Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(34)
Her nose wrinkled. “I wasn't thinking of that—”
“Of course you weren't,” he said scathingly. “You weren't thinking at all. You just acted, following whatever damned fancy led you to think coming here was a good idea.”
She flinched as if he'd struck her. He hated hurting her, but hell if he'd temper his anger and risk her ever doing anything like this again.
“You're wrong,” she said woodenly. “I didn't come here on a flight of fancy, I came because I love you and don't want to see you hurt. I'm sorry my presence so displeases you, but I can assure you I'm in no danger—I brought half-a-dozen guardsmen with me.”
“No danger?” He could barely contain the fury in his voice. “Do you realize that there are almost fifteen thousand men camped not three miles from here, poised to do battle?” He shuddered to think what she'd told her guardsmen to get them to bring her here.
She drew her brows together over her nose, looking up at him uncertainly. “Strathbogie is still a day's ride—”
“Huntly is no longer at Strathbogie, he's at Auchindoun.”
She paled, then chewed on her lip. A surge of heavy heat rushed to his groin and he had to force his gaze away. As always, the intensity of the desire he felt for her was getting in the way, and he didn't like it. The lack of control bothered the hell out of him. He'd never felt like this. Ever. Nor had he expected to. But love had hit him like Thor's thunderbolt. Would there ever come a time when he could think rationally around her?
“Oh,” she said softly.
“Oh?” he repeated, his voice booming. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”
His words had the opposite effect than he'd intended. Her cheeks splotched with angry red. “I do not answer to you, Duncan Campbell.”
He grabbed her wrist before she could poke his chest and looked down into her flashing eyes. “You will,” he said through clenched teeth. “Once you are my wife, you will damn well answer to me.”
She gave him a pitying look, as if he was quite deluded in that respect, and wrenched her hand free. “That's exactly why I'm here.”
His eyes narrowed. For the first time he noticed the genuine turmoil in her expression. Whatever had brought her here was significant enough to be causing her grave distress. His anger cooled perhaps a degree or two. Standing, he dragged his fingers through his hair and pushed it back from where it slumped across his face, trying to uncoil the emotions twisting inside him since he'd received her note. He sighed with exaggerated patience. “Why are you here, Jeannie?”
She stood and turned toward the window, her back rod straight and hands fluttering fretfully at her narrow waist. “We need to leave together now. In a few days it will be too late.”
Her vague response did nothing to keep his temper in check. He fought the spike of impatience and managed to mask his frustration behind an even tone. “If you haven't noticed, I'm in the middle of fighting a war. I don't have time for puzzles, Jeannie. Explain why you are here, and then you can turn right around and go back home.”
She turned to face him, her eyes softly pleading. “There is something …” She seemed to catch herself and took another uneven breath. “A feeling of disaster that I cannot shake.” She placed her hand on his chest and leaned toward him pleadingly. “If we don't leave now I fear we will never be able to. We will never marry. If there is to be any chance for us, we must go now. Tonight.”
His jaw clenched. “And that is why you are here?” He paused. He couldn't believe she would act so precipitously. But that's exactly who she is. Blood pounded through his veins, clamoring for release. “A feeling?”
Her eyes scanned his face, shimmering with tears. “Please. I'm asking you to trust me.”
“Based on what? A bad feeling? I do trust you, but what you ask is impossible. I will come for you as we planned in a few days—”
“Don't you see,” she cried wildly. “By then it will be too late. We must go now!”
Her fear seemed so intense it bordered on irrational. “Is there something else, Jeannie? Some other reason—”
“No,” she cut him off, shaking her head adamantly.
Too adamantly. He studied her for a moment. Part of him wondered if she was hiding something …
Nay. He recalled how scared she was when he left. This was nothing more than a young girl's fears of war talking. He thought she'd understood how important this was to him, but obviously she hadn't. He was not a man to be led around by leading strings.
He unlaced her hands from around his neck and set her purposefully away from him. “Return home and I'll come for you when the battle is over.”
“No, you have to listen to me.” Her hand clenched his arm, squeezing. “Something terrible is going to happen.
I don't want you in the middle of it.” Her voice had grown increasingly desperate. “Please, if you love me.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I'm asking you to trust me.”
Anger hardened inside him. Why was she doing this? Didn't she know how hard it was for him to deny her anything? All he wanted was to make her happy. “I do love you. But what you are asking for is blind obedience not trust. If you have a reason beyond a ‘bad feeling,’ tell me now.”