Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(14)

It was probably just her imagination. She was hardly the type of woman whose countenance inspired anything beyond a polite smile. It didn't bother her. What she lacked in beauty she made up for in other ways—she'd had the bene fit most women didn't of an education, and had made good use of it. She was admired, but that admiration usually came with time and acquaintance, not with first glances.

She ventured another peek. There was something about him that she just couldn't put her finger on. An air of danger and mystery. It was as if he were a puzzle she could not quite figure out. But it intrigued her … he intrigued her.

He seemed so hard and remote, every inch the fearsome warrior. A Highlander to the core. Not at all like the smooth, polished men she was used to speaking with at court. Yet their brief conversation had touched her unexpectedly. His simple praise was more meaningful than the hundreds of practiced compliments she'd heard before. One minute he was terrifying in his intensity, the next more gallant than a practiced courtier.

Who was this man?

From the serviceable but plain leather cotun and trews he wore, she could tell he wasn't a man of wealth. But his sword was fine and his horse exceptional. He was outfitted as a typical man-at-arms, but he fought like a champion. He appeared to be the leader of the half dozen men he'd arrived with, but he had not identified himself as a laird or a chieftain. Yet there was no disguising the pride and authority of his manner.

Though she'd been around guardsmen—the warriors charged with defending her cousin—she had surprisingly little interaction with them. Truth be told, she'd always found them a bit rough and a lot intimidating. Patrick Murray certainly qualified on all counts, but she'd never realized how attractive such raw physicality could be.

He'd saved her life; it was only natural that she was fascinated by him.

His voice gave her a start. The easy, husky lilt was so unexpectedly sensual and at odds with his hard-edged appearance. “Are you feeling all right? There is a place up ahead where we will stop and water the horses if you need to rest.”

Had he noticed her watching him? A hot blush crawled up her cheeks, and she was grateful for the semidarkness. “I'm fine,” she assured him quickly. Eager to change the subject, she said, “It's been some time since I've seen Sir John and Lady Catherine.”

He gave her a hard look. “Do you know the Laird of Tullibardine and his lady well?”

She frowned. His question was odd given her frequent visits over the years. Then again, she wasn't all that memorable. “Fairly well, though I haven't seen them in some time. The earl, countess, and I were guests at Balvaird Castle about three years ago.” She tilted her head. “Were you not there?”

“I must have been away at the time.”

She smiled. “How old is young John now? I don't think I've ever seen the arrival of a child so celebrated.” Her smile fell. Except for her cousin's son last year, but that was marred by death.

Lizzie felt the tears gather behind her eyes; she still missed the woman who hadn't been much older but had become almost a mother to her. The earl, too, had taken the countess's death hard.

His face darkened. “Five, I believe.”

Lizzie counted back. “That sounds about right, although I thought he was a year younger.”

“He'll be sent to be fostered soon.”

She nodded matter-of-factly. “I imagine it will be hard on his mother.”

“I should think it would be difficult for both of his parents.”

She eyed him a bit more intently. Once again, he'd surprised her. Most men wouldn't think twice about sending their child away to be fostered. It was the way of things. Patrick Murray might be hard on the outside, but there was unexpected depth to him. “Are you traveling to Glasgow on business for your laird?”

“No.”

The abruptness of his response took her aback. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.”

They rode in silence for a while, so long that she didn't think he was going to speak to her again. Eventually he said quietly, “I'm leaving the Highlands for a while.”

Her heart did a funny tumble. “Leaving … ? But why?” she blurted before she could take it back.

He paused. “A change of scenery.”

She clamped her mouth closed so as not to ask the question on the tip of her tongue and dropped her gaze, focusing on the gentle sway of her hands holding the reins. Despite the quick wash in the burn, dirt and blood still smudged her fingertips.

“The place is too filled with memories.”

She looked back at him, meeting his gaze, silently encouraging him to continue.

“I lost my wife a few weeks ago. She died giving birth to our first child.”

She gasped. Her heart immediately went out to him, thinking of the pain he must have suffered. It certainly explained the dark look on his face when she'd mentioned Sir John's child. “How horrible. I'm sorry for your loss. You must have cared for her deeply.”

He nodded once and then turned his eyes back to the road, avoiding her gaze. Except for the grim set of his mouth, his expression gave no hint of his emotions, but Lizzie could feel the darkness simmering under the surface.

“What will you do?” she asked softly.

He shrugged. “I don't know. Fight, I suppose. It's what I know. There is always a position for a man with a sword.”