“Graham Grant, of the clan Grant,” he said, sweeping his midnight blue cap off his head.
Kate watched his mop of deep golden curls catch the light of the hearthfire as he straightened. He looked like an angel compared to the rest of them. An angel, she concluded an instant later, with a wickedly seductive smile.
“How do ye fare, Katherine?”
She arched a brow at him. “How do you know my name?”
“I spent the last pair of months with yer brother, Robert, in Inverary. He told me much about ye.”
The mention of her brother drew a curious slant to her lips. He knew Robert? She had trouble believing her brother would consort with any friend of the clan responsible for killing their father. “Why would my brother tell you anything about me?”
“We were friends.”
Kate offered him a suspicious smirk, certain he was lying.
“Ye see? She fancies him,” Jamie pointed out, seeing her smile. “I told ye she meant Graham.”
Graham reached for her hand and was about to lift it to his lips for a kiss, when the MacGregor snatched her wrist back and returned her hand to her lap. His fingers remained, covering hers possessively. He used his chin to gesture toward the rest of his men, ending any further charming introductions. “Brodie, Jamie, and Angus. There, now get the horses ready. Ennis and his wife have put themselves in harm’s way long enough.”
“Can she travel so soon?” the one named Angus asked. He was eyeing a barrel of what Kate imagined was whiskey. She suspected he was not really concerned for her well-being as much as he was about getting into that barrel. He was an enormous man with wavy red hair and a scar that laced his face from his left temple to his neck. When he looked at Kate, his expression softened and he reminded her of a fearsome dog she once had who used to lick her face clean after he’d chased raiders around her land, eager to take a bite out of one.
“I will not be traveling with you,” Kate assured them.
The chieftain rose to his feet. “She can travel, Angus,” he said as if she had not spoken at all. “She’s a fit lass.”
Kate glared up at him and pronounced each word clearly so that he understood her this time. “I’m staying right here until my brother comes for me, you callous swine.”
His expression did not change as he bent to her and scooped her off the bed and into his arms once again, ignoring her protests. He stopped when he reached the elderly couple waiting at the door and offered them his thanks, muffling Kate’s venomous insults with his hand over her mouth.
Mae Stewart looked ready to swoon when the Campbell lass took a bite out of one of his fingers. Callum MacGregor was a large man with a taste for blood that rivaled the kings of England. Mae shoved a small package into his hand, hoping to stay his temper before he struck the poor lass and killed her. “Her salve,” she offered him nervously. “She can apply it to her chest, but she’ll need help applyin’ it on her back. Try no’ to strangle her, laird, if ye be the one applyin’ it.” She rushed to a small shelf and picked up another package, this one larger than the one she offered Callum, and handed it to Graham. “Just some dried meat and black bread fer yer journey.”
The men thanked her, though Angus continued eyeing the barrels like a man being torn from the presence of his only love. Graham shoved him out the door, and Ennis followed them outside.
“Remember,” Callum told him, placing Kate on her feet hard enough to make her teeth knock together. He leaped into his saddle. “If ye’re questioned, ye were forced to aid us.”
He leaned down, fit his hands around Kate’s waist, and lifted her sideways to his lap.
“Does yer arm pain ye much?” he asked her, a little too softly and close to her ear for her liking. She pushed herself away from him and nearly tumbled to the ground. He caught her, snaking one arm around her belly.
“Laird,” Ennis entreated one last time. “Scotland is changin’. Leave the past where it belongs.”
“I have tried,” Callum answered solemnly. “But the past willna free me.”
Ennis nodded and bid him farewell with a smack on the horse’s rump. He stood in the grass, watching them leave, and offered up a silent prayer that the unruly bunch make it to Camlochlin alive.
Chapter Five
KATE CURSED HER SKILL for failing her and herself for not killing this MacGregor when she had the chance. She swore by the saints if he ever muzzled her again, she would bite his fingers completely off! Her arm throbbed in perfect rhythm with her heart. Where were they taking her? She fought the panic rising in her chest. Screaming would do no good. The miscreants would likely take great pleasure in her hysteria. She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least she had not been abducted by the Devil MacGregor. This chieftain might be the most arrogant man she had ever met, but he did not behave like a madman bent on killing Campbells. In fact, he had risked his life saving one. She relaxed a bit and shifted across his hard thighs, trying to gain a little more comfort if she was going to have to remain perched upon them all the way to . . .
“Where are you taking me?”
Before he answered her, he grunted something in Gaelic, then pushed her dangling legs off his wounded thigh. “To Skye.”
She swung around, hitting his chin with the top of her head. “Skye?” She hoped she hadn’t heard him right. She wasn’t exactly certain where Skye was, save that it was far from Glen Orchy, but its name conjured visions of some very far away, heaven-bound place. Mayhap where he sought absolution for whatever sins he had committed. And being a MacGregor, he surely had many.
Tilting her head back, she peered at his face. He kept his gaze fixed on the trees straight ahead. “Why are you taking me there? What do you intend to do with me?” Her eyes narrowed on his features, the indomitable set of his jaw. There was an air of cool detachment in his bearing that made Kate doubt he even cared about his transgressions. Well, she did not care about them, either. She wanted to go home.
He glanced down at her, weighing her with a dark, brief look of impatience. “I’ll answer one of yer queries.”
