Page 5

“ I take it the lass has ruffled yer feathers,” Magnus teased when he saw Campbell draining a glass of whiskey. “‘Tis barely evening, and ye’re in yer cups.”

Campbell sighed, setting the glass down. The letter he had been writing to Laird MacLennan sat finished, only awaiting to be sealed, and the more he looked at it, the more irritable he felt.

“Dinnae speak of her,” he muttered gruffly. “I have had a long day.”

“As ye wish, Me Laird,” Magnus said, struggling to hide his smile. “Shall I then inform ye of the day’s business?”

Campbell nodded, even though he would rather be alone and brood.

Magnus took a deep breath and started his report. Every once in a while, he would shoot Campbell a displeased look.

“I willnae speak of her, even if it upsets ye so,” Campbell told him with a pointed look.

“Ye’re an unkind man.” Magnus frowned. “I heard she was good with the bairns.”

“She was, but she lied to me,” Campbell countered.

“I dinnae understand. Will she nae be their governess?”

“She didnae come to be a governess,” he explained. “She claims she is the bairns’ godmaither.”

He recounted his encounter with Mabel to his man-at-arms, who laughed loudly when he finally finished his tale. Perhaps he should have omitted the part where he had teased her about marrying him.

“She must have ruffled yer feathers to make ye propose marriage.” Magnus laughed. “Ye’ve never wanted to marry.”

“I am nae against the institution. I just want to wait until I am certain. I would need heirs, and now I have the heirs I need.”

Campbell shot him a deadpan look and tossed back the last of the golden liquid in his glass. He had to extend his thanks to his friend for such a lovely brew with a nice wedding gift.

“Still, the lass was able to comfort the boys,” Magnus argued. “She didnae lie without reason. Why do ye dislike her so?”

For many reasons.

Mabel reminded Campbell of everything he was not: soft and warm.

She radiated it from the depths of her being, and like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to her more than he liked.

It was in the way she braved danger for those she loved, in her steadfastness to her word, and in the fact that she was not even aware of her appeal.

Her innocence was a honeycomb to him… he who had only known darkness. It made him want to corrupt her, to show her everything he knew, just to see if she would flee or draw closer.

He knew the lass had a penchant for danger and would no doubt draw closer, and oh, how tempted he was.

He remembered the sinful shape of her lips and the fire in her eyes, and resisted the urge to groan. He had never desired a woman as he desired the one who had him almost losing his control without applying seduction. She was trouble in a well-shaped body.

“I already said I didnae wish to speak about her,” he insisted gruffly. “How are Elspeth and little Poppy?”

Elspeth was Magnus’s wife and the castle’s healer, and they had been married for a little over ten years.

Poppy was their eight- year-old daughter, and as mischievous as they came.

She had everyone in the castle wrapped around her little fingers, with her cherubic face, but she still drove everyone crazy with her antics.

“They are well, as ye ken,” Magnus answered, disappointed but visibly struggling to hide his smile at the mention of his wife and daughter. “Poppy is starting to ask about boys. It gives me and her maither nay endless trouble.”

It brought warmth to Campbell’s heart to see the large man smiling because he was besotted with his wife. Even though it tugged at something within him, he didn’t mind.

He always felt a slight pang in his chest when he saw his friend as happy as he was, realizing he may never get to experience such bliss.

“Yet ye’re happy,” he mused.

“Nay. But I dare nae say it, or else she will cry me deaf.” Magnus frowned.

“Ye’re a good faither, Magnus,” Campbell praised. “Perhaps ye can help me with the boys.”

“Is that nae the reason why ye need a governess?”

“They are me kin, Magnus. I cannae let someone else care for them alone,” Campbell sighed. “They should ken me, but the very sight of me has them hiding. They’re terrified of me.”

“They are scarcely the only ones terrified of ye, Me Laird,” Magnus retorted with a pointed look. “Remember the incident with the maid a fortnight ago?”

Campbell winced and then shot his friend a glare for the unnecessary reminder. As if he would ever be able to forget how embarrassing it had been.

“That was an overreaction on her part,” he grumbled. “Why would she think I would behead her for bumping into me with a laundry basket piled so high that she couldnae see where she was going?”

“They dinnae ken ye have a benevolent side.”

“I tried to help her, but she nearly screamed me head off, crying for her life.”

It had taken him fetching his housekeeper, Norah, to calm the maid, and afterward she had run off as quickly as she could, still frightened.

Campbell had been saddened by the event because he had done naught to inspire such fear in his clan.

He did his best to pass sound judgment and mete out fair punishment to offenders within his clan, and there had been no death sentences since he had assumed the Lairdship, yet they thought him a bloodthirsty monster.

He had hoped to see such a reaction from other clans who had tasted his blade and those who had attempted to raid his lands, but not from the people he had sworn to protect.

He recalled his interaction with MacLennan’s daughter and frowned when he remembered that she had been unafraid. She had even looked at him as though he was something to be intrigued by and not someone to evoke nightmares, and he told his man-at-arms as much.

“In a haystack of people who fear ye, she is a needle,” Magnus opined.

“Ye have done well in protecting the clan, but that is all they ken ye to be—a warmonger. They respect yer strength and how ye have provided for them, but it has done nothing to assure them ye willnae turn yer blade on them. ‘Tis why ye havenae received many applications despite the large reward ye’ve offered.”

Hearing that troubled Campbell more than he would ever admit, and he was at a loss for how to rectify the situation. But he would be damned if he asked.

Magnus gave him a soft look, knowing him well enough to know that he was affected by his words.

“Ye’re a good man, Me Laird,” he murmured. “Ye just need to show it beyond provision and protection.” He rose and placed a comforting hand on Campbell’s shoulder.

“I dinnae ken how.”

“Ye only need to open yer heart, and ye will find the answers ye seek.”

Campbell didn’t answer, knowing he didn’t intend to do so. He could love his people as he had been doing since he had inherited the title, but that didn’t require him to open his heart. If he chose to care harder, he would be opening himself up to betrayal and pain.

“I will go into the villages and search for a suitable governess for the bairns,” Magnus added. “Dinnae worry yer head. Just see to the bairns.”

When Campbell was finally left alone, he almost wished for company so he wouldn’t be drowned by the sheer number of thoughts that flooded his mind. But his primary concern was the twins.

MacLennan’s daughter had fed them and earned their trust, but when she left on the morrow, he feared they would return to refusing food. He recalled his joke about marrying her and quickly discarded the thought.

She had caught him off guard and made him lose control too quickly. He did not want to imagine what constantly being around her would do to him.

He poured himself another cup of whiskey and chided himself for the habit he seemed to be quickly developing.

He downed the contents of his cup in one gulp and rose to his feet, deciding he would see to the boys before he retired for the evening.

He had left them in bed, but he had heard that Connor was plagued with nightmares and sometimes woke up screaming.

Which was to be expected, since they had watched their parents die.

He made to open the door to their chambers as silently as he could, but found it slightly ajar, which made his body stiffen. He pushed it wider and tiptoed into the room, not wanting to startle whoever was inside with the boys, in case it was a maid trying to help them sleep.

When he spotted the boys huddled together, shaking like leaves, he assumed it was an unfamiliar maid with them. But upon seeing a masked figure looming over them, he did not think twice. He lunged at the figure, grabbing him and pulling him away from the startled boys.

The assailant felt slight in his arms but was stronger than he appeared. And he was skilled, as he slammed a hard elbow into Campbell’s side, causing him to break his hold.

Campbell was winded from the assault, but rage fueled him as he circled the intruder.

How dare he try to hurt the boys? In his castle. In his territory.

He lunged again, landing two blows in rapid succession across the intruder’s jaw. The crack of bone was satisfying, but the intruder held his ground, throwing blows that did not land.

Campbell landed one more blow to the assailant’s stomach and then a kick that threw him into a side table, shattering it in the process.

He turned to the boys briefly. “Are ye hurt?” he asked.

They shook their head.

He turned back to the assailant, but was shoved aside as the man bolted out of the room. He made to pursue him, but the sound of the boys’ voices stopped him.

“Nay!” they cried.

He turned to them.

“Dinnae leave us,” Ollie added.

He was torn between wanting to pursue the assailant and wanting to stay with his nephews. If he failed to catch the assailant, he would be haunted with guilt for leaving the boys after they begged him to stay. But if he caught the assailant, he could figure out who was behind the attack.

He looked at the boys again, his worry about a repeat attack and the joy of finally being accepted by them warring in his mind. Choosing the latter, he buried his frustration and moved towards them.

They were crying again—Connor, most of all. While the sudden urge to take them in his arms seized him, he approached warily. They watched him, and he kept his movements slow, like one would approach a skittish horse, until he finally had one arm around either of them.

His heart swelled when they burrowed into his chest, and he did not mind it when their tears soaked through his linen shirt. Anger bubbled up inside him again, but he buried it, not wanting to scare them.

“Dinnae worry, lads,” he soothed. “I promise, nothin’ will hurt ye here. Dinnae worry.”

“Will ye stay?” Ollie asked, sniffing.

“Aye,” Campbell uttered. “Ye can rest easy. I will be here to chase even the nightmares away.”

Soon, the boys’ sobs subsided.

Campbell felt Connor drift off to sleep, but Ollie stayed awake, making no move to leave. He moved so that Connor could sleep comfortably and Ollie could rest in his lap.

“Ye willnae sleep, Ollie?” he asked.

“Nay, I cannae sleep,” Ollie answered with a pout.

“Why? Are ye afraid?”

“Nay. Where is Mabel?”

Campbell stiffened at the question. “Mabel?”

“Aye. She took care of us today,” Ollie answered. “Me ma spoke of her often, and she is verra bonny. I want her here.”

“Ollie…”

“I want her here!” Ollie cried.

Campbell sighed, knowing he would get nowhere with the lad if he did not do as he wanted.

As much as he did not want to involve the lass any longer, the choice had been taken from him by the now-weeping boy.

He pulled the bell pull to summon a maid, and when she arrived, he asked her to fetch MacLeannan’s daughter, already dreading their next encounter.