She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering again what she did. She had walked straight into the dragon’s lair without a weapon or shield of any sort. She wished chastity belts had not gone out of fashion because a man like this wouldn’t hesitate to take anything he wanted. He may not care she was married. He may not care her body was not voluptuous. She tried to ignore her feelings and latch onto reason. She was probably not his type at all. Surely a man such as this would want a buxom, earthy type who offered a large, pillowy bosom, eager, welcoming arms, and enough flesh to survive an encounter with a man his size.
Aye, surely that was the case. She nodded as the thoughts flickered through her mind, but suddenly she froze. In the war between her emotions and her mind, her mind surrendered. Nothing would matter. She didn’t think he’d care what his sexual preferences might be or what kind of woman crossed his path. He had said a year since…and a single glance from a distance had stirred something in him. She had seen the tight swelling of his body and the small brush of her body against his had caused it again. She had felt the hardness against her skirt.
Oh, she couldn’t think of that. A man like Alexander Campbell would be an animal, a savage, thinking of only his own needs, pleasure, satisfaction…
Rough hands. A hard, unmerciful body. A tight swelling seeking its own pleasure. He’ll not stop until he’s taken what he wants, until there’s a body beneath his, a place to sink his…Stop it, Megan!
A man like Alexander Campbell would take because a man like this had nothing to lose. A sigh floated from the doorway and wound around her.
“Did you want something, lass?” he asked.
Soft, encouraging, almost comforting.
She finally found her voice. “I came to treat your injuries.” She didn’t sound very confident. She was sorry to hear the tremor because she wanted to appear brave, in control.
Something that might have been a laugh drifted from the darkness. “Ah, well, your husband was kind enough to do that hours ago. You were still hiding at the time.”
She wondered how he seemed to know the exact thing to say to set off her temper. She took a step toward him.
“I wasn’t hiding.”
“No?” Campbell asked. “’Tis odd then I’ve not seen you since we arrived here. ’Twas in my thoughts earlier you might be avoiding me. There was some tension between us.”
“There is nothing between us, Campbell, tension or anything else. Nor will there be. I was worried about your wounds. You’ll be of no use to us if they become infected, but if Trevor—”
“Trevor’s skill is less than my own,” Campbell said. “I would be grateful for yours.”
She shifted the basket. “I want…”
“You want…?”
Why was it so hard to breathe around this man? She said the only thing she could think of. “I want to protect our investment.”
Campbell shifted again in the doorway and swept his arm toward the shop. “Then by all means, madam.”
She couldn’t seem to move her legs.
“Do you mean to inspect me in the dark?” Campbell asked. “Shall I come to you?”
“No, of course not.”
She took a hesitant step, then paused, her gaze sweeping over him. When he put his hands on his hips and shook his head, she wondered what he could possibly have seen on her face.
“Well, girl, I know you don’t trust me, but you can rest assured I’m not a murderer or a rapist. I leave those foul deeds to the truly evil of the world. I’m but a humble warrior, a champion of sorts, a hero to some, traitor to others. My pursuits lie in political turmoil and the inevitable rebellion that follows. ’Tis been my obsession to fight for causes surely lost before they’ve begun.”
“Then why begin?”
“’Tis foolhardy, perhaps, but I’m a Highlander, and ’tis in our nature to slay the dragon.”
“The only dragon stands in front of me,” Megan said.
“There are many dragons,” Campbell said. “They fly over the Highlands leaving death and destruction in their wakes.”
“I’ve heard of the trouble across the sea. It seems to me the dragon you speak of is, at this time, the acknowledged ruler of Britain. You’ve fought a more powerful beast, Master Dragon, and lost. Surely you’ve now discovered rebellion is rarely the answer to a conflict of wills.”
“Aye, so I have, but I cannae seem to live my life while others have theirs stripped away. Pure folly in hindsight, and we Highlanders paid a wretched price, but you, lass, you’ll not pay.” His voice softened, and she had to take another step to hear him. “’Tis not a dragon you see before you. I am but a man, and you’re safe enough with me. I’ve no wish to risk what life I have left causing more harm. Have I calmed your fears?”
“I’ve no fear of you, Master Campbell.”
“Uhmm,” he murmured. “I see. Who knew having my wings clipped would render me so impotent? ’Tis disappointing to find I’ve lost the ability to even inspire trepidation. ’Twas always one of the more useful assets in my choice of profession. I had a reputation for being truly terrifying. In combat I was without equal. Well, no matter, ’tis bridled I’ve been, and I suppose I’ll adjust.”
“Bridled,” she said, “but not broken?”
“No, lass, not broken,” he said softly. “Not yet. Though living in this house…”
The shadow hand reached up, and his finger rubbed at a spot on his forehead as though her mere presence gave him a headache. His shadow head tilted.
“Well, then, if you’ve not come to put your fears to rest, and your husband surely told you he’d already taken care of my little cuts and scrapes, is there another reason for your visit? It cannae be a need to see me in captivity as I’m quite used to it by now. These accommodations are quite luxurious after what I’ve seen.”
“I’m glad you’re comfortable,” she said.
“So ’tis mere curiosity that sparks your adventure? Perhaps a need to see how a man lives with his balls in a vise? Well, girl, I can tell you—”
“I’m hardly a girl, Master Campbell,” she said, “and I’d prefer you call me Mistress MacGregor.”
“Calling you MacGregor doesnae sit well in my craw, mistress, and as far as what you are, ’tis obvious you’re still a girl. How many years have you?”
“How many years have you?”
“’Tis hard to know for sure. More than thirty, not yet forty. Somewhere in the middle I imagine.”
“How can you not know how old you are?” Megan asked.
“Because the last time the topic came up, I was but a wee lad, and I’ve no way of knowing how old I was then. ’Twas sometime after my memories began and before I left home.”
“You never asked your mother, your father?”
“Hard to get an answer from the grave, lass. Almost as hard as getting an answer from you.”
Megan forced herself to take a step toward him. “I’m twenty-two, Master Campbell. Not a girl, a woman grown.”
“Twenty-two, perhaps,” he said, “but whether you’re a woman grown remains to be seen.”
“I’m fully grown, Master Campbell. I’ve a responsibility in this business, a household to run, a husband to care for—”
“Do you sleep in his bed?”
Heat flashed through her body, and she clenched her fist against her skirt. “I don’t think that’s your business.”
“Well, now, lass, I’m making it my business. Might have some bearing on my future here.”
He turned, and his shadow slipped deeper into the shop. He disappeared from her sight. She immediately began to follow, filled with an irritation that only Campbell seemed capable of stirring in her. How could a man she didn’t know cause such agitation inside her?
“Your future here has nothing to do with me,” she called after him.
When he glanced over his shoulder, she came to a dead stop. What was she doing? She was a following a strange man, actually pursuing him. She shouldn’t. She should stay near t
he door in case she needed to escape quickly.
You’re being ridiculous. He’s not going to hurt you. Trevor and Sam are right next door. If he touches you, he’s a dead man. Besides, Megan, you want to follow him. Nothing will stop you from following him. Not fear. Not reputation. Not propriety.
She stepped reluctantly into the shop, moving slowly around the press and the worktables, weaving in and out of racks and skeins of binding. She moved through the gate in the half-wall that separated the workshop from the small parlor where Trevor conducted business. Crossing through that passage seemed to be a surrender of sorts. Other than her father, her husband, and Sam, she had never been so alone with another man in her life.
Campbell lounged at the table where Trevor often made arrangements with his clients, making himself perfectly at home. He had prepared tea for himself, and she saw that he had already poured her a cup. He nodded to the chair next to him.
“I’ve actually been expecting you,” he said. “A girl such as yourself can never resist the challenge of an unknown.”
“You’re not much of a challenge, Master Campbell. It seems to me your life has taken a fairly predictable turn, considering the kind of man you are.”
“You know nothing of the kind of man I am, mistress,” he said, “and as far my life goes, I’m not a man to sit idle and let others control the events of it.”
“I might need to remind you that earlier today you arrived in chains,” she said.
He rubbed at his wrists. “Aye, thanks so much for pointing that out. It was not my finest moment and one I’d like to forget.”
She stood stupidly, unable to take her eyes off him. She had avoided him for the entire day and found that seeing him now was like looking at a different man. He was obviously wearing Sam’s clothes. They fit marginally, hanging loose on his body, and though it seemed impossible, they made his frame look even more powerful. After numerous washings—she’d watched him in the courtyard from the bedroom window—his hair was finally clean, and the thick, dark strands were pulled away from his forehead and tied in a leather strap. He almost looked like a human being. She had been right about one thing. He was very handsome.
“Please sit, mistress. You’re making me feel less than civilized. Again.”
She put her basket on the table, then perched at the edge of the chair, still fighting the urge to flee. Campbell stretched his long legs out beside her chair and crossed his ankles, ensuring that if she succumbed to the urge, she would trip over him. He leaned back in his chair and studied her.
“Do you always conduct your midnight liaisons dressed in your bedclothes?” he asked.
“Of course not!” she snapped. “I don’t have liaisons at all. I mean, I had to wait until they were asleep.”
“You didnae answer my question.”
“I just said—”
“Do you sleep in his bed?” Campbell asked.
He ran a hand over his chin, and Megan saw that, though he had shaved his beard, a dark shadow already stained his face. She heard the raspy whisper of his fingers against the stubble. She could also hear the pounding of her heart, and it scared her.
“He’s my husband,” Megan said.
Campbell waved his hand irritably. “Whether you’re married or not doesnae mean a bloody thing, and you know it. Answer my damn question. Do you sleep in his bed?”
“Not always,” she said cautiously.
“Why is that? Because of his illness?”
Her hands clenched in her lap. “How did you…? What makes you think Trevor is ill?”
He raised his arms and tucked his hands behind his head as though he sat in his own parlor and discussed business. “’Tis obvious. He’s very pale, as though his blood has lost its life-giving power. He measures his movements and wastes none. He loses his breath easily. I wouldnae normally have thought much of it, because these sorts of things are seen with age. Yet his years imply he shouldnae be infirm. He’s near forty or so?”
Megan nodded.
“He’s obviously met with little hardship here, and I saw no physical evidence of advanced disease. He should still be a healthy, vibrant man. I’ve seen something similar. I’d hazard a guess and say ’tis his heart failing.”
“The doctors don’t seem to know,” Megan said softly.
“The doctors here are probably not worth a bloody damn. If I hazarded another guess, I’d say they’d come in chains at one point or another.”
Megan yanked back her hair and tugged. “Was he unwell this evening? I was trying to avoid…” He gave her a cocky smile, but mercifully made no comment. “I knew Trevor felt weaker today. Sam shouldn’t have to shoulder the entire burden of caring for him.”
“The big man doesnae seem to mind. I suspect there’s a great friendship there. ’Tis a wonder to behold. Tinsdale hovers around the MacGregor like a mother hen. But cease your worry. Your husband seemed relatively fine tonight.”
“Really?”
“I suspect today he forced himself to his best health to impress me. ’Tis not every day a man has a chance to lord it over a dragon. He took full advantage of my captivity, though I didnae mind. He seems a decent enough man, possibly a good man.”
“He is a good man,” Megan said quietly.
“Thought as much given the way you look at him, the way Tinsdale watches him.” His gaze darted to her nightdress. “So were you in your husband’s bed tonight?”
“I hardly think—”
“I know ’tis not my business, and yet I appear to be making it so.” He folded his arms across his chest and gazed at her, willing her to answer.
“Aye, I was in his bed tonight.”
“So, you’ve left your husband’s bed to sneak into a dark shop for a rendezvous with another man.” He made a sorrowful noise, a little sigh that irked her, and shook his head.
“This is not a rendezvous, Campbell. I have no intention of doing any such thing with you.”
“’Tis still not a way to keep one’s reputation, mistress, nor is it good for mine, which, I should point out, has not been sterling as far as women go. It could get me in a bit of trouble here. Since I happen to be the man, I’d like to know why you’ve come in here.”
“I want you to convince my husband that this arrangement between the two of you will never work.”
“And what would you know about the arrangement between us? You’ve admitted to hiding all evening.”
“I have not!”
“Aye, lass, you did. Avoiding and hiding are similar endeavors. Besides, I saw you watching me from the window, tucked behind a curtain, spying like a child. If you were curious about me, you could have—”
“I’m not curious about you. The less I know about you, the better. What I do know is there is a strange man in my house. You’re living proof my husband is suddenly making ridiculous decisions.”
“Why do you think choosing me is a ridiculous decision?”
“Any reasonably healthy man could have offered what we need here. Why would he choose someone like you?”
“Someone like me? Meaning?”
Megan flung her hands toward him. “Well, look at you! We don’t need someone to defend the town against marauding invaders. We don’t need a knight-errant on a charging horse to save us from certain disaster. We need someone to bind books.”
“Do you have a problem with the way I look?” he asked with a smile.
“Of course not,” she said.
“So you like the way I look?” he asked.
Megan straightened on her chair. “You’re very…very…”
He leaned forward, and a lock of dark hair fell over his forehead. “I’m very, very… what?”
Megan shook her head. She couldn’t think with him looking at her. “I’m trying to point out that a man with assets such as yours is just not someone that should be…here. That’s all.”
“So where shall I be? In whose service? As you pointed out, fair lady, this little island of yours seems in no need of a war
rior. ’Tis what I am. I’m built for it. I’ve known no other life, but when a man wakens on a battlefield to find himself in chains, is marched halfway through the British Isles and imprisoned in a church to starve, ’tis necessary to make concessions.”
“I had no idea what you’d been through,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
He waved his hand. “Doesnae matter. Durham Cathedral is best forgotten, and ’tis forgetting I am. I’ve been transported across a sea and granted a new life. If I must settle and be in some kind of service to someone, I’m happy to say I’m not in Barbados withering beneath the sun or frozen in a northern mine. Binding books seems like a fairly decent bargain.” He smiled at her again. “I know I’m big, strong, and out of place here, although, to be honest, Tinsdale is quite a bit larger than I am, and you seem able to accept him into your tidy little world.”
“Sam is my friend, and he’s always been in my life.”
“I could tell that. You’re not willing to accept others into this nice, tidy little life of yours?”
“Not a man like you,” she said.
“A man like me, and I’m very, very something. So there must be something else on your mind besides bookbinding. I’m very…very…what?”
Megan huffed. “You’re very well favored.”
“Meaning?”
She folded her arms across her chest. The man would pry it out of her. “You’re a fine-looking man, and surely you know it. Why make me say it?”
“Because I haven’t heard it a long while,” he said.
“So why would Trevor choose someone like you?” She raked her hands through her hair, waiting for an answer, her gaze darting to the dark corners of the room. She had to stop the erratic thoughts that swarmed through her head. She should never have come in here. Being near this man was not good for her.
“I don’t know his reasons, mistress, but clearly he has them.”
“I don’t know what he’s thinking anymore,” she muttered. “He seems so, well, this decision just proves he’s losing his mind. Surely he considered…I mean, look at you! Does he think I’m blind? Does he think I’ve no needs of my own? Does he mean to just drop you into my bed, give you to me as a gift? He must have thought about what could happen here.”
Loving Two Highlanders Page 5