Airdy’s eyes flared like a wild animal. “Next time I’ll kill you,” he bellowed, his voice breaking on the final word. The pistol was still dangling loosely from his fingers, and now he lifted it.
Meg stepped back, forgetting her courageous poise. She bumped up against Gregor Grant, and heard his hiss of pain. Before she could move away again, his hand slipped around her waist, drawing her to one side, hard against his body. He was very hot, feverish, and as hard as iron. Despite the strength she felt in him, the hand at her waist shook, and she knew it would not take much to knock him over. He leaned against her heavily, and she bit her lip, trying not to stagger.
“You can try,” he retorted calmly to Airdy’s threat, and Meg marveled at his bravado.
“Barbara’s gone.”
“Gone?” Gregor sounded as if he was as bewildered as Meg. “Gone where? She went with you, Airdy. That was the last time I saw her.”
“Well she’s gone now!” he blurted, and to Meg’s horror, tears began to streak down his white face. “You took her from me, you b-bastard!” The pistol swayed wildly from side to side.
Meg gasped.
“She isna here,” Gregor said sharply. “I left her with you. You know this. If she’s run off, then she’s done it on her own. Or she’s found someone else to listen to her lies. Go and find her, if you still want her, but don’t waste my time.”
Meg held her breath. For a moment it looked as if Airdy would fire at him—he seemed capable of anything—and then with a great shout of grief and rage, he turned and rode away.
Beside her, Gregor sagged against the jamb, his arm slipping from her waist.
His head was swimming, but he wasn’t going to faint. How could he faint, when this woman had stood up to Airdy Campbell for his sake? He had staggered out here, wondering with each step whether he was going to fall down, to find her facing up to Airdy as if she were taking a stroll in the park. His heart had given a great thump of fear. She didn’t know Airdy, she didn’t know that he was half mad and capable of anything.
And yet her bravery was beyond question.
He blinked now, clearing the black spots from his gaze. She was looking up at him, concern making lines in her brow, her piercing eyes searching his.
“Captain Grant?” she said gently. “Can I help you back to bed now?”
Suddenly Gregor discovered that he admired her a great deal. She was brave, spirited, and generous. And he knew what he had to do. He had sworn that he would not be drawn into her problems, as he had been drawn into Barbara Campbell’s, that he would not return to Glen Dhui at any price, but now…Now he owed her the chance to explain to him what was wrong, what she wanted from him.
He owed her that much.
Gregor let out his breath in a soft sigh, gazing down into Lady Meg Mackintosh’s astonishing eyes.
“Tell me what you want,” he said. “I am ready to listen now.”
Chapter 5
With Meg’s help, Gregor struggled to the same big wooden chair that he had occupied last night and collapsed. He looked white, and the bandages Malcolm Bain had placed about his arm were spotted with blood from his exertions. Lord, Meg thought, chewing her lip worriedly, if he fainted again there was no way she would be able to help him back to bed.
Just then Gregor gave a great shiver, despite the heat from the fire and the heat from his own body. Meg hurried to fetch a quilt from his room, calling for someone—anyone—to fetch a restorative whiskey. Was the inn entirely empty?
When she returned, Gregor was exactly as she had left him, hunched over, shaking, his hair loose and straggling about his shoulders. His obvious pain and suffering softened her heart, but more than that. There was something of her dream boy in him—perhaps in his display of weakness, no matter how unwitting.
Gently Meg tucked the warm covering around his naked shoulders.
He looked up at her, surprised. He hadn’t even heard her return. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He reached up to draw the quilt closer and his hand brushed hers.
For a moment Meg found it impossible to look away from those intriguing eyes. With an ef
fort, she sat down on a stool close by, to compose herself. After all, she had more important things to think of right now. After his flat-out refusal to consider her request, or even to listen to it, she had not thought it possible he would change his mind so suddenly.
Why had he changed it?
Was it something to do with that bedlamite, Airdy Campbell?
Whatever the reason, Meg was determined to make the most of it and persuade Gregor to agree to her request, to come home with her to Glen Dhui. Striving for her usual sangfroid, she folded her hands in her lap, entwining her long, slim fingers. He had half turned in the chair and was watching her, a small, tight smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Briefly her throat went dry, and nervousness returned.
Fortunately at that moment Morag hurried in breathlessly, with a cup of whiskey. She murmured an excuse about the fishmonger’s boy keeping her talking, but her flushed looks made Meg wonder whether the soldiers of the Black Dog didn’t have a rival.