Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(25)

She loved to dance, but not even the enlivening steps and joyful sounds of the pipes could lift her flagging spirits. The last notes had just been played when out of the corner of her eye, she saw Duncan leave the hall. Muttering a quick excuse to Colin, she wound her way through the dense crowd of raucous clansmen and followed him outside—pride forgotten with the urge to talk to him.

The midday meal had extended well into the evening hours and the sun was just beginning its descent when she exited the hall.

After scrambling down the wooden forestairs, she stood at the bottom, looking back and forth, wondering where he could have gone to. The yard was deathly quiet. With the feasting inside, only a handful of guardsmen kept watch at the gate.

Freuchie Castle was a “Z”-shaped tower house with a large barmkin surrounded by a tall barmkin wall. A few wooden outbuildings lined the south side of the wall, including the stables and barracks. Deciding that the latter was the more likely, she headed across the yard.

The large door opened with a shaky squeak and she stepped inside.

It was dark, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust. But she'd found him. Duncan was sitting on his pallet with his back against the wall, a flagon at his side. Her heart beat fraught with concern. She'd never seen him drink so heavily—he seemed on a mission to get drunk.

His eyes met hers. They stared at one another for a long pause. He tossed back the contents of his cup and slowly stood. “You shouldn't be here.”

“Neither should you,” she said, refusing to be hurt by his rudeness. “Did you not care for the feast?”

Piercing blue eyes bored into her with a dangerous intensity . The anger that she'd sensed earlier had only grown worse. The calm control that she'd always admired in him had fled, to be replaced by a dangerous volatility. “Not as much as you did,” he said.

Jeannie sucked in her breath, stunned by the unexpected lash of vitriol in his voice. She heard the sharp accusation but could not guess its source. “What is that supposed to mean?”

His hard jaw was pulled tight, the corners of his mouth white. “Nothing,” he said stiffly. “Return to your guests, my lady.”

My lady? She took a tentative step toward him. Where was the man she knew at court? The one she'd given her heart—she gulped, her body—to? “Duncan, what's wrong? Why are you treating me like this?” A hot ball lodged in her throat and tears gathered behind her eyes. “Tell me. Did I do something wrong?”

He stared down at her and their eyes met. The anger that had raged so furiously inside him just as quickly died. His expression softened. The vise squeezing around her heart loosened. Once more he was the man she'd fallen in love with.

He shook his head. “Nay, love. You've done nothing wrong.”

“Then what is it? Did it not go well with your father?”

He made a sharp sound low in his throat. “You might say that.”

He was hurting and instinctively she wanted to sooth his pain. She put her hand on his arm. “Tell me.”

He stared at her hand for a moment, then lifted his eyes to hers, his voice toneless as he informed her of his father's refusal to help them and of the proposed betrothal with Colin.

She shook her head, stunned. “That's impossible. My father wouldn't arrange my marriage without telling me.” Would he?

“Nothing has been formally agreed. I assume he is waiting to speak with you.”

“And when he does, I will tell him it is impossible. That I love another.”

He was watching her carefully, too carefully. “Are you sure that is what you want?”

“Of course. How could you even think—”

She stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “Just what did you think, Duncan Campbell?”

He shrugged. He meant it to look a careless gesture, but Jeannie could see the tension in the stiff set of his shoulders. “Colin will be chief.”

Was that the reason for this anger? She took a step back and gazed up at him, shaking her head with incredulity. “You're jealous.”

He folded his arms across his chest, every inch the proud Highland Warrior. “Don't be daft.”

Momentarily distracted by the prominent bulge of muscle, it took her a few seconds to respond. Forcing her gaze from the rock-hard arms, she looked into his eyes. “How could you even think I would consider marrying anyone else?”

“Don't you understand, Jeannie? Without my family's support I will have nothing but my sword for us to live on.”

And all that he'd worked for would be lost—a brutal blow for an ambitious man like him. Her heart caught. Did he regret his vow? She took a deep breath, no matter what it cost her she would not force him to marry her. “Do you still wish to marry me?”

He appeared shocked by her question. “Of course.”

Jeannie tamped down the spike of relief. “Even if it means risking your position with your father and cousin?”

Duncan straightened as if she'd impinged his honor even by the suggestion. “I know well what is at stake.” Piercing blue eyes bit into her and the raw intensity of his voice left her no doubt. “I love you and would walk through the fire pits of hell to have you.”

Jeannie smiled through the tears. That was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her. “Can you not afford me the same courtesy of knowing my own heart? I wouldn't want to marry your brother even if he was the king himself. I only want you.” Her heart pounded in her chest as she grappled with the importance of what she was about to say.