Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(51)

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the iron gate for the terraced garden. A short stone wall encircled the gardens, decorative and not defensive. He opened the gate for her, and she passed through. He followed, motioning her to a stone bench along a hedgerow with a spectacular view of the Ochil hills and the village of Dollar below.

He took a seat beside her and after a moment gathered her hand in his. “I've enjoyed myself this week,” he said.

“As have I.”

He smiled, soft lines crinkling around his eyes. Smiling was something he was used to. “I'm glad to hear that.” He was contemplative for a moment, as if searching for words. A bird sang softly in the distance. “Auchinbreck and I will be leaving soon.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment was genuine. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“As am I, but the outlaws must be apprehended. The king will not be mollified this time.” He cleared his throat. “But that is not what I want to speak with you about. You are aware, no doubt, of the discussions between my father and Argyll.”

She bit her lip and nodded, embarrassed. This was the first time the subject had been broached directly since they'd arrived.

“To be honest, an arranged marriage was not to my liking. I didn't know what to think at first, but after these past few days I've no doubt. I think we would suit in every way.” She looked up at him, staring into deep pools of blue. “I would be honored if you would agree to be my wife.”

She'd known it was coming, but the words were still a shock.

“I …” She didn't know what to say. She knew what she should say, but the words seemed to tangle in her mouth. Not in a stammer, but in uncertainty.

It was ridiculous. Here she was, sitting beside a handsome man in the moonlight, and all she could think of was someone else.

He must have read her hesitation. “I don't expect you to answer right now. Take some time. Think about it.”

What was wrong with her? There was nothing to think about. Her duty was clear.

He watched her face, a faint smile lifting his lips, and she wondered if her thoughts were so transparent.

Robert stood up and pulled her into his arms. Tilting her chin back, he forced her gaze to his. “I will do my best to make you happy, Elizabeth.”

She believed him. He would make her happy. She would have a beautiful home, a wonderful husband, her own children, and the satisfaction of her family's approval. Everything she'd always wanted. It should be enough.

Then why, why couldn't she take it? Why did her heart cry out for more? For desire so strong, it swept away everything else in its powerful wake. For passion that consumed her soul. For everything she thought would not happen to her.

For love.

He dipped his head and his lips swept over hers in a soft kiss. It was sweet and tender, and she felt … nothing.

She wanted to cry out with frustration.

Lizzie willed herself to want him, this gallant man who looked at her with warmth and kindness in his eyes. She tried, tried with everything she had, but her body wouldn't heed the demands of her mind.

His hand fell from her chin. “Promise me you'll think about it.”

She nodded, not knowing what else to say. Thinking wouldn't change anything.

“Good.” He stepped back and offered her his arm. “Shall we return?”

“You go ahead.” When it looked as if he were going to argue, she added, “I just need a moment.”

“Very well,” he agreed with an understanding smile. “But don't be long or I'll start to worry. It's almost dark and you'll catch a chill.”

His thoughtfulness only made her feel worse. What was wrong with her?

Robert Campbell stopped suddenly as he was about to enter the keep. Standing stone still, he peered into the deep shadows created by the wooden structures erected along the barmkin wall. It was almost as if he sensed the danger.

He was right to fear.

Patrick stood in the shadows, possessed by a rage so intense that it took every ounce of his control not to kill the bastard.

He'd kissed his woman. Touched her. Held her in his arms.

Patrick's fists clenched at his sides. Rage seethed inside him, filling his veins. Building and building until his muscles flexed and burned with the pressure to contain it.

He wanted to be discovered. Wanted the excuse to vent his rage. Damn the consequences. After what he'd just witnessed, he'd probably lost what chance he had with her anyway.

But with one last glance in his direction, Robert Campbell strode back into the keep, not realizing how close he'd come to death.

Patrick's gaze turned back to the solitary figure shadowed in the moonlight, seated on the bench in the garden. He was filled with a yearning so intense it threatened to consume him. He was beyond reason, beyond caution, beyond any claim of indifference.

This tiny, serious woman had penetrated his defenses, revealing emotions he'd thought himself incapable of. His black heart, it seemed, was not completely dead.

Seeing her in the arms of another man had unleashed something primitive in him. Something wild and uncontrollable. Something that could not be denied.

He looked around the perimeter of the barmkin wall, checking to make sure the castle guardsmen were in their usual positions. He'd studied their routine—their movements—knowing that he and his men might one day need to make a quick escape.