Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(30)
But she was anything but happy. The guests who had descended on Ascog for the gathering had departed, but rather than the sense of peace she’d expected, it felt unnaturally quiet—like the calm before the storm. Her father seemed distracted—almost worried—by something, and her brothers were no better. They were hiding something from her, but she knew they would never share it, and she resented being kept in the dark.
But what bothered her most was that since Jamie’s abrupt departure, she couldn’t seem to get him—or their passionate interlude—out of her mind. In his arms she’d felt safe and protected, and when he’d kissed her she’d felt a connection unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
Worse, she realized that she’d acted unfairly. He’d come to her rescue not once, but twice. She shivered. If he hadn’t come along when he had, who knows what MacNeil might have done?
She still couldn’t conceive of marrying a Campbell, but there was no question that she’d welcomed his kiss. And more. Yet she’d lashed out, accusing him of seducing her, when she knew deep in her heart that he’d done nothing of the sort. It was just that she’d been angry at him for making her want something she shouldn’t.
For pity’s sake, he was the Campbell Henchman. The favored cousin of her clan’s most hated enemy. Just because he was handsome and strong, commanding and intelligent, and nothing like the monster she imagined didn’t change the facts—not all the rumors could be wrong. He claimed to want justice, to see order restored to the Highlands, but wasn’t that just a convenient excuse to justify his actions?
Caitrina never doubted that despite her undeniable attraction to the scourge, she was right in refusing him. That is, until the morning three days after he’d gone, when she found Mor upstairs in the tower garret, sobbing at the bedside of a young serving girl.
“Mor, I—” Caitrina stopped. She took one look at the poor girl’s beaten face and had to bring her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. The girl’s face was swollen beyond recognition and covered with welts and cuts where she’d been struck. Dark bruises mottled her freckled skin. She’d lost her kertch, and her long red hair was clumped with twigs and mud. The sleeve of the sark that she wore under her arisaidh had been nearly torn off. “Dear God, what has happened?”
Mor’s voice was thick with tears. “She was attacked in the woods on the way to the village of Rothesay to buy some cloth.”
Caitrina was dumbstruck. “But who would do such a thing?”
Her old nurse shook her head. “She didn’t recognize them. But from her description, they’ve the sound of broken men.”
“On Bute?” Caitrina asked, shocked.
Mor gave her an odd look. “There are outlaws everywhere, child. We’ve been more fortunate than most, but no place is immune.”
You are a cosseted girl who lives in a glass castle. Jamie’s words came back to her with growing horror.
Mor wiped the girl’s brow with a damp piece of cloth, but the light touch made the girl jerk with pain. The sound she made brought the sting of tears to Caitrina’s eyes.
It seemed the world that Jamie had warned her about had just made its brutal appearance. His objective to clear the Highlands of outlaws no longer rang so false. Dear God, what else had she been wrong about?
Chapter 8
The vicious attack on the serving girl Mary brought the problem of rampant lawlessness in the Highlands home to Caitrina in full force. The sanctity of Ascog had been violated, and never again would she feel completely safe and secure. It seemed that in the space of a few hours, her world had shifted. Outlaws were no longer an amorphous problem; they were a very real threat.
Caitrina had never seen her father so angry. He took the attack on one of his clan as a personal offense and immediately dispatched a team of warriors to track the outlaws; but his men returned the next day, unable to find any sign of them. For the first time, he forbade Caitrina from going into the woods near the castle without an escort.
Jamie’s warning haunted her. That his prediction had come true so quickly made her wonder whether he knew more than he had let on. It also made her question her judgment of him. He saw himself as a force of law and order and claimed to be trying to rid the Highlands of outlaws. For the first time, she realized there might be a need for such authority.
Argyll was the devil and clan Campbell his spawn, but was the truth perhaps more complicated than that? Had she judged Jamie Campbell too harshly? Had she wrongly accused him of brutality when he was only trying to bring order to the land? She’d seen him simply as a Campbell and closed her eyes to what was before her, choosing to listen to rumor instead. He was a hard man and a fierce warrior, but never once had she seen any signs of cruelty or unfairness.
But what did it matter? After what she’d said to him, she doubted she would ever see him again. The realization filled her with a deep sense of regret and a dull ache in her chest that would not quiet.
Finally, a few days after the attack, Caitrina realized that she had to do something. Her father had urged her to consider Jamie Campbell’s offer, and she intended to find out why. Not for her clan, but for herself—though she realized it might be too late.
She’d just entered the great hall in search of her father when she heard the cry go out to drop the yett. Her blood ran cold. Closing the gate in the middle of the day could mean only one thing: trouble.