Chapter Twelve
"Tell me who you sold the dagger to," Dugald demanded of the arms shop owner in Perth.
"Sorry, m'laird. I didn't ask his name." The rotund, graying man glared at Mason and Braden, who waited near the door.
"Where was he from?" Dugald asked, his patience wearing thin. The dagger had been here in this shop! He'd only missed it by hours.
"He didn't say, but I guess he was a Lowlander."
Dugald didn't believe the whoreson… something about the suspicious look in his eyes. "What did he look like? Was he a laird?"
The shop owner shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but Dugald noticed the tension in the man's shoulders.
"I couldn't tell. He wasn't a prince, nor was he a beggar.
He had dark hair, dark eyes and was of average height.
" The man's eyes shifted back and forth, and he would only meet Dugald's gaze for a moment.
He wanted to call the man a liar, point blank, but if he did he would get naught out of him. Nor could he break the man's nose, as he was sore tempted to do. Dugald restrained his temper, for he didn't want to get himself tossed in the tolbooth when he'd only a short time ago got Mason out.
This damnable shop owner should've known the dagger was stolen property when he bought it from the thief.
"Which way did the buyer head when he left?" Dugald asked.
"I didn't watch. I was busy with other customers."
Dugald ground his teeth until he feared they would crack. He would offer to pay the man for the information he sought, but he would likely take his every pence and keep lying. Men like him couldn't be trusted.
"Again, I'm sorry. I wish I could help you." The shop owner again glared at Mason, obviously expecting him to snatch something and flee at any moment.
The shop door opened and the constable walked in.
Dugald shook his head, muttered curses and stormed out.
How the hell was he going to find his dagger?
He strode to the inn—the same one where he'd abducted Camille a few days ago—and went up to his room.
He had to think. Paying Mason's bail had been the easiest of the tasks this day.
Finding his dagger was proving impossible, as was forgetting about Camille. She haunted his every waking moment.
Damnation, how he wished she was here now.
He could hardly fall asleep that night, despite being tired from all his travels.
He craved Camille's sweet body in his arms. He had loved the night before, pulling her to him to hold her or to make love.
He'd never had such an exciting woman in bed.
But she was more than that… so much more he couldn't fathom it.
Whatever mad fever possessed him made him think of bards' poems and minstrels' songs.
He had gone daft as a hedgehog.
He buried his head beneath the pillow, trying to block Camille's image from his mind. Evidently, he had only drifted to sleep when a loud knock sounded at his door.
"What?" he yelled, squinting against the sunlight streaming in the window.
"I wondered if you were all right, m'laird. 'Tis almost noon," Owen called from the corridor.
Noon? 'Slud! "Aye," Dugald growled and shoved himself out of bed. What the devil was wrong with him? He never stayed in bed this late. As he dressed, nothing would cooperate and he ended up ripping his shirt.
Muttering curses, he opened the door and exited. In the common room, he joined his men who eyed him with curiosity.
"I thought mayhap you had a woman with you, Chief. But I didn't ken how you'd slipped her past me," Owen said.
"Nay," Dugald snapped. "I was tired." And hellishly irritated. How could he make such a muck pile of his life, losing both the dagger and the only woman he'd ever cared about?
Owen gave a brief nod, wisely kept his mouth shut, then glanced away.
Dugald needed to find out if Camille made it home safely. Aye, the thought settled his mind somewhat, enough to get a couple of bannocks and some eggs and bacon down.
After he ate, Dugald approached the proprietor alone. "Can you tell me where Draughon Castle is?"
"Aye, m'laird. Take the road northwest." He pointed in the general direction. "You'll ride through the village of Draughon first, then across the river. The earl was here just yesterday morn asking about the woman who'd disappeared. Do you know him?"
Dugald nodded. "I've met him. I thank you." 'Met' was probably stretching it, but close enough. The man had shouted threats at him across a moor.
He strode back to the common room, annoyed with himself. Why the devil was he obsessed with Camille? How could he want to find her more than his dagger? He'd gone bloody daft.
"Saddle the horses. We ride northwest," he told his clansmen.
"Did you get a tip about the dagger, m'laird?" Mason asked.
"Nay." Dugald strode out of the inn and toward the stables, his men rushing to catch up.
Soon, they were headed northwest through the rolling green countryside. How dimwitted was he, chasing after Camille? What would he say to her? He had no inkling. He did not have an eloquent way with words. He only knew he had to see her again… one last time.
Saints! The thought of only seeing her one more time gutted him.
They stopped in the village and learned it was indeed Draughon and the castle was just a couple of miles farther along the road after they crossed over the bridge.
Before mounting, he hesitated. What would the Earl of Draughon do when Dugald showed up at his gates?
Rain down fiery arrows? Send his men out with swords to finish off Camille's abductor?
The MacKerricks would be outnumbered, that was a certainty.
He couldn't put his clansmen's lives in danger.
This was a risk he would have to take alone.
"You men, stay here in the village," Dugald said. "Have a meal at the inn. If I don't show up by noon tomorrow, go tell Tòmas I am dead and he is the new chief."
"What?" Owen shouted, his eyes wide with outrage. "What are you going to do, m'laird?"
"I'm going to see if Lady Camille made it home safely." He well knew she held no title, but to him she was a lady, through and through.
His lady?
Nay, it could never be.
"I'll be at the mercy of the Earl of Draughon. As you well ken, he was not too happy with me when we met out on the moor."
"Surely you cannot mean to go there alone, m'laird," Mason said. "We will all go with you and protect you."
"Aye," several of the other men chorused.
"Nay. I will not endanger all of your lives. We're outnumbered."
"With all due respect, m'laird, allow us to do our jobs. 'Tis our sworn duty to have your back and protect you," Owen said. "Tòmas will have our heads if we allow someone to kill you."
"Nonsense."
Owen narrowed his eyes. "At least allow Rufus and me to go with you. A chief riding out alone is madness. Surely the earl will not fault you having a couple of bodyguards."
"Very well, then, if it will ease your mind. The two of you only. Let's go."
∞∞∞
A knock sounded at Camille's door. When she opened it, the maid said, "Lady Angelique requests your presence in her room."
"Très bien." Camille closed her door and rushed to see what Angelique wanted. Was the babe coming? She prayed her cousin would have an easy delivery.
Angelique's sitting room door was open and Camille entered. "Oui?"
Her cousin beamed a smile at her. "You will not guess who is here!"
"Who? I thought you were ready to give birth."
"Non, not yet. Dugald is here!"
"What?" Camille felt lightheaded of a sudden and grabbed onto a chair back.
"Oui, mon amie." Angelique waddled to her and hugged her.
Camille's mind was in a whirl. Excitement raced through her. "What does he want?"
"What do you think?"
"I know not." She refused to jump to any conclusions. "Where is he? Who is with him?"
Angelique raised a brow. "He and Lachlan are having a discussion in the library."
When she visualized Dugald lying on the floor beneath Lachlan's blade, panic struck her. "I'd best make certain Lachlan doesn't try to kill him." Camille hurried toward the door.
"He would not. I warned him."
Camille paused and turned. "They are of the same size, Highland warriors, so I know not who would win."
Angelique shook her head. "He and his bodyguards were stripped of their weapons before they were allowed entry."
"I see." She relaxed a bit, but she could still easily imagine the two men coming to blows.
A light knock sounded at the open door. When Camille turned, the maid said, "His lairdship requests your presence in the library, Madame Camille."
She nodded, both fear and anticipation running rampant through her. "Très bien."
"Dugald has come for you!" Angelique said, excitement lighting her face. "I knew he would."
Camille shrugged, refusing to get her hopes up. "Mayhap he learned his dagger is here and only came for it."
"Surely not." Angelique frowned. "I will go with you. I wish to meet him."
"You should not go down the stairs, Ange. What about the babe?"
"I am fine. You will hold my hand and make certain I do not fall."
"Very well." Camille rushed to the polished silver mirror. "How do I look?"
"Très jolie! Come, let's go."
After Camille helped Angelique down the steps, she knocked at the library door. A moment later, Lachlan opened it.
"Angelique, what in blazes are you doing down here?" Lachlan admonished. "I told you—"
"Non, mon coeur, I am well." Angelique pushed past him and Camille followed.
Once inside the room, she paused, unable to stop staring at Dugald, a tall, imposing figure standing before the fireplace in his belted plaid, looking more delectable than a man had a right to.
His long, dark hair was windblown from riding…
and she had forgotten how broad his shoulders were.
His eyes held her attention longest. The disturbed passion there stole her breath.
"Someone please introduce me to this handsome man," Angelique said.
Camille let her gaze stray to Lachlan who was glowering at his wife. Angelique only smiled innocently.
"Chief MacKerrick, meet my wife, Lady Angelique," Lachlan said in a surly tone.
"Enchante, m'laird."