The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(78)

But she did now.

She smothered the gasp of surprise with her hand. They’d removed their helms, and even from the distance, she recognized two of the men right away. Though perhaps she should have recognized Lachlan MacRuairi before from his distinctive lazy stance. If seeing her husband’s most reviled enemy wasn’t confusing enough, it was even harder to explain the presence of an Englishman. She’d met Sir Alex only once, a few years before her father was imprisoned, but the handsome young squire was not one a young girl would soon forget. Why was her husband training one of Edward’s knights?

The man who’d been fighting Tor took off his helm. MacSorley. She should have guessed. She’d almost forgotten how MacDonald’s henchman had followed Tor’s orders to sail after Beatrix without question.

Her gaze caught on another man and it took her a moment to catch her breath. Good gracious, what a face! He was masculine perfection—a bronzed Apollo with golden caramel hair and divinely chiseled features—easily the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He looked like he belonged on a pedestal.

The men started to move off toward the broch and Christina figured they were breaking for the midday meal. Tor lingered for a few moments, speaking with MacSorley and another man.

What was going on here?

Her husband’s warning came back to her. Was this the trouble he spoke of? She bit her lip, suddenly having second thoughts about following Lady Janet.

Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea. She’d known he might be angry but at the time hadn’t cared. Pleasing him certainly hadn’t worked, so what did she have to lose?

“Do not leave the castle unprotected.” She chewed on her lip. A little late to remember her promise now.

Suddenly anxious to return to the castle, she ventured a look toward the yard, seeing that the rest of the men had gone inside. She breathed a sigh of relief and started down the tree. It was an easy climb and she jumped down the last few feet, landing softly on the muddy, leaf-spattered ground.

Her nose scrunched up and she wished she’d worn an older pair of sturdy boots. Her light leather slippers were not made for gallivanting across the rugged Highland landscape in the winter—summer either, for that matter.

She retraced her steps through the trees, feeling better about her adventure with each stride. She might not have all the answers, but at least she knew her husband was not leaving to be with another woman. And assuming no one paid undue attention to her absence, he would never know about her wee excursion.

As she picked her way through the trees, Christina felt a prickle of disquiet. A prickle she attributed to the eerie stillness of the forest. Quickening her step, she could just make out the edge of the tree line when the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. Someone was …

Before she could turn around, she was grabbed from behind and pulled harshly against a rock-hard chest. Icy panic washed over her. She opened her mouth to scream, but he clasped a hand over her mouth and whispered in her ear, “I wouldn’t advise it, wife. Not when I have my hands so close to that lovely neck of yours.”

Her heart stopped, then jumped again. Cold and hard as steel, his voice was without mercy. Any relief she might have felt to discover that the man who held her was her husband died under the terrifying prospect of his rage.

She’d never faced the warrior who struck fear across the Highlands, but she sensed that was about to change.

The moment of shock upon discovering that it was his wife who was spying on them was replaced by almost blind rage.

Disbelief. Fear. The possibility of betrayal. The divergent threads of emotions wound together, twisting and swirling inside him in a torrential storm just waiting to be unfurled. Every inch of his body strained against the pressure. His blood pounded, his skin flared hot, his heart hammered in his ears. Only the softness of the body pressed against his and the knowledge of how easily he could crush her held him in check.

Tor met Campbell’s gaze, saw him shake his head, and knew that at least she was alone. With a sharp nod, he gave the silent order for his men to leave.

When they were gone, he flipped her around and, holding her shoulders, forced a deep breath from his lungs. He stared into her dark eyes, trying to ignore the tinge of guilt he felt to see the white imprint of his hand on her mouth and the fear in her wide gaze.

She should be scared. Very scared.

“You’d better have a damned good excuse for spying on me.”

Her eyes widened even more. “I wasn’t spying on you. How could you think that?”

He didn’t want to, but damn it, he couldn’t ignore the possibility. “Maybe it’s the fact that I find you hiding in a tree watching me. Or the fact that you followed me. Or that I instructed you to stay out of matters that do not concern you.” His jaw hardened and his gaze sharpened. “Or maybe it’s that I recall the treachery that brought us together.” She flinched as if he’d struck her. She tried to pull away, but he wasn’t done. He leaned closer, forcing her gaze to his. “Did someone ask you to follow me, Christina?”

Despite the obvious threat, her little chin jutted up. He stood a hand over six feet and outweighed her by at least double, had killed hundreds of men on the battlefield, and was one of the most feared warriors in the land, but she looked at him as if he were smaller than a midge for the mere suggestion.

“Of course not. I would never betray you.” Everything about her voice and expression said that she told the truth. “I hoped you knew by now—no matter how our marriage started—that you could trust me.”