Chapter Sixteen

“We’ve arrived at my home,” Graeme said, which were the first words he’d spoken to her that weren’t out of necessity since he’d retrieved her from Aidan the night before.

Maisie blinked her bleary eyes and searched ahead on the trail that wound them through the woods, assuming Dunstaffnage Castle would come into view. She did not see the castle ahead, but when she inhaled, the fresh smell of the sea filled her nose, and a dampness lay in the air.

She knew from her father’s geography lessons that the Stewart stronghold sat surrounded by the sea on three sides in Loch Etive. Suddenly, the woods seemed to part, and they rose out onto a trail that had fewer trees, and ahead, sitting high on a collection of jagged rocks, a mighty stone castle reached for the heavens. She inhaled a sharp breath as they drew closer.

“My da spoke the truth when he said the castle was nearly impossible to take.” Behind her, Graeme stiffened, and she regretted the thoughtless words immediately. “I’m sorry. I was nae thinking what I said. I just—Well, ’tis only that I had my da’s tales—”

“Nae anyone will want to hear yer da’s tales,” Graeme interrupted her in a cold tone.

She sighed and simply nodded. This was how he had been to her since he’d taken her from Aidan—cold as the winter waters of the sea. Eppie and Father Ollie came up on their right, and Maisie glanced at Eppie, hoping for a sign of guidance given the woman had tried several times to get Graeme to speak to Maisie, but Eppie gave her a helpless look and a discreet shake of her head and shrug of her shoulder. It seemed whatever connection Maisie had thought she and Graeme had been forming had been severed when Aidan had taken her, despite it not being her fault at all.

As they drew closer to his imposing home, horns began to blow, no doubt to announce their arrival, and as the horse climbed the path on the hill that led to the stronghold, they passed guards who greeted Graeme and Eppie with warm words and smiles but had frigid looks for Maisie and even Father Ollie. “They ken who I am,” she said. It was the only explanation for the looks of disgust she was getting.

“Aye,” Graeme replied. “Before we departed for the king’s castle, my brother made the announcement to the clan that I was being forced to handfast with ye for a year and a day by the king.”

“I can only imagine yer clan’s reaction when they learned ye were to bring the daughter of the man that attacked their home into their midst.”

“They booed,” he said, the words blunt.

Eppie gasped. “Graeme!”

“What?” he shrugged. “’Tis the truth, and I speak the truth, unlike her brother.”

She balled her hands into fists. She’d held her tongue just as long as she could. “Ye are acting like a jealous husband!” she snapped. “I did nae snatch myself. Aidan’s men took me! The man’s boy hit me over the head, and when I came to, it was at Aidan’s camp.”

“Did ye try to escape?” Graeme bit out.

“Well, nay, but—”

“’Tis all I need to ken.”

He pulled the horse to a halt, surprising her. “Go up ahead of us,” he said to Eppie, who gave him an uncertain look. “Och, Eppie,” he growled, “do ye think I’m going to beat the lass? Ye ken me better than that!”

Eppie pursed her lips, then said, “There are more ways to hurt someone than with yer fists,” but rode the horse ahead as he had bidden.

Graeme dismounted and faced Maisie. He stared at her a long moment, and she could see in his eyes he was trying to figure out how to say something to her. “Ye are here until we prove yer brother treasonous. Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yers, and then ye can return to Buchannan and wed him. I dunnae need, nor do I want, any other explanation from ye. Ye are a Campbell, and I am a Stewart. We both need to remember that.”

His words pricked at her heart like tiny jabs with a dagger. She inhaled a slow breath on the realization of just how much she liked him, but maybe he was right. Maybe it had been foolish to think they could be anything other than enemies. A sense of great loss filled her, tightening her throat and setting a burning behind her eyes. She swallowed repeatedly and blinked to fight back the threatening tears. He hadn’t said that he was drawn to her, but she could see it. Longing filled his eyes now as he looked at her. She wondered if when she’d been taken, he’d realized he was beginning to care for her. It was foolish to even wonder about it, so she shoved it away.

“It is a cruel fate indeed to be drawn to ye when neither of us will ever cave in our beliefs,” she said.

His eyes widened in surprise, then softened. “Aye.” His voice was husky, and he inhaled a long breath, expelled it, then spoke. “So, let us nae make it harder. Let us stay away from each other as much as possible while I’m here.”

She nodded, and then he turned to lead the horse through the gatehouse and into a courtyard that was teeming with warriors, children, and women. Though supper surely had to be about to commence, the Stewarts had come out to greet Graeme. Cheers went up as he entered the courtyard, and men immediately surrounded him. Maisie was parted from him, and she sat atop the horse, feeling very much the outsider and very alone. Ahead, Eppie and Father Ollie had dismounted, and a man in priest robes approached them. He smiled at Father Ollie and clapped him on the back, and then Father Ollie disappeared into the castle with him.

Women surrounded Eppie, much as the men clustered around Graeme. No one came up to Maisie, but they cast looks of open hostility her way. She swallowed the knot in her throat. She wanted her home, her brother, her sister. She was cast among a clan who despised her for something she had not done, and she yearned for a man she could never have a future with. She wanted to disappear, but that urge angered her. She stiffened her spine, tilted up her chin, and met each glare directed at her by shooting her own in return.

Finally deciding that no man was going to come aid her in dismounting, as was customary at her home, she did so herself. But then she stood at a loss as to what to do next. She could make her way through the crowd and into the castle, but then what? She had just agreed with Graeme to keep distance between them, but she had to at least ask him where she should go. She started toward him and the group of men surrounding him, but the crowd of people was thick and the going slow. No one spoke to her or smiled, and she heard whispers behind her as she went that made her even more aware of just how unwanted she was.

She paused behind one of the men surrounding Graeme. He was a tall, muscular redheaded man with the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen.

“I see ye did nae rid yerself of the Campbell wench yet,” the man remarked, snarling out her family name.

“Nay,” Graeme said, and then Maisie saw him look in the direction of his horse where he’d left her and frown. Well, at least he’d not totally forgotten her. “The king would nae be swayed from the temporary handfast to bring peace to our clans.”

“There will nae ever be peace between our clans,” one of the men said. “Until the Campbells have rid their clan of all those who ordered the destruction of ours.”

“Well, Cousin,” said the redheaded man, “at least if ye must keep the Campbell wench here, ye can take pleasure from her. I caught a look, and she’s a bonny lass. Ye can pretend she’s nae a Campbell whilst ye poke her.”

Maisie opened her mouth to flay the man, but Graeme spoke. “I’ll nae be bedding her.”

“I ken she’s a Campbell, and it’s hard to stomach that, but are ye certain ye dunnae want to plunder yer enemy’s sister? Ye could put yer seed in her belly and then send her on her way.”

“That’s enough from ye, Finlay,” Graeme said, and Maisie was pleased to hear irritation in his tone.

“Fine, fine,” the man replied with a wave of his hand. “I’ll stomach it then and plant my seed deep in her.”

Anger heated Maisie from head to toe, and the men around Finlay laughed. She tapped the man Finlay on the back. He turned, his eyes widening, and then a lecherous grin came to his face. She drew her hand back and slapped him with all her might. The contact of her fingers to his cheek made a sharp crack, and her fingers tingled with pain immediately. The laughter around the man died, and he turned red as his eyes narrowed to slits.

“If ye think I’d ever let ye ‘poke’ me,” she said, “ye are sorely mistaken, ye filthy arse.”

A hush fell all around her, and then Graeme spoke, drawing her attention away from Finlay to him. “Well, there ye go, Finlay. The lady does nae bed arses, so ye can set her out of yer mind.”

The man’s nostril’s flared as he glared at her.

“Finlay, I’ll have yer nod of understanding,” Graeme said.

“Is that a command from the acting laird or a request from my cousin?”

Graeme’s voice was hard. “’Tis a command.”

Finlay raked his gaze over her from head to foot, making her skin crawl, before he turned to face Graeme. “Aye, Laird,” he snarled and then strode away.

“If ye’ll excuse me, men,” Graeme said, then stepped to her and placed a hand in the middle of her back. “I’ll see ye inside.” He didn’t look at her but there was a slight pressure at her back, she assumed to indicate she should walk, and he steered them through the people remaining in the courtyard.

He didn’t speak to her as they walked, but every time they passed someone who greeted him, he returned the greeting with warmth. She noted several lasses giving him inviting looks, and to each of them, he simply nodded. It gave her an odd sense of comfort to think perhaps he thought enough of her as a person that he would not humiliate her further by being with other lasses while she was here.

When they got almost to the castle door, he paused and called out, “Eppie!”

Maisie scanned the crowed and found Eppie in a large group of women. She quickly made her way to them, and as soon as she did, Graeme’s hand pressed gently into Maisie’s back again, pushing her toward the other woman. “See to a bedchamber for Maisie.” He finally looked at her, frowning. “I will speak to the men and ensure they respect ye, but it is clear they harbor a hatred for ye because of who ye are. It will nae be easy for ye. My sister-in-law Grace is from an enemy clan, and it was verra difficult for her. The clan gave her a hard time until she proved herself. Given I know they’ll be hostile to ye, dunnae leave the castle without Eppie, and dunnae go anywhere but the loch to wash. Can ye manage that? Can ye manage to stay out of trouble so our interactions are as few as possible?”

“I did nae go looking for trouble,” she bit out, hurt by his words and attitude. She knew he was drawn to her as she was him, but he was putting a wall between them. But still, he didn’t have to be so cruel about it. After all, she had said she agreed it was best they remembered they were on opposites sides of a fight.

“Well, it seems to magically find ye, does it nae?” he growled. “So see that it does nae, or I’m going to start to wonder if ye are just trying to get my attention.” With those ridiculous words, he stormed off.

“That man,” she seethed under her breath. “Get his attention? I dunnae want his attention!” And she didn’t now. “If I were on fire, I’d nae make a peep if he was the only one who could save me!”

Beside her, Eppie snorted. “Come on, lass. I’ll show ye around the castle and to yer bedchamber.”

Maisie nodded. Eppie first took her to the kitchens before they entered the main castle. Eppie opened the door to a chorus of greetings and a bevvy of work. The women cast curious looks her way, but her spirit was bolstered to find they were not glares. Eppie motioned her in and said in a loud voice, “This is Maisie Campbell. She may wish to join us in the kitchens to work.”

Maisie had never worked in the kitchens, but she nodded, eager for the prospect of making some friends and having something to busy herself with for however long she was there. The noise in the kitchen came to a near grinding halt as the women stopped what they were doing to now openly look at her. Many of the curious glances she’d seen moments ago became sour expressions of distaste.

An older woman with silver hair said, “Are ye commanding us as head of our kitchens to allow the traitor Campbell to work with us?” The women around the older one who’d spoken nodded their agreement.

“Nay, Lavina,” Eppie answered.

A younger woman with flaming red hair said, “We dunnae want a Campbell in here. Why, she’d probably try to poison us or our men!”

“Dunnae be a clot-heid, Sasha!” Eppie bellowed, wagging her finger at the red-headed lass. “Look to the laird’s wife as an example of the daughter of an enemy we have accepted.”

“Our lady proved herself!” Sasha replied. “And that took many a month! This woman has only now come amongst us and nae proven a thing! She could well put a pinch of something to kill us in our food without any of us being the wiser!”

“This lass is nae going to poison ye,” Eppie said. “She’s nae yer enemy. She—”

When grumblings and disagreements erupted from the women, Maisie put her hand on Eppie’s forearm and gave a shake of her head. She appreciated the woman trying to champion her, but it was only making matters worse. “Eppie is nae commanding ye,” Maisie said. “If ye dunnae want me in here, I’ll heed yer wishes.”

“We dunnae want ye in here,” Sasha said, to which all the women around her nodded.

A lump lodged in Maisie’s throat, but she nodded. “Fine, but I have nae done anything to ye.”

“Yer father attacked our home with the Lord of the Isles,” Lavina said, “and killed our laird and his wife. He forced the laird’s children to scatter to three corners of Scotland, and we only just got Graeme back. Ye are a Campbell,” the woman said, pointing at her. “Therefore, ye are indeed our enemy until and if ye can ever prove otherwise. Even Graeme believes this and he’s handfasted to ye.”

“Commanded to be handfasted to ye,” Sasha added. “Let us nae forget that. Our laird chose his lady after gaining the true measure of her character. This woman was thrust upon Graeme, and he did nae have a choice!”

“I felt as ye all did, too,” Eppie said to the women, “but she’s proven herself to have an honorable heart.”

“And ye’ve kenned her how long?” Lavina demanded.

“Let us go, Eppie,” Maisie begged.

When they stepped outside, Eppie said, “I’m going to tell Graeme how disgraceful they acted, and—”

“Nay,” Maisie said. “Please dunnae. He made it verra clear he does nae wish to be bothered with me.”

“Aye, I heard him, but he made it clear while staring at ye with yearning.”

Maisie let out a sigh. “I dunnae see how there could ever be a way for us, Eppie, so there is nae any point in us giving in to the pull between us.”

“I kenned I saw correctly!” Eppie crowed, happiness in her voice.

Maisie frowned. “Did ye hear me? We both decided pursuing anything between us was nae wise.”

Eppie waved a dismissive hand as she led them into the castle. “Since when is love wise?”

“Love?” Maisie gasped. “Who said anything about love? We barely ken each other, and he acts like he detests me half the time.”

“Aye,” Eppie said with a grin. “Of course he does.”

Eppie led her down the hall for a moment and paused in front of large, dark, wooden double doors. She opened one and stepped inside a great hall that was grander than the one at Maisie’s home. There were scores of women rushing around the hall setting out trenchers for supper. Maisie hesitated but then followed Eppie into the great hall, staring in wonder at the far wall lined with large, colorful tapestries and shining weapons.

Eppie turned to face her. “Did ye ken I grew up with Graeme’s father?”

Maisie shook her head.

“My da was the shipbuilder for Graeme’s great-grandfather, and so Graeme’s da and I often played together at the loch and in the castle when we were but a wee lassie and lad. Gilbert lost his mama and Da verra young. They were attacked in the woods traveling back from a grand tourney and were killed. Gilbert became very withdrawn, and when he met Graeme’s mama, he kept her at arm’s length. But I could see the yearning in his eyes, and when I pushed him on it, after it seemed he would surely drive her away, he said he did nae wish to get close to a lass who inspired such feeling in him because he knew what it meant to lose someone who held a great place in his heart. I do believe Graeme is like his da. He has lived in loss and to think of losing someone he comes to care for... well...”

Maisie inhaled slowly, thinking about what Eppie was saying. “Mayhap, but I dunnae hold a place in Graeme’s heart.”

“Mayhap nae, but I believe he senses ye could, just as ye sense he could.”

Maisie did not deny it, but still. “That does nae make a difference, Eppie. We still strive for things that are in direct conflict with each other.”

“Aye,” the woman said, leading them back out of the great hall and down the passage they’d just come up. “That’s true, but I’m an old woman, and I ken things the two of ye dunnae.”

“Such as?” Maisie asked as they started up a winding staircase.

“Real desire is near impossible to resist,” Eppie said, “and love…well, love can bridge any divide if ye let it.”

“Ye have a romantic heart!” Maisie exclaimed, surprised.

“Aye.” Eppie smiled. “But dunnae tell anyone. ’Tis my secret.”

“Eppie, were ye ever wed?” Maisie asked, realizing as she spoke the words that Eppie might well be wed now.

Eppie shook her head. “I was to wed, but I took Graeme away, and the man wed another after I did nae return.”

“Was he a warrior here?” Maisie asked, thinking of all the lives her father’s treachery had shattered. Shame rolled through her for his deeds as if they had been her own.

“Aye.”

“Is he still alive?”

“Nay.” She shook her head. “I was told he died only a month before we returned. I did nae ever tell Graeme about this, so keep it to yerself, aye?”

“Aye,” she responded.

They walked in silence up the stairs to an open bedchamber door, and Eppie paused. Inside, a woman was putting down fresh rushes. “Here is where I leave ye. Do ye think ye can make yer way to the great hall for supper, or should I come get ye?”

“I’ll make my way there,” Maisie assured her.

“Yer brother sent a trunk for ye. ’Tis already here.”

Maisie nodded. It was just like Brody to be so thoughtful. It was one of the many reasons she found it nearly impossible to believe he could do such a heartless thing as turn a blind eye to Graeme and Eppie being locked away.

“Did it take a long time to forget him, Eppie?” Maisie asked, thinking upon Graeme and the strange new feelings he had ignited in her.

Eppie looked at her in surprise, then a sad look settled on her face. “Nae a day goes by that I dunnae think of him. I dunnae imagine there is a worse sort of torture than the torture of nae kenning what could have been... I’ll see ye at supper.”

“Aye, I’ll see ye there,” Maisie said.

As Eppie disappeared down the hall, Maisie stepped into the room, which had a distinct chill to it. She glanced to the fire grate to see that there was no wood in it.

The chambermaid had paused in spreading the rushes and was studying Maisie.

Maisie offered a smile. “I’m Maisie Campbell.”

The corners of the woman’s lips turned down. “I ken who ye are,” she said, her voice full of disdain.

Maisie held in her sigh at yet another Stewart who hated her. “Do ye mind fetching some wood for me please or telling me who to ask to do it? ’Tis awfully cold in here.”

“Nae anyone will willingly fetch wood for ye, Lady Campbell, because nae anyone wants ye here.”

She thought about telling Eppie to see if she could aid her, but she feared Eppie would say something to Graeme, and that was the last thing she wanted. “Where do I get wood, then?” she asked.

“From the pile by the door to the kitchens,” the woman replied, then turned and left the room without finishing her work.

Maisie pressed her fingertips to her pounding temples and pushed back the urge to cry. These women would not break her. She quickly spread the rest of the rushes, then made her way back to the kitchens, pleased she remembered the direction. She stopped by the pile of wood and picked up a piece, immediately getting a splinter lodged in the palm of her hand. Muttering to herself, she stacked three logs in her arms, and they were so high, she could barely see around the stack. That’s how she ran smack into someone.

“Oof!” she said as the logs went tumbling down, stubbing her toe and ripping the skirts of her gown as they fell.

And there stood Graeme, hair dripping wet, rivulets of water rolling down his chest, and nothing more than his braies clinging to his hips. Yearning pulsed at her core, and when he tossed the plaid in his hand over his shoulder, the yearning shot through her veins straight to her heart and made it pounded viciously within the confines of her chest.

His dark brows dipped together. “What the devil are ye doing?”

It took a breath for her to get ahold of her spinning senses. The man was far too attractive for his own good.

“What the devil does it look like I’m doing?” she said, hoping she sounded snappish and not breathless.

“Why are ye fetching wood?”

“Because my bedchamber is cold.”

“Nay. I mean why are ye fetching yer own wood?”

“Because I’m nae helpless,” she said, which was the truth, though not the whole of it.

Graeme studied her for a long moment, then raised both arms to shove his wet hair back off his forehead. Every muscle the Scot possessed seemed to move in perfect harmony, rippling under the surface of his sun-kissed skin. “Are ye encountering trouble getting aid?”

“Nay,” she lied, knowing instinctively his stepping in would likely make matters worse.

“If ye do—”

“I will nae,” she said, recalling his words about her attempting to gain his attention. She certainly didn’t want to give him any reason to think she was doing that.

With a nod, he bent over to pick up the wood she’d dropped, and she let out a soft moan of pain for him and the scars zigzagging the broad expanse of his back. She had seen them, known they were there, but knowing more of what he’d endured now made it all the worse. He stood, arms full of wood, and faced her. “I ken it’s an ugly sight.”

“Nay!” she replied. “The scars show ye have strength to have survived such a thing, just as the scars on yer face do.”

He stared at her a long moment, as if she were a creature he’d never seen before. “Ye dunnae think like other lasses I’ve encountered.”

“I dunnae?” she asked, falling into step beside him as he started walking. She had to double her pace to keep up as they crossed the courtyard. “Are ye in a hurry to get away from me, or are ye simply in a hurry?”

A flash of humor crossed his face. “Both, lass. Both.”

She was glad that there could be at least some levity between them, despite everything.

As they entered the castle and made their way to the stairs, his words about other lasses needled her. “How do I nae think like the other lasses ye have encountered?”

He paused at the top of the stairs and faced her. “Ye see the scars as a mark of courage, while the other lasses I’ve, er... that have seen my back, seem to only see the scars as something disfiguring.”

She had a flash of surprising, unwanted jealously thinking upon him with other lasses because she knew for certain that they’d seen his back when they’d been tumbling in his bed. Maisie shook the jealousy off and said, “Then they are fools. I’d much rather have a man with scars that show his courage than a man with the smooth skin of one who has never faced hardship and come out of it stronger.”

The look he gave her was so rousing it sent a tremor through her. Their eyes locked, and she could hear his breath suddenly, in time with hers. “This,” he said, his voice rumbling out of him, “is exactly why I want us to keep a distance.”

“This?” she repeated, trying to ignore the strange ache having him so near caused in her limbs.

“Words pour out of yer mouth that tempt me to forget who ye are.”

Unable to say more because a knot had risen in her throat, she nodded. She had never experienced such desire or rejection, and to experience both at once sent her emotions swirling.

“Come on. I’ll take the wood upstairs for ye, then take my leave.”

He strode quite a bit head of her, undoubtedly so there would be no opportunity to speak to each other more. He had purposeful long, sure strides, and he carried himself with an air of confidence that made her feel warm and giddy, as if she’d imbibed too much wine. He went straight to her bedchamber door, and it wasn’t until they were standing in front of it that she realized he hadn’t asked which bedchamber was hers.

“How did ye ken this was my chamber?” she asked.

Something intense flared in his green gaze. “I’m acting laird.”

“Aye, and I’d think as the acting laird who’d only just returned, ye’d have far more important matters to attend to than assigning me my bedchamber.”

He shifted from foot to foot then finally said, “Eppie made mention,” he replied.

She nodded. She could well imagine Eppie giving him the same talk the woman had given her.

“If ye’ll get the door for me, I can deposit the wood and be on my way.”

She nodded again, reached to open the door, and then hissed when the handle hit the splinter in her hand.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, entering the room after she opened the door.

“’Tis just a splinter from the wood,” she replied as she watched him set down the firewood and quickly build and start the fire.

He crossed the room and came to stand in front of her. “Let me see it.”

He radiated a vitality that she could practically feel. She wanted to lean toward him, but she kept herself in place and raised her hand, palm up for him to see. He took it, and the warmth of his skin against hers set her heart to racing. But when he raised her palm close to his eyes, then brought it to his lips, and to her utter shock, sucked her open palm with long, strong pulls, her heart jolted and her pulse pounded. She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. The pleasure of his lips on her skin was so intense, all she could do was stand there.

After a moment, he pulled away, brought his fingers to his lips, and then held up his index finger to her. There, on the tip, was a large splinter, and a quick look at her palm confirmed it was indeed the splinter that had been lodged in her skin. She sucked in a breath. Desire burned so hot within her, she wanted to fan herself.

Licking her lips, she managed to say, “How did ye learn to do that?”

“Ye learn all sorts of things when ye are a prisoner,” he replied.

There was no anger in his tone. He had stated a simple truth, yet it made her heart wrench. They stood in silence, face-to-face, so close that his heat enveloped her, his thumb tracing a path back and forth across her open palm. She didn’t think he even knew he was doing it, and that made it all the more exhilarating. She longed to feel his lips on hers again, and that was dangerous for them both.

She stepped back, pulling her hand from his as she did, and she saw his eyes widen with surprise. “I need to freshen myself for supper,” she said for lack of a better reason to get him to go before she pressed her lips to his.

His gaze traveled down her body and back up to her face. “Nay, lass, ye dunnae. Ye look like a temptress as it is. But all the same, I’ll leave ye to it.”

With that, he left, and she stood there trying not to allow thoughts of what could have been fill her head.