Chapter 23
Iain hopped from one leg to the other out of her bedchamber as he quickly pulled on his breeches.
“Iain, wait. It could be someone who needs help.” Cait had rolled quickly out of bed and was searching frantically for her discarded gown.
Her heart was pounding, even though she’d had plenty of late-night visitors at her door.
She felt irrationally angry that someone had interrupted her night.
She wanted to prolong her time with Iain, and she didn’t want word to get out just yet that they were together.
Also, whoever was pounding on that door wasn’t bringing good news, and her feeling of foreboding returned.
“Another English soldier was killed,” Iain said grimly as he came back into her bedchamber before she had even thrown her wrinkled gown over her head.
“Oh, no.” Her heart sank. “On Campbell land?”
He shook his head. “But close. On the border of Campbell and Graham land.”
Alasdair Graham would not be pleased. Then she thought of Halloway, and a tremor of fear raced up her spine. “Do ye know who was killed?”
Iain shot her a frustrated look as she grabbed his shirt and shrugged it on; it seemed disrespectful to talk of the dead while she was naked. “Are ye worried about yer English soldier? Hallobert?”
“Halloway. And yes, I am. We’re friends.”
“I don’t know who was killed.” He bent to put on his boots.
“Where are ye going?”
“Adair said Palmer is looking for me.”
She would not cling. She’d said she wanted a relationship in which neither felt obligated.
He was chief of one of the biggest clans in the Highlands and, as such, had obligations that would frequently take him away from her.
She knew all of this, and yet she wanted to grab on to him and insist that he stay.
Let her grandfather Graham deal with Palmer and the damn English, who always ruined everything.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he said as he searched for his other boot and found it halfway under the bed. She took off the shirt she’d just put on and handed it to him, then pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped herself in it.
He hugged her tightly. “I don’t want to leave. You know that, don’t you?”
“I understand. Ye have things to do.”
He kissed her and she melted against him, wishing they had just one more hour together. Was that too much to ask? Must the world intrude so soon?
“I’ll not stand for this much longer. I want to be with you all the time, Cait. Snatching bits and pieces of time is not going to work like I thought it would. But we’ll talk about that later.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” she said, grabbing for his arm. “I…” She had no idea what she should say or even wanted to say.
She didn’t want him to leave, but she also didn’t want the feelings that were racing through her.
She wanted this to be like Cormac, a fun thing from which both could walk away and resume their lives until the next time they came together.
“Be careful,” she finally said.
He hesitated, then kissed her again, softly this time, cupping her cheek. She leaned in to him, loving the soft feel of his lips on hers.
“I have to leave.”
“Go.” She stepped back and watched him walk out of the bedchamber. A moment later, her front door slammed shut and she heard two horses gallop away.
—
Wallace MacGregor paid her a visit later that afternoon.
She hadn’t seen her grandfather MacGregor since the night he’d told her and John to leave his home and never return.
The past eight years had not been kind to him.
His face was lined. His hair, once dark red, was completely white and flowing to his shoulders.
He used to be wide and tall and imposing.
Now his shoulders were stooped, his eyes cloudy, and his fingers curled.
From the stiff way he dismounted, she guessed he was suffering from joint pain but was probably too proud to admit it.
He looked her over, taking her measure. Wallace MacGregor was stubborn, but so was Cait Campbell.
“It’s good t’see ye, lass,” he finally said.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same.
MacGregor had been the gruffest of her two grandfathers, pushing her to do better at everything: her learning, her riding, her hunting.
Whatever she was interested in, he became interested in, but only because he wanted her to become the best at it.
To her recollection, he’d never hugged her, never spoken a soft word to her.
And yet, as a young lass, she’d known he loved her.
“Why are ye here?” If he thought she would go running into his arms, then he was mistaken. He’d been the cruelest when she’d told him she was marrying John, and she would never forget it.
“I was riding by—”
She snorted. “Ye would never willingly ride on Campbell land.”
His expression tightened and his lips thinned. Did he think he could stroll back into her life with lies on his lips and no apology and no reference to their fight so many years ago?
Like Graham had done, he eyed her cottage critically, and she braced herself for the inevitable.
“So this is where ye live?”
“This is where I live.”
“Ye’re the granddaughter of two great families, and ye live here.”
“I like it here.” She was getting mighty weary of defending her home. She truly did like her small cottage. She’d made it into a comfortable, safe place. “And I’m no’ the granddaughter of two great families, because I’ve been tossed out of both the Graham and MacGregor clans.”
His gaze continued to take in her small patch of land, her home, her barn, and the trees beyond. He didn’t react to her last comment; she’d not expected him to.
“Why are ye here, MacGregor?”
His gaze snapped back to her. She’d always called him Grandfather, but she figured he’d lost that title a long time ago.
“I wanted to see ye,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”
“That’s no’ my fault.”
He grinned. “So ye’re sayin’ ye’d have come for a visit if I’d asked?”
“We’ll never know, because ye never asked.”
A spasm of grief and regret crossed his features. At least that was what she thought she saw. “I’m sorry about yer husband and wee one.”
She sucked in a breath, surprised at how much those words could still hurt. “Ye missed a great opportunity to know yer great-granddaughter.”
“She was a Campbell.”
Cait sighed, angry at herself for thinking he’d changed. He was an old man, set in his ways, with the hatred of the Campbells born in his blood. “She was a MacGregor and a Graham as well.”
He looked away. His jaw worked as if he was thinking hard. “If ye ever find yer way on MacGregor land, ye’re welcome to stop by. Ye’ll always have a place there.”
She wondered at this change in him and wished she could believe it, but she was no longer the naive lass she’d been eight years ago, thinking that he would see her love for John and overcome his hatred for the Campbells.
She wondered what he would do if he knew that just hours ago, she’d made love to Iain in this very cottage.
“Even though I’m a Campbell now?” she asked instead.
He looked at her with milky blue eyes, and she wondered how much time he had left with his vision. She imagined it was already fading fast, but he would never tell anyone. Proud, stubborn man.
“I know ye’re a Campbell now, lass. I haven’t forgotten.”
She almost smiled at his acerbic tone. Oh, she remembered that well enough. “Did ye come by because ye missed me?” She couldn’t help poking the beast a little.
“Aye. I’ve missed ye, Cait. And Graham said ye were living all alone out here. It’s no’ safe for ye. Another soldier was found killed. Thankfully, on Graham land, but too close to Campbell’s boundary for my satisfaction.”
Good Lord, would this ever stop? The men in her life were driving her mad with their worry, and where did all of them come from? For years the only men in her life had been Black Cat and the patients she treated.
“Do ye know anything about the killings?” she asked.
He was a wily old man, always had been, and she was certain he hadn’t changed.
She also wouldn’t put it past him to either know something about the killings or have been a part of them.
When MacGregor hated, he hated with everything inside of him, and he very much hated the English.
“I don’t hold with killing innocent soldiers, even if I hate the English.”
“But ye’ll burn a Campbell off his land even if he’s innocent.”
“Ain’t never seen an innocent Campbell. Except ye, of course. And my intention was never to burn Campbell off his land. Just irritate him some.”
Oh, he’d irritated Iain, all right. “Would ye even tell me if ye knew who was doing the killing?” she asked.
“More than likely no’. But I’m tellin’ the truth in this.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe ye.”
“I like the cynicism. Ye’re a true MacGregor.”
“Years ago ye told me I was no longer a MacGregor.”
“A man can have regrets. I find the older I get, the more regrets I have.”
“Am I one of yer regrets?” she asked quietly, disturbed that his answer meant so much to her even years later.
“Ye are, lass. I’ll admit only to ye that I regretted my words the minute ye walked out that door with the bastard John Campbell.”
“So why didn’t ye call me back?”
“Pure stubbornness and hatred. Yer grandmother was angry at me till the day she died.”
A spasm of grief passed through her at the mention of her grandmother, who was as opposite to Wallace MacGregor as a body could get. Cait had wondered, especially over the past eight years, how the woman had put up with the difficult man.
“She never forgave me.” He blinked, turned his face away, and took a deep breath. “I have to go. Just wanted to see where ye were living these days.” He turned back to her. “I’ve heard rumors ye’ve taken up with the Campbell.”
“Ye can’t always believe everything ye hear,” she said, neither confirming nor denying the accusation, for it was an accusation.
He grabbed his horse’s reins but hesitated. “Don’t take up with him. He’s a strange one. A lover of the English if there ever was one. Heard tell that King George hisself wanted to marry one of his whelps off on Campbell.”
The man would believe any bad rumor about a Campbell but couldn’t see the truth before his eyes. “I heard ye agreed to lay off yer feud with him,” she said, ignoring the last statement because it was so outlandish.
“For now.” His tone turned hard, and she suppressed a shiver. She knew as well as anyone not to trust him, especially when it came to the Campbells. “Stay away from him, Cait. He’s the worst sort of traitor.”
“Ye lost the privilege of telling me what to do a long time ago, MacGregor.”
He pointed his finger at her, and she steeled herself for his wrath but it didn’t come. “Ye’re insolent,” he said with a waver to his voice. “But then ye always were. Ye got that from the Grahams.”
She pressed her lips together, for this was an old argument. The Grahams blamed her worst traits on the MacGregors, and the MacGregors blamed her worst traits on the Grahams.
“Did ye come all the way out here to tell me to stay away from Campbell?”
“Aye. Nay.” He mounted his horse with a little more difficulty than he used to. He looked down on her. “Don’t be like me, lass,” he said softly.
“Stubborn?”
“Aye. A stubborn, old, lonely man.”