“I?’’
She nodded. “Each night, as you fought me in your sleep.”
“But...” He thought of all the battles he had fought lately. Or thought he’d fought. Had they all been in his mind?
He swallowed and tried to rekindle his anger, which had suddenly faded. “If I was such a brute, why did you continue to minister to me?”
“Because your brother ordered it. Because I reasoned that the sooner you regained your strength, the sooner we would be rid of the uninvited Campbells.” Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. “And because, though you were too much of a fool to admit it, you needed me, and would have died without my care.”
She yanked her hand away and scrambled to her feet. In flounce of skirts, she rushed from the room.
When she was gone, the two brothers stared at each other in silence.
It was Shaw who finally spoke. “My journey has left me weary beyond belief. I believe I will sleep now. But on the morrow I will return before I go below stairs to break my fast. There is much I would ask you about the attack that brought you here.”
“Aye. If only I could remember. But, alas, it is gone from my mind.”
“Perhaps in time you will recall.”
The two brothers clasped hands and exchanged identical measured looks. Neither of them spoke of what had just transpired.
When he was alone, Sutton stared morosely into the flames of the fire and struggled to ignore lingering feelings of shame and guilt. Could it be that his fevered mind had played tricks on him? And that he had, in his agitated state, inflicted pain upon an innocent lass?
He closed his eyes and rolled to one side, moaning softly. God in heaven, how the female must hate him. But no more than he hated himself at this moment.
Shaw was awake and outside before dawn. While the others were still asleep he slaughtered several sheep and delivered them to a grateful Astra in the kitchen. Then, removing his tunic and shirt, he set about the task of chopping wood for the many fireplaces. As he labored, he marveled that Merritt and Sabina had managed alone for so long. How it must have pained them to be forced to bum their family’s furniture and tapestries in order to provide heat for their father and brother.
It had been obvious that they had been near starvation when he’d arrived. He felt a wave of fresh anger at the thieves who had made off with their horses and flocks. It was a wonder this family had survived.
As he mopped his brow he studied the fallow fields, the aging, unkempt outbuildings, with sagging roofs and crumbling walls. At one time, Upton Lamont, laird of Inverene, had been the most feared and respected warrior in all the Highlands. Now he resembled his buildings. He was a shell of the man he’d once been, lying abed, reliving in his mind the achievements of his youth.
Since the brutal attack upon their fortress, none of the Lamonts were as they had been. Upton crippled in mind, his son, Edan, crippled in body. The servants run off, the lasses, no longer pampered and cared for, left to fend for themselves. And all because of this mysterious Black Campbell.
Who hated Lamont enough to do this evil deed? As ax bit into wood, Shaw pondered the question. If even half the rumors about Upton Lamont were true, he had made a score of enemies in his younger days. Any one of them might have waited until the perfect moment to seek revenge.
Another puzzle. The identities of the Highland Avengers. If they did not steal for the Black Campbell, then for whom? He thought of the poor villagers who had remained loyal to Upton Lamont. Could some of the village lads have decided to seek vengeance against this Black Campbell? It seemed the most likely explanation. That could also be the reason why Sabina and Merritt were so determined to defend the Highland Avengers. They would die rather than betray anyone loyal to their father.
By the time he had chopped enough wood to feed the fires for another day, Shaw’s body was already protesting the brutal exertion. As he made his way to the great hail, staggering under the logs in his arms, he came to a decision. He would find help, even if it meant going out into the nearby villages and soliciting workers. Since he was pledged to remain here until Sutton was strong enough to return home, he may as well spend the hours constructively. Besides, it would help keep his mind off a certain lass whose image had kept him awake most of the night, even creeping into his dreams to tease and taunt him.
“Ah, ‘tis good to smell mutton cooking in these kitchens again,” old Astra sighed as Shaw entered with an armload of logs.
“Aye. I have worked up a mighty appetite.” He stacked up the wood and tossed another log in the fireplace.
“There was a time when we would have three or four sheep roasting, as well as a plump pig and a dozen or more pheasants. And that was just for one meal,” the old woman added proudly.
“How many servants were in your charge?” Shaw leaned a hip against the table and watched her gnarled old hands as she kneaded dough.
“A score or more for the kitchens and scullery. Another score worked above stairs, assisting the lady Brinda and her lasses. Oh, ‘twas a fine, lavish keep, where royalty hunted wi’ the laird and dined and danced into the wee hours. I used to think there was no finer place to be than Inverene House.” Her voice lowered. “And then the laird lost his wife in a bloody attack and himself grew... weak... and everything changed.”
“Where did the other servants go?”
“Some packed up their families and left to seek a better life. Some accepted the protection of the Campbells and are now their servants. Most remained in the village, though they knew they were doomed to a life of hardship without the protection of the laird. They are fair game for every thief and villain.”
Shaw picked up a lump of raw dough and popped it into his mouth, much the way he always had in the kitchen at Kinloch House. “So they would no doubt band together to fight off any invaders.”
“Aye.”
“Unless those invaders were the Highland Avengers.
“The Avengers have ne’er harmed the villagers. In fact, they have protected them against the black-hearted villains.”
Shaw smiled to himself. It was as he’d suspected. “Have you kept in contact with the villagers?”
She gave him a crooked smile. “Most of them are kin. Nieces, nephews, cousins and the like.”
Shaw reached for a second lump of dough and was rewarded with a rap on his knuckles from her wooden spoon. With a sly grin he said, “I would like to meet them, Astra. Would you accompany me to the village later today?”
She eyed him warily, then surprised him by slicing off a thick slab of freshly roasted mutton and handing it to him. “Here. Ye’ve done the work of three men, while the others are still abed.”
“You wouldn’t want to add a biscuit or two, would you?” he asked as he devoured the meat in a few quick bites.
She spread honey on several biscuits and watched them disappear into his mouth just as quickly.
‘Now begone wi’ ye,” she said. “The others will be town soon to break their fast. I’ve work to get done... if I’m to accompany ye to the village later.”
Shaw brushed a kiss over her cheek, then hurried outside for another load of logs.
In the kitchen, old Astra stood very still, a dreamy smile her face, a hand pressed to her cheek.
Shaw knocked on the door to Sabina’ s chambers. When she opened it, he entered carrying an armload of wood.
Sutton’s eyes blinked, and his vision seemed unusually clear for one who should have been sound asleep. “Is that you, brother?”
“Aye.” Shaw knelt by the fireplace and tossed a log on the embers. Soon he had coaxed a roaring fire, and the whole room began to take on a warm glow.
Across the room, Sabina’s cheeks sparkled from a fresh scrubbing, and she wore a clean gown of rose velvet, with matching ribbons in her hair.
“Why are you doing the work of a servant?” Sutton asked.
Shaw wished he could spare Sabina’s tender feelings. But he had decided that, now that his brother was mending
, it was time for honesty.
“There are no servants at Inverene House.” Shaw picked up the silver bowl of gruel that lay warming beside the fire. “My lady, if you wish to go below stairs to break your fast, I will remain here and assist my brother with his meal.”
Before she could respond, Sutton, appearing thunderstruck, shouted, “No servants!” Then, as his gaze swept the room, it made perfect sense. “So that is why the lady’s bed linens are in tatters. And why I often seemed to awaken in a place that reminded me of a dungeon.”
Across the room Sabina looked stricken at his description of her home.
At once Shaw said, “You should know that the Lamonts have been under siege.”
At the mention of battle, Sutton’s interest was instantly piqued. Here was something he could understand.
“Who attacks the Lawless One?” he asked as he dug into the gruel with obvious relish.
Sabina flushed at the use of her father’s hated nickname. Her tone became defensive. “Upton Lamont is no longer known as the Lawless One. That title more aptly applies to your kinsmen.”
Sutton set the bowl of gruel aside with a clatter. “Are you accusing the Campbells of breaking the law?”
“Aye. Thieves have stolen our horses and sheep and cattle. They have driven away our servants, defeated our army.”
“I’ve heard of these thieves. The Highland Avengers. You cannot accuse these men of being Campbells.”
“You think not?” Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “With my own eyes I saw the men who killed my mother and left my little brother for dead. These men boasted that they swore their allegiance to one called the Black Campbell.”
From his pallet Sutton looked from Sabina to Shaw, then back again. “I have ne’er heard of this Black Campbell.”
“Nor have I,” Shaw said softly, “until recently. But in the forest, the thieves who captured Merritt made that same boast.”
For a moment Sutton was silent, digesting all that he’d heard. “Then there is an outlaw among our kinsmen who blackens the name of every Campbell.”
“Aye.” Shaw met his brother’s look, and the two were gripped by the same thought.
Somewhere in this Highland wilderness was a dangerous traitor who must be brought to justice.
Chapter Seventeen
Upton Lamont sat in his chair in front of the fireplace. The mutton in his belly, the fire at his feet, had him feeling content and replete. He studied his younger daughter, who sat, head bent over needle and thread, attempting to repair her brother’s torn tunic. Her impatience with the task was evident in her face. Her lips were pursed in a little pout. Her eyes resembled storm clouds. Each time she pricked her finger, she emitted a hiss of anger.
“Where is your Campbell, lass?”
Merritt’s head came up sharply. “He is not my Campbell.”
“Aye.” Her father swallowed back the chuckle that threatened. How she reminded him of himself when he was young and tempestuous. “Where is the Campbell?”
She shrugged. “He and Astra went to the village.”
“For what purpose?”
She couldn’t hide the edge to her voice. “He did not choose to share his reason with me.” In fact, he had barely spoken to her this morrow. Ever since their return from the forest, he had ignored her, choosing instead to spend all his time either in the kitchens with Astra or in Sabina’s chambers with his brother.
Father and daughter looked up at the sound of approaching horses. At once Merritt retrieved the sword that hung over the mantel. As she turned, the door was thrown open and Shaw strode inside, followed by Astra and a dozen or more men, women and youths.
Merritt’s eyes flashed dangerously. “What is the reason for this invasion, Campbell?”
“It is no invasion, my lady.” Shaw stepped aside so that she could see the familiar faces of the peasants from the nearby village.
In her presence, the men snatched their caps from their heads and the women lowered their heads, in deference to the lady of the manor.
“These people are loyal to the laird of Inverene House.” Shaw saw the surprise in Merritt’s eyes before she composed herself. “They wish to serve him.”
Upton, spotting an elderly man leaning upon a walking stick, called, “Colbert, is that you? Has the fever left, then?”
The man hobbled closer and smiled. Shaw had already warned the peasants that the laird had been confined to his pallet by a mysterious fever sweeping through the Highlands.
“Aye, m’laird. So it would seem.”
Upton seemed slightly amused at the old man’s words, and Shaw began to wonder. Had the laird of Inverene known all along that the stories of a fever had been pure fabrication? Did the villagers know the truth about the laird, as well?
“I was afraid to return to Inverene House,” Colbert said, for I’d heard stories that it was under siege from Campbells. But the lad here assures me that ye are still laird, and that ye desire my services.”
“Aye, Colbert.” Upton sat up straighter, knowing the servants were milling about, peering at him with great curiosity. It wouldn’t do to have them see any weakness in their laird. “I desire the services of all of you.”
The other peasants broke into wide, eager smiles. Upton looked into the crowd and called, “Dulcie. Is that you, lass? Why, look at you. You’ve grown from a child to a woman.”
“Aye, m’laird,” said an apple-cheeked young woman, whose little son and daughter peered from behind her skirts.
To Shaw, Upton said, “Dulcie is Astra’s niece. I watched her grow up here at Inverene House. Why, she knows every nook and cranny of this old place. And hid herself in quite a few, as I recall.”
“I am a wife now, with two small bairns,” the girl said with pride. She drew a tall, strapping peasant forward. “This is my husband, Adair. He is strong and eager to work.”
“Then you are welcome in Inverene House,” Upton said. “As are all of you,” he called to the others. “For there is much to be done.”
His words caught Shaw by surprise, and he found himself wondering again just how much Upton had surmised. Could it be that the elder Lamont had not been fooled by his daughters’ attempts to shield him from the truth?
“Ye’ve wasted enough of the laird’s time,” Astra called impatiently. “Ye will all follow me to the kitchens, and I will tell ye y’er duties.”
The old servant was suddenly in her glory now that she had a household staff to direct once more.
As the peasants filed from the great hall Astra said to Shaw, “I will take the women and assign them their tasks, if ye will show the men what needs to be done.”
“Aye, Astra.”
Shaw led the men outside. In no time they had been divided into groups. Several brawny young lads, with Adair in charge, headed toward the forest with axes over their shoulders. In no time the air rang with the sound of trees falling and logs being chopped.
Two lads were assigned to the flock of sheep, while a large group of men began the difficult task of filling in the pit and rebuilding the stable that had been burned, in addition to repairing the other outbuildings.
Dusk was falling when Shaw finally made his way to the house and walked down the hallway. Fresh rushes had been strewn on the floor, giving off their clean, earthy fragrance. The wood shone with beeswax, and a score of candles glowed in sconces along the walls. Before Shaw could enter the great hall, Merritt stepped through the doorway and caught his arm, pulling him aside.
“Do you know what you have done?” she demanded.
“Done?” Puzzled, Shaw struggled with the urge to gather her into his arms and crush her petulant mouth under his. Each time she came near him, the temptation was the same, and he experienced a wave of heat that left him weak with need.
“You have brought half the village to Inverene House to work.”
“Aye. And even that number will stagger under the load of work that needs to be done.”
“You must keep you
r voice low,” she commanded, “lest my father hear. Already he is in the great hail, awaiting a feast.” Under her breath she whispered furiously, “How shall we reward the loyalty of this army of workers, Campbell? We have barely enough food for ourselves. And we cannot promise them protection from invaders.”
“You are wrong, my lady. With new workers, you will soon have enough food to feed the entire village. Why just :today, Adair and his men managed to bring down a stag and three does while they worked in the forest. As for payment, you now have a flock of sheep, many of which will soon lamb. I regret that I was forced to promise many of the villagers a payment in lambs as a reward.”
“You promised our lambs? And how will we build our flock if we are forced to give away all our newborns?”
“I promised them only those lambs in excess of the current number in the flock. So, though you will lose some lambs, your own flock will double.”
“And what about protection?” she demanded. “How can all these people be kept safe from invaders?”
“I made them another promise,” he whispered. “That the swords of Inverene House would be raised in protection of all.”
“The swords of Inverene House?” she asked incredulously.
“Aye, my lady.”
“And whose swords might they be?”
“Mine and yours,” he said with a grin. “And that is more than they had before.”
She thought it over, then reluctantly nodded. “I think, Campbell,” she muttered as she walked by his side into the great hall, “that you are far too generous with your promises.”
“You must admit,” he said in an aside, “that your day has been far easier than those in the recent past.” He looked around at the gleaming wood and the table groaning under the weight of so much food. Instead of a hollow, empty room, the great hall was filled with a dozen or more villagers and their families seated at the tables, their voice raised in a symphony of conversation. “And the rewards far greater.”
Merritt watched as Astra directed a serving wench who carried a tray filled with steaming venison and placed it in front of Upton for his approval. “Aye. My mouth waters thinking about the rewards.”