Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(46)

The man looked shocked. “You do me a great injustice, my lady. It never occurred to me—”

“Didn't it?”

Patrick could hear the barely restrained fury in her voice. He wanted nothing more than to take the man and toss him against the wall for trying to take advantage of her, but he didn't want to interfere. Nor did he think she would welcome his coming to her rescue—not in this case, at least. He'd learned that Lizzie was more than capable of taking care of the duties that had been thrust upon her. Duties he might have shared under different circumstances.

Thus, he was as surprised as the workman when she said, “Very well.”

The man broke into a wide smile. “I'm relieved that you have recognized the difficulty of the situation. When can I expect the money?”

“You can't.”

The man's face fell. “What? I must have misunderstood—”

“You didn't misunderstand anything. If you do not fulfill the terms of the agreement, you and your men can pack up your belongings and leave.”

Patrick grinned at the stupefied expression on the man's face. Good for her.

“But the earl—”

“As you've no doubt noticed, the earl is not here at pres ent. He's left me in charge. I make all decisions. You can be assured that he will support me on this one when I explain—”

The man's face drained. “That won't be necessary.” Obviously, he'd underestimated his opponent—a fatal flaw in battle as it was in any context. “There's no cause to bring this matter to the earl's attention. The stone will be here as we agreed upon by the end of the week.”

He hurried away, brushing past Patrick with nary a glance in his eagerness to leave.

As soon as he'd gone, Lizzie sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging with weariness. Something inside him snapped.

Why was she doing this to herself? She was too young to be locked away in this grim castle, weighed down with responsibility that was not hers to shoulder. She should be at parties, being feted, dancing, and enjoying herself.

Or be surrounded by bairns. My bairns, he thought fiercely.

“Why are you doing this?”

She started at the sound of his voice. He hated the way her shoulders stiffened instinctively, as if to ward off attack. From me. The realization struck him cold. She turned her head just enough for him to catch her face unprotected and see the look of exhaustion on her face. It roused every protective instinct inside him.

“What are you doing here?” She looked at him imploringly. “Please, I've not the strength to do battle with you right now.”

Her accusation was well aimed, and Patrick felt a hard stab of guilt. He'd wanted to press her, but not like this— not when she was vulnerable. Right now all he wanted to do was ease the worry from her mind.

He stepped behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She tensed but relaxed as his fingers began to knead the tension from her neck. Her skin was warm and velvety, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck as downy soft as the top of a babe's head. She smelled like flowers, and if he dipped his head into her silky blond hair …

He straightened, reminding himself that he'd only meant to soothe her.

“They ask too much of you,” he said in a low voice. He felt her stiffen. Before she could argue, he spun her around to look into her eyes. “You are doing the work of lord and lady with none of the reward. Does your family realize how much you've sacrificed for them?”

“You're wrong. ’Tis no sacrifice. They ask nothing of me that I do not wish to give.”

He gave her a hard look. “I do not doubt that, Elizabeth. That's what you do: give and give.”

She bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you take care of everyone else before thinking of yourself. You think I don't see what you've done around here. Yet when is the last time you received even a word of thanks?”

Her mouth clamped together. He read the answer in her defiant gaze. “I do not need thanks. I'm happy to help my brothers and cousin where I can.”

“They are taking advantage of you,” he said bluntly. Though he admired her capability and the way she quietly attended to the needs of everyone around her, it was time someone looked out for her. “Of your kindness, of your skills, and of your strong sense of duty and responsibility. When is the last time you went to court or visited any of your friends?”

She bit her lip, looking troubled. “It's been some time, but the countess was ill.”

“And after that? You've been locked away, taking care of your cousins and brothers when you should be enjoying yourself.” He took her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Meeting people.”

She turned away. “You make it sound much worse than it is.”

Seeing her hurt, he softened his tone. “I'm sure they don't mean to, but it does not change the fact that they have taken advantage of you.” He paused. “Haven't you sacrificed yourself on the altar of duty long enough?”

Lizzie's head was spinning. He was confusing her, making her see ambiguity where there was none. She enjoyed her duties. It was only sometimes, when she was tired, that everything suddenly felt so overwhelming.

“You act as if duty is a foul word,” she said. “But it's not all about sacrifice, it's something you do for the greater good or because it's the right thing to do. My family is important to me. Is there nothing that matters to you?”