Highland Heaven

  “We hide nothing.” Merritt stiffened her spine and met his look squarely. Refusing to back down, she added tartly, “You have invaded our home and threatened our safety. You will not add to our misery by insulting our father. When he has finished his ablutions and goes below stairs to break his fast, you will have the opportunity to meet him.”

  “And his army along with him, I suppose?”

  “We have told you the truth,” Sabina said. “There are no others in Inverene House save family and old Astra. My father has no army.”

  “If he had,” Merritt interjected, “would they not have stormed our chambers last night and rescued us, rather than force such... indignities upon us?”

  She felt her flesh heat as her sister and the old servant turned to study her, and knew that she would have to deal with their questions later. She could pretend to the others that the only indignities were the loss of privacy and the domination by this intruder. For she alone must know of the more... intimate indignities she had endured.

  Shaw’s narrowed glance brought the full flush to her cheeks.

  Having been reminded of his lapse, he felt his temper rise a notch, though he could not argue with her logic. What she said made sense. These women had no army hidden away beneath their roof. Else, they would have called upon its services last night.

  “I require water and clean linens,” he commanded imperiously. “And to assure that no one attempts to escape, one of you must remain with me at all times. You may decide which of you it shall be. The other will be free to accompany Astra while she goes about her chores.”

  Sabina turned to Merritt. “You know it is I who must see to Father, else he will fret.”

  “Aye. Go. I shall remain the Campbell’s hostage,” Merritt said with reluctant acceptance. “But you must bring me a gown and slippers. I cannot have Father see me like this.”

  Sabina and the old servant left the room and returned a short time later with clothes for Merritt, a basin of water and an armload of clean linen for Shaw, as well as a goblet of willow bark tea for Sutton, who remained in a deep sleep.

  Ignoring his own needs, Shaw immediately knelt beside his brother, forcing the cup between his lips. For a moment Sutton stirred, coughing and choking as the hot liquid slid down his throat. But his eyes remained closed, and he seemed unaware of the one holding him.

  “Sutton,” Shaw whispered. “You have always been a brave warrior. Now you must fight. Do not give up. Do not leave me.”

  From her position beside the fire, Merritt watched in silence, feeling oddly moved by his words. It was clear that this man loved his brother deeply.

  Would she not do the same for Sabina? Aye, she thought, as her hand clenched into a fist. She would move heaven and earth for the sake of any member of her family. But somehow, she had thought herself different from this savage, who was her father’s enemy. Yet, watching him, she felt an unwelcome bond with this man. For she understood the love that drove him.

  At last Shaw set aside the steaming liquid and settled his brother in the bedclothes. Then he walked to the basin and, removing his tunic, began to wash away the dried blood. When he was finished, he turned to Merritt, who, having draped herself in a blanket, had managed to remove the coarse clothes of a stableboy and replace them with a clean gown of pale pink while still retaining her modesty. On her feet were soft kid slippers.

  The sight of her in feminine clothing was a revelation, and he had to force himself not to stare.

  “I will need a dressing on this wound.” His tone was sharper than he’d intended. He would do well to remember that Merritt Lamont was the enemy. “See to it, woman.”

  Without a word she crossed to him and tore a strip of linen. Dipping her fingers into Sabina’s ointment, she smeared a small amount onto his raw flesh, and was rewarded by his sudden hiss of pain.

  “Did I hurt you?” Her smile was far too sweet.

  “Nay.” He would not give her the satisfaction of knowing how hellishly the ointment burned.

  “That is good, for I see I have missed a spot.” Relishing her chance for at least a small measure of vengeance, she slathered a generous amount of ointment.

  He set his teeth, determined to ignore the searing pain. “You are enjoying this, I see.”

  She tied the linen strip so tightly he winced. “I have always been willing, even eager, to help those less fortunate.”

  “Another paragon.” He reached up and loosened the linen, flexing his arm to return the circulation, then allowed her to continue tying it. “No doubt you inherit such virtue from your father.”

  She stared into his eyes, meeting his challenging look with one of her own. “So I have been told.”

  As she started to turn away he caught her hand, stilling her movements. At once she was aware of his strength. With no effort he could snap the bones of her fingers like twigs. “Beware, woman. Do not try my patience.”

  “Nay, sir. It is you who should beware.” Her eyes flashed. “You are not in your own fortress now, Campbell. You will regret the day you invaded the home of Upton Lamont.”

  “I already regret it.” Still gripping her hand, he drew her closer, until his warm breath feathered the hair at her nape. “But I am willing to pay any price to save my brother.” Cool blue-green eyes stared into hers, daring her to look away. “Even enter a den of vipers.”

  She was disturbed by the nearness of his naked chest, and determined to put aside such unworthy thoughts. But her gaze was caught and held by the mat of gold hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his breeches.

  “A word of warning, then.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Take care that you do not anger this viper, or you will be forced to endure my venom.”

  His gaze fastened on her mouth, and a dangerous smile touched his lips. She realized, too late, what he intended. But when she tried to pull back, he dragged her into his arms.

  “I think, viper, I might enjoy seeing you hiss.”

  Her eyes flashed. “May you be damned to eternal fire, Campbell. And your brother, as well—”

  Her words were cut off with a hard, punishing kiss. This time she was prepared to do battle rather than give in. And Shaw was just as determined to dominate.

  If possible, it was even more erotic to tangle with one who, though she fought like a man, was dressed in such an alluring feminine frill. The neckline was low enough to reveal a shadowed cleft between high, firm breasts. As she turned and twisted, the fabric hugged a tiny waist and flared over her softly rounded hips. Shaw found that it was an altogether pleasant diversion. One that had him quickly aroused.

  The more she struggled, the tighter were the arms that held her, until, breathless, she went limp in his arms. She had intended it as a ploy, but her strategy backfired. As soon as her struggles ceased, he drew her a little away, his eyes locked on hers.

  “Woman,” he muttered, “you would try the patience of a saint.”

  “Is that what you consider yourself?”

  “If the truth be known, the things I am thinking would make me the greatest of sinners.” At his unexpected admission, he added, “What evil powers do you possess?”

  She saw his stunned look a moment before he dragged her close and covered her mouth with his. This time, his touch, his kiss, gentled.

  That was her undoing.

  How could she fight hands that held her as carefully as if she were made of glass? How could she resist lips that whispered over hers like the wings of a butterfly?

  She went very still, willing herself to feel nothing. But though she stood as still as a statue, she could not control the wild beating of her heart, or the breath that seemed to back up in her lungs.

  Shaw pressed soft, quick kisses across her closed lids, over her cheek, along her jaw, before returning to her lips. And all the while she gave no outward sign of the turmoil that churned within.

  How strong he was, she thought as his hands moved over her. And yet, for all his strength, his movements were restrained.
He gave the illusion of great tenderness. How could this be? The man was a contradiction. Gentle when he should be rough. Smiling when he should be scowling. Before she could puzzle it further, he suddenly took the kiss deeper, and all her thoughts scattered.

  The touch of her, the taste of her, had him mesmerized. He couldn’t seem to recall why he’d been angry. Now he knew only heat and pleasure and need. As his tongue tangled with hers, the flash of desire was swift and all-consuming. Needs, so long denied, nearly swamped him. His arms tightened around her and he drew her so firmly against him he could feel her erratic heartbeat inside his own chest. Or was that his pulse, pumping so furiously?

  Suddenly he was aware of a sound from the other side of the barred door. Not his pulse; someone knocking.

  Astra’s voice could be heard. “My lady Sabina says it is time to break your fast.”

  Shaw’s head came up sharply. His brows drew together in a look of black rage. “Aye. Tell the lady we will come at once.”

  He stood very still, listening to the sound of retreating footsteps. Then, lowering his hands, he stepped back a pace. Merritt did the same.

  Again, they were both forced to deal with overpowering emotions.

  Shame reddened Merritt’s cheeks. How could she permit her enemy such liberties? Yet, when this man held her, she seemed to lose her will to resist. His simplest touch scrambled her thoughts, leaving her floundering like a fish in a net. To cover her embarrassment, she brought her hand up in a wide arc, landing a stinging blow on his cheek.

  “Damn you for that, Campbell. You will not despoil me to avenge the dark deeds of your father.”

  At once he caught the offending hand in a painful grasp and drew her close, until she could feel the heat of his anger. His eyes blazed. “I will do whatever I choose, Merritt Lamont. Or have you forgotten that you and your family are at the mercy of my sword?”

  “I forget nothing,” she spat before pulling roughly away.

  Shaw stared after her, struggling with feelings of self- loathing. Why was it that this woman caused him to behave in such a manner? How could he forget, for even a moment, that she was the daughter of his father’s despised enemy? She could, in fact, have been the cause of Sutton’s suffering.

  Perhaps she practiced witchcraft. For there was no other explanation for his strange, unexpected behavior. Women had always been his brother’s weakness, and his source of pleasure. As for himself, Shaw had proudly scoffed at pleasures of the flesh. He had thought himself, because of his special calling, to be unlike other men. The woman had not been born who could tempt him. Until now.

  Neither of them spoke as Shaw pulled on his tunic. Running a hand through his damp hair, he crossed the room and removed the barrier, opening the door. At once, Merritt flounced past him. But his hand shot out, slowing her movements.

  He felt the quick sexual tug and immediately pulled his hand away as though burned. “You will walk beside me,” he commanded.

  As they descended the stairs, he took great pains to see that he did not brush against her. He could not afford the distraction.

  At the rumble of a masculine voice he muttered, “I look forward to finally meeting the mysterious laird of Inverene House.”

  She shot him one final dark look before lifting her head in a proud, haughty manner.

  Chapter Six

  Merritt led the way along a dimly lit hallway. Ahead could be heard the sound of muted voices. When they reached the great hall, Shaw paused at the threshold.

  Row upon row of scarred wooden tables stood empty. At one end of the room, a log burned in the fireplace. A table had been pulled close to it for warmth. At the head of the table sat a barrel-chested man hunched deep into the folds of a heavy cloak. On his left sat Sabina. On his right was a lad whose flaming hair and freckled nose made him look much like the young woman standing beside Shaw.

  “You did not mention a brother,” he said.

  “You did not ask.”

  “How many more surprises shall I expect?”

  She merely shot him a scathing look before striding across the room ahead of him.

  “Good morrow, Father.” Placing her hands on the man’s shoulders, she bent and brushed an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

  He covered one of her hands with his for a moment, then lifted his gaze to study Shaw. His eyes narrowed. “You would be the Campbell.” He spoke the name as though it offended him.

  “Aye.” Shaw’s reply was equally abrupt.

  The man pressed his palms firmly on the table, easing himself from his chair. The strain of such effort was clearly evident on his face. But he was determined to stand and meet this intruder eye-to-eye. Sweat beaded his brow. His pupils were dilated with pain. When he was finally standing, he was nearly as tall as Shaw.

  Without a word, each man took the measure of the other. At last Upton Lamont said, “You and your brother are the first Campbells to gain entrance to my home.”

  Shaw kept his eyes steady on his father’s old adversary. The man was indeed a menacing figure, with long red hair and bushy beard liberally sprinkled with gray. Thick, muscled shoulders wider than a longbow, and the biggest hands Shaw had ever seen, added to the impression of strength. He had no doubt how Upton Lamont had earned his title the Lawless One. Rumor had it that, in his youth, Lamont had considered himself above the law and had terrorized all who crossed him. And had amassed a fortune in the bargain.

  It was Lamont’s eyes that held Shaw’s interest. Though they were green, like Merritt’s, there was no spark of fire burning in them. Instinctively, Shaw felt that there was a sickness in the man. But whether it was a sickness of the mind or the body, he had yet to ascertain.

  “I have been told that you held my daughters hostage in their chambers last night. Yet I see no army swarming about Inverene House. Why does an invader come alone?”

  “I held them against their will because I feared retaliation by your army. I come in peace, to return my brother to our home. It is my only reason for being here.”

  Something flickered in the other man’s eyes. “So, you would ask to be treated as a guest?”

  “I am neither guest nor intruder. I ask no special treatment.”

  Again he saw an unfathomable look in the other man’s eyes before Upton shifted attention away from himself by saying, “The words to be spoken between us can wait. You have yet to be introduced to my son, Edan.” The name was pronounced with great tenderness.

  Shaw studied a lad who looked to be about ten and two. Lively inquisitive eyes lifted to meet his.

  “Edan,” Shaw said, nodding his head.

  “You are our first visitor in a very long time,” the boy told him.

  “Perhaps it is because your fortress seems inhospitable to guests. It is nearly impenetrable, what with loch, cliffs and forest.”

  “It did not repel you,” the boy pointed out logically.

  “Aye. But then, I had a compelling reason for coming here.”

  When Shaw returned his attention to Upton Lamont, Sabina and Merritt had helped him lower himself to a sitting position.

  The older man stabbed a finger in the air. “Sit, Campbell. Though you enter my home by force, you shall partake of the Lamont hospitality.”

  Shaw took a seat at the opposite end of the table. At once Astra approached the laird, offering a bowl of gruel.

  He shot her a contemptuous look. “What is this? Where is the meat? The fowl?”

  The old servant glanced uncertainly toward Merritt before saying, “There was no time to slaughter a lamb, m’laird. Nor even time to twist the neck from a pheasant.”

  “Ah, well. See to it before the day has ended,” he muttered, taking a generous portion of gruel before gesturing for the woman to serve their guest.

  Shaw took only a very small portion, and noticed that both Sabina and Merritt did the same, leaving the remaining gruel for their little brother.

  “Merritt said that the one who looks just like you lying abed is drawing his
last breath.” Edan’s voice was as animated as his eyes.

  At once Shaw felt a stab of pain and had to struggle to compose himself. His voice rang with conviction. “He is my brother, Sutton. My twin. And he will not die, lad.”

  “I was allowed to enter my sister’s chambers and see him when he first arrived. He truly does look just like you.”

  “Aye.” Shaw smiled. “Most cannot tell one from the other.”

  “Merritt said he is grievously wounded, and that the arrows that felled him came from Campbell bows.”

  At once Shaw’s smile faded. Though he addressed the boy, his eyes narrowed on Merritt. “Your sister has much to say—to others. I have yet to hear the truth about the attack upon my brother. But the tales I have been told thus far have the ring of falsehood to them.”

  “Do you call me a liar?” Merritt demanded.

  “I suspect that you... embellish the facts to suit the listener.”

  She shoved back her chair and sprang to her feet, reminding Shaw of a hissing, spitting cat. “No Campbell has the right to sit in my father’s house and call me—”

  “Merritt.” Though the word was spoken hoarsely, Upton’s voice had the ring of command.

  At once the young woman sank down upon her chair. Shaw had to bite back his smile. Even in obedience, there was nothing docile about Merritt Lamont. Though she might not be aware of it, she used her eyes as weapons, sending him cutting looks each time she glanced his way.

  “I have no reason to doubt my daughter’s story.” Upton Lamont pinned Shaw with a look. “’Twas dark, the hour late. Men’s tempers were short. Weapons were drawn, arrows fired.” He shrugged. “Such things happen when men get careless.”

  Shaw felt his own temper rising, something that was happening far too often since his arrival at the Lamont fortress. “Sutton is the finest warrior I know. He is never careless in battle.”

  “Perhaps he was merely... distracted.”

  At Merritt’s words, Shaw turned the full force of his gaze on her. “How is it that you happened upon my brother?”

  Merritt darted a look at her sister. “Sabina and I were out... searching for a lost lamb.”