Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(46)

The sun was sinking over the horizon, and the air was damp with cold. Wind tore her hair from her bindings and tears streamed down her cheeks as she stumbled down the path to the beach. Sinking to her knees in the sand, she put her face in her hands.

Vaguely she was aware of someone calling her, but it sounded so far away. Moments later, she felt Mor’s arms wrap around her. The familiar scent, the pillowy soft chest, made her sob harder—the way she had when she was a child. What had she ever had to cry about then?

“There, there, lass. What is it that has you so upset?”

Caitrina managed to choke out the story in bits and pieces, enough for her old nurse to put it together.

She frowned. “So he claims he was there to put an end to the attack?”

Caitrina nodded.

“And you believe him?”

Oddly enough, she did. “Yes. But I wasn’t there. Tell me what you remember.”

It was the first time she’d asked Mor about that day.

Mor thought for a moment. “It was so chaotic when we were dragged from the keep, I had to fight to hold on to Una. Smoke was everywhere—and the bodies. Everywhere I looked there were bodies. I was so scared I’d see you and the lad.” She shivered. “I was so relieved to see the Campbell Henchman carry you out of that keep—” She stopped, her voice tight with emotion. “He’d saved you, but I didn’t know for what reason. I thought it was odd, though, the way he cradled you in his arms like you were a bairn, and kissed your forehead before putting you down.” Her brow wrinkled. “He had the strangest look on his face, and then he said, ‘Watch her for me, I’ll be right back. I must see what I can do. There are still people inside.’ ” Mor paused. “I thought he was talking about his men, but maybe . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but I did see him arguing with the other man.” Mor’s face hardened. “The man who shot your father.”

“His brother,” Caitrina said tonelessly.

Mor sucked in her breath. “Oh, lass.”

“I can’t marry him.”

Mor stroked her hair. “Of course you can’t . . . if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to marry him. I despise him—he’s a Campbell. How could you think . . .” Caitrina’s voice fell off as she caught the older woman’s knowing gaze leveled on her.

“Caitrina Lamont, I’ve known you since the day you were born. I’ve seen the way you look at the man . . . and the way he looks at you.”

Caitrina felt the telltale heat of a blush rising on her cheeks. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and then lifted her chin. “I don’t know what you think you have seen, but you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Mor shook her head. “Ah, Caiti, we can no more control who we are a-wanting than we can order the rain to flow or the wind to ebb. There is no shame in what you feel for the man.”

Caitrina felt something twist in her chest. Mor was wrong—her attraction to Jamie Campbell was a betrayal of her father and brothers. Nor did it change who he was. “How can you say that? You know who he is and what he did?”

Mor nodded, seeming to understand Caitrina’s conflicting emotions. “The Campbells are a vicious, land-grabbing lot, and I’d see the men who attacked your father hung, drawn, and quartered and not lose a wink of sleep. But I don’t think Jamie Campbell had anything to do with that. He’s Argyll’s man—a point against him, to be sure—but he cares for you. And that may work to your advantage. There is no denying what the man is offering you. The Campbells are a powerful clan, and perhaps the best way to protect the Lamonts is an alliance with the Campbells through marriage. Moreover, without this marriage you may not have another opportunity to reclaim Ascog.”

As much as Caitrina hated to hear it put so bluntly, Mor was only giving voice to Caitrina’s own thoughts. He had backed her into a corner, leaving her nowhere to run. If she refused him, she refused her duty to her clan.

Just as before. Her father had urged her to consider Jamie Campbell’s offer, but she’d been too selfish—not wanting to leave the sheltering bosom of her family.

Would things have been different if she’d accepted his proposal? The question hurt too much even to contemplate.

She’d failed in her duty to her clan once before; she could not do so again. If there was a way to protect what remained of her kin and to reclaim Ascog without bloodshed, she had to take it.

Jamie Campbell knew that as well as she did.

Sensing Caitrina’s anguished thoughts, Mor folded her gently in her loving arms. Caitrina closed her eyes, taking comfort there and feeling her resolve strengthen as the wind blew over her, the tangy scent of the sea following close behind.

Slowly, Caitrina pulled away, her gaze once again turning to the churning mass of dark blue waves and the shadow of the Isle of Bute slowly fading in the orange glow of the darkening sky.

“What will you do?” Mor asked.

“What I must. What else can I do?” Caitrina replied, her voice as hard as the glistening jagged rocks that lined the seashore like polished ebony.

She would do her duty, but one day Jamie Campbell would regret forcing her like this. She would give him her body, but she would never belong to him.

All that was left of her heart was buried deep in the sand with her father’s tattered scrap of plaid.