Campbell's Redemption

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Campbell's Redemption Page 8

by Sharon Cullen


  Rory looked skeptical, but Cait was tired of defending herself and her life choices to these overbearing men. She looked behind him to the cart loaded with provisions. “There’s enough to feed an army here,” she said as she walked around it. “I have nowhere to put all of this.”

  “Well, I’m no’ taking it back or Grandfather will have my head.”

  “There must be an entire cow here,” she said as they began unloading the cart.

  “Most likely.”

  “And so much flour and cloth! When am I going to find time to sew, and where would I wear gowns made of this fine cloth?”

  Rory grunted as he hefted a large sack of flour over his shoulder. It had been four years since she’d seen her cousin, when he’d come to pay his respects after John’s death. She didn’t fault Rory. No doubt he was following Grandfather’s orders. She was happy to see him now.

  “Stay and I’ll fix ye a meal,” she said. “Obviously, I have plenty of food.”

  “I have to get back, but I’ll return and we can have a proper visit.” His look turned serious. “Grandfather is worried about ye.”

  She sighed. “I’ll be fine. I’ve lived out here for years, and nothing has happened.”

  He looked around as if assessing the security of her home. “There are more redcoats in the area than usual. I keep hearing about the things they’re doing to our people, especially the women. It’s no’ as safe as it used to be.”

  “I’ll be fine, Rory. I’ve treated a few English soldiers, and they know I mean no harm.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Ye’ve had redcoats in yer home?”

  “If they know they can come to me for salves and poultices and healing, they’re more likely to protect me.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  She patted his arm and smiled reassuringly. “Trust me. The soldiers patrolling this area know me well, and they’ll watch out for me.”

  “That may be true, but if it comes to ye or their fellow soldiers, they’ll pick the fellow soldiers every time. Ye can’t trust them. I’ve seen what they can do.”

  “Were ye at Culloden?” she asked softly. She’d heard the horror stories. She’d patched up some of the wounded and knew of a few widows.

  “Aye,” he said, his gaze taking on a faraway blank look.

  “I’m sorry, Rory. I’ve heard it was horrible.”

  “It was worse than horrible. It was hell. They butchered us and they did no’ care. Stay away from them, Cait. Stop treating their ailments. Avoid them.”

  “Rory—”

  His gaze sharpened and she was frightened by what she saw in its depths. She understood her people’s dislike of the English and agreed with it, but Rory’s ran to something deeper and more disturbing.

  “I’ll tell Grandfather that ye’re entertaining English soldiers.”

  If his look hadn’t been so serious, she would have laughed. It was something he would have said to her when they were children. “I’m no’ entertaining them. I’m healing them.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll tell Grandfather anyway.”

  “Rory!” she said in surprise. “We’re not children anymore. Grandfather has no control over me.”

  He rubbed his forehead before taking a deep breath. “Ye’re right, of course. My emotions got the best of me. But please be careful. I mean it when I say ye can’t trust them.”

  “I’m always careful.” She wondered what he would say if she told him that she was aiding Sutherland.

  —

  The next day Cait was feeding the chickens when Iain came striding around the side of the cottage, his long coat nearly brushing the ground. She drew in a breath at the sight of him and cursed herself for the strange reaction. It wasn’t wrong to admit that he was a virile man. He had such a commanding presence that it made people want to stop and watch him. That was all. It wasn’t like she was going to act on her reaction to him.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

  “I came to see how you are.”

  She held her hands out to the sides and indicated the chickens. “I’m feeding chickens. I wish everyone would stop worrying about me.”

  “Who else is worried about you?” he asked as he stopped in front of her. A chicken wandered over and pecked at his boot before moving away.

  “My grandfather and my cousin Rory.” And Halloway, but she wasn’t about to say that.

  “They care about ye.”

  She made a noncommittal sound and tossed more feed. She didn’t want to get into a discussion about her grandfather. She’d thought a lot about his sudden reappearance in her life and couldn’t sort through it. She was glad to see him again, but she still harbored hurt. He’d cut her and her little family out of his life as if they were nothing, and that was something she could not easily forgive.

  “Have ye heard?” Iain asked.

  She put down the empty feed pail and swiped at a piece of hair tickling her cheek. “Heard what?”

  “Two English soldiers were found dead on the road to the Douglases’.”

  She instantly thought of Halloway. Was he dead? As mixed as her feelings were toward him, she didn’t want him to be dead. “That’s too bad,” she said.

  “There’s a murderer out there, Cait. It’s not safe.”

  “The redcoats hassle our people constantly. It was probably someone defending themselves.”

  “Do you think that matters to the English? They will be searching for the killer, and they don’t always follow the rules when doing so.”

  He was right. The English wouldn’t care if their soldiers were killed because they were doing something wrong. Damn the English and damn this stupid war between England and Scotland. It was about so much more than religion and politics. It was about the people and their way of life, but the ones waging the war seemed to forget that. The road the soldiers had been found on was close, uncomfortably close, to her cottage. The Douglases were Campbell’s eastern neighbors whose land abutted Campbell and Sutherland land.

  “I’m worried about you, Cait.”

  “You needn’t be concerned for me.”

  “But I am.”

  She shot him an exasperated look. “Why? Why now? I’ve lived here for four years, and ye’ve never paid me any mind.”

  His jaw worked as a slight breeze brushed through his hair. Dark eyes assessed her, as if he were thinking of the words to say. He looked away, turning his head to the side to contemplate the woods. “I’ll admit I stayed away. I didn’t like seeing you because it reminded me that I’d failed John after promising him I’d take care of you.”

  “Is that why ye’re here now? Because of guilt? Because of a promise made to a dying man? Pardon me if I don’t feel gratitude at yer sudden interest.”

  “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Now ye speak in riddles. I have animals to take care of and chores to do, Iain Campbell. Ye’re wasting good daylight.”

  “I’m not speaking in riddles. I’m just as confused as you are. Maybe more so.”

  “Well, ye need to figure yerself out. In the meantime, figure it out somewhere besides my barn.”

  “You amuse me, Cait.”

  She laughed. “I’m glad to be of service. Now either feed my cows or find someone else to bother.”

  “I’ve never fed a cow before.”

  “Welcome to my life.”

  He followed her into the barn, and she wondered just what was happening. She was hard-pressed to find a word to describe his strange mood. Worse, she was hard-pressed to find a word for what she was feeling. Her words told him to go away, but other parts of her, namely the yearning in her heart, were telling him to stay.

  Why in the world would she want Iain Campbell to stay? She had too much to do and no time to trade insults with him.

  He watched her spread fresh hay and feed the two milking cows. She worked in silence and he watched in silence.

  When she was finished, she grabbed the empty pail by the door, but he took i
t from her.“I’ll get the water.”

  She washed up in the bucket outside her back door and went inside to contemplate the afternoon meal.

  Iain walked in with her pail of water and set it on the counter.

  “I suppose ye’ll want to be fed,” she said.

  “Thank you, but no.”

  She waved toward the small table and chairs. “Sit down.”

  He sat while she sliced fresh bread, cut cheese, and laid it all on a plate with what was left of the roasted turkey, or what the Scots called bubbly-jock, from the night before.

  “I’m no’ moving to the big house,” she said as they dug in to their simple lunch.

  “Dead English soldiers on my land is bad, and I’m concerned for all the Campbells. You live the farthest away, and you’re the most vulnerable.”

  She wiped her hands on her apron and sat back. “I’m strategically placed.”

  “You’re as far from me as you can be and still be on Campbell land.”

  “Aye. Like I said, strategically placed.” She studied the worry lines around his pursed lips. “Ye truly are worried,” she said in surprise.

  “I am.”

  Black Cat appeared, padded around the kitchen, sniffed Iain’s boots, turned up his nose, and walked away with his tail high.

  “This is more than the English soldiers,” she said.

  “It is.” He seemed reluctant to say more, and she was reluctant to push him for fear of stepping into the strange territory of thoughts and feelings that were best left alone. “A lot has happened lately,” he finally said.

  “Culloden has turned our country upside down.”

  “It’s not just Culloden. It’s the hunting of the Scottish people. It’s the fact that England feels they can do what they want without thought to how it affects our way of life. It’s…” He shook his head and appeared at a loss for words.

  “Our way of life? Ye act more English than Scottish, and ye keep company with more Englishmen than Scotsmen. Are ye sure ye want to include yourself in ‘our way of life’?”

  She’d thought for sure that she’d stepped too far, but to her surprise, he didn’t seem to be offended by what she said.

  “What I meant was that it’s not right what England is doing to Scotland. I would feel that way if it were England and France or England and Spain.”

  “I would think ye would like it. The English can make ye mighty wealthy.”

  “This isn’t about wealth.”

  She tilted her head to study him. “Isn’t it? All of the Campbells before ye thought it was.”

  He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to argue, but his history was clear and well documented. His grandfather had killed her great-grandfather MacGregor at the command of the English and with the promise of more land and gold. She held no ill will toward the Campbells for that, even though her grandfather MacGregor tried endlessly to make her hate the Campbells. The story had been told to her so many times that it was just that—a story. It held no meaning other than she’d grown up knowing not to mention the Campbells in front of her grandfather MacGregor.

  “I’m not like the other Campbells,” Iain said. “Wealth and privilege don’t mean as much to me.”

  “Yet ye want people to think it does. What games are ye playing?”

  It was as if a mask came down over his face and the Iain Campbell she knew—whom everyone knew—emerged. This was the man who let no one inside.

  “I should let you get back to your chores,” he said.

  “Now? Ye want to leave now, when things are just starting to get interesting?”

  “There’s nothing interesting happening here.”

  “I think there is.”

  “Ye’re imagining things that aren’t there.”

  “I disagree.”

  Chapter 12

  He never should have come, but something had overruled his gut feeling, and he’d come anyway.

  When he’d learned of the dead soldiers, his first thought had been of Cait. The murders had happened far too close to her cottage for his comfort, and his instinct had been to demand that she move closer to the big house. Now she was prying and thinking things she shouldn’t be thinking. She was getting too close to the truth, and it was time for him to leave before more was revealed. He’d send Adair to check on her next time.

  “Ye’re no’ going to argue?” she asked with a twinkle in those dark green eyes that put him on edge.

  “There’s nothing to argue.”

  She was seeing too much. He wanted to kick himself for letting her see a part of him that he let no one see. He was tired, weary of the games that she rightfully accused him of playing. Things were escalating from all directions. One enemy he could face. He wasn’t certain he could take on two at the same time.

  “Ye’re no’ a traitor,” she said softly.

  “I never said I was.”

  “But others do, and ye never disagree with them. Ye let them believe it. Why?”

  Graham certainly believed it. “It’s best we don’t go there, Cait.”

  “Because it’s dangerous what ye’re doing. Ye pretend to side with the English. Ye dine with them. Ye befriend the officers and learn what ye can so ye can report against them. It’s brilliant but deadly at the same time. And ye think I’m the one in danger?”

  Damn, but he needed to get out of there and stay away from her. She was far too astute. “You best not be repeating that.”

  “I would never reveal yer secrets.”

  “There are no secrets to reveal.” He was beginning to sound desperate, he knew. The knowledge she’d gleaned from him could get them both killed. Palmer and the rest of his so-called friends wouldn’t take it lightly that they were being played as fools.

  “How many Scotsmen have ye saved by doing this?”

  “Not enough.”

  “The dead soldiers? Was that yer doing?”

  “No. I don’t know who killed them, and it worries me.”

  “Is someone trying to blame ye for it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Ye think they might?”

  “I don’t know. I think they would have already if that was their plan, but I just don’t know.”

  “The fire?”

  “Another thing I don’t know.”

  “The ship ye lost?”

  He shook his head because he didn’t know that, either.

  “I asked Sutherland if he had information on the fire.”

  God almighty, but she would be his undoing in more ways than one. “When did you see Sutherland?”

  “He stops by periodically.”

  “Why?” He didn’t like the thought of Sutherland coming by the cottage. Sutherland was newlywed and in love with his wife, so Iain dismissed the thought almost immediately, but Sutherland was up to his eyes in things that Cait had no business being involved in. But you know she is. You knew that the first night you spent here, up in the hayloft. You’ve refused to admit it to yourself. “Please don’t tell me ye’re aiding Sutherland.”

  She stood and took the empty plate to the counter, where she fiddled with the knife and the loaf of bread. Iain got up and held her wrist to still her. She looked up at him, her lips parted, her green eyes wide.

  “Damn it, Cait. Tell me you’re not involved in Sutherland’s Staran.”

  “I have no idea what ye’re talking about.” Her gaze slid away.

  “I saw you. The night I slept in your barn, I saw you meet someone, and then half a dozen people left your home. Where were you hiding them?”

  She yanked her wrist from his hold and stepped back. “Ye don’t have the right to demand answers from me.”

  “If you’re involved in something that could get you in trouble with the English, I have every right. I’m your clan leader, and this is my land.”

  Her face paled and her lips thinned in anger. “Don’t push me,” she said. “I will move off this land if I have to.”

  It shouldn’t matter to him if she left
, but it did matter, and he told himself it was because John had been his best friend, his commander, and his only confidant. But he knew all of that to be a lie. He didn’t want her leaving for personal reasons, reasons he was not quite able to admit to himself.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” he said softly.

  “Then stop telling me what to do.”

  He grinned, and after a moment she grinned back.

  “We’re bickering,” he said.

  “We are.”

  “I don’t recall the last time I bickered with anyone.”

  “Because everyone is afraid to bicker with ye.”

  “They are? Why?”

  “Because ye’re intimidating and not very approachable.”

  He was offended. “I’m approachable.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nay, ye aren’t.”

  “People are afraid of me?”

  “Nay, but they’re wary of ye.”

  He’d carefully cultivated that reputation so people wouldn’t get close, but he still wanted them to come to him if they needed to. “You’re not wary of me.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve nothing to lose and have neither the time nor the energy for such things.”

  “Is that why you help Sutherland? Because you have nothing to lose?”

  She pushed her finger into his chest and smiled. “Nice try.”

  He sighed. “Cait…”

  “Nay.” She shook her head and stepped back. “We’ll not discuss this any longer.”

  He glared at her, not liking that she was telling him what to do but most of all not liking his inability to make her understand how dangerous her actions were. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I care about you.” He was almost as surprised as she was when he said it, but he wasn’t about to take the words back. He wasn’t above using every weapon in his arsenal to convince her to stop her foolish actions.

  “What did ye say?”

  “I said I have feelings for you.” His heart was thundering harder than in any battle. His hands were sweating suddenly. He was fairly certain he’d never been this nervous.

  She took a step back and held her hands up as if she could push his words back at him. “No, ye don’t. Ye’re just angry that I won’t do what ye want.”

 

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