Page 85 of A Highland Bride Taken

Campbell pulled her closer, rubbing soothing circles on her back as her sobs grew louder.

“I apologize for?—”

“Ye have nothing to apologize for,” he murmured. “Yer tears dinnae offend me.”

“I just fear for the lads. Is there a ransom note?” she asked.

“Nay one saw much today,” he answered. “They remembered a stranger, but nay one saw when the boys were taken.”

Mabel gasped, collapsing into him.

“Who would do this?” she gasped, unable to think of anyone who would kidnap the boys.

She looked up at her husband, only to find his face as hard as flint, unyielding, as though he had an idea who would do something so terrible.

“We should return to yer chambers, where ‘tis warm,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

She followed behind him in a daze, still unable to process the fact that the boys were gone.

As they passed by their corridor, tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to imagine how scared they must have been and how worried they were that no one was coming for them.

They had already endured watching their parents die; could they endure so much more trauma?

When Campbell opened the door to her chamber, she heaved a sigh and stepped inside.

The air between them was charged with many unspoken thoughts, but her husband’s posture betrayed his unwillingness to speak.

“I am sorry for behaving rashly—” She broke off on a sneeze.

Campbell turned to her with a rueful smile on his face. “It seems that me wife has caught a chill.”

A flush of embarrassment crawled up her face as she moved to the bed.

Campbell stoked the fire and turned to her. “Ye should try to get some sleep, wife,” he told her. “‘Tis late.”

“I cannae…”

“Dinnae argue with me.” He smiled, pulling back the covers so she could crawl underneath.

She obliged with a pout on her lips.

Instantly, feeling returned to her toes, and a blissful exhaustion overtook her. She instantly felt guilty for being so warm when she didn’t even know how the boys were faring.

Her face fell again as tears pooled in her eyes.

“I failed to protect them,” she sniffled. “I promised Layla I would take care of them. I promised ye, and I?—”

“’Tis nae yer fault, wife. ‘Tis mine,” he interrupted her.

His tone indicated that he was blaming himself for more than what had just happened, and when she turned to him, she saw that his hands had gone white from how hard he was gripping the covers.

She placed a hand on his, hoping to offer some comfort.

“How is it yer fault?” she asked with a frown. “The boys have a habit of running around.”

33

Humans might have been known from the beginning of time to make mistakes, and it has come to be accepted as part of human nature.