Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(92)

At first it had been warranted. But what of now? Could she trust him?

“You're back,” Elizabeth said, just loud enough for Jeannie to make out her words. “I almost gave up hope. Oh, Duncan, it's been so long, I thought I would never see you again.”

She buried her head in his shoulder and started sobbing even harder. Duncan stroked her head and soothed her with words Jeannie could not make out.

Quite a crowd had gathered at the commotion caused by the new arrivals. Jamie and Caitrina had appeared at the top of the stairs, and a tall, powerfully built man with a black look on his face had quickly dismounted from his horse and followed Elizabeth to hover protectively a few stairs below.

With his dark hair, brilliant green eyes, and finely chiseled features, he was a strikingly handsome man, though it had taken Jeannie a moment to realize it, probably because of the fearsome expression on his face.

“Lizzie, you're overwrought,” the man said. “It's not good for you or the—”

“I'm fine!” Lizzie said, giving him an exasperated look over her shoulder. “As I've told you a hundred times in the last hour, I'm fine. I'm pregnant, not made of glass.”

The man's eyes narrowed dangerously. “Lizzie …”

“You're having a babe?” Duncan asked, holding her back to look in her face.

Elizabeth nodded, a shy smile playing upon her mouth.

“I'm happy for you, lass,” Duncan said. “Congratulations.”

The other man moved up behind Lizzie, sliding his hand around her waist. “She insisted on coming when she received the hench”—he stopped at the sharp glance from his wife and cleared his throat—”Campbell's note that you'd arrived.” It was clear from his disapproving tone that he'd tried to convince her otherwise. “Despite the less than ideal travel conditions.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned back to her brother. “This overbearing, aggravating man is my husband, Patrick MacGreg—”

“Murray,” he cut her off with a nod to remind her of their audience.

Jeannie had moved closer to hear the conversation and gasped when she realized what Elizabeth had been about to say. Elizabeth Campbell had married a MacGregor?

Jeannie eyed Jamie Campbell, Argyll's Enforcer, waiting for the call to arrest the outlaw. Though he didn't appear happy to see the man, he didn't seem inclined to toss him in the dungeon either. But she didn't miss Caitrina's restraining hold on his arm.

Elizabeth had heard the sound Jeannie made and her gaze shot to her. They stared at one another in silence. Though they'd crossed paths a number of times at court since that day when Jeannie had arrived at Castleswene looking for Duncan, until now they'd avoided speaking to one another.

Except for the initial surprise, Elizabeth's expression gave no hint of her thoughts at finding Jeannie here with her brother. She gave a short nod of her head. “Lady Gordon.”

Jeannie returned the curt gesture. “Lady Murray.”

Elizabeth's husband had had enough. He took his wife's arms and tucked it firmly in his. “Why don't we finish this inside, where you can rest?” The suggestion came out as more of a growled order.

When Elizabeth started to protest, her husband bent and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widened in outrage, but MacGregor appeared unmoved. He gave her a look as if to say “try me.” MacGregors were a wild, fearsome lot and Patrick gave proof to the reputation.

But Jeannie fought back a smile. Unless she'd missed her mark, Patrick MacGregor/Murray had just threatened to carry his wife in whether she wanted to go or not.

With her solemn expression, Jeannie would have said Elizabeth followed her husband meekly up the stairs, but she'd caught the glint in Elizabeth's eye that promised retribution.

Jeannie hung back as the crowd dispersed and Duncan followed his sister and her husband up the stairs. Her chest squeezed with longing that she couldn't deny. She wanted to go, but it wasn't her place. He had his family; he didn't need her.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned. Embarrassed to be caught staring, she quickly looked away, but he called down to her. “Will you join us?”

Her heart pounded. “I wasn't sure …”

His gaze held hers. “You're a part of this,” he paused, “if you want to be.” Not waiting for her response, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the keep.

Jeannie watched him go, knowing he was forcing her to make a choice, which meant she had to make a decision.

Duncan kept his eye on the door to the laird's solar. The adjoining great hall had already started to fill with clansmen awaiting the midday meal and the solar would enable them a small measure of privacy.

The minutes ticked by. He sat stiffly on the bench, his neck and shoulder muscles tight with tension. He didn't expect her to come.

It doesn't matter.

But when the door opened a moment later, he knew that it did.

Her gaze went immediately to his. Seeing the uncertainty on her face, he gave her a reassuring nod. There was still much to be said, but she was here, and for now it was enough.

Lizzie lifted her brow at him in question, but he ignored it and offered Jeannie a seat on the bench beside him.

Her very presence at his side gave him an unexpected charge. He felt stronger. Lighter. And for the first time since he'd arrived back in Scotland bolstered by hope. Hope that not even Lizzie's next words could dampen.