Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(88)

“Can a man not have some time alone with his wife?”

She arched a delicate black brow. “But it’s something else, isn’t it?” She walked toward him, the seductive sway of her hips all the more enticing because it was unconscious. Her hands slipped around his neck, sliding over the taut muscles bunched at his shoulders, feeling the tension. She was so damned warm and soft. Her delicate feminine scent laced with lavender rose up to envelop him in its sensual vise. He ached to pull her against him and take her mouth with his, driving away the thought of anything else but the two of them. Alone. Where nothing could come between them.

Unable to think when she was so near, he took a step back. She dropped her hands, and the wounded look on her face almost made him reconsider. Almost.

“Your father’s guardsmen are gone,” he said.

Something flickered in her gaze. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?” She sounded surprised. But was her voice just a touch high-pitched?

“I mean that they have not returned from the forest where they were supposed to be cutting down trees.”

Caitrina’s hands twisted in the smooth silk of her gown. “It’s cold and difficult to see. Perhaps they simply took shelter from the weather.”

Jamie shook his head. “They are gone. My men have searched the area.”

The pulse at her neck ticked a little faster. “And what did you find?”

It was said with a nonchalance that he knew she did not feel. She was so anxious, he could almost taste it. “They covered their tracks well, but my men believe they’ve crossed the Kyle to the mainland. They swore to me as their laird, and they’ve broken their bond. I want to know why.”

“If they’ve done as you say, which I hope they did not, I couldn’t fathom.”

He studied her face. She looked like an angel with her creamy skin, wide blue eyes, and red lips. Her innocent beauty seemed to taunt him. He took her arm, his fingers gripping her tight. “You don’t know?”

“Of course not.” She tried to pull her arm free, but he held firm. “Seamus and the others did not confide in me.”

Her voice sounded so adamant, he had to believe it was true. Relieved, he dropped her arm. “I’m glad. I would not like to think that you were keeping secrets from me.” He gave her a hard look. “Are you keeping something from me, Caitrina?”

Her eyes shifted ever so slightly. Damn. It was there again, that look of unease. “What would I be hiding from you?”

It wasn’t an answer.

“Why are you questioning me?” she demanded. “I’ve told you I knew nothing of Seamus’s plans. What is it that you think I know?”

Jamie knew what he had to do. He hated the idea that he might cause her more pain, but she had a right to know. If she did not hear it from him, she might hear it from someone else. He took her hand and led her to a chair. “Sit.”

Seeming to sense his seriousness, she did as he asked. He moved around in front of her so that his back was to the fire. He hated himself for thinking it necessary to see her face. “I’ve something to tell you. Something that might cause you pain, but I think you should know.”

He could see her tense. Her eyes widened a little, and she swallowed. “What is it?”

Used to directness, Jamie was not very good at couching his words. It was probably better if he didn’t try. He cleared his throat. “There are rumors.” Her eyes lifted to his, the sooty thick sweep of her lashes as soft and feathery as a raven’s wing against her pale skin. “Rumors that one or more of your brothers may have survived.”

She froze, her face devoid of emotion. It was the look of someone who’d just experienced a shock—wasn’t it? Or was it the look of someone who was frightened?

Her fingers gripped the carved wooden arms of the chair until they turned white. He swore he could see the tiny hairs on the back of her neck set on edge. Everything about her screamed brittle—as if she were glass that was about to shatter.

She stared at him, looking to him for answers. “Do you believe them? Is there any truth to these rumors?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me exactly what you’ve heard.”

She was too calm. Too rational. He’d expected her to race out the door and down the stairs to the courtyard, demanding a horse. He’d expected tears. He’d expected wild emotion. He knew how much she’d loved her family. How their death had destroyed her.

She knew.

He repeated what his uncle had told him and told her of his journey to Lomond to look for them and of finding nothing.

Instead of questioning him further, she gazed at him, eyes narrowed accusingly. “You’ve known about this for over a week and have not thought to mention it before now?”

“I did not want to raise your hopes without something more.”

“You think of me as a child.”

“No, as someone I wish to protect from further hurt. Can you blame me for not wanting you to experience more pain? You’ve only just begun to recover.”

“Not recover,” she said stonily. “Adjust.”

“I know it has been difficult for you, but you cannot deny that you were happier the past few weeks.”

“No,” she said, turning away. “I’ll not deny that.”