Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(117)

It had been a long time since he'd been at Inveraray and he'd forgotten his cousin's penchant for extravagance and luxury. The castle was fit for a king—one with rather garish taste, to his mind. Heavy velvets, thick brocades, ornate furnishing and fixtures, silver plate and candelabrum, and just about any surface that could be gilded had been.

His pulse fired as he considered what he would say to the man who held his life in his hands. Coming here had been a risk—no doubt a rash one—but one he had to take. He had to trust that the truth—justice—would win. Though, he had to admit, he did wish he had more to go on than his word and a loosely worded note.

He stiffened when the door opened and turned. His heart caught, stunned. “Jeannie?”

She bit her lip and took a few cautious steps into the room. She seemed to be waiting for him to make a move. He did, closing the gap between them in two long strides and pulling her into his arms.

She sagged against him, her relief palpable. He pressed a kiss atop her head and inhaled the soft floral fragrance in her hair, savoring the feel of her in his arms.

Holding her back, he looked at her, needing to make sure that she was real. “How did you get here—”

He stopped himself. Leif. His face darkened. The Norseman's damned never-ending pride could have killed her. Leif thought he could sail through anything—a storm, a gale, no matter how treacherous the seas.

Reading his mind, she said, “Don't blame Leif. We had to come.” She gave him a pained look. “If it wasn't for him, I might still be swimming.”

He winced, remembering his cruel words. “You heard that, did you?”

She nodded.

“I didn't mean it,” he said. “I was trying to steer Colin away from you.”

“I know.” She smiled tentatively. “Or at least I hoped. But after what I told you, I wasn't sure you wanted to see me at all.”

The wounded look in her eyes struck him to the core. His chest tightened and he drew her into his arms again, holding her, cherishing her, knowing that if it were up to him he would never let her go. “I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry. I should never have walked out on you like that. I was angrier at myself than at you.” He cupped her chin and stared deep into her eyes. “I know what you did to protect our son and I'll never do anything to change that.”

Her eyes scanned his face. “What are you saying?’

He took a deep breath. The words were not easy to say. “I lost the right to claim my son when I left you ten years ago.”

Her eyes widened. “You would do that for me … for us?”

“Aye.”

The radiant smile that lit her face was one of pure happiness. She threw herself into his arms. Unable to resist a moment longer, he covered her mouth with his. Kissing her tenderly. Lovingly. Knowing that the memory of his kiss might have to last him a very long time.

Her lips were so soft and sweet under his.

His chest tugged. God, he loved her.

He wanted nothing more than to sink into her and loose himself in her sweetness. But now was not the time. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and met her gaze. “I love you, Jeannie.”

“And I love you,” she replied. “But you don't need to sacrifice your son. Hiding the truth will only lead to more pain. Dougall deserves to know his father.”

It was his turn to be surprised. “Are you sure?” Then he sobered. “We need not decide anything right now. You may think differently if my cousin is not persuaded of my innocence.”

An even bigger smile broke out on her face. “But he is—”

She didn't finish because as if on queue the door opened and his cousin, Archibald “the grim,” the seventh Earl of Argyll strode into the room.

Instinctively, Duncan spun Jeannie around behind him, blocking her with his body from his cousin's view.

As happy as he'd been to see her, he hadn't realized what her presence could mean. If Archie thought he'd take his anger out on her, he better damn well think again.

He met his cousin's cold stare, noting how his dark, angular features had sharpened with age. Though they were close in years, Archie looked far older. His face was lined, his hair thinned and receding at the temples, and patches of gray dotted his dark pointy beard. The stress of the intervening years had taken their toll. Duncan took in the elaborate court costume, observing that his cousin's penchant for extravagance extended to his clothing as well. At least the silk was black, he supposed, and not peacock blue.

Argyll shifted his gaze to Jeannie. “I though I gave you enough time,” he said.

Jeannie blushed. “I was just starting to explain.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Duncan said.

Argyll's eyes narrowed. “It's thanks to Lady Gordon that you are not sitting in a dungeon right now.” All of a sudden, his expression changed. Duncan could see the weariness come over him. “Is it true about Colin?”

Duncan nodded. “Aye.”

Jeannie hadn't heard. “What happened?”

Duncan quickly recounted the details of his journey from Islay, including Colin's attempt to kill him and Niall Lamont's timely arrival.

Archie scowled at the mention of the outlaw. “The king won't be happy to hear about another case of ‘Highland justice.’”