She stared at him, seeing him for the first time. Seeing things she'd never seen before. The strength and toughness had always been there, but now she saw the hard-edged ruthlessness. “God, I don't even know you.”
He strode over and pulled her to her feet, forcing her to look at him. “I'm the same man I was before. The same man you said you loved.”
How dare he throw that back in her face! Force her to see what a complete fool she'd been. “I loved Patrick Murray, not a ruthless outlaw. I loved a man who doesn't exist.”
His jaw clenched. “I'm the same man. You know everything about me that is important.”
“What? That you are an outlaw and a thief? A murderer—”
“Don't,” he growled, his face taut with anger. “I'm no saint, but I've never taken the life of another not in battle.”
“So what happened at Glenfruin, the murder of forty innocent boys, was acceptable because it happened during a battle?”
Her barb was well aimed; he stiffened. “Do not believe everything you hear, Elizabeth. Though my clan has taken the blame for that act, the killing of those boys was done not by a MacGregor, but by a rogue MacDonald. Our fight was with the Colquhouns—a battle that was fought at the urging of your cousin. Though the wily Argyll may claim otherwise.”
His accusation took her aback. Lizzie knew there was no love lost between her cousin and the Colquhouns, but she could not believe her cousin was so devious as to use the MacGregors to do his dirty work and then hunt them down for doing it. And the killing of those schoolboys was only one of the atrocities leveled at the heads of the MacGregors. She thought of his brother. Of her dead guardsmen. “Are you suggesting that your clan's reputation is not well deserved?”
“Some of my kinsmen are wild and unruly, but could not the same be said of some of yours? Aye, I've stolen, but to keep my clan from perishing from starvation or the elements. Is that any different from the land your clan has stolen from me?”
Was that what this was about? Revenge?
Unable to hold them back any longer, she let the hot tears roll down her cheeks. “Why? Why me?” she choked, gazing up at him as if there could possibly be an answer that would make a difference, when they both knew there wasn't.
Patrick had never imagined that it would be like this. He hated hurting her. Hated making her cry. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss away her tears, but he forced himself not to move. She didn't want his comfort right now, she wanted an explanation. The truth. He owed her that, at least.
He met her gaze. “The Campbells stole my family's land. I sought to get it back.”
“Land?” she said dazedly. “What land?”
“Near Loch Earn. Argyll has recently made it part of your dowry.”
The blood drained from her face. She gazed at him in horror, all her emotions, all her heartbreak, revealed clearly in her eyes. She looked so fragile and vulnerable— like a kitten who'd just been kicked. By him.
He reached for her, but she twisted away. The rejection burned in his chest.
“So you used me for my land? For some petty revenge on my cousin and brothers?”
His anger sparked to hear her so casually dismiss the desperate situation of his clan. “I assure you, there is nothing petty in the enmity between our clans.” He had plenty of cause for revenge. But not on Lizzie. “Initially I sought you out for your land, but that is not the only reason I wanted to marry you.” He stepped toward her, the burning in his leg excruciating, halting when she retreated from him as if afraid.Of me.The burning in his leg crept up to his chest. “I care for you, lass,” he said softly.
“You deceived me,” she shot back at him, anger breaking through the sheen of tears. Her eyes glittered like sapphires. Perhaps there was more wildcat in her than kitten. “Why would I believe anything you say?”
“Because it's the truth.”
“Truth? What about you is true? Not your name, not your purpose …” Her voice fell off and she looked at him with renewed horror. “Dear God … your wife and child?”
He met her gaze unflinchingly. “I have never been married.”
She gasped and covered her mouth with her fingertips. “How could you lie about something like that? Was rescuing me from fake brigands not enough—did you have to invent a dead wife and child to earn my sympathy?”
He didn't shy from the scorn that he knew was deserved. “I needed a reason to explain our presence on the road. One that you would not question.”
“Congratulations,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “It was a brilliant plan. And successful, too. I fell right into your trap. Were you chosen for your handsome face or for your skills at seduction?”
“Damn it, Lizzie, it wasn't like that.” But a small part of him cringed. He never wanted her to learn of their prior meeting or that he'd thought her an easy mark—susceptible to seduction. Now that he knew her, he understood how much it would hurt her.
“It wasn't? I'm surprised you even bothered with seduction at all. Why not just abduct me and force me to marry you? It seems more in keeping with the methods of your crude, bloodthirsty clansmen.”
He bit back the flare of anger at her derisiveness—some of which he knew was deserved. “ ’Tis not my way. I'd not want an unwilling wife. A forced marriage would be easily set aside.”
