She wanted to weep. Not because he shouted, but because he was so frightened for them. For her. “Forgive me, Callum,” she said, barely able to resist the urge to throw herself into his arms.
She did not have to. He hauled her against him, crushing her in his embrace until the breath left her body. Neither one of them heard Donald enter the barn, nor his gentle call to Maggie to follow him back out.
“Callum, I cannot breathe,” Kate gasped into his chest.
He loosened his hold just a bit and bent his head to her until his gaze was level with hers. He had not wanted to tell her. He did not want her to fret over something neither one of them could stop. But she had to know now. She had to know how dangerous it was to be out of his sight. “Kate, yer uncle was seen near Glengarry a few days past.”
Her complexion paled. “And my brother?”
“I dinna know if he accompanies yer uncle. We dinna know where he is. I feared—”
She covered his mouth with her fingers. “Ssh,” she whispered. “We will save Robert, and then all will be well.” She pressed her lips to his, silencing whatever else he thought to say, until words no longer mattered and the only thing that did were his passionate kisses.
Chapter Thirty-Five
DUNCAN CAMPBELL SPAT on the body at his feet. Godforsaken MacGregors did not talk even under pain of torture. No matter, he would find the rest of them. He was close. He had to be. He was sure he would have found them by now if not for the skirmish with the MacKinnons a pair of days ago. He smacked his leather riding glove against his thigh, and a small cloud of dust rose to his nostrils. Bloody MacKinnons had cost him over twenty of his men before they were questioned and then disposed of.
Squinting against the high afternoon sun, he scanned the misty glens until he found Robert appearing over a small ridge with the rest of his men. Duncan’s lips curved into a challenging smile when his nephew scowled at the body crumpled on the ground.
“It is only a MacGregor, nephew. Remember they have abducted your dear sister and have most likely killed her.”
Robert held up his hand to halt Duncan’s words. “Enough, please. I do not wish to think on such things anymore.”
“You must think on them,” Duncan insisted, moving toward him. “It will take all your fortitude to kill the outlaw.” He regarded Robert with a narrowed look. “Or are you going soft already?”
“Nae,” Robert ground out between clenched teeth, but his gaze drifted back to the man lying dead a few feet away. In truth, he might be going soft, after all. For he was sickened by his uncle’s cruelty, disheartened by the ease with which Duncan killed anyone who refused to aid him.
“I’ve had much time to think on this. I drank and laughed with Graham Grant many nights. I do not think he will harm Kate.” Robert continued despite his uncle’s laughter. “I do not believe he would serve a man who would kill a woman.”
Duncan’s eyes glinted with malice, piercing the mists. “Ah, you mean the clever commander who infiltrated my very own holding in order to find out where our dear Katherine lived.”
“They were looking for you,” Robert reminded him. “They did not kill any of the women at Kildun.”
Duncan shoved his glove over his fingers and reached for his horse. “I do not care. The hunted has become the hunter.” When he gained his saddle, he lifted his head and squinted west, toward the giant black mountains in the distance. “I fear we were deceived by the Cameron when he told you those we seek rode east. The only thing we’ve found so far are wild animals. And I do not mean MacGregors.” He eyed the bloody corpse on the ground. “Pity it was not the traitor Grant, aye?” He slid his gaze to Robert, daring him to disagree. “When we find them, I will leave that one for you to kill.” He kicked his mount’s flanks and disappeared into the thick gray mists like an apparition returning to the churning bowels of the Earth.
A lark soared over sheep scampering across the glen. Somewhere close by, children laughed and cattle bells rang while the music of hauntingly beautiful pipes dragged over the distant moors. Lying flat upon a carpet of purple heather, Kate turned her face to smile at Maggie, who was spread out beside her. Tiny blossoms tickled Kate’s nose and filled her senses with their wild fragrance. Thoughts of the last few days brought a satisfied sigh to her lips. The MacLeods had left Camlochlin, but not before the chieftain had told her his wistful stories of faeries and romance and heroes long dead yet held forever in the heart. Faither Lachlan had not yet arrived, but Kate did not care. Callum told her that in the Highlands a man need only claim a woman for her to be considered his wife. And he had most definitely claimed her. Angus and Brodie had not thrown a fist in a se’nnight, the latter being too busy carrying his newborn bairn around and wearing an arrogant grin plastered to face to care about fighting, drinking, or anything that did not resemble the downy sprinkle of mink that covered his babe’s head. Kate touched her fingers over her own belly, hoping Callum’s babe grew there. It was too soon to know. She breathed a perfect sigh again, thinking of how often her beloved worked at planting his seed and the passionate mastery of his endeavors. Even knowing her uncle was close enough to give cause to worry had not stopped Callum from taking her to bed every chance afforded them. Why, he’d even stormed into Maggie’s chamber the day before, a thin sheen of sweat from a long day of practice defining the sleek muscles in his arms, and carried her away to his chambers. Kate giggled remembering how angry Maggie had been at her brother for interrupting their session of careful primping. Primping that had begun after Kate had convinced Maggie that a certain young, handsome warrior truly did fancy her.
Kate suspected that Maggie already knew. It was clear to anyone with a decent pair of eyes that Jamie’s heart was hopelessly lost to Maggie MacGregor. Maggie’s heart was not faring any better, though she was as stubborn when it came to matters of love as was her brother. Still, it had taken only one very appreciative grin from her admirer, aimed at her unstained face and neatly combed hair, to create the meticulous little hellion lying beside Kate now.
And a hellion she was.
Kate had no idea Maggie possessed a temper that could rival Callum’s! Despite the lovely day, Maggie’s mood was as sour as four-day-old milk. And “’twas all Jamie’s fault.” According to the wee brooding MacGregor, her would-be suitor had found a new companion. A big, hairy, drunken sot by the name of Angus.
“Do not pout so,” Kate said softly and patted her dear friend’s hand. “I am sure Jamie would rather be with you.”
Maggie angled her head and tossed Kate a sharp look. “Then why are ye lyin’ here near me instead of him? I have done everything to win his favor, Kate. But he still has not announced his feelings to me. He would rather spend his days with a man who belches more often than he blinks!”
Kate hid her smile behind her fingers.
“I told him this morn that I would prefer it if Graham kept watch over me from this day hence. He had the bollocks to grow angry! But my decision has been made. Graham smiles often, while Jamie looks pained.” Maggie paused her tirade for a moment and squinted her large blue eyes on the sky. “Mayhap he is pained by having to follow me all over the blasted castle.”
She was most definitely in love, Kate decided while Maggie went on to list Jamie’s faults. “Aye, you have it right, sweeting,” Kate said glumly. “Spare yourself the suffering of his ungracious manner. Jamie is certainly not what any lass, save mayhap for Glenna, would want in a man. More than once have I seen her ogling Jamie with affection dancing in her eyes. Let her—”
“Glenna?” Maggie pushed herself up and tugged on Kate’s sleeve. “But I have seen her draped over Graham’s arm.”
Kate shrugged and closed her eyes, basking in the warm sun. “Mayhap Glenna would be content with either brother. Or both. Now that Jamie is free to . . .” She drew her shoulders up around her ears when Maggie shrieked, and then she said a silent prayer of forgiveness and one of protection for poor Glenna when Maggie stood up and marched toward the castle.
With a satisfied sigh, Kate rose to her feet and wiped a few heather blossoms from her skirts. On her way to the castle, she waved at the women hanging their laundry to dry in the cool breeze outside their cottages. They greeted her in like manner, most coming—she hoped—to accept her as one of their own. Good Lord, but she loved Camlochlin. She loved the MacGregors, and she loved their mighty laird so much it almost made her weep. She prayed that Callum might someday come to love her in return. Dear God, she would give anything just to hear him speak the words. Misty-eyed, she passed the western wall where Callum usually practiced with his men and looked around. He was not there. She turned on her heel to go search him out inside the castle and stepped directly into his crushing embrace.
