Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(104)

They were trapped, literally caught in the middle between two worlds: hers before them and his behind.

With nowhere for them to go.

With only an instant to decide, Patrick knew he had no choice. Escape would be a long shot at best, and he would not risk Lizzie's life—not again.

Even if it meant his own.

He started to walk forward, but she stopped him. “What are you doing? You can't do this,” she begged, her eyes filling with fear. For him. “Colin … I don't know what he'll do. You have to try to get away.”

Patrick didn't say anything, just kept pulling her forward. He wouldn't leave her unprotected, not until she was safe with her brothers—not with Gregor within arrow's shot.

“Patrick, please. Don't do this. You need to run.”

Her cries tugged at his heart, but he let them wash over him. The Campbells were mounted and riding toward them at full speed. They broke off into two groups—the larger party led by Colin headed into the trees behind them after Gregor. Jamie Campbell was riding right for him, his sword raised high above his head.

Patrick pulled his sword from the scabbard at his back and, ignoring her cries, pushed Lizzie out of the way.

He stood his ground … waiting.

It didn't take long. Campbell's face was filled with fury, but Patrick kept his eye on the blade. The sound of horses pounded in his ears. Almost there …

He braced himself but was still unprepared for the force of the blow. Jamie's sword descended in a high arc, and Patrick raised his sword with both hands to block it. The pain shot right to his injured leg. He wobbled but recovered quickly.

Campbell dismounted, his sword lifted high above his head.

Patrick could hear Lizzie begging her brother to stop. She would have run between them, but thank God a few of her clansmen were holding her back.

Jamie fought with a vengeance—his rage his only weakness. They exchanged blow after blow, and with each swing Patrick knew he was weakening. He managed to land a blow on Jamie's shoulder, and he heard Lizzie scream. His gaze shot to her, and he knew he couldn't do this. Even if he could kill Jamie Campbell, he wouldn't.

His blood pounded. Every instinct clamored against it. The rush of battle was still upon him. But he let it go.

He met Campbell's gaze, and when the Enforcer swung his sword around and tried to use his elbow to knock Patrick to the ground, instead of evading the blow, he took it full force in the temple.

Lizzie's scream rang in his ears as blackness crashed over him.

Chapter 21

He wasn't dead. That was the first thing Patrick realized when he woke. The next was that his head felt as if it had exploded and been put back together in a jumbled mess; and the third was that he was not alone.

He was lying on a bed in what appeared to be an old stone botban. He could see a fireplace for heating and cooking, the bed, a few tables and chairs, a cupboard, and sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, watching him with a black look on his face, was Jamie Campbell. Though he appeared to be relaxed and not an immediate threat, Patrick did not fool himself. Argyll's Enforcer was one of the fiercest and most deadly men in Scotland— Highlands or Lowlands.

Still, he was alone, and for a moment Patrick contemplated escape.

Reading his mind, Jamie smiled. “I wouldn't advise it,” he said. “Even if you could get past me, which I doubt given your current condition, my men have surrounded the building. This time, they will not hesitate to shoot.”

Patrick realized that his nearness to Lizzie when they were taken was likely what had prevented them from using their guns before. He was immediately conscious of his disadvantage. Hell if he would lie here like some damn invalid. Gritting his teeth, he sat up slowly. His head exploded in fresh pain, and nausea crashed over him. Biting back the urge to empty his stomach, he rode out the wave. Then, seeing a flagon near the bed, he helped himself to a long drink, welcoming the fiery taste of the crude whisky— ambrosia to a starving man.

“Patrick MacGregor,” said Jamie, tapping his fingers on the arm of the wooden chair. “It's been a long time.”

Not as long as you think. Jamie was referring to the time they'd spent—briefly—fighting together on the Isle of Lewis, but Patrick had seen him much more recently than that. He'd had an arrow pointed at Campbell's back only a few months ago.

“Not long enough,” Patrick replied dryly, given his current state of imprisonment. “How did you find us?”

“We learned of the attack on Lizzie almost immediately—one of the guardsmen managed to escape. Then, while we were searching the area, one of my men chanced to be nearby when the fiery cross passed through Callan-der. We took a chance that you were headed here.”

Patrick swore at the bad luck. “And my men?”

Jamie gave him a long look. “We'd seen neither hide nor hair of anyone until you arrived.” His expression hardened. “The outlaw Gregor and his men, however, were taken not long after you fell. They will be executed in Edinburgh for their crimes.”

Patrick felt a stab in his chest. Not for the brother he had, but for the one he'd lost before circumstances changed Gregor into the bitter, hate-filled man he'd become.

“And your brother's crimes?” Patrick said cuttingly. “Will Auchinbreck be executed for his?”

Campbell's mouth tightened into a grim line. “I'm sorry for what happened to your sister.”