The Campbell Trilogy (131 page)

The anger in her voice took him aback. “Nay,” he admitted.

She relaxed, her body easing into his once again.

“Why believe me now?” she asked. “What’s changed?”

“Me. You. We aren’t the same people we were then. I guess I didn’t give either of us enough credit. I didn’t see what you did, that we make our own destiny not by our birth, but by our actions.”

Jeannie peered up at him, a strange look in her eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

He sensed there was something behind her question—something important. “Aye, I do.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. She was quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought. Finally, she said, “What can we do?”

He cocked an eyebrow, a wry smile on his lips. “We?”

“I want to help.”

He’d been waiting a long time to hear those words. “Could you persuade your brother to allow you to go through your father’s papers?”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t help. Little was left after the fire.”

His stomach sank. “Fire?”

She nodded. “After Glenlivet when the king marched north, seeking vengeance against those who’d fought against him, he razed many castles, including Freuchie. The great hall and my father’s solar were destroyed. When he died, I went through what remained. There was nothing from around the time of the battle.”

Duncan swore. The chance of finding any documentary proof had been slim, but now it appeared to be nonexistent. His only option appeared to be tracking down the men who might have been involved. But the idea of questioning his brother didn’t sit well.

“You’re thinking of Colin?” Jeannie said.

He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. “Remind me to be careful what I think around you.” She grinned. “Aye, it’s difficult to conceive that Colin could have anything to do with this.”

“It’s hard staring at the sun all the time.”

He gave her a wry look. “I’m not perfect, Jeannie.”

“To a younger brother you might have seemed as such.” She bit her lip. “Colin said something of the like once. I didn’t think much of it then, but jealousy can drive people to do horrible things. I wonder though if there could be more to it.” Resting her hand on his ribs, she propped her chin on the back of her hand. “What do you know of your mother? You never talk about her.”

He stiffened. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. He tried to ignore the wounded look in her eyes. But it felt as if he’d just failed some test. She’d wanted him to confide in her—to share feelings that didn’t exist for a woman he’d never known. Hell, he’d rather have his teeth pulled.

But he knew he was treading a treacherous path, this connection they’d established was tenuous. So he took a
deep breath, forced the tension from his body, and splayed himself open for her digging. “She was a MacDonald. Nursemaid to the chief’s children. She left me with my father when I was but a few months old. I assume my birth caused her great shame and she was eager to be rid of me. I’m afraid it wasn’t much better for my father. The Campbells and MacDonalds were engaged in a bloody feud at the time. My grandfather hated me on sight.”

She pressed a kiss to his chest. Strangely, it helped. Perhaps because he knew she could understand. “Your father must have cared for her greatly to risk his clan’s wrath.”

He shrugged. “I never thought about it, but I suppose you’re right.”

“Did you ever try to find her?”

He kept a tight rein on his anger and managed to say calmly, “No.” He might have come to terms with his birth, but that didn’t mean he’d wanted anything to do with the woman who’d abandoned him. He gave her a measured look. Did his parentage matter more to her than she’d let on? “Why are you asking me about this?”

She shrugged her naked shoulders. “Just curious.” Her nose scrunched. “I wondered if there was more to the story, that’s all. Your father never said anything more about her?”

“Nay—” He stopped and frowned.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” She got that look again and he sighed, resigned. “Something my father said right before he died.” He recalled his words:
Mother … Find … MacDonald.
“He seemed to want me to find my mother, but he was delirious with fever.”

He saw the excitement leap in her eyes. “What if he
did
know what he was saying? What if he wanted you—”

“Nay,” he said, cutting her off before she could get
carried away. For a moment he caught a glimpse of the spontaneous, exuberant girl who’d snuck out of the castle and joined him in a midnight swim. “I have no interest in a reunion with my mother. If my father wanted me to make peace, I’m sorry to disappoint him.”

“But what if your father wanted you to find something?”

“Like what?”

“What if your mother didn’t really leave you? Or what if there is something about your birth—”

“There is nothing,” he said in a voice that boded no argument. “Don’t look for a faerie tale, you’ll only be disappointed. I’m a bastard, Jeannie, and nothing is going to change that. I thought you accepted it.”

She pursed her sensuous mouth into a thin line. “I do. This is not about me, it’s about you. I’m trying to help you clear your name, and what if finding your mother can help?”

His jaw flexed. “It can’t.”

She mumbled something about stubborn oafs.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She threw him an annoyed look. “The isle of Islay is close. We could be there and back in a day or two.” She gazed up at him beseechingly. “What harm can it do?”

Plenty—to his peace of mind for one. Not to mention that half his cousin’s soldiers seemed to be looking for him. But she practically bubbled with excitement and he hated the idea of crushing her enthusiasm. And he was running out of options.

He gritted his teeth, every instinct resisting yet at the same time desperately wanting to please her. She didn’t know his father. He wouldn’t have lied to him. “I’ll think about it.”

She looked like she was about to argue, but then a slow smile curved her lips, a naughty gleam in her eye. She slid her hand down the length of his chest, drawing
little circles with her soft fingertips low on his stomach. He hissed, his spent muscles jumping back to life.

“Perhaps I shall find a way to convince you?”

He grabbed her hand and wrapped it around him. He was already hard as she began to stroke him. Heat spread across his limbs. Each pull of her hand sent him deeper and deeper into the black vortex of pleasure.

He knew he would eventually grant her request, no matter how much he didn’t want to. He feared there was very little he would not do for her. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun in the meantime.

“You can try,” he groaned, then closed his eyes and let her.

For the next two nights Jeannie did her utmost to persuade him, but Duncan was proving to be an exceedingly stubborn man. Though she was beginning to suspect it was simply that he enjoyed her efforts too much to ever give in. He wasn’t the only one. As she lay in bed, contemplating getting up, her body was still limp and sore from their lovemaking.

She couldn’t seem to get enough of him. Passion had been absent in her life for so long, it was as if she was trying to make up for lost time.

And always at the back of her mind was the knowledge that
time
was the one thing they did not have.

If he was captured before they found proof …

Her stomach turned as she fought back the suffocating crush of fear. He’d only just come back to her; she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again.

Jeannie knew that they probably wouldn’t find anything on Islay, but right now his father’s deathbed deliria were all they had. She couldn’t explain it, but all her instincts told her that finding his mother was important. And she was far too desperate not to heed them.

They were safe at Castleswene, but Jeannie knew Duncan would not stay here long, when to do so would further jeopardize his brother’s place with their cousin. Coming here had already placed Jamie in an awkward position—he wasn’t just harboring a fugitive, but his cousin’s most wanted outlaw. Duncan and Jamie had argued
about it last night. Duncan was adamant that he would not foist his troubles on his family, and Jamie was just as determined to not turn his back on his brother again.

Apparently the brothers had reached some sort of impasse. By the time Duncan had slipped in beside her, he said that it had all been sorted out.

After dragging herself from bed, Jeannie called for a bath. She did not linger. The gentle heat from the peat fire was no match for the chilly morning air. Dressing quickly with the help of one of the young maidservants, she went in search of Elizabeth Campbell. If she could not persuade Duncan herself, she would have to call on reinforcements.

She found his sister in one of the mural chambers, a small room carved out in the thick castle walls, looking out the window with a book in her lap. She had a strange pensive look on her face.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Elizabeth jumped at the sound of her voice and looked at Jeannie as if she were an apparition. She shook her head, a wistful smile on her face. “Nay. I wasn’t feeling well this morning and Patrick insisted I rest if I want to go to Inveraray. Normally I would not succumb to blackmail, but in truth I was tired.”

“It’s been an emotional few days.”

A wry smile curved Elizabeth’s mouth. “That it has.”

“You are going to Inveraray to speak with Argyll on Duncan’s behalf?”

Elizabeth nodded. “With Jamie and my husband. I hope it will help.”

But Jeannie could hear in her voice that she didn’t think it likely. Elizabeth looked back out the window and Jeannie drew closer to see what captured her attention. Through the frosty pane of glass she caught sight of the warriors in the courtyard. A few of the men were
practicing their swords, others their archery, and a few lads were standing in a circle around—

Her stomach sank.
Oh, God.
She schooled her features, trying to hide her reaction, but she knew what had so captured Lizzie’s attention.

Duncan had kept his promise to show Dougall his maneuvers. He and her son were locked in a playful demonstration of hand-to-hand combat. Dougall tried to dart by him, but Duncan captured him, enfolded him in a big bear hug, and lifted the squirming boy off the ground. Dougall must have said something funny because Duncan tossed his head back and laughed.

She felt a sharp pang in her chest. Watching them together was torture, but she could not turn away. Her conscience tugged. More than once over the past two days she’d fought the urge to tell him, but she still couldn’t be completely sure how he would react. Would he see it the same way she did or would he insist on claiming his son? She would trust him with
her
future, but could she trust him with her son’s?

She wanted to, but something was stopping her. It wasn’t just the fact that he was an outlaw—a man fighting for his life—though that certainly played a part. They’d just started to rebuild what had been almost destroyed. This connection between them, growing stronger with each passion-filled night, was as yet too fragile. There had been no talk of the future—how could there be with Duncan’s being so uncertain.

She could feel the weight of Lizzie’s gaze on her. “I believe that is your son,” she said.

Jeannie stepped back from the window, her heart pounding. “Yes.” She met Lizzie’s gaze. “His name is Dougall.”

“He looks to be about ten years old.”

Jeannie’s heart stuttered to a terror-struck halt. “He was just nine last Michaelmas.”

Lizzie didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at her with those crystal clear blue eyes. Jeannie met her gaze unflinchingly though every nerve ending in her body stood on edge.

“I was thinking about the day you came to Castleswene.”

Jeannie tensed.

Elizabeth continued. “I thought it bold of you to come looking for Duncan after what you’d done to him—or what he’d accused you of,” she amended. “You seemed so upset to discover he’d left. I was surprised to hear you’d wed so quickly afterward. It seemed to confirm Duncan’s accusation, but I wonder if there was perhaps another reason.”

Jeannie’s fists curled into tight balls at her side. “If you have something to say, just say it,” she said through clenched teeth.

“One day he will see what I see. Once he does, the difference of four or five months will not deter him. Somewhere there is a person who will remember something and be able to tell him the truth. That person should be you.”

Elizabeth Campbell had no right to tell her what to do. “What you are suggesting is wrong. You know nothing of what you speak.”

Lizzie put her hand over her stomach, an instinctive gesture of protection. “Actually I think I do. This babe is not yet born and already I know there is very little I would not do to protect my child. I’m sure you felt the same.” Her voice grew quiet. “But Duncan has a right to know.”

He’d given up that right when he left her.

Or had he?

Deep in her heart Jeannie knew that if they were to have a chance, eventually she must tell him.