“I hope I didn’t spoil your merriment for the eve.” Kate offered him a cheeky smile that said the opposite, then glanced up at the buxom blonde laying a trencher of steaming mutton stew before her. When the wench threw herself into Graham’s lap and not Callum’s, Kate didn’t know whether to feel relieved or angry with herself for being possessive of him. That’s why she’d defied him and came down here, wasn’t it? She hated the thought of him enjoying his evening with a pretty wench. But it was clear Callum MacGregor did not allow himself much merriment.
“Just eat and dinna concern yerself with me.” Callum tore at his bread and shoved it into his mouth, seeming to forget about her.
“Very well.” Kate fought the urge to fling her trencher at him. She may have been wrong about him wanting a wench with his supper, but he was a callous bastard nonetheless. She decided not to spare him another thought. Heavens, she was starving! She lowered her head to inhale the delicious aromas of her supper. When a loud belch exploded through Angus’s lips, she lifted her thick lashes from her food.
“What a perfect tribute to so fine a meal, Angus.”
The burly brute roared with laughter, but it was the sound of Kate’s mirth that made Callum lift his gaze to her once again. He stared at the slender curve of her jaw, the soft crinkle of her nose when she laughed. He felt entranced by the way her eyes danced. For a moment, he relished the sound of her joy. She made him think of hope. She made him want things he never thought about wanting before. It had taken him years to build Camlochlin. ’Twas his fortress, his sanctuary, second in his heart only to his name. ’Twas all he had and all he ever wanted, hoping for nothing more because he’d probably be dead in a few years. And he did not mind dying, so long as it was on his terms and not the Campbells’, and with bravery in battle. He had never considered having a family, though he would like to have sons to carry on the MacGregor name. He had never hoped to listen to the music of a woman’s tinkling laughter echoing off the steep mountain walls, satisfied in knowing ’twas he who gave her joy. He would not hope for it now.
“To Brodie.” Angus raised his tankard, breaking Callum’s thoughts, “May the bairn his lovely wife Netta carries fer him look like its mother and not Graham.”
Graham tossed Brodie a smug wink, which Brodie answered by punching him in the arm. Soon the merriment around them grew. The men swore oaths that would have made any other woman at the table blush and rebuke them. But, damn her, she continued to laugh, addling Callum’s brain thoroughly. Callum did not join in the song, nor in the raucous laughter that followed. He was, for the time being, content to sit and study Kate—when she wasn’t looking at him.
He watched her so closely he did not notice the man approaching their table from behind her. No one noticed him until he slammed a coin down directly in front of her. Laughter stopped abruptly, and every eye rose to meet those of the stranger, including Callum’s.
“Ye have had her long enough,” the knave announced to Callum. “And ye’ve done naught but gape at her like a fresh-faced whelp. Now I want her.”
The only sign of Callum’s fury was the slight clenching of his jaw. No other muscle moved. “Take yer coin and leave before ’tis too late to do so.” His voice was nothing more than a low growl. Kate found herself unable to take her eyes off him.
“Tonight I’ll have a MacGregor bitch in my bed,” the man behind her mocked.
Everything happened so quickly in the instant that followed, Kate had no time to react. The stranger’s hand clamped on her sore shoulder, making her cry out as he hauled her to her feet. Callum stood up simultaneously, seeming to defy time as he drew his massive sword. He whirled it over his head and brought it down with such force it smashed into splinters the thick wooden table that separated him from the stranger, sending food and drinks crashing to the floor. Callum leaped over the cleaved wood and held the point of his blade against the man’s throat. His calm expression had dissolved into a storm of black rage.
“Think well aboot yer next breath. It’ll be yer last.”
Silence descended upon the tavern, every eye pinned to the man still gripping Kate. Every eye, that is, but Kate’s. Try as she might, she could not tear her gaze away from Callum MacGregor. He seemed to have grown five more inches in height. The breadth of his shoulders cast dark shadows over her and her would-be attacker. As she gazed up at him, her breath went still by the power and steady strength of his arm, the promise of destruction in his piercing glare. She knew why this man had never been caught.
“Ease yer sword, MacGregor. Ease yer sword.” The stranger released Kate and took a step back. He was three shades paler than when he first arrived at the table. His Adam’s apple danced, swallowing an audible gulp the moment his throat was clear of Callum’s blade. Brodie crunched into a juicy pear. The sound propelled the man to turn and run. Before Callum could sheathe his weapon, the stranger was gone.
Kate blinked. A hand clasped her wrist tightly. It took a moment for her to realize it was Callum who held her, and when she did, she opened her mouth to speak.
“Bid good eve to my men,” he ordered, cutting her off. Then, before she could do as he commanded, he dragged her toward the stairs.
“Let me go!” She tried to pull her hand away from him, but she didn’t even slow his pace.
“That’s twice I saved yer life.” Callum said tightly without turning to face her. “Dinna give me yer cheek.”
When he reached the room, he shoved the door open and fair flung her inside, then slammed the door shut behind them.
Kate rounded on him, her eyes sparked with fury. “You will tell me what I’ve done to cause your wrath against me! And do not tell me it’s because I’m a Campbell. I did nothing to you!”
Callum stared at her when she shouted at him. A battle played across his features. He didn’t know whether he wanted to throttle her or drag her into his arms, grateful that he was here tonight to save her. Anger lit his eyes like lightning and his jaw clenched with fury, but when he opened his mouth to tell her, he found that he had no words. He turned and stormed toward the window. When he reached it, he whirled on his heel again and raked his gaze boldly over her.
Kate went still. He was touching her. The longing in his eyes shocked her and made her tremble. Never in her life had she felt such a maze of emotions. She was angry with him, and she wanted to run into his arms so badly her legs almost ached with the need. She knew he would not turn her away again. For while his expression was hard, his eyes gleamed with warmth and the promise of complete possession. He wanted her. A flame ignited somewhere in her belly at the thought. God help her, but he was so terribly handsome standing there heaving like a dark dragon on the verge of plundering a village.
“Callum.” She whispered his name, breaking the silence that seemed to stretch on endlessly. “I don’t want to be your enemy anymore. I . . .”
If her plea softened him at all, he made no show of it. His expression was no more forgiving than it had been a moment before. “D’ye no’ understand that my clan has been proscribed?”
“I thought we were safe here,” she tried to explain, but her words faded when he took a step closer to her.
“We? Yer no’ a MacGregor. Ye dinna know what it means to be one, or the dangers of being a friend to one.”
“Aye, I do,” she assured him, understanding now why he’d demanded she stay in the room. He had tried to protect her. “No one may aid you—”
“Upon death or branding!” Callum’s voice erupted into a roar.
Kate turned away. She had to. He was telling her that they could not even be friends, and just looking at him made her want more than that. God, protect her neck from the gallows, she wanted so much more.
