Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(36)

He chuckled and made a slow show of strolling to her side. But the obvious enjoyment she took in her task was contagious, and soon enough he found himself exclaiming over her finds with nearly as much enthusiasm as she did.

To a man forced to seek shelter in the wild, the Highlands were an inhospitable place. But through her eyes, he saw the beauty of the countryside anew.

“You mentioned something you wished to discuss with me?”

“Oh, I …” Two pretty spots of pink appeared upon her cheeks. “I can't seem to recall.”

He gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she'd done. It seemed Elizabeth Campbell had no great fondness for her cousin's guardsman, either. “If you remember, let me know.”

“I'll do that.” She picked a few more stems and added them to the growing pile in the basket. “I was surprised to see you in the practice yard today.” She paused, then added shyly, “I didn't mean to interfere with your duties.”

Patrick gave her a long look, knowing she meant it as an apology. A lass had no business interfering in a warrior's work, but he could not muster the admonition. It seemed he'd developed an annoying proclivity for having her worry about him.

“You didn't interfere with anything. I'd only just arrived myself.” As they started to walk back, he adjusted the basket, which had grown quite full.“I don't think your captain is particularly anxious to have us join his guardsmen.”

She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye, a steely glint in her crystalline gaze. “It's not his place to decide.” Her voice was every bit as hard and uncompromising as her brother's, and it took him aback. Her gentle, sweet disposition made it easy to forget the life of privilege and power from whence she came. But Campbell blood stirred in her veins, and he'd best remember it.

She smiled and the glint was gone. “My brother made his instructions clear enough. Finlay can be … difficult, but he is a good warrior. You'll let me know if—”

“ ’Tis nothing I cannot handle.” It would be a cold day in hell before he went running to a wee lass to fight his battles for him.

Her mouth quirked as if she could read his thoughts. “I'm sure there is very little you cannot handle.”

Their eyes met. There was nothing suggestive in her voice, but her obvious faith and confidence in him had the same effect. It warmed a very cold part of his heart. He smiled wryly. “Oh, you'd be surprised.”

She laughed and they continued down the hill. He studied her out of the corner of his eye, taking in the details that had become so fascinating to him: the delicate profile, the slim nose and petal-soft pink lips, the long lashes that fanned out at the edges, giving her eyes a seductive tilt, and the smooth, creamy skin flushed from exertion and the sun. But it was her eyes that truly mesmerized, dominating her elfin face. Crystal clear and as blue as the sky was wide, set off by arched brows drawn with a faint hand.

Everything about her seemed so fragile, but he knew it was deceptive. She was stronger than she looked.

He couldn't understand how someone had not snatched her up by now, and he wondered if he'd been wrong about her—was it Elizabeth who did not want to marry? He spoke his thoughts aloud. “How is it that you have not yet married?”

She stiffened ever so slightly, a flash of raw vulnerability on her face. The same vulnerability that had drawn him to her initially, making him yearn to protect her and pull her into his arms.

The same vulnerability that he'd come to exploit.

It stopped him cold. In focusing on the plan to return his land to his clan, he'd failed to consider what it would do to Lizzie. Just when her feelings had become important to him, he didn't know—but they had.

His deception would hurt her.

Eventually, he would have to tell her his true identity, but he knew if she ever discovered why he'd targeted her, it would hurt her far worse. She would never forgive him.

She stopped and turned to face him, a wistful smile upon her mouth, and he felt like an ass for invoking the painful memories. “It's not for lack of trying. I'm surprised you have not heard of my marriage woes. Or, I probably should say, engagement woes.”

He shrugged, despite the fact that he knew of them very well. It was the reason he was here. “Perhaps a word or two.”

She sighed, taking a deep breath. “My cousin has ar ranged three betrothals for me, but none of them have ended in marriage.”

“I'm sorry.” He reached out and put a hand on her arm and then didn't know who was more shocked by the gesture.

“I'm not. It was for the best.”

“There is no one you have wished to marry?”

She hesitated. “Perhaps once, but that was a long time ago.” The smile on her face was strained with the obviously painful memories.

He felt a primitive flare of anger, and a not insubstantial flash of what could only be described as jealousy. If Montgomery hadn't already paid for his sins, Patrick would have enjoyed making him do so all over again. “In any event,” she continued, “it will soon be irrelevant.”

His mind snapped back to his plan. Feigning ignorance, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“When we were attacked, I was on my way to Dunoon to discuss this very subject with my cousin.”

“He has arranged another marriage?”