That kiss.
She had to struggle to keep her gaze from straying across his hair-roughened chest, his powerful hands, which rested tensely along the arms of the chair. She was far too aware of him. Aware in a way she resented. He had come unbidden into her home and into her life. He would not invade her heart, as well.
When she had secured fresh linen dressings, she turned away. “Astra has provided you with clothes.” She pointed to the breeches, shirt and tunic atop the table.
“What happened to my own clothes?”
“We had to cut them off. They were beyond saving. We tossed them in the fire.”
He walked to the basin and began to wash. Seeing his half-naked limbs, and feeling again the unsettling flutter in the pit of her stomach, Merritt glanced away with a feeling of self-loathing. She must learn to steel herself against any further entanglements.
When he dried himself, Shaw pulled on the clothes and made a sound of disgust.
Across the room, Merritt looked up, noting the droplets of water in his hair, which made him look strangely appealing. “What is wrong, Campbell?”
Shaw winced as he glanced down at himself. “This tunic bears the Lamont crest. If the men of Kinloch House were to see me in such as this, I would be the object of much ridicule.”
For the first time since Astra had left, he caught the hint of humor in Merritt’s eyes. “Mayhap you would prefer to walk around as naked as the day you were born.”
“’Twould be preferable to the Lamont crest upon my person.”
“Then consider what you would be forcing the rest of us to endure,” she lied. The truth was, she found him far too easy to look upon. But she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing such a thing.
She saw him suddenly flinch as he lifted his sword and attempted to place it in his scabbard. His wounds were still raw and his pain was evident.
Taking pity on him, she crossed to him and took the sword from his hand. As she secured it in his scabbard, her hands brushed his waist and she felt an unexpected jolt.
Glancing up, she was scorched by the heat of his gaze narrowed on her.
Needing to fill the awkward silence, she muttered, “You should have used your sword last night, Campbell.” She strode to the door of her chamber to escape the nearness of him. “But I thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“You are most welcome, my lady.”
“But I still say ‘twas your fault that we nearly lost our lives.” She paused at the door and turned, lifting her head defiantly. “And I will thank you not to interfere again.”
“Aye. I’ll remember.” He held the door, then took her arm as she started toward the stairs.
The flutter in her stomach, she assured herself, was merely hunger. It had nothing to do with the touch of this... Campbell.
She was grateful when he left her at the top of the stairway to check on his brother.
Shaw knocked on Sabina’s door and waited until she bade him to enter.
“How does Sutton fare this morrow?”
“I am puzzled. Though he shows little change, his sleep was restless. During the darkest hours of the night he seemed in much distress. But now he sleeps peacefully. In fact,” she added, “I thought I saw him smiling a short time ago.”
Shaw wasn’t at all surprised. Considering how much pain he had endured during the night, it was to be expected that his twin would share his suffering. And the smile... He thought about the brief, shocking kiss he’d shared with Merritt. Aye. That would no doubt please his worldly-wise brother.
“Has he taken any of your potions?”
“Very little. He still... resists.” She was grateful for the long billowing sleeves that hid the fresh bruises on her wrists.
Now that he had tasted the bitter brew, Shaw understood his brother’s continued reluctance, though he regretted that the lass had to bear the brunt of Sutton’s wrath. “Astra provided me with hot mulled wine, which she claims has healing powers. Mayhap we should try a little of that instead of the willow bark tea.”
Sabina nodded and filled a goblet, which she handed to Shaw. At once he knelt and cradled his brother’s head, tipping the cup to his lips. Sutton took several long drinks before clamping his mouth shut on any more. Both Sabina and Shaw were overjoyed.
“That is the most nourishment he has taken,” Sabina said.
“Then we will thank Astra for the favor.” Shaw smoothed the covers over his brother before getting to his feet. Staring down at the steady rise and fall of Sutton’s chest, he felt his hopes rise. Though his twin was a long way from recovering, he was no longer at death’s door. And each day saw his strength grow.
“How did you sleep, Father?” Sabina asked solicitously as they gathered around the table to break their fast.
“Badly.” Upton glowered as Astra offered him a bowl of gruel. “I heard much commotion. Whispering. Footsteps up and down the hail. Doors closing. Is there no one who will direct the servants in the proper way to fulfill their duties?”
Sabina shot a glance at Merritt, who looked away. “I will see that the servants retire early tonight, Father,” Sabina said softly.
“See that they do. A warrior needs his rest. Is that not so, Campbell?”
Shaw nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“You do not look rested, Campbell. Is that blood oozing through your tunic?”
Shaw glanced down at the dark stain that had worked its way through the dressing. “A minor wound. A... tree branch that snagged my flesh when I was trailing the herd of deer.”
“Tree branch. Ha. Such a wound is unworthy of mention,” Upton scoffed. “When I was your age, I was engaging my enemy daily. My body bears the scars of a score of encounters with arrow, dirk and sword. But not one of my enemies ever bested me.”
“Tell us again about your battles, Father,” Edan coaxed.
“Which tale would please you, lad?”
“The time you stood alone against an entire army of invaders.”
“Aye.” The gruel was forgotten as Upton said, “’Twas in the days before Rob and his armies. ‘Twas even before the Highlanders had banded together to repel invaders. In those days, we were nothing but a wandering ragtag band of young fools, always hungry, always cold, and always ready to do battle against anyone who lifted a sword against us.” He glanced around at his son and daughters. “Living in this fine house, surrounded by servants to do your bidding, you would not know about such things. But then, times were very hard. Not at all as they are now, what with all the luxuries you enjoy.”
Shaw saw Merritt and Sabina exchange glances, then lower their heads as their father continued.
“The invaders were young savages, newly arrived on our shores from some heathen land. They had left a bloody trail of death and destruction. When we caught up with them, we sent our women and children to hide in the forest while we engaged them in battle.”
“Tell us about the battle, Father,” Edan urged. His eyes were animated, and it was easy to see that he imagined himself that same brave young warrior.
“Our weapons were crude. A few swords. Dirks carved from stone and animal bone. Tree limbs used as clubs. But we stood together, back to back, determined to repel the barbarians.”
“And you were the tallest, and the strongest, and the bravest,” Edan said, clapping his hands.
“Aye. That I was, lad. The leader. The one the others looked up to. And I led them well. ‘Twas my sword that inflicted the most pain. My voice that called out words of encouragement to the others. My skill that brought the savages to their knees, until the Highland meadow ran red with their blood.”
“And then what, Father?” Edan’s food was forgotten now in the excitement of the tale.
“Then we were rid of the invaders,” Upton said fiercely. “And the others no longer needed me.” His voice lowered. His gaze focused on his big hands, palms resting upward atop the scarred table. “The others were content to become soft and lazy. To till the soil and raise their bairn
s. But what about me? Did they give a care about me? What is a warrior to do when the battles end?”
“The battles never end,” Merritt said.
“Aye.” Upton lifted his gaze to his daughter. The smile returned to his lips. “We are two of a kind, you and I, lass. We’ll never be content to grow soft and lazy and settle in to raise our bairns. There will always be another battle, another challenge.”
Throughout Upton’s narrative, Shaw held his silence, watching first the father, then the children. It was obvious that they had heard the tale many times before. And though Edan seemed pleased by his father’s story, he sensed an underlying sadness in Sabina and Merritt.
Upton’s eyes lit with pleasure when Astra returned bearing a tray heaped with steaming mounds of freshly sliced venison. “Now this is how a warrior should ever break his fast,” Upton said as he filled his trencher and began to eat.
Shaw sipped his ale and forced himself to eat, knowing that the food would renew his strength. But while he ate, he thought about the story he had just heard. There had been similar tales in his own boyhood. But the hero had always been Modric of the Clan Campbell. And the villain had always been the man who was now seated across the table from him.
As if reading his mind, Upton said, “You are quiet this morrow, Campbell. How does your brother fare?”
“He grows stronger. Though he is not yet awake, I believe he has passed through a veil. I no longer fear for his life.”
“Has he spoken?” Merritt asked sharply.
Shaw turned to study her. Was that a tremor of fear in her voice?
His eyes narrowed. “Why does that concern you?”
She shrugged and turned away, avoiding his probing look. “It is of no concern to me, Campbell. Except that the sooner he recovers, the sooner you can be on your way back to your people.”
“I hope it is not too soon,” Edan said as he filled his plate a second time. “For Shaw has promised to tutor me in my letters.”
The others looked up in surprise.
“You read, Campbell?” Merritt asked.
“Aye. My brothers and I were raised in the monastery of Saint Collum after our parents were killed,” he responded. “The monks taught us to read and write, as well as how to till the soil.”
“I’ll wager they didn’t teach you how to wield a sword,” Upton said with a scornful laugh.
“Nay. They are men of God, not of war. But the Highlander does not live who does not know how to fight. Though I must admit,” he said with a rueful smile, “that my brothers are more skilled in that area than I.”
“And why is that? Were you sickly as a lad?” Edan asked.
“Nay. But I have no love for war.”
“No love for...” Merritt looked at him as though he were mad. “Does your blood not run hot when you lift your sword? Do you not feel a sudden thrill when you race your mount across a Highland meadow and charge into a murderous mob?”
Shaw threw back his head and roared. It was a full, rich sound that had the others smiling. “Nay, lass. But I feel certain my brothers have experienced such as you have just described. For nothing fills them with fire like the thought of battle. As for me, I will fight my battles on the chessboard, and be inspired by the lofty words inscribed in a book.”
Hearing mention of reading, Edan asked eagerly, “Can we begin our lesson soon?”
‘Aye, lad.” Shaw drained his goblet, pleased that his pupil was so impatient to learn. “As soon as you have finished your meal, the lessons will begin.”
“You will form your letters upon this parchment, that I may see how far you have advanced in your education,” Shaw said, handing Edan a quill and scroll.
He had carried the lad to a dusty, neglected room in the east wing of the keep. There, seated in a chair beside the window, the lad took great pains to form each letter.
While he worked, Shaw set a roaring fire in the fireplace, then moved around the room, tearing down heavy draperies and opening dirt-streaked casements to allow the fresh air and morning sun to stream in. Soon, despite the dust motes and cobwebs, the room took on a cheery air.
Several hours later Merritt found them, heads bent over a book. Edan’s sweet young voice could be heard reading haltingly, while Shaw nodded encouragement.
“In the year of our Lord, 1295, Upton of the Clan Lamont in Argyll took for his bride Brinda, daughter of Galen of the Clan MacArthur in Argyll. Brinda did present her laird husband with three bairns. Sabina, Merritt and Edan.”
Seeing Merritt, Shaw dropped a hand on Edan’s arm. “That’s enough for now, lad. We have company.”
“What did you bring us?” Edan asked, eyeing the tray in Merritt’s hands.
“Tea and biscuits, with clotted cream and fresh preserves. Astra said this will keep you until our midday meal.”
“I have not seen food such as this for a year or more,” the boy cried in delight.
“Aye. ‘Twould seem that Astra has been inspired by the fresh meat and logs provided by your tutor.”
While Edan happily buttered a biscuit and popped it into his mouth, Shaw watched as Merritt slowly circled the room.
“I’m glad you chose this room. ‘Twas once my mother’s sitting chamber,” Merritt said softly. “There were lovely tapestries upon the walls, and the chairs and settles were covered with her finest embroidery. There was always a cheery fire blazing on the hearth, and we children would play while she and the servants spun wool. We often took our midday meal in here, then fell asleep on the rug before the fire.”
“Did you sup here, as well?”
“Nay. At night we would sup in the great hall with Father and his soldiers. There they would tell of their battles, and a scribe would write every tale in the family book.” She nodded toward the heavy manuscript that rested beside Edan. “That is the book of our lives.”
“The lad has been well taught,” Shaw admitted. “You and your sister have done a fine job.” He saw the color that crept into her cheeks and was oddly pleased that it was his praise that put it there. “In just a few short lessons he should be able to read anything.”
“Then I will be able to read about Father’s battles,” Edan said with enthusiasm.
“What is more, Edan, you will be able to chronicle the rest of your family’s history, from the death of your mother to the present time,” Shaw told him.
Merritt’s smile fled. “From the looks of it, he may well be inscribing the end of our family history.”
“Nonsense.” Shaw lifted the heavy book and replaced it on the shelf where it had been residing for so many years. Wiping the dust on his breeches, he turned to Edan. “We will end your lesson for today. But each day, after we break our fast, we will continue, until you learn all the letters, and you can read every page in this book.”
“Aye.” The boy’s eyes sparkled with undisguised pleasure. “Where do you go now?”
Shaw cast a mysterious smile in Merritt’s direction. “Since your horses have reappeared, I think it is time to build a pen to hold them.”
She clapped her hands in delight. “Truly?”
“Aye. You would not want them to run away again, would you?”
She watched as he popped a biscuit into his mouth before striding from the room. When she caught her little brother observing her closely, she turned away. “Enjoy your treat,” she commanded, “before I carry you above stairs to your pallet.”
“Why must I go to my room?” the lad demanded.
She stared at him. “Because you always do. You said your chamber is the only place where you feel safe, with your sword and knife by your side.”
“Well, I have changed my mind,” he said firmly. “I think I would prefer to sit outside in the sunshine and watch Shaw work.”
Merritt laughed, a clear, crystal sound, as she bent and lifted her brother in her arms. Though she would not admit it to him, the same thought had occurred to her. There was no place she would rather be than watching the Campbell take on a task she ha
d expected to have to do herself.
Chapter Eleven
“Fool! You allowed my hated enemy to escape. Again you have failed me.”
Deep in the forest, the two men faced each other in the small hut. The leader’s eyes blazed with fury.
The peasant recoiled as though lashed. “Y’er enemy is cunning, m’laird. Furthermore, my men are leery of retaliation, for they know the reputation of y’er enemy’s clan.”
“I’ll accept no more of your whining. You will finish what was begun, or answer to my sword. Is that clear?”
“Aye, m’laird.”
“And if any man questions my authority, he must die. Now go and see to what I have commanded.”
The peasant hurried away, eager to escape the wrath of the evil Black Campbell.
“Without a stable, how will you keep the horses from bolting?” Edan called from his position beneath a gnarled old tree.
“You shall have to watch and see,” Shaw replied.
Sunlight sparkled on the loch and filtered through the trees as he bent to his task. It was a glorious afternoon.
The perfume of evergreen and wildflowers wafted on the breeze. Birds chirped overhead.
After chopping saplings, Shaw cut notches in a ring of trees, then fitted the saplings into the notches. The work was hard, and he soon shed his tunic and shirt.
Edan stared in fascination at the muscled giant who seemed never to tire as he grappled with trees and heavy limbs. “I see now what you are doing,” he called. “It is a circle.”
“Aye. A closed circle that will keep the horses from roaming.”
“But what if the invaders return?” Merritt asked from her perch in a branch of the tree. “What is to stop them from stealing our horses again?”
“The same thought has occurred to me. If I must, I am prepared to sleep out here.” Shading the sun from his eyes, Shaw glanced at the lass. She had no idea of the pretty picture she presented, with her hair blowing in the breeze, her cheeks bright with color. From beneath her billowing petticoats he glimpsed a length of shapely ankle. Always before, his natural inclination would have been to turn away from such a distraction. But here in this raw, primitive fortress, something was happening to him. Something he neither understood nor tried to fathom. He merely enjoyed the view and even seemed not to mind the way his blood heated at the sight of her.