Page 9 of Highland Heart

Dugald did not want his father to end up hurt, because everyone knew Mistress Stewart was destined for marriage to someone much higher than Hamish, probably one of the Scottish nobles. The fact that the duke had been planning to wed her to Ewen said a great deal about his trust in Dugald’s eldest brother, but once Ewen refused, they knew the duke would be looking toward greener pastures.

Ewen wasn’t the only one the duke had been planning nuptials for. He had made mention of a few prospects for Dugald too, and now the Campbells were on the rise a beneficial marriage could mean a great deal for his future ambitions. A bride might bring wealth and blood relatives and influence that would help Dugald’s rise in the world.

When he left for Tighe, Dugald had promised the duke he would consider three women whose names had been put to him. But that was before he saw Rosina again. Had he really forgotten how she affected him? It was as if he had only to meet her gaze and his cock went hard. He only had to see her soft lips and he was wanting to find a dark corner so that he could open her legs and thrust himself between them. It was embarrassing, and showed a serious lack of restraint. All the more disappointing when Dugald had worked hard to grow into the sort of man who considered his options carefully, rather than the impulsive boy who had once dived headlong into any sort of disastrous adventure.

After Rosina had told Dugald exactly what she thought of him, and their hand fasting had been dissolved by the laird, he had vowed never to see her again. He would do better; find a sweet biddable girl who was proud to be with him. Why now, ten years later, was he still panting after the one woman who had the power to break his heart?

And there was Mary, too. He wasn’t sure what to think of Mary. The girl was still a stranger, but he wanted to get to know her. She was his blood, a Campbell, and he would do his best for her, whatever her mother thought of him.

He paused on the turn in the stairs and looked out the narrow slit of window. Once upon a time arrows were fired through here and perhaps they would be again. Scotland was not a peaceful country, always seething with unrest, and rebellion was never far away. All the more reason to look after his own.

He leaned against the wall, feeling unsteady and wondering if he was coming down with something. He was a fit and strong man, but his body was still recovering from that powerful orgasm. He couldn’t remember feeling like that before. But no, he admitted that wasn’t exactly true. He had felt like that ten years ago. Rosina had always made him feel like this, raw and vulnerable and shaken off his axis.

Could he break through all those feelings she had held on to after he left? Could he persuade her to forgive him and to start again? And if he did, what would that mean for him and his aspirations in the duke’s household? Ewen had stubbornly declared he was marrying Elspit, and the duke had understood and forgiven him, but if Dugald also turned his back on the duke’s kindness, what then? Had he really worked this hard just to throw away his bright future for a woman who had hurt him once and may well do so again?

With a sigh he continued up the stairs to his room. He was confused. Perhaps a good night’s sleep would help him put matters into perspective. Tomorrow he would wake with a clear head and a clearer idea of where his future was headed.

***

Rowdy, drunken voices reached him, growing louder. He recognised Finlay and Callum, and that didn’t surprise him. His brothers, especially Callum, were inclined to enjoy themselves a little too much on occasion. But added to theirs was another voice, and this one was surprising.

His father had never, as far back as Dugald could remember, returned home drunk and roaring at the top of his voice. Not ever. And now here he was.

Blinking, pushing his hair out of his eyes, Dugald climbed out of his bed and went to the door. Finlay was there, and gave him a wink, closing his eye far too long and then having trouble opening it again. “Father has been telling us how things were when he was a young lad,” he said, in a voice that was meant to be quiet but probably woke the entire castle.

His father was coming up the stairs and needed Callum’s support. Dugald’s eyes widened. Hamish was still a handsome man although now well into his forties, and his son could see that he must have been the apple of the ladies’ eyes when he was master of his own lands and leader of his own men. His wife dying so young was difficult and painful, and yet Hamish had brought up his sons in the manner he knew she would have approved of.

“Hamish?”

The voice was a mere whisper, and Dugald saw one of the other doors open a crack, and big blue eyes peeped out. Mistress Stewart. Those eyes widened even further when she saw the state of his father. Hamish, finally noticing he had an audience, took a shaky step toward her, saying, “Margarette ...?” but Mistress Stewart had already snapped her door closed.

His father looked so downcast, so ashamed. A moment later, he had pushed past his youngest son and flung himself onto the bed, and before Dugald could speak a word, or protest, his father was asleep and snoring.

“Why don’t you take him?” he asked Callum. “You got him into this state.”

His brother grinned unrepentantly. “Nah, you look after him. You’re sober, after all.”

“Finlay?” He turned to the other twin, the more sensible one in his opinion, but Finlay just shrugged and walked away.

His father gave a particularly loud snore and Dugald sighed. Outside the shutters the dawn was breaking, and as it seemed unlikely he would be getting any more sleep, he decided he may as well get up. He would go for a ride, take a look at the Tighe lands for his brother, talk to some of the tenants. Right now Ewen deserved to lie in with his new wife, and it wasn’t as if Dugald had a warm armful to cuddle up to.

His thoughts flashed to Rosina but he put them aside. He hadn’t come to any decisions there, except to reiterate to himself how important it was he stick to his future plans and not make any rash decisions where she was concerned. Maybe a ride in the crisp morning air would do the trick of clearing his head.

Chapter six

ROSINA

When Rosina’s father lost everything to the Laird of Tighe, including his life, her mother and Rosina were taken captive. At the time, the Gordons were scattered far and wide, and Rosina and Jeanette were forced to live in the victor’s house. Rosina had to play lady in waiting to his daughter Elspit—not that that was such a hardship, she admitted to herself, Elspit being such a sweet girl. Jeanette had secretly written letter after letter, begging for help from her husband’s important friends and relatives, but no one answered. Rosina suspected the letters never reached their destinations.

Clans were made up of relatives and others with a reason to want to cling close to the laird. That way they were safe, and by taking up arms when needed could offer safety to the clan as a whole. When her father died at Tighe’s hands, some of his people latched on to other clans, but a few loyal supporters came with Rosina and her mother to live at Tighe.

Kenny Gordon, who was one of her father’s most staunch clansmen, now resided in one of the cottages beyond Tighe castle, and was making a living as best he could. Rosina had always tried to make sure Kenny’s family were cared for, and that was why she was visiting now with a basket of food from the castle kitchens.

She had barely finished setting down the basket and asking how the family were, when the door was flung open.

Kenny jumped up and reached for his claymore, but it was too late. Next thing the point of a sword was pressed against his throat and a very large and aggressive Dugald Campbell was in his face.

Shocked, Rosina was speechless, and then quickly stepped in between the two men as best she could, shoving Dugald’s chest. “What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted.