Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(10)

She barely heard Argyll's voice carrying out the necessary introductions. She couldn't turn her eyes from the man standing before her, nor did she hide the wave of gratitude that flooded out toward him.

This was his doing. She knew it.

Dear Lord, he was even more impressive up close. His coloring—the blue eyes set against black hair—was a breathtaking combination. The clean lines of his handsome face were cut in sharp angles and hard planes. He was younger than she first thought—the air of command and authority was misleading—perhaps only a few years older than herself.

And he was tall, much taller than she realized. She stood six inches over five feet and he was nearly a foot taller, towering over her in a way that was not threatening, but oddly calming. And his shoulders … a strange shiver shuddered through her. Broad and muscular, the black fabric of his doublet stretched over the hard shield of his chest.

He had the build and presence of a warrior—a man who would protect and defend to his last breath.

He took Lady Catherine's hand and bowed over it, then did the same to hers.

Her breath caught in a startled gasp at the first touch. Heat poured through her and it felt as if every nerve ending in her body had come alive. She didn't want the moment of connection to end. Their eyes met and she knew he'd sensed her reaction. Perhaps felt it, too. He held her hand an instant too long. For a moment she wondered if he meant to let it go, then reluctantly he released her.

Her heart was beating too fast. Her skin felt flushed and sensitive. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Everything inside her seemed to be tossing about wildly like a boat in a storm.

What was wrong with her?

The two men took turns asking a few polite questions, but even the sound of his voice affected her. The dark, rich timber and the sultry halting lilt of the Gael sank deep into her bones.

He exchanged a look with his cousin, right before Argyll asked, “I hear them starting a reel. I'd be honored if you would dance with me, Lady Catherine.”

The look of relief that swept over the girl's face made Jeannie's heart squeeze with happiness. In standing up with her, Argyll—second only in power to the king in this room—had made a powerful statement of support.

Lady Catherine accepted eagerly and Jeannie gazed up at the man left standing before her. “Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded his head in acknowledgment, not pretending ignorance. “You can't imagine what this must mean to her.”

One corner of his mouth curled up. “I think perhaps I can.”

Their eyes held and something passed between them. Something strong and significant. She had the strangest sense that he understood exactly what she meant.

“And what of you, my lady, do you wish to dance?”

Right now, if it meant she could be with him longer, she would follow him anywhere. A wide smile broke across her face. “I would love to.”

He took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

Jeannie hoped he would never let it go. The future suddenly seemed exciting and full of promise.

Chapter 3

After two weeks of surreptitious courting, Jeannie was even more certain that Duncan was the man for her.

She better be with what she was risking.

Her heart fluttered as fast as the wings of a hummingbird. Anticipation and danger were a potent combination. Her senses were on full alert, honed to every inch of her surroundings. In the torchlight, the long, narrow hallways seemed a forbidding labyrinth of cold stone and dark shadows.

Adjusting the hood of her cloak, she was careful to keep her face concealed as she crept silently down the winding passageways of the palace, slowly making her way to the adjoining great hall.

The sound of voices coming toward her put her heart in her throat. Quickly she ducked into an alcove, heart pounding in her ears as she waited for the men to pass. From the clatter of metal that followed in their wake she assumed they were guards. Only when the footsteps had faded did she dare to breathe.

That was close. It gave her a moment's pause. Maybe she should turn back? Discovery would be disastrous. She'd be hard-pressed to find a plausible excuse for her current circumstances. A late night trip to the guarderobe? A midnight snack? A spot of fresh air? She winced, hearing the snickers already. There was only one reason for a young lady to be traipsing around the castle by herself in the middle of the night and everyone would know exactly what she was up to.

A secret assignation was about the last thing Jeannie ever imagined that she would be doing. If her brother and sisters could see her now they wouldn't believe it.

She sighed, shaking her head. How the righteous had fallen. She'd always tried to set a good example for her younger siblings, which made her current situation all the more astonishing.

This is different, Jeannie told herself. She'd never been in love before … well not like this at least. The boy from the village who'd used her for target practice with water-filled pig's bladders when she was ten and the stable lad who'd cornered her for a slobbery kiss four years later didn't count.

Duncan was different.

Any initial qualms she might have had about his birth had been quickly erased. The past two weeks of stolen conversations and observing him had solidified what she'd felt that first night: Bastard or no, Duncan Campbell was a man to admire.

He was a natural-born leader with all the presence and authority of a chieftain. He seemed destined for greatness, something his family had obviously recognized. Not only had his father made him captain of his guardsmen and keeper of Castleswene, he was much closer to his cousin than she'd realized. Duncan was said to be Argyll's right-hand man.