Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(43)

“It's working, then? The lass is taking the bait?”

Patrick thought about it. “Aye.” Though she was fighting her attraction, Lizzie was far from immune to him.

“The pathetic little mouse played right into your hands, eh?” Gregor laughed. “She's itching for you, I'd wager. Or perhaps you've already given her a good scratching with your prick?”

Patrick gave no hint of the spark of anger that flared inside him from Gregor's coarseness. Usually it wouldn't bother him, but he didn't want to talk about the details of his seduction with his brother, and he sure as hell didn't want Gregor talking about Lizzie like that. But he knew Gregor would hang on to any sign that Patrick wasn't ruthlessly pursuing their objective.

“It's only been a week. This will take some time. The lass has been raised from infancy to do her duty. She'll not run off with the first man she fancies.”

“I thought you said the gel was desperate.”

Patrick bit back a grimace. Had he really said that? She wasn't desperate at all. She was sweet and kind and vulnerable, perhaps, but not desperate.

Still, it did not change the crux of what Gregor was asking. Though she might put up more of a fight than he'd anticipated, Patrick was confident that in the end Elizabeth Campbell would succumb. He could be just as ruthless as her black-hearted kin when it came to getting what he wanted. “Give it time, Gregor.” He took a long drink of cuirm. “What news have you from our cousin?”

“They arrived safely at their destination.”

Patrick nodded. “Good.” The Lamont of Ascog must have agreed to protect them.

“Not good,” Gregor corrected. “They arrived right before the gathering, and guess who should be in attendance but Jamie Campbell.”

“He's not there now.”

Gregor eyed him suspiciously. “How can you know that?”

“I saw him at Castle Campbell only a few days ago.”

“You saw him and he did not leave with an arrow between his eyes?”

Patrick clenched his jaw. “There wasn't an opportunity. He was only at the castle for a short while before he was called away. I was more concerned with making sure our paths did not cross. I was fortunate not to be discovered.”

Patrick didn't like the way Gregor was studying his face. “With the Enforcer in your sight, I would have thought you would have found an ‘opportunity.’ ”

Patrick tightened his hand around the tankard before him. “Are you questioning my loyalty?”

“Nay. Not that. But I do wonder what the lass has over you.”

“She has nothing over me.”

“She's a Campbell.”

As if he could forget that fact. “She'll also be my wife,” he said as a warning.

“We should have just taken her. You'd be married by now.”

“But for how long? Nay, we'll do it my way. The prize will be worth the wait.”

“Just don't confuse the real prize.”

The land, not the girl. “I know well what I'm here for, I don't need you to remind me.” Nor would he tolerate his brother's subtle threats. “And remember what I said, Gre-gor. Do not interfere again. I know what I'm doing.”

Despite her protestations, he knew Lizzie had been just as affected by the kiss earlier as he. For whatever reasons, she was determined to fight her attraction to him, but he didn't intend to make it easy for her. Her brother had mandated that a guardsman be with her at all times, and from here on out he didn't intend to leave her side.

And if seduction didn't work …

He grimaced. He would do what he had to do to prevent her from marrying Glenorchy's son, including leaving her no choice.

Abduction would be the road of last resort, but if it came to it, he would not shirk from his duty.

Chapter 9

As the sun reached its zenith in the summer sky and the days began to shorten in their steady march toward fall, Lizzie had started to wonder whether her family had forgotten her.

It had been quiet—too quiet.

Except for a short missive from her cousin expressing his relief at her well-being following the attack and vowing retribution for the incident, she hadn't heard anything from Dunoon.

The prolonged silence made it easy to forget the plans for her future and to dream of other things. Things that, were it not for her lingering hurt, would be easy to believe possible.

Lizzie knew she had no cause to be distressed that Patrick Murray had sought his pleasure elsewhere, but it did not stop her mind from torturing itself with images of him doing so every time he ventured into the village. Images that were as sharp and cutting as any knife.

At first, she tried to avoid him. Every time their eyes met she would look away, the tightness in her chest nearly unbearable. But occasionally their gazes would snag for a long heartbeat, and she swore she could see pain that mirrored her own.

As the weeks passed, she found herself grateful for the pain. It was the only thing that prevented her from making a much bigger mistake.

Like doing something foolish and losing her heart.

Patrick had appointed himself her personal guardsman, and his constant presence had begun to fray the edges of her resolve. Whenever the opportunity arose, he was at her side, his intense, enigmatic gaze following where he could not. At meals, in the garden, in the barmkin, he was there. He'd invaded her home, her thoughts, her dreams.