Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(43)

Duncan was alive. He had to be. But why hadn't he come for her? A snippet of a conversation she'd overheard this evening would not leave her. Her father had been speaking with Francis in the solar after the evening meal about the battle, reveling in their success, “thanks to Campbell's map.” At first she'd given it no thought, continuing her duties in clearing the hall, until the mention was made of treason and gold.

It couldn't be Duncan that they were talking about, but the prickle of unease would not leave her.

Oh, why didn't he come?

All of a sudden, a man stepped out of the shadows. She gasped, opening her mouth to scream, but he smothered it with his hand.

In the beam of pale moonlight she made out his face. Her body sagged with relief and tears of joy sprang to her eyes.

He removed his hand and she bolted upright. “You're alive!”

He didn't say anything. He was strangely still, keeping to the shadows, maintaining distance between them, rather than enfolding her in his arms as she'd dreamed would happen at this moment.

Indeed, now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see that he had the strangest expression on his face—almost menacing. If she didn't know him she might be frightened by the cold look in his glowing blue eyes, of the cruel flair of his nostrils, of the square set of his jaw. She sensed the tension, the anger radiating from him. “Duncan, what's wrong?”

His eyes scanned her face. “Tell me it's not true. Tell me you aren't betrothed to Francis Gordon?” She paled and he swore. Before she could defend herself he grabbed her arm and dragged her from bed. “How long have you been keeping this from me? Were you engaged that night you sent for me?”

He read her answer and pushed her away, but she clung to him. “Don't you see? That's why I came? I don't want to marry him; I want to run away with you. The betrothal was my father's doing.”

“But you agreed.”

“I was scared. He was so angry when I told him about you. But I never intended to go through with it. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't because I feared …”

“You feared I would realize that your father intended to double-cross us. You're right. It seems there is much you have kept from me.” His eyes bit into her. “Why did you send for me?”

“Don't you see? I feared for your safety.”

“Well, as you can see there was nothing to fear, though I'm afraid my father wasn't as fortunate.”

Her stomach turned. “Oh, Duncan, I'm sorry. But can't you see there was nothing I could do.”

His face was tight and unyielding. “You made your choice.”

“That's not fair,” she protested. “Surely you can see what a precarious position I was in? If I told you what my father had planned it would be him in danger.”

But it was clear he didn't see. To the noble Duncan, honor and integrity would always trump treachery. “Your loyalty to your father is to be commended,” he said mockingly. “But tell me Jeannie, just how far does that loyalty extend?”

She didn't like what she saw in his eyes. Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You were quite insistent that I not leave. Quite insistent.”

She sucked in her breath, not wanting to believe what he was suggesting—that she'd purposefully seduced him. “I was worried about you.”

“Is that all?”

“Of course. What other reason could I have?”

His eyes bored into her. “Why did you move my belongings?”

She opened her mouth to deny his charge, then remembered that she had moved his things. Heat pricked her cheeks. “I had to use the garderobe. I almost tripped on them, so I picked them up.”

He didn't believe her. “Are you sure it wasn't to look for something? A map perhaps?”

“Of course not—” She stopped, realizing what he'd said. She swallowed hard. “A map?” Her voice squeaked.

The look he gave her, hard with betrayal, could have cut glass. He took a step back and looked at her incredulously. “God, it was you.”

She shook her head, grabbing onto his arm. “No. I took nothing. It's only that I heard my father mention a map.”

But her attempt to explain only seemed to damn her more in his eyes. “Enough!” he said, tossing her away from him. “I've heard enough.”

“No, you haven't.” Anger burst inside her. She stood before him, fists clenched tight at her side. “How dare you come here like this and accuse me of such a heinous crime and not allow me to explain.”

“There is nothing to explain. The facts speak loud enough. When I arrived at the alehouse, answering your urgent summons, I carried a map—a map your father clearly wanted. A map by your own admission your father now apparently has.” He shook her by the shoulders. “Was it just luck or did he send for you and tell you where to look?” His voice was deceptively calm, but his eyes were wild and dangerous. “Does your betrothed know the depths to which you had to go? Does he know that you've had to whore yourself to a bastard to achieve your ends.”

Jeannie gasped, a hot spike of pain stabbing in her heart. Without thinking, she pulled her hand back and slapped him as hard as she could across the cheek.

His face turned with the force of the blow. When he turned back, the look in his eyes froze her to the floor. “Don't ever do that again,” he said in a low voice, clasping her arms in a viselike grip.