Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(16)
It took her a moment to realize what he meant. Her eyes flew to his face, thinking he was jesting, but his expression was implacable. “You can’t be serious.” He couldn’t intend to court her.
His eyes met hers, and the intensity shook her to her toes. “And what if I am?”
She ignored the sudden race of her heart. Despite her confounding attraction to him, the idea of marrying a Campbell, let alone this Campbell, was so far-fetched that she didn’t know how to respond. The misery of her mother cast out from her clan was never far from her mind. She’d avoid that fate at all costs. “You’re wasting your time.” She tried to breeze by him, but he blocked her path. Her shoulder collided with the steely shield of his chest, and she sucked in her breath at the shock of physical awareness. The strange sensations he’d wrought in her yesterday came flooding back: the warmth, the fluttering in her stomach, the race of her heart, the prickle of awareness that chilled her skin.
“Am I?” he said in a low voice, and the warmth of his breath tickled her ear, making her shudder. “You didn’t seem to think so yesterday.”
Caitrina flushed. How dare he bring up that kiss! The kiss she couldn’t forget when he was standing so close to her, his powerful body radiating heat that seemed to entrap her. “You had no right to kiss me.” She dared not look up. He was standing too close. She felt this strange pull . . . as though someone were sliding the floor mat out from beneath her feet. As though she wanted him to kiss her again. She could turn her head and feel his mouth on her cheek, sliding along her jaw, on her lips . . .
Her heart thumped wildly, and she felt as if she were drowning in something more powerful than she could control.
But she couldn’t forget who he was.
She forced her eyes to his and said with all sincerity, “I’d sooner marry a toad than a Campbell.”
Jamie might just make her eat those words. He could lean down, cover her lips with his, and kiss her until he proved her wrong. And God, he was tempted.
He’d had no intention of actually finding a wife when he came here, but taming this brazen girl with her strange mix of haughtiness and innocence might damn well be worth it. It was rare that he met a woman he didn’t have to tiptoe around for fear of overwhelming or intimidating her. He smiled. Nay, Caitrina Lamont was decidedly not intimidated by him.
He was returning from meeting with his men, who’d scoured the caves in the hills beyond but had found nothing, when he’d overheard the conversation between Caitrina and Torquil MacNeil. She was clever, he’d give her that. As she’d proved many times over last night, she had an uncanny way of ridding herself of suitors—but there was a dangerous naïveté to her boldness. And one day it was going to land her in a heap of trouble.
The lass seemed to have every available man within a hundred miles under her spell. Even now, with her hair tumbling freely around her shoulders, straw on her ridiculously fine skirts for sitting in a barn, and looking adorably mussed, her allure was undeniable. For all her pristine beauty, there was an unmistakable air of sexual promise that surrounded her, hinting at far more earthy delights. A rose waiting to be plucked.
He wanted her with an intensity that defied reason. He wanted her in a primal way that he’d never felt before with any woman. And when Jamie wanted something, he got it.
Yet she seemed entirely unaware of what a temptation she presented or how close he was to tossing her down in the hay and kissing her senseless. His blood heated at the thought of her under him, his hands stroking her soft skin, his mouth . . .
Disgusted, he fought back the haze of lust. He was a man of prodigious control when it came to keeping his desire in check, but never had he met a lass who so aroused such primitive impulses in him. Or, for that matter, one who could provoke him so easily by casting her careless aspersions on his clan.
He stood back and crossed his arms. “So it’s my name that bothers you?”
“Isn’t it enough? Our clans are enemies, and have been for decades.”
“What better way to end a feud? Besides, your mother was a Campbell.”
She flushed with anger. “And she was disowned by her Campbell father, the Laird of Cawdor. I have no familial love for the Campbells, and your cousin is the worst of the bad lot.”
“For someone so obviously disinterested in politics, you certainly seem to have strong opinions.”
“Everyone knows that Argyll is a despot who steals land and then, when the clansmen are broken with nowhere left to go, hunts them like dogs.”
“I assume you are referring to the MacGregors?” Jamie said idly, feeling anything but. What did she know of the MacGregors? Of the massacre of the Colquhouns at the battle of Glenfruin? Of the countless Campbells who’d been victims of their reiving and pillaging? He cupped her chin, running his thumb over the frantic pulse in her neck. “The MacGregors are brigands and outlaws who would slit your pretty neck without a second thought. Remember that when you condemn my cousin.”
Her eyes widened with alarm. “You’re just trying to frighten me. You forget the MacGregors are allies of the Lamonts.”
He hadn’t forgotten that at all. In fact, it’s what had brought him here. “I suggest you choose your friends more wisely.”
She pursed her mouth defiantly. “If they’re outlaws, it’s because they have no other choice, since Campbells have taken their land. And you make them sound worse than they are. It’s what Argyll wants people to believe to justify his actions.”