Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(76)

She glanced up and through the tears saw that Duncan had come up behind her. Their eyes met. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He bowed his head.

The tears flowed until Ella started to wriggle. Jeannie took her by her small shoulders and held her a few feet away from her, giving her the sternest look she could manage at the moment. “Don't you ever do anything like that again. Do you realize what could have happened?”

Ella bit her lip. “I didn't think anyone would confuse me for a deer.”

Jeannie paled. “What!”

Duncan winced at her side.

Ella looked up at him uncertainly and bit her lip. “I shouldn't have said that, should I?”

He shook his head and then looked at Jeannie. “I thought I'd wait until later to fill you in on all the details.”

Jeannie looked back and forth between the two of them. “One of you had better tell me exactly what happened.”

Duncan sighed. “It was hard to see through the snow and trees. Ella was partially behind a bush and with her clothes”—Jeannie noticed that Ella was still wearing the clothing she'd purloined from her brother's trunk—“one of my men thought she was a deer.”

Jeannie sank to the floor and looked up at him. “You stopped him.” She didn't need to ask, she knew.

He nodded.

Overwhelmed, Jeannie sat in stunned silence.

Ella eyed her warily. “Mother? Are you all right?”

Jeannie shook her head. The tears and hot swell of emotion were choking her again. He'd saved her daughter's life.

Duncan held out his hand and helped her up.

“I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?” Ella asked Duncan.

He gave her a solemn nod.

Jeannie recovered enough to find her breath. “You disobeyed me, Ella. I told you I didn't want you hunting. You can't just run off like that and do whatever you want just because it seems like a good idea.”

One man had lost his life, and only by a miracle had it not been two. William had been found with an arrow in his back, but was still breathing.

Ella tilted her head, her little mind clearly at work. “Did you get in trouble for running off, too?”

Duncan made a sharp sound that he quickly covered up with a cough, but Jeannie glared at him anyway. Ella was quick witted—too quick witted for her own good. Her innocent remark rang uncomfortably true. “I'm an adult, Ella. I can make my own decisions. And I made sure people knew where I was going.”

The little girl nodded, chastened.

The Marchioness had come to join them. “You're back safe.” She shot a glance to Duncan. “Was there any trouble?”

Jeannie stiffened, bracing for the recriminations that were sure to follow when her mother-in-law heard about the attack.

Duncan stepped forward before she could respond. “Nothing I couldn't handle.”

Though Jeannie knew it was only a temporary abeyance she appreciated the effort. “I'll leave you now,” he said. Jeannie noticed how he avoided the Marchioness, having roused her suspicion he did not want to put it to the test.

“Wait.” Jeannie bent down and kissed Ella on the cheek. “Go with your grandmother for a minute, there is something I need to discuss with Duncan. I'll only be a minute.”

The Marchioness gave Jeannie a disapproving look, but Jeannie paid her no mind and led Duncan into the laird's solar. The Great Hall was already crowded with clansmen gathered for the evening meal, and she wanted to speak to him in private.

She closed the door behind her and turned to face him. “Thank you, Duncan.” Her voice caught, but she fought back the emotion. “Thank you for saving my daughter and for finding me when you did.”

Their eyes met and something passed between them. “I thought you were dead.” His voice was low, rough. “I saw you lying there and thought you were dead.”

The stark look in his eyes tugged at her heart. “And that mattered to you?” she whispered.

“Hell, Jeannie.” He dragged his fingers through his thick, wavy black hair. “How can you ask that?”

What do you feel for me? But she couldn't ask. Not when she wasn't sure what her own feelings were. But something had changed. A barrier had shattered between them. The pretense of indifference.

“Ella was right you know. You shouldn't have left like that. You should have waited for me.”

He wasn't judging her or chastising her; it was concern that spoke. Usually such references to her impetuousness would make her defensive, but she wanted him to understand. “I had to go. The wait …” She gazed up at him. “Every minute was agonizing. You don't know how hard it is to sit and do nothing. I was half-crazed. What if someone you loved was in danger? Could you sit aside and do nothing?”

A wry smile turned his mouth. “Nay, I don't suppose I could.”

He gave her an odd look, then dropped his gaze. “You won't be too hard on her will you? The wee lass knows she did wrong.”

Now that the fear had faded, anger was making an appearance. “If she doesn't now, she will in ten years when I let her take her first step outside this castle.”

Duncan chuckled. “If she were mine, I'd probably do the same. I swear the chit took ten years off my life when I realized it was her.”