WHEN KATE AWOKE the next morn, she was still alone in the room. Her pulse quickened when she sat up in her bed and stared at the empty place before the hearth. Callum hadn’t returned. Was he gone? Would he have left her alone here? Had he taken Graham and the others and gone to his holding without her? She looked around the small room while her heart pounded madly in her chest. She knew he did not want her company, but would he just abandon her here in this . . . this . . . brothel? She whipped the blanket off her body and sprang from the bed. Cold rushes pricked her toes when she ran across the floor and threw open the shutters on the window.
Sunshine exploded in her eyes and spilled over her face and down her hair. She heard the shouts of men directly below and leaned out the small window to get a better view. When she saw Callum and his men, relief filled her. Brodie and Angus packed food into their leather saddlebags while Jamie surveyed a nearby patch of purple thistle.
She couldn’t help but admire Callum while he bent to saddle his mount. Damnation, the more she looked at him, the more handsome he became. Two strands of his dark hair were fastened at the back of his head, while the rest fell over his plaid. He was a tumultuous, rebellious warrior, she decided, gazing at him, and though she was the object of his contempt, she couldn’t help but admire his resolve to keep his name alive. Surely even Robert would see the honor in his fight. When he turned and looked up at her window, she waved at him.
“D’ye plan on sleepin’ all day?” he called up to her with a fierce frown Kate was growing quite accustomed to.
She’d decided to ignore what happened between them the evening before. He didn’t take her, so no harm was done. It was better if they both put it out of their minds.
Without saying a word, she disappeared from the window, combed her fingers through her hair, and snatched her shawl from where it hung over a chair. Within seconds of peeking out the window, she dashed down the stairs and out the door.
“Good morn,” she greeted, tilting her face up to Callum’s when she reached him, and then blushing to her roots. So much for putting their last encounter out of her mind.
A breeze blew a strand of dark hair across his face. The lock swept across his unshaven jaw and he did nothing to remove it, which only made Kate ache to do it herself. He stared down at her for a moment, long enough to make her insides melt. He possessed the confidence to conquer, the intoxicating power to thoroughly seduce her, and the strength to resist doing either.
“I purchased a horse fer ye. Can ye ride?” he asked.
“Aye.” Kate’s smile deepened, already seduced by his coarse charm and the full suppleness of his lips. “But I tell you, I will not get a wink of sleep.”
She flashed her dark eyes at him and spun on her heel before he could reply, which would have been nothing more than a grunt by the look on his face.
Callum stood by his mount and watched the gentle sway of her hips as she made her way toward Jamie and her new mount. A moment later he swore under his breath and chased after her.
“’Tis already saddled,” he said, coming up behind her. “I did it while ye slept.”
“Ah, my thanks.” Kate turned and graced him with yet another tender smile. “’Tis a fine horse, too.” She lifted her hands to the saddle horn to mount but felt strong hands span her waist and lift her up. Her heart lurched at the gentleness of his touch.
Once seated, she stared down into his face. Something had changed in his expression. He was looking at her with such raw yearning she bit her lip and almost made it bleed. Seconds passed, and he did not turn away from her. His eyes revealed thoughts he wanted to utter, ways he wanted to touch her, not cruelly, but curiously, tenderly. Could she have been wrong about why he stopped last eve?
“Last eve was . . .” He ground his jaw then began again. “I was no’ thinkin’ clearly.”
Kate blinked, then forced her smile to remain. “Of course, nor was I.”
And then, as suddenly as his emotions appeared on his face, they vanished once again and he strode away from her.
Beside them, Jamie watched with astonishment, and then a knowing smile crept over his face.
Graham finally moseyed out of the inn a few moments later with yet another wench attached to his arm. He bid the lass farewell and joined Callum, ignoring the lethal glare his friend tossed him because he was tardy.
The troop traveled for the rest of the day with merry song echoing across the glens and lochs. The mood among the men was light on their way back to their beloved home, and Kate could not help but revel in their cheer. The land grew more beautiful with each league they traveled. The air was fragranced with heather and linseed. But the view that held Kate enthralled was that of her rescuer’s broad back a few feet ahead of her. It seemed that after every fifth breath, Callum turned to look at her as if to reassure himself that she still rode with his band. She thought about riding at his elbow to save him the trouble but decided she rather liked the fact that he was concerned she would run off.
Graham took up his pace beside Kate’s mount and explained to her how some MacGregors came to live on the Isle of Mist.
“We found a more peaceful life in Skye. Even the Campbells do not bother to travel so far to hunt us. After Callum escaped yer grandfather’s prison, he fled to the isle and was welcomed by the MacLeods, and even the MacKinnons and MacDonalds. Many of them helped him build Camlochlin. When we heard where he was, some of us left our homes and came to live with him and fight by his side.”
Kate brushed a strand of her hair out of her eyes and narrowed her gaze on Callum’s back. “Think you he will ever stop killing Campbells?”
“He already has, lass.” When she turned to him he slanted his gaze to her and winked. “’Tis a start, aye?”
The next morning, they traveled onward to Glenelg, toward the Isle of Skye, crossing the narrows by boat. The captain, Seamus MacRae, was a slim man of medium height and with dark hair as long as Kate’s, his bound at the nape. His laughter was quick and robust. Of course, that could be attributed to the three swigs of whiskey he’d consumed at the start of their journey.
“Ye brought a wife back wi’ this time, eh, MacGregor?” the captain hollered over his shoulder to where Callum stood resting against the bowsprit, sharing a word with Graham. “She’ll give ye bonny bairns.” He lifted his boot to a crate and leaned on his bent knee to study Kate more closely. “Aye, bonny indeed.”
Kate’s eyes darted to Callum when he straightened and began walking toward them. Och, how she wished their names were different. A touch of flame stole across her cheeks at the notion of being wed to so fine a man. She knew in that moment that should he look into her eyes he would see the quickening of her heart. Her vision took in every splendid detail of him, from his dusty calves to the flare of his shoulders. Not a devil, but a man in whose arms she had found warmth and protection. A man whose kisses made her forget who he was, whose smile was more glorious than Lucifer’s, and rarer, as well.
“She’s no’ my wife, MacRae,” Callum announced upon reaching them. “I took her from her home against her will, and I bear the evidence of her capture upon my thigh.” He pulled the edge of his plaid over his knee to expose his wound. He nodded his head in agreement when the captain grew pale and gaped at her. “She’s a hell-witch, and were I you”—his gaze darkened with warning—“I wouldna stare at her so boldly.”
“As ye say.” Seamus took a step back, still unable to believe that a mere lass had inflicted injury to the mighty MacGregor chieftain. “I have some rope in m’ quarters should ye need it.”
