Laird of the Mist (12 page)

“Saints, she’s breathtaking,” Callum heard Graham say. Callum nodded as he stared at her with helpless admiration. She was the stark beauty of a winter night shrouded in the soft crimson of the setting sun.

He swallowed hard, and then his expression hardened, as well. Hell! Any one of these rogue patrons would think naught of causing her harm. Did she not understand his clan was outlawed, that the MacGregors were considered lower than slaves to many Scots? It did not matter that she looked more bonny than ever before; she was a daft fool who would get them all killed.

He almost knocked his chair over when he stood up as she made her way toward his table. She paused for a moment seeing his fierce scowl but then squared her shoulders and continued on. Jamie reached her before she reached the table and snatched her arm to escort her safely to the bench.

Kate sat directly across from the glowering laird, which earned her another deep-throated grumble. She toyed with the idea of commenting on his constant sour mood, but he looked about ready to leap over the table and throttle her, so she simply smiled at him instead, though it took enormous effort.

“Good eve, my laird.”

“Return to yer room, Kate,” he warned in a quiet, menacing tone.

“I cannot,” she replied sweetly. “I am hungry. Dear Robena went to so much bother bathing and dressing me, I felt it unkind to ask her to feed me, as well. I would much rather dine here, with you.”

Callum considered dragging her back above stairs, but doing so would most likely cause a brawl. He looked around at the patrons, his jaw tightening. Many of the men were already staring at her. They looked away when they caught his murderous gaze.

“Verra well,” he conceded, motioning to a serving wench before returning his gaze to Kate. “Eat, and be quick aboot it.”

“I hope I didn’t spoil your merriment for the eve.” Kate offered him a cheeky smile that said the opposite, then glanced up at the buxom blonde laying a trencher of steaming mutton stew before her. When the wench threw herself into Graham’s lap and not Callum’s, Kate didn’t know whether to feel relieved or angry with herself for being possessive of him. That’s why she’d defied him and came down here, wasn’t it? She hated the thought of him enjoying his evening with a pretty wench. But it was clear Callum MacGregor did not allow himself much merriment.

“Just eat and dinna concern yerself with me.” Callum tore at his bread and shoved it into his mouth, seeming to forget about her.

“Very well.” Kate fought the urge to fling her trencher at him. She may have been wrong about him wanting a wench with his supper, but he was a callous bastard nonetheless. She decided not to spare him another thought. Heavens, she was starving! She lowered her head to inhale the delicious aromas of her supper. When a loud belch exploded through Angus’s lips, she lifted her thick lashes from her food.

“What a perfect tribute to so fine a meal, Angus.”

The burly brute roared with laughter, but it was the sound of Kate’s mirth that made Callum lift his gaze to her once again. He stared at the slender curve of her jaw, the soft crinkle of her nose when she laughed. He felt entranced by the way her eyes danced. For a moment, he relished the sound of her joy. She made him think of hope. She made him want things he never thought about wanting before. It had taken him years to build Camlochlin. ’Twas his fortress, his sanctuary, second in his heart only to his name. ’Twas all he had and all he ever wanted, hoping for nothing more because he’d probably be dead in a few years. And he did not mind dying, so long as it was on his terms and not the Campbells’, and with bravery in battle. He had never considered having a family, though he would like to have sons to carry on the MacGregor name. He had never hoped to listen to the music of a woman’s tinkling laughter echoing off the steep mountain walls, satisfied in knowing ’twas he who gave her joy. He would not hope for it now.

“To Brodie.” Angus raised his tankard, breaking Callum’s thoughts, “May the bairn his lovely wife Netta carries fer him look like its mother and not Graham.”

Graham tossed Brodie a smug wink, which Brodie answered by punching him in the arm. Soon the merriment around them grew. The men swore oaths that would have made any other woman at the table blush and rebuke them. But, damn her, she continued to laugh, addling Callum’s brain thoroughly. Callum did not join in the song, nor in the raucous laughter that followed. He was, for the time being, content to sit and study Kate—when she wasn’t looking at him.

He watched her so closely he did not notice the man approaching their table from behind her. No one noticed him until he slammed a coin down directly in front of her. Laughter stopped abruptly, and every eye rose to meet those of the stranger, including Callum’s.

“Ye have had her long enough,” the knave announced to Callum. “And ye’ve done naught but gape at her like a fresh-faced whelp. Now I want her.”

The only sign of Callum’s fury was the slight clenching of his jaw. No other muscle moved. “Take yer coin and leave before ’tis too late to do so.” His voice was nothing more than a low growl. Kate found herself unable to take her eyes off him.

“Tonight I’ll have a MacGregor bitch in my bed,” the man behind her mocked.

Everything happened so quickly in the instant that followed, Kate had no time to react. The stranger’s hand clamped on her sore shoulder, making her cry out as he hauled her to her feet. Callum stood up simultaneously, seeming to defy time as he drew his massive sword. He whirled it over his head and brought it down with such force it smashed into splinters the thick wooden table that separated him from the stranger, sending food and drinks crashing to the floor. Callum leaped over the cleaved wood and held the point of his blade against the man’s throat. His calm expression had dissolved into a storm of black rage.

“Think well aboot yer next breath. It’ll be yer last.”

Silence descended upon the tavern, every eye pinned to the man still gripping Kate. Every eye, that is, but Kate’s. Try as she might, she could not tear her gaze away from Callum MacGregor. He seemed to have grown five more inches in height. The breadth of his shoulders cast dark shadows over her and her would-be attacker. As she gazed up at him, her breath went still by the power and steady strength of his arm, the promise of destruction in his piercing glare. She knew why this man had never been caught.

“Ease yer sword, MacGregor. Ease yer sword.” The stranger released Kate and took a step back. He was three shades paler than when he first arrived at the table. His Adam’s apple danced, swallowing an audible gulp the moment his throat was clear of Callum’s blade. Brodie crunched into a juicy pear. The sound propelled the man to turn and run. Before Callum could sheathe his weapon, the stranger was gone.

Kate blinked. A hand clasped her wrist tightly. It took a moment for her to realize it was Callum who held her, and when she did, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Bid good eve to my men,” he ordered, cutting her off. Then, before she could do as he commanded, he dragged her toward the stairs.

“Let me go!” She tried to pull her hand away from him, but she didn’t even slow his pace.

“That’s twice I saved yer life.” Callum said tightly without turning to face her. “Dinna give me yer cheek.”

When he reached the room, he shoved the door open and fair flung her inside, then slammed the door shut behind them.

Kate rounded on him, her eyes sparked with fury. “You will tell me what I’ve done to cause your wrath against me! And do not tell me it’s because I’m a Campbell. I did nothing to you!”

Callum stared at her when she shouted at him. A battle played across his features. He didn’t know whether he wanted to throttle her or drag her into his arms, grateful that he was here tonight to save her. Anger lit his eyes like lightning and his jaw clenched with fury, but when he opened his mouth to tell her, he found that he had no words. He turned and stormed toward the window. When he reached it, he whirled on his heel again and raked his gaze boldly over her.

Kate went still. He was touching her. The longing in his eyes shocked her and made her tremble. Never in her life had she felt such a maze of emotions. She was angry with him, and she wanted to run into his arms so badly her legs almost ached with the need. She knew he would not turn her away again. For while his expression was hard, his eyes gleamed with warmth and the promise of complete possession. He wanted her. A flame ignited somewhere in her belly at the thought. God help her, but he was so terribly handsome standing there heaving like a dark dragon on the verge of plundering a village.

“Callum.” She whispered his name, breaking the silence that seemed to stretch on endlessly. “I don’t want to be your enemy anymore. I . . .”

If her plea softened him at all, he made no show of it. His expression was no more forgiving than it had been a moment before. “D’ye no’ understand that my clan has been proscribed?”

“I thought we were safe here,” she tried to explain, but her words faded when he took a step closer to her.

“We? Yer no’ a MacGregor. Ye dinna know what it means to be one, or the dangers of being a friend to one.”

“Aye, I do,” she assured him, understanding now why he’d demanded she stay in the room. He had tried to protect her. “No one may aid you—”

“Upon death or branding!” Callum’s voice erupted into a roar.

Kate turned away. She had to. He was telling her that they could not even be friends, and just looking at him made her want more than that. God, protect her neck from the gallows, she wanted so much more.

“We have been declared worthless, nonhuman. A price has been placed on the heads of our men, women, and children! Our lands are free to any taker.”

Tears gathered over the rims of Kate’s eyes as she understood fully the depth of his pride and the reason for it. “It is as if you no longer exist.” She brought her gaze back to his. “You feel forsaken, even by God. Callum, I do understand. And I am so sorry.”

“I dinna want yer pity,” he said, cursing himself inwardly. He should rebuke her, shake her, push her away until she was so afraid of him her fear and hatred destroyed whatever else she felt. “I’ll no’ allow ye to shed tears fer my clan. Ye dinna understand the danger in it.”

She did understand, but at that moment she didn’t care. God’s mercy, she doubted even Robert would forgive her for siding with The Devil, but she wanted Callum to kiss her again. She didn’t want their names to matter anymore. She wanted to touch him and forget laws and proscriptions. But could he ever forget his past and what her family had done to him?

She was sure he could hear her heart pounding. She wanted to tell him how she felt, but her mind had ceased to think of anything save the sheer size of him, the smell of sweat and fury lingering about his flesh, and the longing in his eyes for something unattainable.

He moved toward her, but a knock at the door made him pause and ushered a low growl from his throat.

Kate did not turn to follow his path to the door but closed her eyes instead and chewed her lower lip. She listened while he argued with Ferguson MacDonnell about payment for the table he had smashed. Then she near leaped out of her flesh when the door slammed shut again.

She could feel his eyes on her. Hard, dangerous eyes that had sworn vengeance upon her entire clan. Hot, burning eyes that ached with hunger for her.

“Take the bed,” he snapped.

Turning to him, Kate scowled, frustrated by his deep conviction to despise her no matter how hard she tried to make him like her. “You make it difficult to ignore the true reason you saved my life.”

His expression on her hardened, as if she’d just given him a great insult. “I would no’ have let ye die, even if I killed yer uncle.”

Kate was relieved to hear him say it. She was right about him all along. But . . . “Sometimes it’s difficult to believe you care for my safety when you continue to look at me as if I were your worst enemy.”

“Lass,” he said, and the silken depth of raw desire in his voice made her stagger. “If I cared naught fer yer safety, ye would no’ be standing there.”

Kate’s nostrils flared as she folded her hands into fists at her sides. “Where would I be, then?”

“Ye would be spread across that bed, beneath me.”

Kate’s face burned at the thought. In fact, she felt as if her entire body was about to go up in flames. “Your threats are empty,” she challenged, refusing to believe he would force himself on her. “As would be your eye sockets if you dared touch me uninvited.”

He actually chuckled, mocking her warning as he crossed the room.

She backed away when the distance between them shortened. “Besides,” she said, hastily employing a different tactic to ensure that he remained chivalrous. “You would be making
love
to a
Campbell.
”

He walked past her, a slight slant of his lips making her palms moisten and her knees go soft. “Nae, I would merely be havin’ my way with one, which in our case would be just as dangerous.”

Kate said nothing more but climbed into the bed fully clothed. She pulled the coverlet up to her chin and watched him settle down beside the hearth for the night.

Soft firelight danced along the walls. The room was silent save for the crackle of firewood being devoured by flames, along with Callum’s crude promise drumming in her head. Fate was cruel to have cast her into the care of such a cold man, and crueler still because she liked the brute. He despised her, making it perfectly clear that his desire for her was naught more than pure lust in its most basic form.

“You’ve nae more need to treat me cruelly, MacGregor,” she spoke softly in the darkness. “I will do my best to remember who you are from this night on.”

There was a movement from where Callum lay on the floor, and then, like a mad war god rising from the bowels of the Earth, he rose to his feet and stormed out the door.

Chapter Fourteen

K
ATE ROAMED THE DIM HALLS
of the inn, praying that no male patrons were lurking about looking for a wench to warm their beds. She held a small candle to light her way past endless doors behind which laughter and the sounds of harsh groaning echoed and made her cheeks burn.