Callum glanced down at her again. “She will live. He shifted his arm to cradle her at a more comfortable angle when his thigh began to ache, and then scowled when she groaned—it sounded to his ears like a purring kitten after a healthy supper. She cuddled deeper against his chest, and his arms came up closer around her, mindful of the arrow jutting out of her shoulder. Here was something that certainly would have torn away his fierce reputation had anyone but his most loyal men witnessed it. A Campbell clutched in the crook of his arm!
“Should we no’ take the arrow oot, Laird?” Jamie asked, keeping a close pace beside Callum as they rode out of the vale.
Callum had considered it, but the thought of causing her any more pain did not appeal to him. Still, he did not want his men thinking he was going soft, and over a Campbell, no less. “We’ll take her to the Stewarts. They’re no’ far from here. Ennis’s wife is a healer. Once the arrow is oot, the lass’ll need herbs to fight infection. I’ll need her alive if I’m to use her as leverage against her uncle.”
“Ennis Stewart is a traitor,” Graham reminded him. “He might not welcome MacGregors into his home.”
“He will if he wants to live,” Callum growled back at him.
Graham studied his best friend with a spark of amusement gleaming in his green eyes. “Here, let me take her. Ye seem more sour than usual since ye put her in yer arms.”
“I’ve got her,” Callum warned succinctly. “Stop gapin’ at her.”
“Aye, stop gapin’ at her,” Jamie intoned with a forced scowl aimed at his brother. “Callum fancies her and willna have his woman fallin’ fer ye like them at Camlochlin.”
“I dinna fancy her, Jamie,” Callum corrected with an extra dose of disgust thrown in for the convincing. “She’s a Campbell.”
While Jamie often proved himself worthy to be ranked among the MacGregors’ most fearsome men, his downy flaxen hair and large blue eyes rivaled those of the most innocent child. “So ye hate her, then?” Those huge eyes looked up to Callum.
Aye, Callum thought, he despised the blood that flowed in her veins. Her clan was responsible for killing almost every MacGregor laird for the past four generations without pause. They’d tortured the only person in his life he ever dared to love, until naught remained in him but anger, and darkness, and revenge. Aye, he hated her. But he could not find the stomach to utter it. He clenched his jaw tight instead and kicked his mount into a full gallop.
“Aye.” Jamie nodded, and then took off after him. “He hates her aright.”
Chapter Three
ENNIS STEWART did not immediately welcome the MacGregors into his home. When he did, it was not with open arms, but with muttered oaths that should any punishment come upon his family for communicating with the outlawed clan, he would never forgive them.
“Ye’re a MacGregor lest ye ferget, Ennis,” Graham reminded the old warrior. “Yer name may have been changed, but yer blood is, and always will be, MacGregor blood.”
Standing aside to allow them entry into his small bothy, Ennis mumbled a few more blasphemies, then poked his head outside after everyone entered. He looked left and right, then slammed the door shut and bolted it.
“M’ faither was a MacGregor,” Ennis acknowledged, turning to Graham. “M’ brother and his family were killed because of it. Lest ye ferget, the name MacGregor is proscribed. I can be hanged fer aidin’ ye.” He went to his wife, who stood by a small table in the center of the room, wringing her hands together. Ennis put his arm around her and pulled her close as if the door were about to burst open and they be found guilty of harboring the rebels. “Yer defiance will get ye all killed.” He turned to Callum and shook his head with the pity of it. “How long will ye continue yer war? Ye’re strong and young. Life is no’ so bad now. It willna be long before the monarchy is restored under Charles II. MacGregors have fought fer him. Surely he will remember it. Change yer name, fer the mercy of God, and live a peaceful life.”
Angus stepped forward and towered over Ennis with a scowl as cold as a Highland winter night. “Mind yer tongue. ’Tis yer laird ye address.”
Squaring his shoulders, Ennis tilted his head up to look the huge warrior straight in the eye. “M’ laird is Connor Stewart now.”
Angus regarded the old man with a look of disgust. “Ye’re a coward, Ennis MacGregor.”
“Nae! I protect m’ family!”
“So do they!” Graham shouted at him. He stormed forward and slammed his fist on the table, ignoring Mae Stewart’s startled leap back. “They protect their clan and their family name. I’m proud to say the Grants stand at their side.”
“How are they protected?” Ennis demanded. He pushed his wife behind him and faced the group of warriors boldly. “D’ye protect them by arrogantly announcing yer names to yer enemies? How does that protect yer families?”
Now Callum moved forward. When he reached the table, he swept his arm across it, clearing it of bowls and a vase full of flowers. He bent forward, laying the woman in his arms across the surface. Straightening, he closed his fingers around the hilt of his sword.
“I protect them with this. Anyone who thinks to do harm to my clan will die by my sword, and the offense will never be forgotten. If I have sons, I’ll train them to be warriors, as my faither taught me, so that when I die they’ll protect the clan in my stead. And my clan is MacGregor.” His voice grew low with firm conviction. “I will no’ hide my kin in the darkness of fear in order to protect them. If we die, then so be it. We die as MacGregors. Now, I’ve no’ come here to d’ye harm, nor to shame ye fer what ye feel is right, Ennis. This lass is in need of yer wife’s healin’. We’ll be gone before the sun sets.” He turned to Mae. “Will ye help her?”
“Aye.” She nodded up at him. “Ye look in need of some of m’ special salve yerself.” She motioned to his leg, where blood had dripped and dried in thick rivulets down to his knee.
“I’d be most grateful,” he said and watched while she began her examination of the woman on the table.
“Who did this to her?” Mae looked up from pulling the edge of the woman’s bodice and shift off her shoulder.
“One of her uncle’s guardsman,” Callum told her, unable to look away from the smooth complexion of the lass’s shoulder. She moaned, and he blinked his gaze away.
“Her uncle?” Ennis asked, his interest in her piqued. “Who is she, then?”
