Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(68)
Her voice fell off as Ella jumped off the table and raced to the stairs, the promise of sweets proving a sufficient distraction. Rarely did one thing hold her daughter's attention for long. Jeannie hoped she would soon add Duncan to that list.
When Ella and Beth were out of earshot she turned back to Duncan. “You have to leave.”
He eyed her intently, ignoring her admonition. “What ‘bad men’? You mentioned some kind of trouble that first day.”
“It's nothing,” she dismissed. It was none of his concern.
His gaze hardened. “Humor me.”
She was going to refuse, but he would hear about it soon enough—she was surprised he hadn't already. She sighed, giving him a much-put-upon glare. “Since Francis died there have been increased cattle raids.” She hesitated, wondering whether to say more.
He frowned, one hand absently playing with the handle of his tankard. But Jeannie knew it was all for show—he was anything but relaxed. He was fixed on her. Tension emanated from him like the tentacles of a sea monster ready to wrap around her. “Go on,” he demanded.
She pursed her lips distastefully. “About a month ago the Mackintoshes attempted to abduct me. I believe my newly widowed state and Dougall's youth has proved something of a lure for unsavory clansmen intent on bettering their fortunes.”
His hand froze, then gripped the handle of the tankard until his knuckles turned white. “Why have you said nothing about this?”
His voice was deadly calm, but it sent shivers of trepidations whispering up her spine. To all outward appearances he was in complete control. But she knew better. She could read the signs of danger surging just under the surface—the slight flex of muscles, the thinning of his lips, the darkening of blue in his eyes. To her he looked like a man ready to kill.
“Because it's none of your affair,” she said in her haughtiest tone. She didn't need him to protect her.
His face darkened. He looked like he was going to challenge her assessment of the matter, but instead he said, “That is why you carried a pistol with you to the loch?”
She nodded. And why she was so quick to pull the trigger.
His eyes never left her face. “It's why you've decided to marry again?”
Her eyes widened. “I've made no decisions, why would you think that?”
“My sister mentioned Colin's suit in her letter.”
He said it matter-of-factly, but there was something in his voice that made her stop. She studied his face, not sure what she was looking for. His mouth tightened and the muscle below his jaw jumped. News of her proposed marriage to Colin bothered him. Her heart pounded. Had the false rumor of her betrothal to his brother finally done what months of tears and prayers could not?
“Is that why you came back, Duncan?” she asked softly.
“As I said, it was time, that is all.”
He lied. Though outwardly nothing gave him away, she could feel it. He was too calm. Too indifferent. Too dismissive.
What did it mean? After all these years did he still have feelings for her?
Her chest throbbed. It didn't matter. Protecting her family was all that mattered now. They'd had their chance and failed. Girlish fantasies of “what if” had no place in her life.
She recalled her reason for seeking him out—a reason made even more pronounced after seeing him with Ella. “If you are hunting today, I assume that means you are feeling better?”
He didn't answer right away. He knew what she was getting at. Instead, he bit a piece of bread off with his teeth, chewed slowly, and washed it down with a long swig of ale, trying to harness the bloodlust pounding through him.
Someone had tried to abduct her. She'd been in danger. She could have been hurt, and very likely would have been raped before or after being dragged to the Kirk door. He couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't quiet the rage storming inside him, waiting to unleash its violent fury. The urge to kill gripped him hard and would not let go.
By the time his gaze returned to hers, however, he was once again in control. “I am much improved.”
“Good, then you'll be leaving soon?”
Duncan would have found her eagerness amusing if it wasn't at his expense. He wouldn't be surprised to find his bag packed by nightfall and Jeannie standing at the gate, ready to lift the steel yett herself to see him out.
He was on the verge of giving her what she wanted. God knows, it's what he should do. If he was caught, he was a dead man, and every day he stayed here increased the risk. He needed to find proof to clear his name before word of his return leaked out. Clearly, Jeannie had no intention of helping him. There was no cause for him to stay.
But she was in danger. And every primitive male instinct in his body recoiled at leaving her alone and vulnerable.
God's blood, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he care? She was not his responsibility, nor did she want his protection. He should go …
“Aye,” he said. “I'll go.” His stomach twisted, his body in revolt. He couldn't do it. His mouth fell in a grim line, furious with her and with himself. “Once I can be assured that you are well protected.”
Her face fell. “I'm quite well protected. Besides, my safety is none of your concern.”
His eyes narrowed. “I'm making it my concern. If you think I'm leaving now, you are very much mistaken. And if you are so well protected, how did I manage to come upon you swimming naked in a loch alone?” His temper gave way. Naked. “What in Hades could you have been thinking, Jeannie?”