Tender Feud

Katrine regarded him uneasily. His tone was light, but the look in his eyes was entirely serious. Suddenly alarmed, she pushed against his chest and managed to struggle out of his embrace. “No! You won’t get away with it this time. My uncle is here to protect me.”

Raith gave a weary sigh. “You mean to force my hand, I see. Very well. Kiss me once more, my sweet Katie, for it may be the last opportunity we ever have. No?” he asked when she simply stood there, eyeing him warily.

“Last opportunity?” Katrine repeated. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t bother to explain. Instead he picked up the candle and strode to the door, throwing it open.

“Raith, shut the door!” she exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “Uncle Colin will hear you!”

“I hope he does. In fact, I should be obliged if you would conduct me to him, my love.”

“Conduct—?”

“Which is his chamber?” Raith asked, stepping out into the corridor.

“You must be daft!”

“No doubt, but it’s entirely your fault. I was perfectly sane before I met you. Campbell!” he shouted. “Colin Campbell, where the devil are you?” Abruptly Raith raised a fist to hammer on the next door down from hers.

“Dear God,” Katrine breathed. “Raith, what are you doing? Raith…don’t!” She ran after him as he strode down the corridor, pounding on each door he came to. “Raith, please!” she cried, frantically tugging on his sleeve. “You’ll be hanged!”

“That is quite possible. But you left me no choice, my love. You won’t believe my sincerity any other way.”

They both came to a halt as farther down the corridor a door was flung open. Colin Campbell stood there in his nightshirt and cap, blinking at the sudden exposure to the candle’s glow.

Desperately Katrine edged in front of Raith in an absurd attempt to shield him with her body. He gently set her aside, however, and bowed to her uncle.

“There you are, Campbell,” Raith said easily. “I beg your pardon for disturbing your sleep, but I’ve come to give myself up.”

Katrine’s gasp was audible in the quiet hallway. Her uncle simply stared.

“Who the devil are…? Ardgour? Is that you? What are you doing here at this time of night? Do you have any notion what hour it is?”

“Shortly after ten, I believe. And the sooner you arrest me, the sooner you can return to your bed.”

“Arrest you? Why the deuce should I do that?”

“I’m the brigand who abducted your niece.”

“You!” The older man stared in astonishment. Katrine groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“Damn! You can’t be,” Campbell sputtered. “Ye’re a gentleman—or ye were the last time I encountered ye.”

“Nevertheless, I must confess to the crime. I fell in love with Katrine nearly at first sight, you see—” Raith grinned at her when she turned to gape at him “—though I didn’t know it at the time. And now she won’t believe me.”

“I certainly won’t!” Katrine asserted in indignation.

“So you see, I have no choice but to turn myself in and allow you to hang me. Once I’m dead, your niece will no doubt be filled with remorse.” Raith’s expression turned sad as his blue eyes lingered on Katrine. “I hope you’ll regret having my death on your conscience, my love. And it will leave poor Meggie without a guardian, too. Such a shame.”

Katrine stared at Raith, torn between wanting to do him bodily harm and wanting to whisk him away so he couldn’t pursue whatever mad scheme he had concocted, a scheme whose purpose totally eluded her. “You are mad,” she declared in exasperation. “And I told you to leave Meggie out of this.”

“Who the deuce is Meggie?” her uncle demanded, obviously

impatient at being left out of the conversation.

“My ward,” Raith supplied, obviously unperturbed by the green sparks flashing in Katrine’s eyes. “A child who has a great fondness for your niece and needs her almost as much as I do.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake—” Katrine exclaimed.