Kate almost laughed. “Your brother would never pick flowers.”
“That’s what he said, but then he said tulips. I think he fancies ye. So will ye speak to him?”
“Aye.” Kate nodded, rising from her chair. Tulips? Whatever made him choose that particular flower? She touched her fingers to her mouth. And why would Maggie think he fancied her? He had kissed her, aye. He had even wanted to bed her. But it was lust—he had all but told her so. He could never bring himself to care for a Campbell. Could he?
“Kate?”
“Aye?”
“What are ye waiting for?”
“I don’t think this is a good time,” Kate whispered out of the corner of her mouth to Maggie as they headed down the stairs.
“Why not? You look verra bonny in yer earasaid.”
“Look.” Kate pointed to the faces staring up at her from the bottom landing. There were only one or two at first but, emboldened by the rest, more of Camlochlin’s inhabitants gathered at the foot of the stairs until Kate and Maggie faced a small crowd of mumbling Highlanders. Kate paled, noticing that each face bore the same expression of hardened contempt for her.
“Where is Callum?” Maggie demanded, recognizing the anger, as well.
One man stepped forward from the crowd. He wore a heavy woolen tunic beneath his plaid. His legs were bare, his boots dusty and tattered. “Why d’ye stand beside a wretched Campbell as if she were yer friend, Maggie? Send her back from whence she came.”
Maggie stepped around Kate’s shocked face and wagged her finger at the man. “Iain, ye’ll not speak of her that way. She is my friend, Campbell or nae. And Callum’s, as well.”
“Our laird would ne’er befriend our enemy,” someone shouted.
“Aye, he had to rob her to force her uncle to face his fate.”
“Toss her oot on her arse!”
Kate took a step back as the crowd grew larger. Many of them were shouting now, demanding that she leave Camlochlin and ignoring Maggie’s small fist when she shook it at them. Someone took a step forward, and Kate backed further away until her heels bumped the stairs. Then she heard the shout of a loud, resonating voice, and every head in the hall turned in the direction from which it came.
Graham stood in the doorway leading to the great hall, arms at his sides, ready to draw his sword. Beside him, Angus appeared bigger and more menacing than ever. Brodie was there also and slid his dagger across a small whetting stone clenched in his fist. Jamie stood at his side, his usual innocent expression exchanged for one far more threatening.
“What in blazes is going on here?” Graham demanded. “Did I hear ye all right? This fair lady is not welcome in our home?” The crowd was silent for a moment, and then someone muttered the name Campbell and the rest began to nod.
“We dinna care what her name is,” Jamie warned in a low growl. “Callum’s orders are that nae harm be brought to her. Now step back.”
Maggie tugged at Kate’s sleeve. “Jamie’s verra braw, nae?” She let out a little sigh and then went back to glaring at the crowd.
“The MacGregor’s taken leave of his senses to bring a Campbell here,” another thick Highland voice called out, and the others agreed until their voices rose again. Brodie and Jamie hurried to Kate’s side while Graham unsheathed his sword, prepared to fight.
He did not have to. Dead silence fell upon Camlochlin after the doors behind the angry crowd slammed shut. Slowly, the sea of heads turned toward the entrance. The only sound to be heard was that of Brodie’s muttered oath at the sight of his laird.
Callum paused at the doors for just a moment, taking in the scene before him. ’Twas clear by the expressions on Brodie and Jamie’s faces, and by Graham’s unsheathed blade, what was going on. When he took a step forward, the crowd moved backward like a great waning wave. His eyes, so piercing and deadly, slid to Kate. “Are ye well?”
She nodded, unable to do more. He spoke quietly, but he looked more dangerous than he had the night at the inn when he cleaved a table in two. He moved slowly, his hands at his sides. Every face found by his wintry gaze paled before turning away. He circled the crowd until he came to stand before Kate. When he took her hand in his, his frown deepened at her trembling.
“My senses”—he raked a lethal glare over each face until he found who he was looking for—“left me long ago, Alasdair. And while I’m more inclined to kill Campbells, I’m no’ entirely opposed to killin’ MacGregors if the need arises.” His burr was thick with suppressed fury, and if Kate was not so terrified for them all, she would have sighed at the sound of him, the safety she felt being with him.
“I’ve kept ye all protected here. But I warn ye if one of ye speaks unkindly to her, ye’ll leave Camlochlin. One way or another.” He turned to face her, and Kate was sure he hadn’t meant to let his eyes drift over her features so tenderly. They were supposed to be enemies, and after meeting Maggie and hearing of their life in her grandfather’s dungeon, Kate understood why Callum would never give her his heart. But here he was protecting her from his own clan. Did he do so because she was more valuable to him alive, or for another reason entirely?
The crowd dispersed with one final and far less dangerous glare bestowed on them by their laird. Brodie sauntered away, digging his sharpened blade into a pear as he went. Angus and Graham left the castle to practice their swordplay, the larger of the two throwing his head back to laugh when Graham threatened to whack him all the way to England.
Maggie tugged on Kate’s earasaid and whispered in her ear when Kate bent to her, and then announced that she was going for a walk. Her brother motioned to Jamie to go with her, a command the young warrior was only too eager to obey.
“Ye look verra bonny, this morn,” Kate heard Jamie tell Maggie while he strode out the door behind her.
When they were alone, Callum’s gaze drifted over Kate from foot to crown. “Ye look fine, as well.” He lifted his fingers to the shiny curls draping her shoulders. “And yer hair.” He paused to frown and dropped his gaze to the floor as if fighting some deep emotion. Kate rejoiced when he lost that battle and returned his gaze to her tresses. “Yer hair is pleasin’ to look at,” he finished quickly.
