She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of him and burped instead.
In his chair, Brodie leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and smiled.
“Which one of ye gave her the brew?” Callum demanded, suspecting Angus.
“Graham did,” Kate told him. “And though he is a very sweet man, I shall never forgive him for tying my brother to a gate.”
“Ye should be thankin’ him, lass,” Angus said before downing the contents of his flagon. “’Twas Graham who convinced Callum to spare the lad’s life.”
Callum shot Angus a murderous glare, which Angus answered by stepping behind Brodie’s chair.
Kate blinked up at the commander and then took a step toward him. Graham moved back, unsure if she meant to hug him or rake out his eyes. She swayed on her feet for a moment, then turned her green-tinted face to Callum. “I feel ill.”
Callum watched her pass out in Graham’s arms, then sent his friend a scorching look before he snatched her from him and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Send Aileen back to Maggie’s room,” he commanded. “And if ye ever feed Gillis’s brew to her again, I’ll remove the teeth from yer head.” He narrowed his eyes on the other two before he left. “Ye’ll watch what ye say in front of her, or I’ll take ye both to the fields and thrash yer godforsaken hides.”
When he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, Brodie looked up at Angus and then both men roared with laughter. “Our laird is turnin’ soft!”
“Aye.” Graham felt his mouth hook into a smile while he stared at the door. “Finally.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
KATE SLEPT SOUNDLY nestled beneath the warm furs on Callum’s bed while he watched her well into the night. At first he paced before the bed, torn between his body aching for her and his heart aching to send her away. Dear Christ, she loved him. Was she daft? Didn’t she understand that it was a death sentence for her? God’s blood, it was his fault. He knew she didn’t hate him. He had done nothing to stop her tender smiles. He let her think him a hero of sorts. He’d kissed her and more, knowing . . . He should have done all to protect her, for he was the gravest danger to her well-being. He’d even brought her to his bed! God, he wanted her there. He could not even think properly around her. And now, in her innocence, she had fallen in love with him. He might as well have killed her.
After the first hour of pacing like an anguished lion, he finally sat in the corner in a chair hidden by shadows. Flames from the hearth lit Kate’s sleeping face and he watched her while another hour passed away. He already knew every contour of her features, every bonny curve that shaped her. He longed to know more of her. But the cost was too great. She had fallen into his arms, pierced by an arrow meant for him. How was he to know at the time that she would wreak such havoc on his heart? He was so sure of his defenses he hadn’t bothered to guard them. And in so doing, he allowed her entrance into his hell. He had dragged her to his fortress and scribed the word death onto her forehead.
He clenched his teeth, his fists. He tossed his head back, needing to curse the heavens. He had hauled Maggie through the gates of damnation to save her. From what? He had become the very demons he sought to kill. And now he did the same thing to Kate. Death to MacGregor sympathizers. ’Twas the motto of the realm. God, nae. He knew he had no right to ask the Almighty for anything. But please, just this one thing. “Please,” he whispered. “Strengthen me.”
He stood up, determined to do what he must. She was forced. Taken against her will. Aye, ’twas all she had to tell them. He had not taken her. She remained unblemished. There was only sympathy. And sympathy was easy to destroy.
He walked to the edge of the bed and squatted, bringing his face close to hers. She was his redemption for sins he thought too foul to be forgiven. But he could not accept her gracious gift without putting her in mortal peril. His hatred ran deep, with no room for love. He would make her believe it. He would do it in order to save her life.
“I’ll no’ love ye, Kate Campbell. No’ ever.” He rose to his feet, vowing to himself that she would never know what a tortured liar he was.
Kate dragged her eyelids open and then slammed them shut again at the ray of sunshine blaring like a herald’s trumpet through the window. Lifting her hand to her head, she released a groan that sounded to her poor ears like she was dying. And she felt like she was doing just that. She willed herself not to move, since even the merest breath shot bolts of pain to her head. Damn old Gillis and his poison. After a few moments of reeling, she slowly lifted her lids again.
God’s blood, what happened to the window coverings? She shifted as cautiously as her body would allow in order to escape the blinding beam of light. Thick cobwebs tangled her thoughts and muddled her brain, and then, like a curtain being drawn, she realized she was in an unfamiliar room, a strange bed. Still too pained to move her head, her eyes darted left and right. The ceiling offered her no answers, so with great effort she sat up, still holding her head to keep it in place.
She was in a man’s room, that much was clear to her. Everything in the room was carved of dark waxed wood. Even the walls were paneled with thick slabs of it, making all the furniture in the room blend into an enormous view of deep magenta brown. An intricately carved wardrobe, taller even then Callum, stood between two great chairs that could seat at least two people each. There were three tables set up to house everything from tankards of whiskey to a carved wooden chess set and assorted weapons. A silver bowl for hand and face washing rested on another table, along with a small candlestand. No tapestries decorated the walls; neither shield nor banner offered cheer. The windows were bare, and the absence of draperies around the poster bed told Kate that whoever slept here cared nothing about privacy. Yet despite the absence of color and fabric to offer warmth, the cavernous chamber heated Kate to the deepest corners of her heart. Of course, there was the giant alcoved hearth with its roaring fire to warm the bones, but Kate knew instinctively what made her feel like she belonged here all her life. It smelled like Callum, of wild heather and mist. Aye, she thought, closing her eyes to draw him to her. This was his chamber, his bed.
She was still smiling when Callum entered the room.
The sight of Kate sitting in his bed, her lush ebony curls tumbling around her shoulders and arms, set Callum’s heart to pounding. He experienced a sudden rush of something so strong he near doubled over. When she turned her head and aimed her heady smile at him, he had the urge to drop to his knees and pay her the homage she deserved. He almost smiled.
Death to MacGregor sympathizers.
He scowled so fiercely at her it wiped the smile clean off her face. Propelling himself forward, he avoided her gaze while he crossed the chamber and stopped at the window.
“Is all well with you?” she asked, sensing by his cold, hard gaze that it wasn’t. Her voice was low, pained, but Callum did not turn to look at her.
“Nae,” he answered tightly. He gazed out the window at the distant heather. “There’s a Campbell in my castle.”
Kate’s mouth fell open, and her heart drummed so violently she felt it in her belly. She didn’t hear him right. She couldn’t have. “But I had hoped . . . Callum, you kissed me.”
Now he looked at her over his shoulder. His eyes glimmered like cold cobalt glass against the sun. “Poor judgment on my part, nothin’ more.”
Kate sat, numb. Tears pooled her eyes and dripped over her lashes when she blinked at him. His eyes hardened on her. “Ye’re leavin’, Kate. My men will escort ye to the Stewarts’ home on the morrow. Once ye arrive, ye’ll tell their laird that ye escaped the clutches of the fearsome MacGregors. Tell him the truth, that the Devil abducted ye. Ask him to send fer yer brother. He will come fer ye, I’ve nae doubt. If ye see yer uncle alive, tell him I will come fer him.”
