Tender Feud

So that had been his errand the day she’d seen him so fashionably dressed. At least she knew for certain that someone was looking for her. Or had been looking for her. It was quite likely Raith MacLean had laid down a false trail for the garrison commander to follow. Moreover, even an English general would be reluctant to move against a powerful Highland laird without proof of guilt. Even if he were guilty of a crime, such a contretemps was bound to stir up trouble in the Highlands. And the English were highly anxious to avoid further bloodshed, now that a peace of sorts was finally taking root in Scotland.

But the mention of Fort William gave Katrine reason for optimism. It was where English troops had been garrisoned to keep the peace, at the foot of Ben Nevis, the highest summit in Scotland.

Katrine glanced hopefully at the horizon, toward the northeast. In the distance, several leagues away, she could see a tremendous mountain that she supposed was Ben Nevis. Its lofty, rugged heights seemed remarkably near…but not near enough. If she somehow managed to survive the Highland wilderness and treacherous fog and find her way through the maze of mountains undetected, she would have to swim Loch Linnhe, or find someone to ferry her across. And that was as unlikely as her sprouting wings.

Seeing the direction of her gaze, Raith had some inkling of what she was thinking. And at the despairing look in her eyes, he experienced another twinge of guilt for having to use her in his fight against Argyll and her uncle. But there was no comfort he could offer, for he wasn’t sure himself what the outcome would be. Nor was he certain Argyll would agree to the conditions of her release.

Unable to tell her so, Raith observed Katrine in silence, watching the play of sunlight on her hair. The sun did lovely things to her wild tresses, setting the tips afire and causing the heavy mass to glow like smoldering coals. And her face…the creamy, radiant skin was so beautiful in the rosy-golden light.

Realizing then where his admiring thoughts were leading, he violently pushed them aside. She was nothing more than a calculating wench who would use his sympathy to her advantage if he allowed it. And he wouldn’t allow it.

Even so, she managed to flay his guilt when she asked in a small voice, “Have you even tried to contact my uncle?”

Raith raked a hand through his hair. Surely she realized why he couldn’t acknowledge holding her captive. The moment he did, Ardgour would be swarming with English soldiers. Suddenly he was unreasonably angry with her. She didn’t belong here in the Highlands. He didn’t want her here. And yet he had to abide her presence, at least for a while longer.

His anger lent a harsh edge to his voice when he answered. “What would you have me do, send him a broadsheet advertising your whereabouts? There’s no one in the world I’d rather oblige than you, Miss Campbell, but I’m not so eager for a neck-stretching as all that.”

“I suppose—” Katrine broke off, ashamed at the way her voice quavered. “I thought,” she said more firmly, “you would at least present your demands to him, so he could proceed with freeing me.”

“I intend to, but I won’t be so witless as to identify myself. And it will be at my convenience, not yours. When the time comes I’ll use you as I see fit.”

Her green eyes flashed as she suddenly turned to glare at him. “You’re not even a proper criminal. You don’t have the decency to conduct an abduction in the customary fashion.”

She could never be docile for long, Raith reflected, relieved. He didn’t enjoy seeing her humbled or defeated. “No,” he retorted, “it’s your uncle who’s the proper criminal.”

“He is not! My uncle is the most honest man I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, indeed. Honest in his pitiless wielding of authority. But there are some qualities in a man that are to be more respected than honesty.”

“Such as?”

“Such as compassion, for one. Your uncle discharges his duties as a factor without a care for the people he crushes underfoot. He follows that vulture Argyll’s orders to raise rents like a mindless hinny.”

“If Argyll raised the rents, he must have had a good reason,” Katrine declared loyally.

“Of course you would think greed a good reason.”

Katrine squared her shoulders, meeting his scowl with one of her own.

“You’d defend him to the death, wouldn’t you?” Raith’s voice dripped scorn. “No matter that it was Argyll treachery that caused the Duart MacLeans to forfeit their lands. No matter that the bloody Campbells betrayed their countrymen in the Fifteen and the Forty-five.”

“That’s only your opinion!”

“Oh, they betrayed Scotland all right. Judas always was another name for Campbell.”

“Will you stop vilifying the Campbells!”

“Only if you’ll cease your fasheous craiking!”

Incensed, Katrine leapt to her feet. She hadn’t been harping. She’d only been trying to reason with him about the matter of rents. But she should have known better than to reason with a ruthless brigand. It was entirely a hopeless cause.

Clamping her lips together, she caught up her long skirts and began climbing down the rocks, furious that she couldn’t make a quicker and more dignified exit. When she reached the bottom, she threw him a defiant glance—and nearly blushed at the sight of naked male limbs.

Raith was on his feet, glaring down at her. “Keep away from Meggie,” he growled. “You ken me?”

“Yes, I ken you!” she shouted back. “But you’re the one who is acting the fool now. Meggie needs someone to care for her, to keep her clean and teach her proper manners. She needs affection and understanding. I could help, but you’re too blind and pigheaded to see it! The idea that a Sassenach Campbell could possibly offer guidance and compassion to a child is obviously beyond your scope of understanding!”

With that, she turned and stalked away, relishing the satisfaction of finally having the last word, but feeling Raith’s fierce eyes boring holes in her back all the while.