He’d waited long enough.
Jamie Campbell approached Toward Castle, knowing that months of effort and restraint would finally be rewarded. He did not deceive himself as to what Caitrina’s reaction would be; he’d seen the horror on her face when he’d carried her from that fiery hell and knew what she thought. He’d had nothing to do with the attack on her family—though the same could not be said of his clan. Damn his quick-tempered brother to hell. But she’d disappeared before he’d had a chance to explain.
It turned out he’d been right in his suspicions after all. Two days after Jamie had left for Castle Campbell to check on Lizzie, one of his guardsmen stationed on Bute had arrived at Dunoon with the proof they’d been waiting for: Alasdair MacGregor and his men had been spotted in the forest near Ascog. Jamie’s men had followed but had lost them in the hills.
Colin had seen his opportunity to further himself in the eyes of their cousin and decided not to send for Jamie but to take matters into his own hands and lead the mission himself. If only Jamie had found the MacGregors initially, this all could have been avoided.
Thankfully, Jamie’s loyal guardsman had decided to track him down at Castle Campbell near Stirling. Lizzie had indeed been attacked on her way to Dunoon but had been rescued by some Murrays. Jamie had just finished ensuring Lizzie’s protection by ordering the hiring of extra guardsmen for Castle Campbell, where she would be safe until the MacGregors were controlled, when his man arrived. Immediately guessing what might happen with his hotheaded brother eager to impress their cousin, Jamie rode at breakneck speed for Ascog. Alas, by the time he’d arrived, the battle was well under way.
He’d carried Caitrina from the burning keep and ensured her safety before he’d gone to help bring the battle and fire under control, in an attempt to salvage what he could of the black day. But by the time he returned, she was gone—spirited away by her loyal clansmen, leaving him no opportunity to explain.
Aye, there would be difficulties ahead, not least of which was his brother’s role in the death of her family, but he was determined to see this through.
Still, he was anxious. He’d been searching for her for a long time. He’d scoured the hills around Ascog for weeks after the attack, to no avail. It was as if she’d disappeared off the face of the earth. But he’d known that she’d survived and had refused to give up.
Of course, he’d thought to look for her at Toward Castle, but her uncle had adamantly denied knowledge of her whereabouts until faced with proof he couldn’t ignore, courtesy of the spies Jamie had thought to keep watch on the place. But negotiations with the Lamont of Toward had dragged on for too long, and Jamie’s patience was at an end.
The short ten-mile ride from Dunoon seemed interminable.
Horse and man crested the brae of Buachailean, the hill that lay just north of the castle. Reining in his mount, he paused, appraising the castle and surrounding area before riding in alone. He was expected, but it never hurt to be cautious.
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. A group of fishermen were returning a skiff to the docks, sheep were grazing on the hills, a group of young lads were playing shinty on the moors, villagers passed back and forth through the castle gates unheeded. A solitary serving woman wandered along the beach, collecting shells.
His gaze snapped back to the woman, catching a glimpse of long strands of black curls tossed around her face by the wind. His heart hammered in his chest. Squinting into the bright sunlight, he was unable to make out her features from this distance, but deep in his gut he knew who it was.
The lass was no serving woman.
Jamie’s long wait was over. He’d found Caitrina Lamont.
Caitrina lifted two corners of her woolarisaidhtogether, forming a makeshift basket out of the wool, and placed another shell in the fold. Perhaps she’d make a necklace for Una? The little girl loved to pretend that she was one of theMaighdean na Tuinne.Caitrina had long stopped believing in mermaids, but watching Una lightened her heart. She admired the child’s ability to laugh and play, even though it was clear that Una—like the rest of her clan who’d come with her to Toward—desperately missed her home.
Caitrina sighed, knowing Mor was right. She couldn’t hide forever. As much as Toward had become her refuge, it had also become a place to hide. She needed to find a way to return Ascog to her clan, and she couldn’t do that by remaining at Toward Castle with her kin.
For a young woman without resources, there was only one thing she could do: She must find a powerful husband to help her win back her home.
A wistful smile played upon her lips. Strange that she could think of marriage without a flicker of emotion, when only a few months ago the very mention of finding a husband had roused such fervent response. She’d avoided marriage because she couldn’t imagine leaving her family. She’d just never expected them to leave her. Her chest squeezed and she closed her eyes for a minute, taking a steadying breath.
Her throat thickened as she knelt in the sand, cradling the shells in her lap, and began to dig. When she’d made a small hole about a foot deep, she carefully unbound the swatch of plaid from around her wrist. The muted browns and oranges were faded and the edges frayed, but the plaid was unmistakably that of her father’sbreacan feile.Her chest tightened as she slid her fingers over the soft wool plaid and then brought it to her cheek.
A few days after the attack, while Caitrina was still unconscious, a few of the servants had snuck back to see what remained of the castle and to see to the burying of the dead. The fire had made it unnecessary. In the ashes, they’d found a few items that had escaped the Campbells, including the badge and scrap of plaid.
No longer able to hold back the tears, she folded the fabric in a neat square and set it at the bottom of the hole, then covered it with sand. It was the burial denied her by the fire, her injuries, and the need to seek safety. For the first time since she’d recovered and realized that her family had been killed, the emotion poured out of her and she gave over to the powerful storm of grief.
When the deluge abated, she dried her eyes and, cradling the shells against her, rose to her feet, feeling oddly stronger. The life she’d had before was gone forever; it was time to look to the future—one that she would rebuild for her clan. They were her responsibility. And she’d be damned if she’d let the Campbells win. One way or another, justice would be done.
Hearing the muffled sound of hooves in the sand, she looked up to see a man approaching. At first she thought it was one of her uncle’s guardsmen and lifted her hand in greeting.
She tilted her head. There was something familiar . . .
The blood drained from her face, and the carefully gathered shells scattered at her feet, forgotten.
No.
But it was him. She recognized the broad shoulders, the dark brown hair laced with strands of red gold, the hard, fiercely handsome face, and the cool, slate blue eyes that gazed at her with such intensity. The wide mouth she’d kissed with such hunger. And there was that air of confident command that she’d never seen replicated in another man—of absolute power and authority.
Jamie Campbell had found her.
The ache in her chest was unbearable as memories of the attack and the pleasure they had shared collided. Touching him. Tasting him. The intimacy of the moment when she’d shattered in his arms.
