Until then, it was important that he do nothing to draw attention to himself. One false move …
He glanced over at the small rise a short distance from the castle, a wooden structure just peeking through the gray mist. The infamous executioner's hill. All three of them could be hanging from the Campbells’ well-used gallows by sundown.
As the competition got under way, the boisterousness of the crowd increased with the flow of ale. One group of men in particular was difficult to ignore. Patrick recognized the man with the loudest voice as John Montgomery, brother to the Earl of Eglinton. The earl was rumored to be seeking an alliance with Argyll to garner influence in his deadly feud with the Cunninghams.
Apparently there was truth to the rumor. From what he could tell, Montgomery had recently become betrothed to Elizabeth Campbell, Argyll's cousin and sister to both Campbell of Auchinbreck and Argyll's Henchman, Jamie Campbell. And from the unflattering remarks offered by her betrothed, if the lass weren't a Campbell, Patrick would almost feel sorry for her. She must have a stammer because they referred to her pejoratively as Elizabeth Monntach, Stammering Elizabeth.
“But I thought you intended to wed the fair Bianca?” one of the men said. “The Campbell mouse will surely pale in comparison.”
“She's pretty enough. For an alliance with the Earl of Argyll I'd wed a horse missing half its teeth,” Montgomery replied defensively.
A hearty round of laughter ensued.
“But what about conversation?” another man asked. “A-a-ren't y-o-o-u w-w-worried that it will take all day to get past ‘Good morrow’?”
Patrick could tell from Montgomery's reaction that the other man's jest embarrassed him, but Montgomery masked his discomfort with crudeness. “I'll just have to keep her mouth busy with other things.”
The ribald humor found an appreciative audience as the other men snickered.
Asses.Doing his best to ignore them, Patrick glanced down at the field, noting that the number of competitors had lessened to only a handful, including, among others, Alasdair, Rory MacLeod, and the Campbell Henchman. He hoped to hell his cousin was being careful. Jamie Campbell was a formidable enemy—more dangerous than even his cousin the earl. Thankfully, Alasdair was on the opposite side and had yet to attract the Henchman's notice. But as the field of play narrowed …
Patrick caught Gregor's eye from across the way and nodded at him to be ready.
Just as he was about to turn his attention back to the field, he caught sight of a young woman making her way through the southbarmkingate toward the tent. He didn't know what it was about her that drew his eye—perhaps the lightness of her step or the tentative smile on her face that he could just make out beneath the hood of her cloak. She seemed so young and carefree, practically bubbling with excitement. But there was an uncertainty to her expression—as if she were not accustomed to the feeling— that made his gaze linger.
He glanced back to the competition, saw that his cousin had moved on to the next round, and then inexplicably his gaze turned back to the lass. From the richness of her clothing, he knew she must be of considerable fortune. He could see glimpses of a court gown beneath a fine, dark blue velvet cloak—the edges of which were embroidered with jewels. But she was a tiny thing and seemed to drown in the wide skirts and layers of heavy fabric.
She was heading right for him, and as she drew closer, he had a better look at the face beneath the hood.
Big blue eyes dominated an elfin countenance that was older than he'd first assumed—at least a few years past twenty. But it was her eyes that startled him, so light and crystal clear as to almost seem unreal. She was fair, with pale skin, slight features, and a delicate pink mouth. He couldn't see the color of her hair tucked up in the hood, but he would guess it was light. She wasn't beautiful precisely, or even striking, but pretty in a quiet, understated way that he found strangely arresting. It was the type of face that grew more beautiful on study. The tilt of her head, the view of a profile, could bring an entirely new perspective and appreciation.
She stopped not five feet from him, and her soft feminine scent wrapped around him. She smelled like spring, as fresh as dew upon a rose. It had been a long time since he'd smelled anything so sweet and unspoiled.
Her gaze was fixed on the men he'd overheard earlier. It was only because he was watching her so closely that he saw her smile falter as she listened to their conversation.
“But how did you convince Elizabeth Monntach to agree to your suit?”
She flinched as if struck. Her face drained of color, taking with it all the tentative excitement he'd noticed only moments earlier.
Montgomery laughed, puffing up like a peacock. “With her stammer, it's not as if suitors are storming the castle gates. It's amazing how easy it is to lie with a tocher of twenty-six thousand merks and land to look forward to.”
Patrick would have choked if he'd had a mouthful of ale. Twenty-six thousand merks! A fortune.Andland? Though not unheard of, it was unusual for a woman to possess land in her own right.
“All it took was a few compliments and whispered endearments,” Montgomery boasted. “The lass lapped them right up like a grateful pup.”
The woman made a strangled sound in her throat. Her eyes were wide and horrified. From the stricken look on her face, it wasn't hard to figure out who she was: It had to be Elizabeth Campbell.
Damn.Given his avowed hatred of anything Campbell, the twinge of sympathy was unexpected.
Her betrothed had heard the sound as well, and his head jerked around to meet her gaze. Patrick saw Montgomery's shock and then dismay as he realized he'd been caught in a trap of his own making. It was the look of a man who knew he'd lost a prize and perhaps earned himself some dangerous enemies at the same time.
The humiliation and raw hurt on her face were almost too hard to watch as the group of men standing with Montgomery quieted, realizing what had happened. She looked heartbroken, as if a world of illusions had just been ripped away from her. It was a feeling he knew only too well. Her chin trembled, and Patrick feared she was close to tears.
He took a step toward her but faltered, wondering what the hell he thought he could do. It wasn't his problem. The lass was Argyll's cousin and the Henchman's sister, for heaven's sake.
The silence was thick and uncomfortable. The men with Montgomery began to shuffle.
Elizabeth Campbell stood stone still, her gaze still pinned to Montgomery. Patrick experienced an unfamiliar tug in his chest at the raw vulnerability she was fighting so hard to mask. He found himself silently rooting for her as she mustered her pride, straightening her back and lifting her quivering chin. She might be a wisp of a thing, but there was strength in those delicate bones.
