Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(18)
Chapter 5
Edgy after his confrontation with Caitrina, Jamie decided to return to the keep rather than join the others at the loch for the races. He’d ridden out early that morning, and except for a few oatcakes and a bit of dried beef to break his fast, he hadn’t eaten all day. As he passed across the yard, he was surprised to see the Lamont chief walking toward him, having just descended the stairs from the keep.
Jamie nodded in greeting. “Lamont. I thought you would be down at the races.”
“I had other matters to attend to.” The older man gave him an appraising stare, taking in Jamie’s dusty, windblown appearance. “You left early this morning.”
“My men and I decided to do a bit of hunting.”
“And were you successful?”
Though innocuous on its surface, Jamie was aware of the subtle undercurrent to the question. The Lamont was wary of his presence, and though Jamie’s expressed interest in the lass had deflected some of the suspicion—it hadn’t deflected all of it.
“Not this time.” But he would be. He knew the MacGregors were here. He could feel it. Though for the Lamont’s sake he hoped he was wrong.
His cousin had wanted to send troops immediately, but Jamie had convinced Argyll to wait until they had more to go on than an old tale of Highland hospitality—although the story itself provided a compelling explanation for why the Lamonts would risk so much in sheltering the outlawed MacGregors. There was nothing more sacred in the Highlands than the age-old custom of Highland hospitality. When it was invoked, a clan was obligated to shelter even its worst enemy. The well-known tale between the Lamonts and the MacGregors was proof of its force.
Years ago, a Lamont chief had gone hunting with the son of a MacGregor chief. An argument broke out, and the Lamont took a dirk to the MacGregor’s son, killing him. The Lamont escaped but was pursued. He was forced to seek shelter at Glenstrae—the stronghold of the very man whose son he’d killed. Not knowing that the Lamont had just murdered his son, the MacGregor chief agreed to shelter the Lamont from his pursuers.
When the MacGregor clansmen showed up and told the old chief about the murder of his son, the chief—despite his grief and fury over the death of his son—according to the custom of Highland hospitality, refused to turn the Lamont over to them. Fearing that his enraged men would harm the man, the MacGregor personally escorted his son’s murderer back to Cowal.
Despite this heartbreaking loss, the bond between the two clans had been unbreakable ever since, and Jamie suspected that the time might have come for the Lamonts to pay back the MacGregor’s hospitality.
But a hunch wasn’t good enough; he needed proof.
Jamie had been watching the Lamont closely, and so far there had been no signs of anything unusual. Not that he would have expected otherwise. If the Lamont suspected Jamie’s true purpose, he would know he was being watched. Jamie’s men had the perimeter secured: No one was getting in or out of Ascog without them knowing it.
It was clear that the other man had something else on his mind as well. The look he fixed on Jamie was hard and calculating. “And what of the purpose for your visit, Campbell?”
Jamie didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He respected the other man’s challenge. “Your daughter is very beautiful.”
The old chief’s eyes narrowed. “You are in earnest, then?”
“I am.” It should have been a lie, but Jamie was surprised to realize by the vehemence in his voice and the deep sensation in his gut that he actually meant it. It was a visceral reaction, a snap decision for a man who otherwise planned everything carefully. Sometime between that first kiss and now, the ruse had become reality. He wanted her.
His tone must have impressed the Lamont as well, because he looked as though he believed him. “Why would Argyll’s cousin seek an alliance with a Lamont? As you said, my daughter is very beautiful, but her tocher is modest. I would think that your cousin would see a more lucrative connection.”
His cousin would be just as surprised as Jamie was. “My cousin wants an end to the feuding. It is something I would assume you want as well.”
“Aye,” the Lamont said reluctantly. The enmity between the two clans ran deep. Jamie admired the control of the other man, who showed little reaction when inside he must be seething at the prospect of seeing his beloved daughter married to a Campbell. But no matter how much he loved the lass, the good of the clan would come first. And an alliance with Jamie would help the Lamonts—they both knew that. “And there is no other reason?” he asked suspiciously.
“I want her.”
The Lamont gave him a long look, making Jamie wonder how much he’d revealed by the fierceness of his tone. “The lass has a way of penetrating even the most hardened heart,” he observed. “But I’d not see her harmed.”
Jamie’s jaw hardened. “I would never hurt a woman—despite what my enemies would claim. You and I may have been on opposite sides all these years, but have I given you cause to believe otherwise?” He paused, hearing the Lamont’s silent assent. “Your daughter would want for nothing. I would protect her with my life.”
The chief nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “I will consider it.”
Jamie gave the other man a pointed look. “Of course, my cousin will want some assurances.”
The Lamont tensed. “What kind of assurances?”