Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(112)

“What are you doing at the castle?” he demanded, his voice as biting as the wind.

She didn't like the way he was looking at her or the suspicion in his voice. She would wager he was well aware of the argument she and Duncan had last night.

Davy cowered behind her, eyes wide and shoulders shaking.

She resisted the urge to tell the giant Norseman that it was none of his blasted business. He had no right to question her. It was only that she knew he was motivated by concern and loyalty to Duncan that prevented her from telling him to go to the devil. More importantly, she didn't want to waste time arguing with him. “I found it. I found the proof we were looking for.” Reaching in her purse, she pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment and handed it to him, hoping he could read Latin.

Skeptical of her pronouncement, the Norseman kept one eye on her as he carefully unfolded the parchment and read its contents. It didn't take long.

Some of the hostility on his face slackened on the first pass. He read it again and then stared at her, unable to conceal his shock. She could commiserate.

“Where did you get this?”

She bristled at the arrogance in his tone and said, “Lady MacDonald.”

He swore and shook his head in disbelief, then handed her back the parchment, which she carefully replaced in the jewel-encrusted purse at her waist. “Now, if you don't mind I'd like to find Duncan,” she said.

“I'll take you myself.”

If that was an apology, his manner left much to be desired. They rode hard the remainder of the short journey back to the inn, Davy struggling to keep up with their lightning pace. They'd just crested the hill above the village—only a few hundred yards away—when the shot rang out.

No! Her heart plummeted, an icy chill of premonition running down her spine. She covered her mouth to stifle the scream that rose to her throat.

Leif swore and reined in his horse, motioning for them to stop.

She looked at him helplessly, not daring to think what was happening down there—they could see the barn and garden, but not the front yard of the inn.

A bit of Leif's icy hard demeanor cracked and he gave her an encouraging grin—at least she thought it was a grin as one side of his mouth lifted. “Don't worry, lass, the captain can take care of himself.”

But his confident words could not spell the frantic pounding of her heart. This couldn't be happening. Not when they were so close! She had the proof. She only needed to get it to him.

If he'd been caught, he could be executed on the spot. Had that been the shot? Tears swam in her eyes. Her chest tightened painfully. It was too horrible to contemplate.

As their horses would only be a hindrance now, Leif instructed them to tie them up, leaving Davy to watch over them until it was safe—a task the frightened young man was most willing to accept.

Cautiously, they crept down the hill, Leif scanning their surroundings the entire time. After what seemed an hour, though was probably only a minute or two, they approached the stable of the inn. Two soldiers stood guarding the kitchen door, presumably to prevent any escape. They could hear voices and shouting coming from the yard.

Leif pressed his fingers to his lips and motioned for her to follow him. Using the barn as a shield, they skirted around to the front of the inn.

It was what they feared—soldiers. At least a score of them. One man stood with his back to her. There was something eerily familiar …

He turned, giving her his profile.

Jeannie stopped dead in her tracks. The blood slipped from her face.

Dear God. It was Colin Campbell.

And then she saw Duncan.

Anticipating her reaction, Leif pulled her into his arms and put a hand over her mouth to prevent her cry.

Duncan barely noticed the burning as the musket ball grazed his shoulder, but blood poured down his arm. He was fortunate the soldiers’ guns didn't have better accuracy. From their distance in the trees—perhaps fifty yards away—they would have been much better off using their bows. He pulled out his dirk, knowing the pistol at his waist would be useless as he'd yet to prime it for the day.

The noise from the shot had alerted the men inside to his approach and the door opened. A few men funneled out before he saw the one who was familiar to him.

Their eyes locked.

“Colin,” he said. His brother had changed over the years. Not as dramatically as Jamie, perhaps, but still significantly. He was a few inches shorter than Jamie and Duncan, but more thickly built. But he looked unwell. On edge. As if he hadn't slept in weeks.

Colin nodded his head in greeting. “Duncan. It's been a long time.”

Duncan thought he detected a glint of regret in his eyes, but it was quickly smothered by cold resolve. In that one glance he knew: If he was looking for an ally, he would not find it with his brother.

His gaze darted behind Colin's shoulder through the door, but there was no sign of her. “I heard a woman scream,” he said. “Where is she?”

Colin's eyes narrowed, he thought with a gleam of calculation. “You mean you don't know?” He held his gaze and laughed.

A chill swept across the back of his neck. Had something happened to her? “Let them go,” Duncan said. “I'll go willingly, if you let them go.”

Colin's eyes turned black. “Willingly or not you'll go. You are hardly in a position to bargain.”