Sutton had passed through the darkness and had emerged into the light. And though there would still be pain and discomfort ahead, the worst was over. He would rise up to fight another day.
For long minutes Shaw remained on his knees as the monks had taught him, giving praise and glory to God for this generous gift of his brother’s life.
At last he roused, himself and made his way down the stairs. He paused in the doorway of the great hall. It was obvious that Upton and his son had retired for the night. Only the two lasses remained.
Sabina and Merritt sat close together, huddled before the fire, heads bent, voices lowered to a whisper. When they caught sight of him, their words abruptly ceased. Both women watched warily as he entered the room and crossed to them.
“Astra has told us of your brother’s miraculous recovery,” Sabina said.
“Aye. Praise heaven.”
“So, Campbell,” Merritt called, “what curious tale has your brother given you regarding his wounds?”
Shaw fixed his gaze on her, to gauge her reaction. “I bade him to conserve his energy. On the morrow, if he feels stronger, we will talk at length. Then he will tell me everything.”
He was rewarded with a flush that crept over her cheeks, and a lowering of her gaze. It would give him the greatest Satisfaction to uncover her lies. But for now, he must forgo revenge and think only about what was good for Sutton.
“Instruct Astra that my brother will need broth to regain his strength.’’
“We ate the last of the meat,” Merritt reminded him.
“Then I shall go out and slay a deer.” He headed toward the door.
“Now? Tonight?” Merritt’s tone was incredulous.
Something in her voice caused Shaw to pause. She was not merely questioning his actions. She seemed truly dismayed.
He turned to study her. “Why should it trouble you if I go out into the night?”
“There is no reason.” She shrugged uncomfortably beneath his gaze.
“So, little firebrand, I take it you’ve planned another nightly raid, and I have just unraveled your well-laid plans.”
“You’ve done nothing of the sort. Do you think I need your approval, Campbell, to do as I please?”
In swift strides he crossed to her and caught her roughly by the arm, holding her firmly when she tried to pull away.
His voice was low with controlled anger. “Aye, my lady. Mark me well. Though I allow you much freedom, I am your captor. You and your family are my captives. While I am under your roof, you will obtain my approval before you enter or leave Inverene House.”
“And if I do not, what will you do?” She tossed her head, eyes blazing. Her words burned with sarcasm. “You cannot even lift your sword against those who attack you. What will you do to one errant woman?”
His voice was deadly calm, the only outward sign of just how much self-control he exerted when dealing with her. “If you dare to cross me, you will find out. I promise you, my punishment will be swift. And suitable to your deed. The choice is yours, my lady.” He released her and turned away.
Merritt rubbed her bruised arm. There was something compelling about this man. Though he was slow to anger, and he had made it clear that his sword would be a last resort, she had no doubt that he was as good as his word. Still, she refused to be cowed by a Campbell.
“One more thing,” Shaw said, directing his words to Sabina. “My brother’s pallet is little more than rags. He needs fresh bed linens.”
“And will our wealthy captor provide them, as well?” Merritt asked contemptuously.
He refused to look at her, but his eyes narrowed as he muttered, “If need be.”
“There is no need,” Sabina said quickly, hoping to keep peace between these two. “It will be done.”
He nodded in satisfaction. “I will return shortly. See that there is a fire blazing and a kettle simmering.”
Both Merritt and Sabina breathed an audible sigh of relief when the imposing young giant strode from the room.
Shaw knelt beside the banks of the swiftly running stream and drank deeply. The tracks of the herd he’d been following had taken him much farther from Inverene House than he’d intended. It would probably be dawn before he made it back.
Glancing up, he peered through the tall spires of the forest to the sliver of half-moon that glowed in the night sky.
After the work he’d put in this day, he ought to be exhausted and ready to sleep like a bairn. But the truth was, he felt oddly exhilarated by the thrill of the hunt. Now that Sutton was mending, he felt that no task would be too great. If he had to move a mountain or level a forest to return his brother to the fullness of his life, it would be done.
Getting to his feet, he caught the reins of his mount and began leading him down the steep incline. Flung across the horse’s back was the biggest stag Shaw had ever killed. Tied to the saddle was a brace of pheasant.
He smiled as he picked his way among rocks and trees. Upton Lamont would be a happy man when old Astra prepared all this food. But he hadn’t done this for the Lamonts, he told himself sternly; he’d done it for Sutton. The Lamonts meant nothing to him. Sutton, on the other hand, meant the world to him.
Now that his brother had come back from the brink, he would do everything in his power to help him regain his strength. Then they would be done with these cursed Lamonts forever.
His horse nickered softly and drew back on the reins. Shaw saw that the horse’s ears had flattened, and its eyes were wide with fright.
Lifting his head, he strained to see through the darkness, but the density of forest blotted out all but a fragment of moonlight.
Again the horse pulled back and a faint sound reached Shaw’s ears. A dog barked. And then there was another sound. A voice. A woman’s voice. Calling. Coaxing. But as the sound grew nearer, Shaw recognized it, and fought back a wave of absolute, raw fury.
Merritt’s voice. The female was somewhere out here, accompanied by a hound. After he had gone to such pains to warn her, she had deliberately disobeyed him and had gone out into the night.
The dog’s barking increased, as did the sound of her voice. But there was another sound. Crying perhaps, or the call of a flock of night birds.
And then, as dozens of dark shapes spilled over the hill and began the steep descent toward him, Shaw realized what he had heard. Sheep. It was the bleating of sheep. The damnable female had gone off on another of her night raids. And this time, she’d helped herself to someone’s sheep.
He only prayed there weren’t a dozen armed men close on her heels. But even as the thought took shape in his mind, he heard the distant thundering of hoofbeats. And the angry murmur of men’s voices heading his way.
* * *
Merritt took no notice of the pain in her arm where an arrow had grazed her flesh. She had boldly tossed aside the bloody arrow and struggled to ignore the warm sticky mass that now soaked the sleeve of her shirt.
She seemed unaware of the tree branches that snagged her hair, and the cold night wind whistling past her face, as her horse sped along behind the flock of sheep. Though tiny currents of fear occasionally intruded, she nudged them aside, determined to see her task to its successful conclusion. She was halfway home, and no one, by heaven, was going to stand in the way of her success. And now that she had reached the shelter of the forest, she had an even greater chance of outrunning the men who followed. This forest was, after all, her home. From her earliest days she had roamed these wooded hills. She knew every fell, every glade, every rock.
The hound, trained to herd, yapped at the heels of errant animals and kept the flock from scattering. Though they moved at a fast clip, they remained a tight, contained group.
As they came up over a rise, Merritt watched with satisfaction as the hound nipped at the heels of the leader of the flock, turning it in the direction of Inverene House. The rest of the sheep followed, moving across the darkened hillside in undulating waves.
As she urged he
r mount forward, a darkened figure stepped from a stand of trees. Her heart leapt to her throat. At once she pulled her sword from its scabbard and advanced, prepared to do battle.
“So, firebrand, I see you cannot keep your word for even one night.”
“You!” Relief flooded through her, and for a moment she felt a rush of heat at the sight of the Campbell. “I’d been prepared to fight for my life.”
“You may yet have to do that, judging by the sound of those curses.”
‘Ha. Those oafs will never find their way through this forest.”
“It takes but one oaf, lass, to run you through with his sword. And it would seem his deed would be justified, since you are stealing his sheep.”
“They are Lamont sheep,” she cried.
“Oh. Aye. And once again, you are merely the innocent victim retrieving that which is rightfully yours.”
“’Tis true.”
“Can you prove that?”
She gave a little hiss of impatience. “Why must you always demand proof of my righteousness?”
“Because that is the law.”
“And a Campbell would never break the law,” she muttered sarcastically.
“Tell me,” Shaw demanded. “How can you prove that the sheep are yours?”
“See that hound?” she asked.
When he turned to where she pointed, she said, “The thieving Campbells stole not only our flock, but its guardian, as well. Old Kale has been with us since Edan was a bairn. If it weren’t for Kale, the flock would have been scattered and hopelessly lost.”
Shaw couldn’t argue with her logic. Every Highlander knew that a hound trained to herd sheep was loyal even unto death. And the dog was heading directly toward Inverene House.
“But why tonight, when I forbade you to leave?”
That question would be more difficult, she knew. But she would try to hold her patience in check. “To understand, you must know that it breaks my heart to see my family going hungry while thieves grow sleek and fat off their ill-gotten goods.”
Her words, spoken from the heart, touched him deeply.
“When I located Kale in a meadow far from here,” she went on, “I knew I’d found our flock. I’ve been waiting for my chance to retrieve them. And this night was perfect, with the threat of rain and little moonlight to give me away. If I did not take the chance tonight, who knows when the opportunity might come again?”
“And so you disobeyed me.”
At his words her chin lifted in that haughty way he’d come to recognize. “Aye. I chose not to obey you, Campbell. You are not my master.”
“Woman...” As he stepped closer and caught her arm, he heard her hiss of pain at the same instant that he felt the warmth of her blood.
Peering closer, he saw the dark stain that soaked her sleeve and smeared the front of her tunic. “God in heaven. You are wounded.”
“It is but a badly aimed arrow from one of the thieves.”
“And what if his aim had been better?” His tone roughened to hide the tender feelings that surfaced. “You could have been lying dead somewhere in a field, and no one would be the wiser. On the morrow, your family would mourn your loss without even knowing where to look for you.”
“Sabina would know. I told her before I left.”
“Then why could you not confide in me, as well?”
“Have you forgotten? You forbade me to leave Inverene House.”
“I forget nothing, woman. But if you knew you were going on a dangerous mission, you should have taken me along.”
“You!” She gave a laugh of contempt. “You are not even man enough to draw a sword and—”
At that moment a shadow passed over them, and they both thought it was the clouds passing over the moon. But as Shaw glanced upward, he caught sight of the darkened outline of a mountain cat crouched on the limb of a tree overhead, about to spring.
“Hush, lass. Do not move.”
She tossed her head. “How dare you give orders—”
There was no time to argue. In one quick movement, Shaw dragged her roughly from the saddle and withdrew his dirk from his waist. Glancing up, Merritt gave a cry of alarm.
“God in heaven, my weapon.” She fumbled with her sword, but her movements were too slow.
Everything seemed to happen in the blink of an eye.
As the animal sprang, Shaw pushed Merritt out of the way, leaving himself the only target. With an economy of movement he tossed his knife with deadly accuracy.
The cat continued downward, landing directly on top of Shaw. Merritt watched in shock and horror as man and animal fell to the ground in a tangled, bloody heap. For long moments the two exploded into snarls and grunts of pain. And then an eerie silence settled over them. When at last Shaw crawled out from beneath the dead cat, Merritt felt her heart begin to beat once more.
“Forgive me, Campbell. I did not know—”
They both looked up as the sound of men and horses drew nearer.
“You must go,” Shaw commanded. “See to your flock.”
She hesitated. “Nay. I will not leave you.”
“Have you not learned your lesson yet, firebrand?” He bent and withdrew his blood-drenched knife from the animal’s hide, wiping it in the grass before sheathing it. “Do not argue with me. Just go.”
“But what about you, Campbell?”
His gaze was drawn to the blood seeping down her arm. For some strange reason, it filled him with quiet rage. He understood her better now. This was a deadly game she played. And all for the sake of her beloved family.
“I am learning that there are other predators in this forest. I will deal with them the same way I dealt with this one.”
She noted a subtle change in his tone. When he brought his gaze to hers, she saw the hint of something dark and dangerous.
Impatiently he lifted her into the saddle, then slapped the horse’s rump, sending the animal into a run. When she looked back over her shoulder, Shaw had already blended quietly into the shadows.
Shaw rejoiced when a light rain began to fall, for he knew that the sound of the raindrops on the canopy of leaves overhead would drown out the sound of the flock’s bleating.
From his place of concealment in the thick branches of a tall tree, he counted nearly a dozen horsemen. They had fanned out in every direction, in the hopes of detecting their lost sheep.
Occasionally he would hear snatches of their conversations, or muttered curses as they fought their way through tangled vines and brambles.
“Tis the accursed Avengers, I tell you,” came a voice from the darkness.
“Aye. When the Black Campbell finishes with them, they will be the dead avengers,” replied another.
Above them, Shaw remained perfectly still, his mind racing. He would have to learn the identity of this Black Campbell, and soon, for the man besmirched the good name of all Campbells. But for now, he must eliminate the threat of these men.
He did not worry about taking on a dozen armed men. But he would do it on his terms. First he must separate some from the others, to make the odds more to his liking.
When the horsemen moved away, he slipped to the ground and moved stealthily into the shadows. Scooping up as many big stones as he could carry, he perched on the lip of a ravine and tossed them over the edge. As they rolled downward, they snagged more loose stones, until they became a small avalanche.
At once two horsemen paused, listened, then turned in the direction of the sound.
“They are this way,” one of them called.
“Aye. I hear them.” The other urged his mount into a gallop after him.
In the darkness, neither of them saw what lay ahead. It wasn’t until their mounts had plunged over the abyss that they realized what they’d done. For several moments their curses and cries broke the stillness. Then there was only silence.
When a cluster of horsemen raced up to see what had happened, Shaw moved on, darting from tree to tree. Suddenly he came upon a lone rider
. Picking up a tree limb, he wielded it like a club. With a grunt of pain the man fell to the ground. Shaw dragged him into the underbrush and emerged moments later wearing the man’s cloak. Catching up the horse’s reins, Shaw pulled himself into the saddle and rode up to three men, who stood huddled in the shelter of a gnarled evergreen. The rain beat faster now, and they shivered in their cloaks.
“We are wasting time here,” one of the riders called.
“Nay,” another argued. “A flock of this size cannot simply disappear.”
“I see them,” Shaw shouted, whipping his horse into a run.
At once the others followed suit.
Satisfied that all three were following, Shaw led them deep into the woods, then managed to turn so that they were heading in the opposite direction from Inverene House. He knew that, with the light from the stars blotted from their view by trees and clouds, these men would soon be hopelessly lost.
He slid from the saddle and drew his mount beneath an outcropping of rock. When the others passed by, he waited, then returned to where the last of their number still lingered. They had built a fire and were huddled around it for warmth, passing a flagon of ale from man to man.
Keeping to the shadows, Shaw surveyed them with a grim smile of satisfaction. Their number was now far more manageable.
“Where have the other louts gone?” one of the men muttered.
“Mayhap they have returned to their cottages.”
“Mayhap they found some local wenches to take them in and keep them warm and dry.”
Someone laughed. “We may not be dry, but we can enjoy the same pleasure right here.”
Shaw froze as he caught sight of one of the men, clearly illuminated by the flames. The man stood taller than the others. In his hand was a vicious-looking broadsword. In the light of the fire his yellow eyes gleamed like a cat’s. A thin, puckered scar ran from his temple to his jaw. It was the man Edan had described so vividly.
The man turned, revealing something lying on the ground directly behind him. For a moment Shaw thought it nothing more than a discarded cloak. But as he watched, the cloak moved, and he realized it concealed a familiar figure. A figure that had his heart stopping.