Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(23)
“Patrick's Campbell?” Gregor asked.
“Aye,” Duncan said.
Patrick held his expression impassive, masking the turmoil burgeoning inside. The lass he'd once helped now held his land. Fate or irony? He didn't give a damn either way. It was an opportunity.
The crackle of the fire seemed to accentuate the tense silence.
“Who is she betrothed to this time?” Patrick's youngest brother, Iain, finally asked.
“No one,” Alasdair replied. “Yet. I suspect that Argyll has added the land to the gel's tocher to pique interest in her. I'd marry the lass myself—if I didn't think Maihri would object.”
“She'd cut off your bollocks and serve them to you for dinner for even suggesting it,” Duncan said in all seriousness. The men laughed when Alasdair paled.
Patrick's mind was racing as he realized that the chance he'd been waiting for might have just arrived. Not only would he have the personal satisfaction of seeing his land returned to his family, but it could also be a godsend to his clan. Without land, they'd been forced to steal and scavenge for food. But never had the situation been so dire as after Glenfruin. The people were starving, and he didn't know whether they could survive another cold winter like the last.
They couldn't ignore the opportunity. If they didn't do something, someone else would.
“I'll do it,” Gregor proclaimed boldly.
“No!” Patrick boomed. The men were silenced by the forcefulness of his outburst. Hell, it had surprised even him. But the thought of his brother with that delicate lass … He moderated his tone. “I will.”
Alasdair met his gaze. The chief did not look surprised by Patrick's pronouncement. “You have a plan?”
“Aye.” His mouth thinned to a hard line. “To get my land back.”
Alasdair frowned. “You will take the lass?”
It was his first instinct, and one that would exact further revenge, but Patrick shook his head. “Nay. ’Twould be too easy for Argyll to set aside.” And only cause them more problems. He needed Elizabeth Campbell to want to marry him—and stay married.
“The Campbell devil will hardly allow a MacGregor near his precious cousin,” Duncan pointed out. “How do you intend to marry the lass if you do not take her?”
“I'll have to persuade her,” he said with grim determination.
“And how do you intend to do that?” Alasdair asked.
“Seduce her,” he replied flatly. “As old as she is, the lass is surely ripe for it.” Elizabeth Campbell was vulnerable. He knew it. Not just from the broken engagements and the fact that she was still unmarried, but because he'd seen it. He'd seen her disappointment, seen the heartbreak when Montgomery had hurt her. Almost as if she'd been expecting it. Patrick knew he could take advantage of it. A few kind words. Compliments. Shower her with attention.
The lass was ripe for seduction, and he would be the one to do it. He felt it with an intensity that he could not explain. He recalled her pristine beauty, her fragility. The longing he'd felt for something beyond his reach, something he shouldn't touch.
He wanted her, and now he could have her.
The chief didn't look convinced. “If anyone discovers who you are …”
“I know,” Patrick said. I'm a dead man. “It's a risk. But my face is not as recognizable as yours.”
“True,” Alasdair agreed. “But won't the lass recognize you? Maybe Gregor should be the one. With my brother gone … you are my tanaiste.”
“Temporarily,” Patrick said. He didn't look at Gregor, but he could feel his simmering resentment. “The lass won't know me. She didn't see my face.”
Alasdair grinned. “From what I hear, one look is enough for most lasses.”
He didn't bite. His cousin loved to prod him about his damn face. As if something so ridiculous mattered to a warrior. Not that he was very nice to look at right now. He'd have to “find” some new clothing, a bath, and a razor if he was to have a chance at deceiving her as to his identity. “Whatever it takes,” Patrick answered.
He didn't delude himself that it would be easy, but frankly, a chance in hell was better than none.
The chief nodded. “If you are willing—”
“I am. The risk is nothing compared to what we might gain.” Not only the land, but possibly influence with Argyll. Because of his success in charming King James into pardoning him a few years ago, Alasdair hoped to find it again with the king, but Elizabeth Campbell presented another possibility.
“Godspeed, cousin,” Alasdair said soberly. But his somber expression was soon broken by a wide grin. “I wish I could see Argyll's face when he discovers one of the barbarians he's tearing apart the Highlands to find is hiding right under his nose.”
Patrick returned the smile but knew Alasdair was offering him a subtle warning to be careful.
The details of the plan had come later. It had been decided that Patrick, Gregor, and half of the men would head to the Lomond Hills, while Alasdair, Iain, Duncan, and the rest of the men went to the Isle of Bute to seek refuge with the Lamonts. The Lamont wouldn't like harboring the outlaws, but Alasdair intended to call in an old debt.
From the Lomond Hills, Patrick had organized scouting parties to see what they could discover of Elizabeth Campbell's movements. Castle Campbell, with its position high in the hills of Ochil, surrounded by steep ravines and trees, was impenetrable. When they'd learned from a loose-lipped Campbell guardsman who liked to drink his ale in the nearby village of Dollar that she would be traveling to Dunoon Castle, Patrick knew it was their chance.