Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(29)

Huntly had cannon? Dear God.

She waited for her father to deny the treachery, but was to be disappointed.

“Aye.” Her heart sank. “A War Council will be held at Drumin tonight. Argyll is eager to battle. I'll see what I can do to encourage him and send word when I can about the battle plan.” Jeannie sagged against the cold stone wall, not wanting to believe what she was hearing—her father intended to join the Gordons and betray the Campbells.

She listened in a daze as they discussed more details of the battle, including Huntly's intention to move on the much larger force. A move that was sure to enrage Argyll. It wasn't until her name was mentioned that she snapped out of her horrified stupor.

“And the lass is amenable to the arrangement?” Francis urged.

Her father hesitated. “Jean is a good girl, she will do her duty.”

Francis's voice sharpened. “You mean you haven't told her yet.”

“I thought it better to wait. I didn't want to risk an accidental slip of the tongue.”

Jeannie frowned at the implication. She could keep a secret.

“I'll not take an unwilling wife—betrothal or not.”

Wife? The blood drained from her face and her heart jolted to an abrupt stop. Her father had betrothed her not to Colin Campbell, but to Huntly's son?

Her father started to offer him assurances, but Jeannie had heard enough. She slipped out from behind the door and moved into the hall, too stunned to think clearly.

Her mind raced, thousands of possibilities converging in the realization that she couldn't let this happen. Her father's betrayal of the Campbells would forever doom her future with Duncan. Worse, her father's retreat would put the Campbell forces at grave risk. Men would die.

Duncan could die.

She bided her time, knowing what she had to do. When she saw Francis Gordon slip out of the laird's solar, she took a deep breath and walked into the room he'd just departed.

Seated in a large chair opposite the cold fireplace, her father appeared to be in deep thought and didn't notice her right away. She sniffed, smelling the strong peaty scent of uisge-beatha. Sure enough, he held a half-filled glass in his hand.

It gave her hope. Perhaps, there was a chance. Perhaps, betraying the king and the Campbells did not sit as easily with him as he wanted Francis Gordon to think.

“Father.”

He looked up sharply, startled to see her.

“What is it, Jeannie lass? I'm busy.”

She wanted to present a carefully reasoned argument about why he should not go through with it, but her emotions got the better of her. She gazed entreatingly at the man she'd always thought a noble knight. At the familiar dark hair dusted with gray, at the green eyes so like her own, at the well-worn, handsome face, and simply blurted, “What you are planning … you can't do this.”

His eyes scanned her pale face, then narrowed. “Listening at doors, daughter? Aren't you too old for that? Spies are tossed in the dungeon.”

Jeannie ignored his anger, rushed toward him, and fell to her knees before him, taking his hand in hers. “Oh, father, I'm so scared. What of the king? He will be furious with you.”

“Hush, lass. You don't know of what you speak. The king isn't eager to destroy Huntly, no matter what the Kirk would like. It's Argyll at the head of this war and I'll take my chances with Huntly over an untried youth.”

“But men will be killed.”

“It's war, Jeannie. Killing is to be expected.” He waved her away, clearly preoccupied and in no mood to appease his daughter. “Return to your chamber. This has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me!” she protested. “I will not marry Francis Gordon. I don't love him.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Love?” her father shouted scornfully, the years of bitterness at her mother's betrayal erupting in an angry storm. “Love has nothing to do with marriage. This alliance will bind our clans together and end the feuding. You will have more wealth than you can imagine. Enough of this sniveling about love. The contracts have been signed and I expect you to do your duty as you've been raised to do.”

Jeannie shook her head, never had she heard her father sound so unfeeling. “I can't.” She bit her lip, knowing this was the worst possible time in which to reveal her love for Duncan, but she had no choice. Otherwise it could be too late. “I”—her voice broke—”I love another.”

Her father snatched his hand away from hers and peered down at her coldly. “Who?”

“The Laird of Auchinbreck's eldest son.”

“Colin Campbell?”

She shook her head. It took him a moment to figure out what she meant.

“Duncan Dubh, the bastard?” he asked, incredulous. “You can't be serious.”

Jeannie lifted her chin. “The manner of his birth is of no import—”

“It's of every importance,” he shouted, standing and lifting her harshly to her feet. His fingers dug into her arms as he shook her. “You're a fool if you think I would ever agree to such an arrangement.” His face was livid with rage. “I expected more of you.” The disappointment in his voice cut her to the quick. “You are so like your mother.”