Laird of the Mist (22 page)

Kate closed her eyes, unable to breathe. He clutched her heart in his hand as he had promised. Why didn’t he just kill her and be done with it? Was he so cruel that he would torture and tease her first? Nae, she had seen him comfort his sister. She saw the terrible pain in his eyes when he became Maggie’s beast. He wasn’t any of the things so many people believed him to be. He was proud and possessive, a defiant rebel who had given his clan a home and kept their name alive. He was a man who had become a monster to protect what he loved.

“Love is the noblest cause of all, Callum MacGregor,” she said as defiantly as he spoke his name.

He shook his head at her. The flash of emotion that colored his eyes absorbed most of the hard edge in his voice. “Nae, ’tis poison to us both.”

He walked away, pleading with God that she could hate him. If she couldn’t, he would butcher any who punished her—and everyone else, until he drowned in their blood and ceased to exist altogether.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

K
ATE WATCHED HIM
walk away. Every muscle in her body convulsed with the need to go after him. But she did not dare move. He had made his feelings for her more than clear. She could not bear to suffer them again.

She hugged herself to drive out the chill of a coming storm and swept her gaze across the wild moorlands and jagged mountain ridges swathed in mist. She had thought it beautiful here when she first arrived. But now Camlochlin felt harsh and infinitely lonely. It was a land as battle-scarred and unforgiving as her MacGregor. She would never touch him. Finally, she surrendered. She wanted to go home. She wanted her brother.

She scanned the surrounding hills. Was Robert close? Or at the other end of the Earth?

She was going to be taken back to Kildun, but Robert would not be there. She knew with her whole heart that her brother was searching for her. She had been so preoccupied living in her new pretend kingdom that she had not thought about what would happen if he found her. Now the reality of it beat against her heart. If he came here, Callum would surely kill him. He had promised not to harm her brother, but Callum’s hatred for her clan was too strong. He could scarcely stop himself from killing
her.
Robert would not fare any better if he found her on her way back to the Stewarts’. Chivalry would dictate that he fight for her honor. He might be able to kill one of Callum’s men, but he would fall swiftly after that. Kate did not want her brother or any of Callum’s men to die.

There was only one way to stop it.

Robert Campbell gritted his teeth as each bone-crunching blow Kevin Menzie delivered to Roderick Cameron resounded off the keep walls. One more and Robert would put a stop to it. He cut his gaze to his uncle standing a few inches away. The man was grinning!

“The Devil was here,” Kevin spat, clutching the laird’s plaid in his fists. “Ye’ll tell us where he went, or we’ll put fire to the whole fokin’ village.”

“I have no’ seen him,” Cameron said for the fourth time, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

“He killed seven of my kinsmen!” Kevin lifted his fist to strike him again.

The blow was halted in midair by Robert’s hand. “Cease this!” he shouted.

Kevin spun around, ready to strike him instead, but the murderous glint in Robert’s eyes gave him pause. Then he smiled. “Or what? What will ye do? Go back to Glen Orchy and rut yer sheep. Ye have no stomach fer violence.”

Robert’s scorching gaze was unflinching. “Touch me and find out.”

“Nephew.” his uncle’s voice dipped with mocking iciness as he took a step forward. Robert did not look at Duncan while he spoke, but at the Cameron laird. What honor was there in tying an old warrior to a chair and beating him senseless? “This man hinders us from finding your sister. Why do you seek to protect him? Allow Kevin to finish his questions so that we can save Katherine before the Devil kills her, if he hasn’t done so already.”

Robert caught the subtle look the Cameron gave him beneath his swollen eyelid. Kate was not dead. “I wish to speak to the chieftain alone.”

“Nae,” Duncan refused.

Now Robert turned to look at him. “Aye, or I will set my steed toward England and bring this matter to Cromwell, as it should have been done from the beginning.”

For a moment their gazes locked in battle. The challenge in Duncan’s cool gray eyes was unmistakable, but Robert would not be swayed. Finally, his uncle nodded and motioned for the Menzies to leave.

The instant they were alone, Robert bent to the laird and clutched his shoulders. “You have seen my sister. Tell me, was she harmed?”

“Nae.”

“Where has he taken her?” When Cameron didn’t answer, Robert shook him. “You give your loyalty to a man who butchered Menzies.”

“Ask your uncle why the Devil killed them,” Cameron replied weakly. “Better yet, go see fer yerself at Stuart MacGregor’s cottage.”

Robert pulled away from him and raked his hands through his hair. Hell, he didn’t want to see. He’d waited his whole life to serve the realm, to fight at his uncle’s side. But this was not fighting. This was something else entirely.

“Go to the cottage, young Campbell, and see what made yer sister weep.”

“First you will tell me where he took her, and then I will see.”

Robert left Rhona MacGregor’s bedside, stepped out of the bothy, and summoned every ounce of strength he had in him not to retch. Instead, he set his eyes on his uncle staring at him from atop his mount.

“Why was she branded?”

“She broke the law, as did her husband and child. All Scotsmen have the authority to hold MacGregors to the law in any way they see fit. You know this.”

Aye, Robert knew it, but seeing how the proscription was enforced was quite different than hearing about it. Infection festered in Rhona MacGregor’s flesh. She would not live another se’nnight. And for what? Because of her name?

“You do not hold sympathy for them, eh, Robert?” his uncle asked him, his eyes as sharp as twin blades. “The Devil, and any other MacGregor chieftain, would cut off your limbs and scatter them to the four winds just to satisfy their bloodlust. This is the only way to keep them under control. It has been this way for many years. Now tell me where he has taken Katherine. I grow weary of your curiosity.”

Robert strode toward his mount, spitting the foul taste from his mouth as he went. “East.” He told his uncle what Cameron had said. “The Devil took her east toward Badenoch.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“C
OME INSIDE WITH YE
, Maggie. ’Tis goin’ to rain.” Callum knelt over his sister lying on her back in the cool heather not far from the castle.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. Then she scowled, making no move to obey his gentle command. “Why did ye send Kate away? Jamie says ye hate her.”

Callum blew out an explosive sigh and lifted his eyes to the hills so as not to meet his sister’s accusing stare. He did not want to be discussing Kate. Not when the very thought of her made his arms ache with the need to hold her. He was doing the right thing, he told himself. Finally. “I dinna hate her,” he answered. “But ’tis no’ safe fer her to be here with us . . . with me.”

When he looked at her again, she caught and held his gaze. Her brows quirked curiously at him. “Is it true, then, Callum?”

“Is what true?”

“Do ye think ye are so dangerous that even I fear ye?”

Her question was so unexpected, Callum simply stared at her, unsure of how to answer. His sending Kate away had naught to do with him. Or did it? He was the Devil MacGregor, and all of hell would descend on the Campbells if Kate was harmed. Aye, what he could become frightened him. If anyone should understand that, ’twas his sister.

“Kate spoke true, then,” Maggie said when the memories that haunted him darkened his expression. “Ye’re no devil, brother. But ye are a fool,” she scolded, though her voice was as tender as his had always been to her. “Ye took me away from that terrible place. Ye gave me back my life.”

Callum had never hoped for absolution such as this. He had also never wept a day in his life, and he damn well was not about to begin now. “But yer dreams . . . the terror I caused you . . .”

“Aye,” she agreed. “And each time ye leave Camlochlin to seek yer revenge, and I do not know if ye will return, the verra same terror grips me. This will end only with yer death.”

He took her hand in his as understanding washed over him. Understanding he would have fought to deny, even now, if he had never seen something other than a monster in Kate’s eyes. “I am a fool.” He smiled, then cleared his throat when his eyes stung.

“Now will ye bring Kate back?”

“She hasna left yet, Maggie. But I canna—”

“She has so left!” she insisted, yanking her hand from his so she could slap her thigh. “She took Ahern and bade me call to the guards to allow her departure. I think Graham should have gone with her.”

Callum tried to calm the fierce pounding in his chest but failed as he leaped to his feet. “Nae! She could no’ have left. No’ alone!”

“I tell ye, she did,” Maggie said adamantly while she rose.

“Christ!” He raked his fingers through his hair as if he meant to yank out every strand. His eyes searched toward Elgol. “When did she go?” He whirled around, dropped to one knee, and gripped his sister’s shoulders. “Maggie, think hard. How long ago did Kate leave?”

“Och, ’twas long ago, Callum. ’Twas before I fed Matilda.”

Since he had no idea when that was, he groaned, released his sister, then took off toward the stable, calling over his shoulder that she return to the castle. He was grateful to find Maggie finally doing what he asked when he flew past her on his mount.

Callum cursed on the wind that tore his hair away from his face while he thundered out of the glen. Why the hell would Kate do such a foolish thing? He snapped the reins, driving his steed faster. He was to blame. He had pushed her so hard she could not wait another day to be away from him. Driven by fear of what might become of her, he kicked his mount’s flanks harder, urging the horse to fly.

He plundered toward Elgol just as the sky tore open above him. His eyes scanned the darkened cliffs and countryside, searching. She could not have been gone from the castle for any length of time without him noticing, he told himself, trying to remain calm—to contain his rawest emotions. Surely she could not have gone far with old Ahern beneath her. Praying she had not already reached the treacherous cliffs, Callum gritted his teeth to keep from crying out the name that had somehow become more important to him than his own.

Kate reached Elgol just before the heavens darkened and poured out their wrath upon the land. She was sure it was wrath, for the rain battered her flesh, saturating her bones until the cold numbed her limbs. The torrent obscured her vision and she slowed Ahern’s pace, fearing she might lead them blindly over the cliffs. A few feet up ahead, a shadowy figure crossed her path. She pulled the old horse to a halt and swiped the rain from her eyes. The hair along her neck rose. A warning sounded in her head. Someone was watching her. She cursed herself for not bringing a sword, or at least a dagger, for protection on her journey. She heard the sound of feet pounding the muddy ground and turned, panic accelerating her heartbeat.

The man was upon her almost instantly. His fist caught her in the ribs, doubling her over. He yanked on her hair, pulling her off Ahern’s back. She was too shocked by the sudden assault and too cold to fight back while she was dragged off the path and hurled against a wall of rock that separated the minty fragrance of forest from the briny scent of the sea.

Kate reeled backward and fell hard against a large boulder, one sharp edge barely missing the back of her head. Red, searing pain flared across her shoulder and then sent a numbing tingle down her arm, to her fingertips. She gasped back the breath that was knocked out of her and pushed herself to her feet to face two men, their dark hair plastered to their satisfied faces. She clawed the rain from her eyes, trying to gain some control over her trembling fingers. The whitecaps behind her pitched and crashed hard against the rocks that lined the shore. Above her, the vast heavens deepened to charcoal gray and the rolling roar of thunder resonated through her bones.

“She’s a bonny wench, Clyde. Are ye certain she’s a MacGregor?” the first one said, sweeping his eyes over the length of her body. So lewd was his gaze, Kate almost looked away. These two would not kill her right away.

“Aye, she comes from the path to Camlochlin,” Clyde sneered. “I dinna know if m’ stomach can stand ruttin’ a MacGregor.”

Kate’s fear faded into rage. She tossed each man a glare that would have made Callum proud, had he been there to see it. “Touch me and I’ll rake your eyes out and toss them into the sea, you filthy son of a—”

Clyde took a step forward and cracked her hard across the mouth. She fell backward again, landing on her backside against the rock. “I see we’re goin’ to have to beat some courtesy into ye before we sell ye.”

“What think ye we’ll get fer her? She’s bonny, she is.” The other stared at the blood dripping over her bottom lip and licked his own mouth.

“No’ much, Ewan. The barons dinna pay much fer MacGregor women, and even less if she be wi’ child.”

“Mayhap she’s a MacLeod. Should we no’ be certain first?”

Kate listened on in horror. They spoke of her as if she was naught more than a cesspit rat. This was what it meant to be a MacGregor. No honor, no dignity. No place was safe, not even here in Callum’s own kingdom. Her life was worth nothing simply because they believed her name to be MacGregor.

“Ye’ll tell me who yer laird is before I have m’ way with ye, wench.” Clyde grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her forward.

How difficult would it be to tell them who her uncle was? To simply deny a name?

It wasn’t difficult at all.

It was impossible.

She was not a MacGregor, but it did not matter to her. Here was the noble fight of heroes. Would she cower to Callum’s enemies by denouncing everything he fought to keep alive?

“Will I be defilin’ m’ body by touchin’ ye?” Clyde demanded.