’d only imagined it. “Don’t you understand? I can never replace them.”

  “I’m not suggesting you try. But right now, I’m all you have.”

  Caitrina watched the door close behind him, numb. He was gone. Tears burned in her throat. The decision was in her hands now.

  She didn’t know what to do. She needed to think. After opening the door, she forced herself to walk steadily across the hall and outside, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes. Only when she reached the courtyard did she run.

  The sun was sinking over the horizon, and the air was damp with cold. Wind tore her hair from her bindings and tears streamed down her cheeks as she stumbled down the path to the beach. Sinking to her knees in the sand, she put her face in her hands.

  Vaguely she was aware of someone calling her, but it sounded so far away. Moments later, she felt Mor’s arms wrap around her. The familiar scent, the pillowy soft chest, made her sob harder—the way she had when she was a child. What had she ever had to cry about then?

  “There, there, lass. What is it that has you so upset?”

  Caitrina managed to choke out the story in bits and pieces, enough for her old nurse to put it together.

  She frowned. “So he claims he was there to put an end to the attack?”

  Caitrina nodded.

  “And you believe him?”

  Oddly enough, she did. “Yes. But I wasn’t there. Tell me what you remember.”

  It was the first time she’d asked Mor about that day.

  Mor thought for a moment. “It was so chaotic when we were dragged from the keep, I had to fight to hold on to Una. Smoke was everywhere—and the bodies. Everywhere I looked there were bodies. I was so scared I’d see you and the lad.” She shivered. “I was so relieved to see the Campbell Henchman carry you out of that keep—” She stopped, her voice tight with emotion. “He’d saved you, but I didn’t know for what reason. I thought it was odd, though, the way he cradled you in his arms like you were a bairn, and kissed your forehead before putting you down.” Her brow wrinkled. “He had the strangest look on his face, and then he said, ‘Watch her for me, I’ll be right back. I must see what I can do. There are still people inside.’ ” Mor paused. “I thought he was talking about his men, but maybe …” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but I did see him arguing with the other man.” Mor’s face hardened. “The man who shot your father.”

  “His brother,” Caitrina said tonelessly.

  Mor sucked in her breath. “Oh, lass.”

  “I can’t marry him.”

  Mor stroked her hair. “Of course you can’t … if you don’t want to.”

  “I don’t want to marry him. I despise him—he’s a Campbell. How could you think …” Caitrina’s voice fell off as she caught the older woman’s knowing ga
ze leveled on her.

  “Caitrina Lamont, I’ve known you since the day you were born. I’ve seen the way you look at the man … and the way he looks at you.”

  Caitrina felt the telltale heat of a blush rising on her cheeks. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and then lifted her chin. “I don’t know what you think you have seen, but you’re wrong.”

  “Am I?” Mor shook her head. “Ah, Caiti, we can no more control who we are a-wanting than we can order the rain to flow or the wind to ebb. There is no shame in what you feel for the man.”

  Caitrina felt something twist in her chest. Mor was wrong—her attraction to Jamie Campbell was a betrayal of her father and brothers. Nor did it change who he was. “How can you say that? You know who he is and what he did?”

  Mor nodded, seeming to understand Caitrina’s conflicting emotions. “The Campbells are a vicious, land-grabbing lot, and I’d see the men who attacked your father hung, drawn, and quartered and not lose a wink of sleep. But I don’t think Jamie Campbell had anything to do with that. He’s Argyll’s man—a point against him, to be sure—but he cares for you. And that may work to your advantage. There is no denying what the man is offering you. The Campbells are a powerful clan, and perhaps the best way to protect the Lamonts is an alliance with the Campbells through marriage. Moreover, without this marriage you may not have another opportunity to reclaim Ascog.”

  As much as Caitrina hated to hear it put so bluntly, Mor was only giving voice to Caitrina’s own thoughts. He had backed her into a corner, leaving her nowhere to run. If she refused him, she refused her duty to her clan.

  Just as before. Her father had urged her to consider Jamie Campbell’s offer, but she’d been too selfish—not wanting to leave the sheltering bosom of her family.

  Would things have been different if she’d accepted his proposal? The question hurt too much even to contemplate.

  She’d failed in her duty to her clan once before; she could not do so again. If there was a way to protect what remained of her kin and to reclaim Ascog without bloodshed, she had to take it.