Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(101)
She couldn't seem to get enough of him. Passion had been absent in her life for so long, it was as if she was trying to make up for lost time.
And always at the back of her mind was the knowledge that time was the one thing they did not have.
If he was captured before they found proof …
Her stomach turned as she fought back the suffocating crush of fear. He'd only just come back to her; she couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.
Jeannie knew that they probably wouldn't find anything on Islay, but right now his father's deathbed deliria were all they had. She couldn't explain it, but all her instincts told her that finding his mother was important. And she was far too desperate not to heed them.
They were safe at Castleswene, but Jeannie knew Duncan would not stay here long, when to do so would further jeopardize his brother's place with their cousin. Coming here had already placed Jamie in an awkward position—he wasn't just harboring a fugitive, but his cousin's most wanted outlaw. Duncan and Jamie had argued about it last night. Duncan was adamant that he would not foist his troubles on his family, and Jamie was just as determined to not turn his back on his brother again.
Apparently the brothers had reached some sort of impasse. By the time Duncan had slipped in beside her, he said that it had all been sorted out.
After dragging herself from bed, Jeannie called for a bath. She did not linger. The gentle heat from the peat fire was no match for the chilly morning air. Dressing quickly with the help of one of the young maidservants, she went in search of Elizabeth Campbell. If she could not persuade Duncan herself, she would have to call on reinforcements.
She found his sister in one of the mural chambers, a small room carved out in the thick castle walls, looking out the window with a book in her lap. She had a strange pensive look on her face.
“I hope I'm not disturbing you.”
Elizabeth jumped at the sound of her voice and looked at Jeannie as if she were an apparition. She shook her head, a wistful smile on her face. “Nay. I wasn't feeling well this morning and Patrick insisted I rest if I want to go to Inveraray. Normally I would not succumb to blackmail, but in truth I was tired.”
“It's been an emotional few days.”
A wry smile curved Elizabeth's mouth. “That it has.”
“You are going to Inveraray to speak with Argyll on Duncan's behalf?”
Elizabeth nodded. “With Jamie and my husband. I hope it will help.”
But Jeannie could hear in her voice that she didn't think it likely. Elizabeth looked back out the window and Jeannie drew closer to see what captured her attention. Through the frosty pane of glass she caught sight of the warriors in the courtyard. A few of the men were practicing their swords, others their archery, and a few lads were standing in a circle around—
Her stomach sank. Oh, God. She schooled her features, trying to hide her reaction, but she knew what had so captured Lizzie's attention.
Duncan had kept his promise to show Dougall his maneuvers. He and her son were locked in a playful demonstration of hand-to-hand combat. Dougall tried to dart by him, but Duncan captured him, enfolded him in a big bear hug, and lifted the squirming boy off the ground. Dougall must have said something funny because Duncan tossed his head back and laughed.
She felt a sharp pang in her chest. Watching them together was torture, but she could not turn away. Her conscience tugged. More than once over the past two days she'd fought the urge to tell him, but she still couldn't be completely sure how he would react. Would he see it the same way she did or would he insist on claiming his son? She would trust him with her future, but could she trust him with her son's?
She wanted to, but something was stopping her. It wasn't just the fact that he was an outlaw—a man fighting for his life—though that certainly played a part. They'd just started to rebuild what had been almost destroyed. This connection between them, growing stronger with each passion-filled night, was as yet too fragile. There had been no talk of the future—how could there be with Duncan's being so uncertain.
She could feel the weight of Lizzie's gaze on her. “I believe that is your son,” she said.
Jeannie stepped back from the window, her heart pounding. “Yes.” She met Lizzie's gaze. “His name is Dougall.”
“He looks to be about ten years old.”
Jeannie's heart stuttered to a terror-struck halt. “He was just nine last Michaelmas.”
Lizzie didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at her with those crystal clear blue eyes. Jeannie met her gaze unflinchingly though every nerve ending in her body stood on edge.
“I was thinking about the day you came to Castleswene.”
Jeannie tensed.
Elizabeth continued. “I thought it bold of you to come looking for Duncan after what you'd done to him—or what he'd accused you of,” she amended. “You seemed so upset to discover he'd left. I was surprised to hear you'd wed so quickly afterward. It seemed to confirm Duncan's accusation, but I wonder if there was perhaps another reason.”
Jeannie's fists curled into tight balls at her side. “If you have something to say, just say it,” she said through clenched teeth.
“One day he will see what I see. Once he does, the difference of four or five months will not deter him. Somewhere there is a person who will remember something and be able to tell him the truth. That person should be you.”