Chapter Nine

Her eyes flashed with anger, making them even more striking and intense in their green color than they already were. She flung her long dark hair back over her shoulders, which she squared, and stepped around him, her head held high. She marched to stand before the king, made a curtsy, was dismissed, and strode past him and out the door. Drawn by something he could not explain, he stalked to the door after her and watched her hurry down the passage, fling open the door, and march into the courtyard before the door closed behind her and he could see her no more.

“Ye touch Maisie like that again and I’ll kill ye.”

Graeme glanced to the left where Buchannan stood, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “She did nae seem to mind,” he drawled, and when Buchannan made as if to bring his fist back, Graeme said, “I’ll be happy to fight ye, but I dunnae think the king will be pleased.”

Buchannan let out a growl and then stormed away from Graeme to join Maisie’s brother and sister, who stood in front of the king, no doubt being given their leave.

“Making friends, I see,” said Ross, coming to stand beside Graeme.

He snorted. “Hardly. The man took exception to the way I kissed my wife.”

My wife.

God’s blood, that sounded strange. He knew it was temporary, but it felt permanent. Especially after that kiss. He couldn’t, for the life of him, comprehend how the Campbell lass had made his blood course through his veins so forcefully. She was a Campbell! The lot of them were treacherous and responsible for his parents’ deaths, his and Eppie’s imprisonment, not to mention his siblings being raised far away from their home.

“It was quite a kiss,” Ross said.

Graeme shoved a hand through his hair, guilt swallowing him. “’Twas just a kiss. She’s a bonny lass, and she stirred my desire nae any differently than any of the other lasses I’ve kissed since coming home.”

That was a lie. The lasses he’d been with during the months since he’d returned home had not fueled the sort of heat in him that Maisie Campbell had. He’d felt desire, for certain, but it had not consumed him in flames as this had. Mayhap it was the lust combined with the need for revenge. Both were strong emotions, and it was hard to keep them separate. Yes, he was certain that was it.

“Aye, I’ve heard from my wife that all the harebrained unwed lasses in the castle are determined to be the one to fix ye.”

Graeme frowned. “Fix me?”

Ross nodded.

“Am I broken?”

“According to my wife, the lasses say ye carry a darkness in yer heart that prevents ye from being soft, but they kinnae blame ye, as ye were locked away all yer life.” Ross rolled his eyes. “They want to fix ye.”

“I dunnae need to be fixed, and I dunnae need soft emotions. All I need is vengeance.”

“Vengeance will nae keep ye warm on a winter night in yer bed, and vengeance will nae heal ye back to health should ye be sick, and vengeance will nae greet ye when ye return from battle.”

Graeme snorted. “I’ve a coverlet to keep me warm, we’ve a healer in the castle, and I’ll get a hound to greet me.”

“Ye’re a young, foolish pup,” his brother said.

“And ye’re soft, and ye let a lass into yer heart, so...”

“Caring about a lass dunnae make ye weak. It makes ye stronger.”

“I would nae ken, as I’ve only just recently been around any women besides Eppie.”

“Eppie made ye stronger.”

Graeme thought about that for a moment and realized Ross was right. Eppie had made him stronger by the very nature of his love for her. He had endured years at the abbey he would not have if it hadn’t been for his refusal to escape and leave her behind. “That’s different,” he grumbled.

“Aye,” his brother agreed, “it is. Ye love Eppie as a mother. The love for a woman who has taken yer heart is strong in its own way. It makes ye a better man, and it can heal ye.”

“I already told ye I dunnae want to be healed. I want vengeance. Do ye nae?”

“Aye,” Ross said, “but nae at the price of losing Grace.”

“Well, I hope to lose Maisie Campbell. She’s our enemy.”

“I’ll wait to judge if her father’s crimes and her brother’s are also hers afore I name her enemy,” Ross said. “Loving Grace taught me that.”

“Ye saw the way Maisie championed her brother,” Graeme protested.

“Aye,” Ross agreed, “but that does nae mean she kens his sins. She loves him, as a good sister should; therefore, she likely kinnae see the bad.”

“Ye can give her grace if ye wish, but unless I have definitive proof now that she’s nae treacherous, I will treat her with wariness, and I’ll be guarded.”

“I’m nae saying to do otherwise; I’m just urging ye to remember that she may be innocent of any wrongdoing, as Grace was.”

“Innocent or nae, she is a Campbell, and I’m nae as forgiving as ye, apparently. I could nae ever take a Campbell to wife.”

Ross cocked an eyebrow. “Just to yer bed, aye?”

“Nay,” Graeme said, thinking of the kiss. “I’ll nae be taking her to my bed. I kissed her because I was required to, but I’ll nae be such a fool to fall under her spell and be used to aid her brother in working against us.”

“Well, I do agree there. Her brother will do whatever it takes to get to Bernard and the others before us. That’s why I’m going to head back to the abbey and follow Bernard’s trail from there. I’ll send ye a missive so ye can meet up with me after ye take Maisie to our home.”

Graeme started to protest that Sorcha or one of the guards could take care of Maisie, but though he didn’t want her as his wife, she was, temporarily, and he was honor bound, whether he liked it or not, to ensure she got to his home safely.

He and his family took their leave of the king quickly, said his goodbyes to his family in the courtyard, and collected Eppie from the chambers where she awaited him. The two of them made their way back to collect Maisie and the priest. He strode across the courtyard as Maisie attempted to swing onto his stallion herself, but every time she managed to get one leg over the massive beast, she slid to the ground once more. He stood back, watching her face grow redder with each attempt, until she finally turned to him.

With a glare, she said, “If ye were any sort of gentleman, ye would nae stand there simply watching me.”

“I did nae learn gentlemanly manners imprisoned at the abbey,” he said, lacing his fingers together. “Step in and I’ll hoist ye up.”

“Do ye plan to try to incite arguments between us every time ye speak to me?” she demanded as she placed a foot into his laced fingers.

“I have nae thought that far ahead,” he admitted, and then he hoisted her up and onto Lightning with a bit too much force. She landed with an oof . Scowling down at him, she said, “If I should have an ‘accident,’ I assure ye, my brother will make certain ye pay for what ye have done to me.”

His lips parted in surprise at the suggestion that he would hurt her. He glanced to Father Ollie, but the nearly deaf priest had his face turned to the sun and his eyes shut. Wonderful . He was strapped with a temporary wife he did not want, who thought he might try to kill her, and a deaf priest, who undoubtedly was going to be troublesome to travel with.

“I may nae want to be handfasted to ye, but while I am, ye can rest assured, I’ll guard ye with my life. I’ve honor, unlike yer brother,” he added, swinging himself up behind the lass.

“My brother has more honor in his pinkie than ye have in yer whole body,” she snapped, and tried to scoot so far forward on Lightning that the beast whinnied his protest.

“I dunnae want to be near ye any more than ye want to be near me, but ye kinnae agitate my horse,” he said, tugging Maisie back across the horse toward him and locking her between his thighs. She started to scoot forward again, but he slid his hand around her waist to stop her. Unfortunately, the heavy weight of her breasts rested on the top of his arm and sent a bolt of lust through him, which irritated the devil out of him.

“Let me go!” she demanded, twisting this way and that and trying once more to scoot forward. “I’m nae going to sit between yer thighs, pressed up against yer hard chest, with yer arm in such an intimate place!”

“Makes ye desire me too greatly, does it?” he asked with a pleased chuckle. He happened to glance to the right and caught Eppie shaking her head at him. He winked at her, and she scowled back. He knew she wasn’t pleased with his behavior, but he couldn’t help needling the lass, and it made him feel better knowing she was also uncomfortable by their close contact.

“Desire ye?” she snarled. “Ye’re a Stewart and a scarred one at that! I—I dunnae desire ye.”

“Ye go too far,” Eppie hissed.

He shook his head at Eppie, and she fell silent with a vexed look upon her face.

He leaned close to Maisie so that his chest pressed against the length of her back, and her bottom pressed against his staff, which unfortunately grew hard at the contact with her womanly softness. Desire did not seem to care about enemy or foe. “My scars,” he said, feeling her stiffen under his touch, “dunnae bother me. I look upon them with pride. I survived yer da and brother, mayhap ye, trying to keep me locked away forever.”

“I would nae ever—”

He wasn’t inclined to let her get a word in to defend herself. “I’m sorry they offend ye, but as soon as we get to my home, ye’ll likely nae have to look upon my face much. Ye’ll have yer own bedchamber, and if I need company in my bed, I’ll simply take up one the offers from one of the lasses in my clan. They apparently dunnae find me too hideous to look at.” The minute the boasting words left his mouth, he understood that her words had wounded him. Even though the scars did not bother him, it did nettle to think she found him hideous, but not so much that he’d dishonor her by bedding another lass while he was handfasted to her. He had given his oath, and he would honor it until he could get out of it.

She sucked in a sharp breath and then said, “Graeme, I—”

“Save yer breath,” he interrupted, hearing the shame in her voice. Good. She could sit in her guilt. “Father Ollie!” Graeme bellowed. “Mount behind Eppie, she’ll ride with ye.” And with that, he turned toward the gate and set a grueling pace for home that would allow no room for talk.