She was so rattled by what had just happened that it took her a moment to realize someone was following her. She heard a noise, the crush of a branch underfoot, and spun around to look behind her—but didn’t see anyone. Her pulse spiked and the hair at the back of her neck rose.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice wavering as she scanned the trees.
But there was no answer. Icy droplets of fear trickled down her spine. Something didn’t feel right. She hadn’t gone that far, but with all the noise, would someone hear her? Jamie’s warning about outlaws came back to her.
She had opened her mouth to cry for help when a man stepped out from behind a tree in a ray of sunlight not five feet away.
She exhaled with relief, recognizing Torquil MacNeil right away.
“My laird, you startled me.”
The sun was behind him and she couldn’t see his face clearly, but anger seemed to radiate from him. “I trust you found the competition entertaining,” he said, his voice holding the edge of a sneer.
“No, I—” She twisted her hands, not knowing what to say. He stepped closer, close enough for her to see the fury marring his handsome features. She’d hurt his pride; she must try to soothe it. “I want to apologize—”
“You tricked me.”
Though he sounded somewhat like a petulant child, Caitrina reached out and put her hand on his arm. “It was wrong of me, and I deeply regret doing so.”
He gave her an uncertain look. “You do?”
She nodded and smiled up at him encouragingly. “You acquitted yourself extremely well today.”
For a moment he puffed up a bit under her obvious admiration, then he frowned. “But I didn’t win.” His face darkened. “That Campbell bastard did.”
Jamie Campbell, Jamie Campbell . . . If she never heard his name again, it would be too soon. She studied MacNeil’s face; he was undeniably handsome, yet for some reason he did not rouse the same fluttering in her stomach or make every nerve ending stand on edge—a fact that only served to irritate her further. A streak of recklessness that she didn’t even know she possessed took hold. There was nothing special about Jamie Campbell, and she was going to prove it.
She put her hand on his shoulders, lifted up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against his in a light kiss. And felt precisely . . . nothing. Not the merest stirring or faintest yearning or anything. His lips were soft and he tasted pleasant enough, but he did not drown her senses in heat or make her body heavy and sensitive.
Furious, she pressed a little closer, trying to find the spark. He groaned, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her against him. She felt the power of his body, the muscles and the strength, but she did not feel like melting into him at all. Being pressed against him only filled her with unease. It was nothing like she’d felt in Jamie’s arms.
Damn him.
This wee experiment had failed miserably.
MacNeil pulled her tighter, and his mouth grew demanding as he tried to ply her lips apart. She felt a flash of alarm. Somehow she’d lost control of the kiss.
She pulled her mouth from his, gasping for air. “Please let go of me.”
His eyes were dark with lust. “I don’t think so, my sweet. I’m not a man to be made the butt of some silly chit’s jest.”
Too late, she realized she’d miscalculated. Jamie’s warning came back to her. Perhaps this had been MacNeil’s intention all along. Foolishly, she’d just helped him to it.
She tried to wrench free, but he was too strong. He might be young, but he had the physical strength of a seasoned warrior, a fact that was only now impressed upon her. His mouth descended on hers again, and his kiss turned brutal and punishing. Revulsion crawled up the back of her throat, and fear unlike anything she’d ever experienced crashed over her.
Dear God, what have I done?
She struggled against him, using every ounce of her strength, but it wasn’t enough.
Panic had started to set in when she suddenly found herself free, staring into the steely blue eyes of Jamie Campbell. Except that his eyes weren’t steely at all, but ice cold with rage. Her heart skipped a long beat, realizing what she was seeing. Danger. Rage. Fierceness to make her blood run cold.Thiswas the man who struck fear across the Highlands.
Jamie was out of control. Possessed by a black rage that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The sight of Caitrina in another man’s arms had unleashed something primitive in him; the sight of her struggling had unleashed something murderous.
It was only by chance that Jamie had caught sight of MacNeil as he’d stalked away from the field of play. He had a hungry, predatory look in his eyes that made Jamie’s instincts flare. He’d followed the young warrior at a distance, not surprised to see him confront Caitrina. Jamie had been about to intervene when he’d seen her slide her arms around MacNeil’s neck and press her lips to his.
It stopped Jamie cold. Everything went black as he fought to absorb the crushing blow. It felt as if he’d been walloped by a heavy taber across the chest.
Mine.The visceral claim resounded through him, permeating every fiber of his being.
