Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(76)
“No!” The sound he made wasn't human. Raw pain tore through his chest like a ragged claw, splicing him apart. Not his sister. Not sweet, stubborn, beautiful Annie. He grabbed Gregor by the shirt and shook him as if he could clear away his words. “What the hell happened? I told you to hide them.” His throat was tight and his voice raw. “You were supposed to keep them safe.”
“I tried, damn it.” Gregor wrenched away. “I had them hidden in the braes of Balquhidder, but they were betrayed for gold, and Auchinbreck exacted his retribution on Annie.”
Auchinbreck was a dead man.
“Retribution?” Patrick growled. “For what?”
“When news reached us of Argyll's treachery—of the deaths of our chief and kin—there were risings from the braes of Balquhidder to Rannoch Moor. We burned a path of vengeance a mile wide.”
“And you didn't think to let me know.” All of a sudden, the ramifications of Alasdair's death hit him. He pinned his brother with his gaze. “I am chief.”
Gregor's eyes flashed as if he wanted to argue, but instead he shrugged. “There wasn't time.”
It was a damned insufficient excuse, and they both knew it. Did Gregor intend to challenge his leadership? Being chief was not a position Patrick had ever wanted, but he damn well intended to be a good one—certainly better than his brother. If the MacGregors had any chance of survival, it wouldn't be with the mercurial Gregor at the helm. He didn't want to think his brother could be so disloyal, but Gregor had changed. He'd always been able to placate him before. “And the resurgence of fighting is why Auchin-breck sought retribution?”
Patrick caught the flicker in Gregor's gaze. “The men were enraged, out of control. Thirsting for revenge.” He shrugged. “A Campbell lass got in the way.”
Patrick swore, guessing what had happened. “And our clansmen decided to take some of their rage out on a woman?” He looked away in disgust. Poor Annie had been caught in the crossfire.
I should have protected her. Could he have done something different? If he'd taken that shot at Jamie Campbell, would his cousin and brother still be alive?
It sickened him to think that less than two weeks ago, he'd sat across the room from the man who was responsible for the rape of his sister. His stomach clenched. He couldn't think about it. “I have to go to her,” Patrick said. “Where is she?”
Gregor shook his head. “She won't see you. She won't see anyone. Not even Niall Lamont. I knew how Annie felt about him, so I fetched him from Bute. That's what delayed my coming here. But she sent him away.”
“Where is she?”
“Molach, the islet in Loch Katrine, with some of the other women and children. She's safe for now.”
Safe? Annie would never feel safe again.
Black. That was all Patrick could see, all he could feel. Cold. Empty. Dead. Any feeling left inside him had been destroyed by the news of the deaths of his kinsmen and his sister's rape. All that was left was a simmering rage. Rage that lashed inside him with nowhere to go.
He clenched his fists, his mouth pressed into a tight line. By all that was holy, Achinbreck and the Campbells would pay for what they had done.
Only moments ago he'd had hope for the future, and now everything had changed. His cousin and brother were dead, his sister raped; he was chief of a broken clan….
And marrying Lizzie had become impossible.
The return of his family's land was secondary to saving his clan from destruction and his duty as chief. Any hope of a peaceable solution had vanished with Argyll's treachery.
The enormity of his responsibilities hit him hard. He'd been running his whole life, focused on surviving, but now he was responsible for the survival of his entire clan. His duty was clear. His clan would demand vengeance, and he would give it to them—gladly.
Ironic, he supposed, that at the moment he realized he could never have her, he understood Lizzie better. Understood her sense of duty and the struggle she must have gone through to decide to marry him.
He'd been a fool to think he could ever find happiness with a Campbell. With anyone. He should have known better.
“Where is Auchinbreck now?” he asked.
“I don't know,” Gregor replied. “But we have everything we need to find him.”
Lizzie. Patrick fought the urge to thrash his brother even for the suggestion.
I will kill anyone who harms you. He recalled his vow but had never anticipated that that someone might be his brother. “I won't let you hurt another innocent woman,” he warned. “It's Auchinbreck who deserves our vengeance, not his sister.”
But Gregor was beyond rationality, and Patrick's words of caution fell on deaf ears. Eyes wild, Gregor gave him a look teeming with scorn. “You've grown soft, brother. The lass has blinded you to what needs to be done. You have a duty to the clan—”
“I don't need you to tell me what my duty is.” Patrick's voice held the edge of a razor. “I know exactly what needs to be done.” And it didn't include harming Lizzie.
Gregor studied his face. “You'd put this Campbell slut above your own kin? She'll die, but first she'll suffer like our sister. If you aren't man enough to do what needs to be done, I will.”
Every muscle in Patrick's body flexed, but he kept his voice deadly calm. “Raping a woman does not make you a man. Touch her and I'll kill you. I said to leave the lass be. I'm chief, I make the decisions.”