Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(82)
Duncan swore under his breath.
“Gordons?” The captain's surliness took on a malicious edge. The Earl of Argyll and the Marquis of Huntly might have nominally made their peace, but Jeannie was right: old hatreds died hard. Their identity had only given the Campbell captain further cause to complain. “Duncan Dubh's conspirators?” The captain's coal-black gaze scanned the room. “Perhaps they are harboring he traitor?”
The Gordon guardsmen started to protest the slur, but before Duncan or anyone could object, Jeannie—who must have heard the noise from her room—intervened.
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” The soft, dulcet tones stopped the conversation as effectively as a gunshot.
She appeared like something out of a bard's tale. Her auburn hair was brushed to a brilliant sheen and pulled back at the crown with a tiny comb of pearls to tumble down her back. Wearing a pale ivory velvet gown, she looked wholly out of place among the rough soldiers and primitive surroundings, like Persephone descending into Hades.
The Gordon guardsmen, including Duncan, tensed, ready to do whatever it took to protect their lady. His was the first hand to reach for the handle of his dirk but not the last.
They need not have worried. The stunned expressions on the Campbells’ faces were almost comical. Jeannie, however, seemed entirely unaware of the effect her ethereal beauty had on the men. She smiled at the captain and batted her long, dark lashes. “Have my men caused you any trouble, sirrah?”
The Campbell captain almost pissed himself in his eagerness to assure her otherwise. With Jeannie's arrival the surly solider suddenly became a caricature of a gallant knight. Jeannie returned his attentions with grace and charm, though Duncan could see that her smile never reached her eyes. Only the slight shake of her hands betrayed her nervousness. She knew well what was at stake.
Thanking the captain for his understanding, she offered to buy a round of ale for him and his men “to help make up for causing them a night in the stables.” The captain insisted she join them. Her gaze flickered to Duncan before she agreed, but it didn't make him feel any better.
He seethed in silence as Jeannie flirted with the captain, the soft tinkle of her laugh grating like an iron mace down his spine. The knowledge that she did so only for him did not make it any easier. He gripped his tankard until his knuckles turned white. The damned lecher couldn't seem to take his eyes off her low bodice and the lush round of soft flesh that swelled above it.
When the captain's arm brushed the side of her breast, however, it wasn't only Duncan's knuckles that betrayed his anger. Instinctively, he lunged forward in his seat, stopping himself at the last moment from standing up.
The movement did not go unnoticed. The ale Jeannie had urged the Campbell captain to drink had yet to completely dull his warrior's instincts and he'd sensed the threat.
Duncan felt the other man's piercing scrutiny as he leveled his gaze on him. “You there,” he said. “Come forward where I can see you.”
Duncan's relaxed position on the bench gave no hint of his sudden alertness. All it would take was one swift movement and his dirk would be buried in the captain's gullet. The lecherous fool deserved as much for daring to touch Jeannie and for the lewd thoughts that were surely running through his mind.
Despite the temptation, Duncan would not act precipitously. Although he was confident he and his men could escape, there was Jeannie to consider. She could be hurt easily in the melee that ensued.
Duncan brought his tankard to his mouth and drew a long gulp. Lazily he put it down on the table, but made no move to do the other man's bidding. The Campbell captain held no authority over him.
The captain's face flushed an angry scarlet as the silent standoff continued. Eventually he rose from the table and crossed the room to stand before him, only then did Duncan stand. To his credit, the Campbell captain didn't flinch when Duncan rose above him, looming over him by at least half a head.
“I'll have your name.”
Duncan was tempted to give it to him. He sensed Leif and Conall's readiness at his side, but he also knew brandishing weapons in a small place like this was dangerous. It wasn't in his nature to back down, but he wouldn't take a chance with Jeannie's safety.
Even if it meant his capture.
The realization shocked the hell out of him. In spite of all that had happened, in spite of her unwillingness to help him, he would give his life for hers without hesitation. He was still grappling with the implications when Jeannie suddenly appeared at the captain's side.
“You'll have to forgive my guardsman, captain. They are a fiercely loyal and protective lot and will follow no one's orders but my own. I'm sure this man meant no disrespect to your authority.”
The Campbell captain appeared mollified, not by her words as much as the dazzling smile she bestowed upon him. He puffed up like a bloody peacock. “‘Tis the king's business we are on, searching for the traitor Duncan Dubh. Your man has the look of him.”
Duncan tensed, knowing that right now Jeannie was all that stood between him and death.
How far would she go to help him? Would she help him? If she wanted him gone, this was her chance.
“You can't think my guardsman could be the infamous Black Highlander?” Jeannie asked incredulously.
Abashed, the captain's flush grew even redder. “He's said to be a man of unusually large height and build with black hair and blue eyes.”