Highlander's Heart Read online

  “Nay, still dirty.” Campbell pushed her under again. This process repeated several times until she was breathless and sputtering. She coughed a bit and pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. Campbell was inspecting his linen shirt and stripped it off with disgust. He dunked the shirt into the tub and started to scrub off the muck.

  Later, she would decide the appropriate response would have been to chastise him for washing his dirty laundry in her bathwater. In the moment, however, all she could do was stare across the steamy tub at his naked chest. She watched with fascination how his muscles moved, smooth as silk, under his skin. She struggled against the desire to put her hand against his muscular chest.

  He slowly raised his head and gazed at her, his eyes dark in the dimly lit room. “Are ye always this much trouble?”

  Isabelle shook her head in denial, then shrugged her shoulders. “Only with you.”

  ***

  Campbell regarded Isabelle from across the tub, trying to understand her actions. Her eyes were large and black in the dim light. With her black hair slicked back, he noticed a small scar along her hairline he had never seen before. There was much of her in view that he had never seen before. Her white chemise clung to her breasts with transparent protection.

  Campbell gave himself a mental shake and walked around the tub to the back wall to hang his sopping shirt on a peg to dry. Water droplets splattered on the stone floor, the only sound in the warm, damp room.

  He tried to understand Isabelle’s actions with little success. Why would she endanger herself in a barrel of all things? She was not being mistreated. Campbell would see her safely returned to her husband. The thought of the man chilled Campbell. Why had she not been honest with him about being married? Why was she so determined to escape she would risk her life? It was none of his concern, but he could not abide the thought that a lady under his protection was risking her life to escape him.

  Campbell reviewed his last interaction with her with some displeasure. He prided himself on his ability to keep a cool head, but with Isabelle he had lost his temper. His reaction to her had surprised him. Perhaps his harsh words had frightened her. He sighed, but he knew he must make amends.

  He eased slowly back to the side of the wooden tub next to her. She busied herself with a cake of soap and did not turn around. Despite his chivalrous intentions, he took a good look down her cleavage. His fingers itched to touch her again. She was a passionate woman, one whom he greatly desired to have in his bed, yet the revelation of who she was made that impossible. The realization she was married had hit him hard. She had never been his to lose, so it should not hurt. But it did. He cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling.

  “Ye are under my protection, Lady Tynsdale… Isabelle.” Somehow the formality did not quite fit the situation. “Ye dinna need to fear me or try to escape. I swear no harm will come to ye.”

  She stopped scrubbing her arm and turned toward him, her large dark eyes meeting his. “Thank you. I know you have saved me more than once,” she said softly.

  “Well, as much as I’d like to take credit today, I did naught but save ye from yer own stench.”

  “As I said.” She gave him a wry, half smile.

  He smiled back and leaned closer, resting his arms on the side of the tub. A small voice in his head told him it was time to leave the lady to her bath. He told the voice to shut up.

  “Ye have naught to fear from me.” Campbell spoke in a low, soft voice. “Ye can stop trying to escape and enjoy yer visit. Yer husband will be along soon enough to collect ye, and this will all be but a memory.”

  Though she did not move, Isabelle went stiff and tense, as if the soft version of her had been replaced by a stone one. She stared across the black water with vacant eyes.

  “Isabelle,” he whispered.

  Her wide eyes, filled with fear, met his. Where had she gone? What was she thinking? She rubbed the scar along her temple like it pained her. He put his arm around her. It was a fluid, instinctive movement, natural and right. And oh, so wrong.

  She sighed, resting a wet cheek against his bare arm. He said nothing, afraid that if he spoke, the spell would be broken, and she would turn to stone once more.

  He fought against his growing concern for her. Honestly, whatever her troubles they were not his. Her husband would see to her. And yet… she was quite determined not to return to her husband. Campbell had assumed she was fleeing to some romantic tryst with another man, but what if he was wrong. What if her husband was mistreating her? He exhaled a long breath. Too many sisters had made him weak. He could not stand any female in his care to be frightened.

  “Isabelle, what is troubling ye?”

  Isabelle turned to face him, searching his face for what, he did not know. He leaned closer, drawn by her full red lips. Those lips needed to be kissed. She tilted her head up. He needed her… now.

  He brushed his lips across hers, teasing himself with forbidden fruit. He waited for her to pull back, to voice a protest. Instead, she placed one hand on his chest and reached the other around the back of his neck, warm and wet, drawing him closer. Alarm bells rang in his head, and lightning shot up his spine. He bent down and kissed her softly on the lips. She pressed closer to him and he deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth with his.

  Isabelle made a small sound and pulled back, her mouth open, her eyes wide. He waited for the inevitable slap across the face, but contrary to expectation, she cupped his face with both hands and returned his kiss. His heart pounded against his rib cage with such force he wondered if she could hear it. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up and pressing her tight against him. He thrilled in the sensation of her wet chest against his, and silently cursed the hard, wooden barrier that remained between them.

  She felt wonderful in his arms, like she belonged there. He kissed her lips again and continued down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses. She arched back and he kissed the hollow of her throat. Desire pounded through him, taking control. Tugging at the wet fabric, Campbell pulled at her chemise, even as he pressed her closer. He must have her.

  He slid his hand down her chemise, and cupped her ample breasts. She moaned and clung to him, trailing a hand down the back of his neck, sending happy shivers down his spine. Desire coursed through him, growing with every beat of his heart. It was wrong, but he would have her.

  “I want ye,” he rasped, inarticulate but direct.

  If anything, Isabelle grasped him tighter.

  “Laird Campbell!” The door banged open with a crash, spilling light into the chamber. Campbell dropped Isabelle and jumped back. Isabelle fell into the tub with a splash.

  “Your sister’s guard was set upon by robbers,” said a page, too excited to notice the goings-on of the tub. “Some have returned, but Cait is no’ here. She’s been taken!”

  Seventeen

  Cait turned herself into the model of a lady-in-waiting. Never had she had more fun.

  “Nay, no’ cabbage. Pray dinna bring m’lady cabbage. It makes her bilious.” Cait did not care for cabbage. She had no idea whether Alys liked it or not. “M’lady needs wine. Good wine, mind ye. And fresh bread and roast pork.” She gave Archie McNab and his younger brother a commanding look.

  “But we dinna have any pork. Would yer lady care for fish? We have fresh salmon from the loch,” said Laird McNab. He bent forward, rubbing his hands together in a pleading manner.

  “Nay, m’lady only eats fish on Fridays. ’Tis Wednesday. She only eats pork on Wednesdays.”

  “What does she eat on the morrow? Gold leaf cake?” Morrigan stood in the shadows, leaning one shoulder against the wall of the dark passageway.

  “Wheesht, Morrigan,” hushed McNab, and turned back to Andrew. “Appears we will be hunting boar today.”

  “Happy poaching,” said Cait brightly, and shut the door on the face of Archie and Andrew McNab. She smiled to h
erself and opened the door once more. “Dinna forget the wine and bread before ye leave.”

  The sister made an audible sound of disgust. Cait could not see her face in the shadows, but she swore she could hear Morrigan’s eyes roll.

  “Ye shoud’na treat them so harsh,” said Alys when the door was safely shut once more.

  Cait looked around the room with satisfaction. It had been not much to start with other than clean and functional. Through her demands they now had a roaring fire, bearskins on the floor, and heavy, brocade curtains for the bed. Cait smiled. Every time she wanted something she created a new ailment for “m’lady,” and watched the McNab household jump to fulfill her every whim.

  “I dinna care if they wear themselves to the bone, it serves them right for kidnapping us. Maybe if we’re really a pain they’ll just send us back.”

  “Or maybe they’ll bury us in the dungeon. Honestly, Cait, I do wish ye’d curb yer tongue before ye get us into worse trouble.”

  “Nonsense, they woud’na dare. David will come for us and he will expect to find us in good condition. Even these daft sons of knaves understand that.”

  Cait sat on a bench by the fire and twisted a golden lock of hair around her finger. “All we have to do now is keep them busy until my brother comes for us.”

  ***

  Campbell armored up and called for his soldiers to follow. He was out of the castle gates and back on the road before the sun had moved far in the sky. He rode hard, following his guards to the scene of the incident. He was going to find this whore’s son who dared to touch his sister and tear him limb from limb. And then he was going to do something truly wicked to the bastard who interrupted his tryst with Isabelle.

  Campbell blinked at the turn his thoughts had taken. Isabelle… Lady Tynsdale was not his. She was another man’s wife. An Englishman at that. He should not have allowed things to get out of hand in the bath. He should never have kissed her… again. Yet she had not pulled away and seemed more than willing, yet woefully inexperienced. Perhaps her English husband had not kissed her as he should. Stupid English sod.

  Isabelle’s actions confused him greatly. She appeared to fear her husband. Was that Sassenach cruel to her? Campbell shook his head. It was none of his concern. Even if she was being treated poorly in marriage, that was something for her kin to deal with, not him. Just as Cait’s abduction was for him to deal with. He focused his thoughts back to the situation at hand; but somewhere back in the corner of his mind, he hoped that Isabelle had kin who would protect her, and he wondered what she would do if she had not.

  ***

  Andrew and Archie returned from the hunt the next day tired, hot, and successful. The wild boar would be a boon to more than just their finicky ladies, and Andrew hoped it would bring some happiness to the clan. Archie certainly needed something to help dispel his gloomy disposition.

  They entered their walls to the cheering of their hungry people. It was good to finally have some success. They dismounted and headed to the tower to give the good news to their captives.

  “Andrew, I need ye to get rid o’ that moat dragon of a lady’s maid for me,” said Archie. They paused at the bottom of the stone staircase that led to the quarters now occupied by Lady Cait Campbell.

  “Alys?” asked Andrew.

  “Aye, wi’ her in the way I’ll ne’er be able to woo Lady Cait. I must get Cait to agree to this marriage… and agree never to tell her brother it was me who kidnapped her.”

  “What are ye asking o’ me?” His brother took a step away from him and shook his head. “I’ll no’ be raising my hand against a lass.”

  “Nay, I dinna mean for ye to harm her. Cait might take offense, and if I wanted it done that way I’d ask Morrigan. Nay, I only want ye to take her off somewhere. Take her for a ride, show her the loch, have a roll in the hay, I dinna care, just get her away from my Cait.”

  Archie stalked away with long strides. Archie had always been tall, but lately his shoulders had started to stoop, as if he struggled under the weight he carried. Ever since he brought home the Campbell ladies, Archie appeared haunted… even more than usual.

  Andrew leaned against the cold stones of the dark staircase. He wished his brother had not brought these two here. It could only bring trouble. He started to walk away. Why should he get involved? Let Archie deal with his own bad decisions. Andrew stopped before he got too far. Whatever bad fortune Archie brought on himself would be shared with the whole clan. Besides, if he did not get Alys away from Cait, Archie might resort to more desperate measures. The thought of what Morrigan might do to her turned Andrew around, and had him hopping up the circular stairs two at a time.

  “Good day, ladies, I bring good tidings.” Andrew rapped on their door.

  The door flew open and Alys stepped out, half-shutting it behind her. “Wheesht, ye fool! M’lady is taking her afternoon rest. Dinna disturb her.”

  “My apologies. Will she be resting long?”

  “She sleeps for at least three hours, for her constitution is verra weak, ye ken.”

  “Och, well in that case,” Andrew reached behind her and pulled the door shut. “Ye have some time to inspect the beast we brought.”

  “Ye wish me to examine a carcass? Certainly not!”

  “Ye may wish to take a tour of the castle.”

  “Ye have naught here I care to see,” said the lady’s maid, haughty as a queen.

  “We’ll take the horses then and ride to the loch. Verra nice vantage.” Andrew was slowly ticking off Archie’s suggestions, praying that one of them would tempt Alys from her lady. He hoped she would agree to a ride, because he doubted Alys would care for a roll in the hay. Though the idea was not without merit.

  Alys was nicely formed, even if she was a sharp-tongued creature. She had bright blue eyes and blond hair she wore with two small braids on either side of her face, wrapped around to the nape of her neck where the two braids met. The rest of her long, straight hair was loose. It would look pretty flowing behind her when she rode. He smiled in spite of himself. Alys hesitated, and Andrew knew he had hit upon something she wanted.

  “I canna leave. M’lady may need me.” Alys sounded less confident than before.

  “Ye just said she would sleep for three hours.”

  “Aye, but…”

  “Ye must be tired o’ that same old room, the same old air. Think how nice a ride would be. Lady Cait would ne’er ken ye’re gone.”

  Alys looked up at him, an unbridled look of desire in her eyes. Andrew gulped and something inside him stirred. If she was ever to desire him like that he would march her to the stables without thinking twice.

  “Aye then, let’s do it.”

  Andrew bowed and offered her his arm, proud of his accomplishment. He hoped Archie could pull off a miracle in the time he would give him. It would take that to be sure. At least with pretty Alys on his arm, Andrew was sure he would enjoy the afternoon.

  ***

  Cait filled her lungs with fresh air, filled with the scent of heather, and urged her mount faster. She was having a glorious time, and was having difficulty feeling guilty about it. She knew she shouldn’t have left her maid, whom McNab believed to be her, but the offer his brother made was far too tempting. She was tired of staying in that room all day and night and the ride was exhilarating.

  Andrew McNab rode beside her, easily matching her stride and comfortable in his saddle.

  “Let’s stop here.” He slowed and stopped his mount and Cait did the same. He dismounted and helped her from her mount. Cait was conscious of his hands on her waist.

  “Follow me,” he said, with an easy smile and led her up a small rise. Cait followed, thinking that it would be easier if the bad guys were ugly, pockmarked bruisers, not young, tall, and rather braw.

  Cait reached the top of the rise and caught her breath. Below her lay Loch Voil, b
athed golden in the light of the sun. The green valley stretched before them, the heather flowing like waves in the playful wind.

  “’Tis lovely here,” Cait murmured.

  “Aye, I’ve always liked coming here,” said Andrew.

  “Thank ye for bringing me.” Cait reveled in the view, until she remembered this man was her captor, not her escort. “’Tis too bad ye have such a brother.”

  Andrew shrugged. “He may do things I woud’na dream o’ doing, but I canna judge him for it. Archie became laird after our father died many years ago when I was only a lad. ’Tis no’ been easy for him. Yet he still found a way to send me to the university in Edinburgh, even though he’s ne’er been himself.”

  “If he’s so kindly why did he attack my guards and kidnap us?”

  “I dinna say he was always bright,” said Andrew with another one of his half smiles Cait was beginning to find distracting. “I just said he is no’ wholly bad. Often he is trying to do something good.”

  “Och, what good can come from abducting us?”

  “Yer ransom could feed our clan.”

  “’Tis more likely he’ll end up at the end o’ my brother’s sword.”

  “Yer brother?”

  “My, uh, my…” Cait mentally berated herself for forgetting to be Alys. “My brother is a Campbell warrior.”

  Andrew nodded and looked out over the sparkling water. “Sometimes I dinna think Archie cares whether he lives or dies.”

  Cait struggled with mixed emotions toward this man. Andrew was not as tall or lanky as his brother, but was still of goodly stature. His brown hair was cut short and his features were pleasant to look upon. He wore the costume of a Highlander, his plaid belted around his waist to form a kilt and then gathered and thrown over his shoulder, pinned with an iron broach at the shoulder. It was similar to the garb worn by her brothers and all the men in her clan. He turned to her, and she noted that his eyes were hazel, his lips were full and rosy. He smiled and Cait grew warm inside. Without meaning to, she smiled in return.