Tender Feud

When she heard the name Campbell mentioned, Katrine strongly suspected they were holding a conference to discuss her. Her attention riveted, she strained to make out what they were saying. Even a scrap of information she might use to her advantage…Then a sudden hush fell over the room as one of the MacLeans spied her.

Katrine scoffed silently to herself. These ruthless brigands were so afraid of having their necks stretched, they wouldn’t let her overhear a word of their discussions. The thought bolstering her courage, she forced herself to step into the lion’s den.

She was aware of Raith watching her as she carried the tray to the table and deposited it at his cousin’s elbow. But though she tried to avoid his gaze, and though she braced herself, the impact of Raith’s vivid blue eyes made her pulse quicken. Which was absurd, given the fact that he was surveying her with practiced detachment, and that the familiar stony look had settled over his features.

Unaccountably, his dark stare depressed her. His disdain for her obviously hadn’t altered one whit, even if he had just kissed her half-senseless only a short while ago. Callum, on the other hand, gave her a lopsided, welcoming smile.

“Ah, bonny Katie! Faith, but you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

His slow, cheerful greeting took her aback. Only her father had ever called her “bonny Katie,” and it was too personal a diminutive for this charming scoundrel to use so blithely. Moreover, Callum’s Scottish burr was more pronounced than usual, making it rather obvious that he’d consumed more spirits than was good for him.

“You’re foxed,” she retorted, but her disapproval seemed to have no effect on him. His disarming grin only widened as he tried to wrap an arm around her waist. Startled, Katrine jumped back, glaring down at him. Callum winked up at her in return.

Katrine had meant to leave at once, but perversely she decided to stay, knowing that as long as she remained, it would prevent the MacLeans from discussing her fate. Squaring her shoulders, she began filling empty tankards with ale.

When she reached Callum again, though, he took the pitcher from her and poured his own ale. Glancing at his clan, he raised his pewter tankard. “Here’s to a successful haul, lads.”

The knot of men responded slowly, casting wary looks at Katrine as they raised their mugs. She gazed back at them in puzzlement, wondering what Callum’s toast referred to. She was still seething enough from her recent encounter with his cousin to ask. “What do you mean, ‘a successful haul’? What kind of unlawful activities are you and your confederates engaged in this time?”

“Katie, you wound me,” Callum said, shaking his head. “Next you’ll accuse us of being free traders.”

“Free traders! You’re engaged in smuggling?”

Raith’s dry voice cut in abruptly. “I suggest, cousin, that you take care in what you divulge to Miss Campbell. She’s already threatened to report us to the English revenuers.”

“Ah, Katie, ye wouldn’t turn us in, would ye?”

“Why would you doubt it?” Raith replied for her. “It would merely be one more instance of Campbells betraying their true countrymen.”

Katrine’s spine went rigid. It was on the tip of her tongue to retort that yes, she most certainly would turn the MacLeans in the first chance that arose, not for smuggling contraband, but for abducting her. But she thought better of making such an admission in this hostile company.

Her expression must have betrayed her sentiments, however, for Callum sorrowfully shook his head. “Alas, Katie, you just missed your opportunity. The Sassenach soldiers left a short while ago.”

The English soldiers were here? A short while ago? Katrine’s gaze flew to Raith’s. “Were they…looking for me?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Raith answered her coolly. “What else would they be seeking, Miss Campbell?”

Katrine stared at him in dismay, realizing how close she had been to rescue. And Raith had known all along, she realized as well, searching his dark eyes. All the time he had been upbraiding her for endangering Meggie, he’d been well pleased his Campbell captive was conveniently out of sight.

“The soldiers were very polite, of course, when they invaded my home,” Raith added mockingly, “but they took great pleasure in conducting a thorough search of the estate. I took equal pleasure when they could find no trace of you.”

Was that why he had sought her out—to prevent her from returning to the house before the soldiers left? Was that why he had kissed her so fiercely—merely to delay her return? The knowledge that he’d used her so callously pained Katrine more than she thought possible. And whipped up her anger as well. She wanted to tell Raith just how despicable she thought such actions, but she couldn’t find the words a well-bred lady would utter. Determinedly she clamped her lips together.

She could tell, however, that Raith was quite aware of her struggle. His knowing expression further roused her sense of impotence, and she gave him a scorching look, her eyes sparking with rancor.

He had the audacity to look amused.

Katrine stalked back to the tray and snatched up a fresh pitcher, nearly spilling it on Lachlan. When the stocky, redheaded man flinched, she gave him an innocent smile that was patently false and moved around the table, filling glasses.

Someone else proposed a toast, then: “When we’re gaun up the hill o’ fortune may we ne’er meet a friend comin’ doon!”

Tankards were lifted in unison and the toast drunk, before another MacLean chimed in, “Here’s ta more friends an’ less need o’ them!”

The salutations came thick and fast after that, and Katrine was hard-pressed to find a tankard that was still enough to be filled.

“Blithe may we always be,” another man volunteered, “Ill may

we never see.”