A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) (11 page)

As the bard strummed the last few chords of the ending, Caitlin
thought she had never heard a more tenderly heartrending song.
She sighed and smiled at Kenneth.

"Why did ye play that?" Darach demanded harshly just then,
his angry voice slashing through the poignant mood the song
had stirred. "What did ye imagine ye'd accomplish?"

For once, his friend didn't back down. "Ye need to face yet
loss and put it away once and for all. And I thought, mayhap,
to help ye along a bit." His glance moved to Caitlin. "The lass
needs to begin to understand as well."

Darach gave a ragged laugh. "Och, aye, and why would that
be? What does aught of what has happened to any of us matter
to her? When all is said and done, she's a Campbell. Remember
that, my friend, if ye remember naught else!"

He climbed to his feet.

"And where are ye off to?" Kenneth set aside his clarsach and
looked up at him.

"I'm going for a walk. I need some breathing room, and I see
I'll not find any here!" With that, the big Highlander wheeled
about and stalked out into the darkness.

Caitlin watched him go, then turned to her companion. "What
was all that about?"

"Ye heard the song and surely know the tales about Dar and
his lost love." Kenneth shrugged. "Figure it out yerself."

She stared at him for a long while as he carefully placed his
harp back into its bag, tied off the leather strings, and laid it
aside. There was something between these two men that went a
lot deeper than friendship. Something, she wagered, that had to
do with the murdered Colquhoun lass ... and even more.

"Men kill even in the name of love," Caitlin finally said. "A
misguided love, more for oneself than for the object of one's affection, to be sure, and then blame it on the dead or even misfortune.
No matter the reasoning, it doesn't justify the act or absolve the
killer."

"True enough." He lifted his gaze to hers. "Such isn't the case
with Dar, though. He's no murderer, though some of his own
kin would've gladly had him so."

"And why would that be?"

Kenneth looked down and sighed. "Why else? To divert the
blame from them, of course."

"This, I'm sure, will come as a big imposition on yer grand plans
for the day," Caitlin announced to Dar the next day, "but lasses
need a bit more time to prepare themselves each morn than do
the lads. And a bit more privacy in the doing, as well."

The dark-haired Highlander glanced up from the breakfast
he and Kenneth were preparing. "Indeed? And did ye imagine
that, as a hostage, ye'd have any privacy afforded to ye? To make
yet escape, I mean?"

High color flooded Caitlin's face. At the sight of her this morn,
tousled of hair and still heavy-lidded from what was likely a restless night spent on the hard ground, Dar thought her the most
beautiful and seductive creature he had ever seen. And also the
most dangerous.

Still, the consideration of what it would be like to awaken
each day beside her for the rest of his life filled his mind before
he savagely banished the traitorous thoughts. He must have a
care. The wench was likely well aware of the effect she had on
him and, at every turn, would use it to her advantage.

"Ye'd watch me perform my morning ablutions, would ye?"
Fury filled her voice and suffused her features. "Then ye're no
gentleman, and I spit on yer highly vaunted claims of honor!"

"Er, Dar," Kenneth offered uneasily as he glanced from one angry person to the other. "Surely there's some way we could offer
her a bit of privacy and still keep her safely contained. Even a
hostage deserves time alone for, er, private matters."

Dar smiled grimly. "There are indeed ways. But the lass has yet
to ask nicely. And the sooner she learns that haughty demands
and insulting accusations won't win her aught but more trouble,
the sooner she may get what she wants."

The bard sent Caitlin an imploring look. "See, lass? Ye must
just ask nicely, that's all. Is that such a hard thing to do?"

Her icy gaze riveted on Dar, who unwaveringly stared back. "To
ask ye aught is easy enough, Kenneth. But not him. Never him!"

Dar laughed. He couldn't help it. He had never encountered
such a proud, stubborn lass as Caitlin Campbell.

"But Kenneth isn't the master of ye, sweet lass, and I am.
Haven't ye realized that yet?" Dar sighed and shook his head.
"And here I was giving ye far greater credit than ye seemingly
deserve."

"Ye're not my master, and never will be!" Caitlin cried. She
held out her bound wrists. "Untie me, if ye dare, and discover
the truth of it!"

"Och, is there to be no end to yet squabbling?" Kenneth threw
his hands in the air. "And it's glad I'll be to set out on my own
just as soon as I can. Though I'm beginning to doubt either of
ye will survive the journey to Dundarave without me."

Dar opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it.
Instead, he withdrew his knife and strode over to Caitlin.

She eyed him warily. "What are ye about now?"

"If ye promise not to kick me in the face," he said, "I'll cut
yet feet free. Then, since I see there's no hope of ye ever being
mannerly about aught, I'll escort ye to the burn where ye can
wash up and do whatever else ye've a need to do."

"Fair enough. I promise not to kick ye. Or, leastwise," she
added with a saucy grin, "not this time."

She lifted her skirt enough to reveal her ankles. Dar squatted
and swiftly sawed through the ropes.

"It'd help"-as she rose, Caitlin extended her hands to him"if ye'd remove these as well."

Dar chuckled. "Aye, I imagine it would, but I think I've compromised as much as I care to. Now, it's yet turn."

Anger flashed in her eyes, then she appeared to master it.
"Fine," she muttered. "I suppose I can manage." She arched a
slender brow. "And ye can stay near, just as long as ye give me
some privacy. I can't outrun ye at any rate."

"Nay, ye can't. And I suppose a bush or two between us should
work well enough."

Caitlin expelled a deep breath. "If that's the best ye have to
offer, I'll take it."

"Aye, it is."

Dar turned to his friend. "Slice us some bread and cheese to
go with that herb tea ye're making. We'll be back shortly."

He turned and took Caitlin by the arm. "Come along, lass.
The day draws on, and we must soon be on our way. I'll give ye
ten minutes, and no more, to do what ye must."

"That'll suit me nicely," she said as they began to walk from
camp. "It's not as if I need to squander much time on my appearance to please the likes of ye. As far as ye're concerned, I'm little
more than a slab of meat to be traded. My brother, of course,
will see it differently."

"To my great remorse, I'm sure."

"Most certainly."

He was getting tired of being threatened with what Niall
Campbell would do to him. Still, it seemed to entertain his sister in the saying, and she did have little else to occupy her. He
supposed he could cede her that wee pleasure without further
losing his patience.

They soon reached the burn, which was little more than a swiftly coursing rivulet of water. Dar pointed to two densely
leafed bushes a few yards upstream.

"See to yet `private' needs. Keep talking to me the entire time,
though, or I'll be quick to join ye in those bushes." He smiled
thinly. "Whether ye want me there or not."

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "I think I understand what ye meant,
without ye having to add that last threat."

She turned and headed toward the bushes. "Why must men
be so thick of skull all the time?" she whispered under her breath
as she walked away.

"What's that, lass?" Dar asked with a grin, even though he
had heard her clearly. "Ye must speak up a little louder, and
do so until ye're once more at my side. My thick male skull
doesn't pick up sound quite as well as yer far thinner one does,
ye know."

"It appears to me," Caitlin muttered as she disappeared behind
the bushes, "that ye hear well enough."

They kept up a spirited banter until Caitlin finally exited the
bushes and rejoined him. In the interim, he had quickly scrubbed
his face and washed his hands, then run wet fingers through his
short, unruly locks. She eyed him disdainfully, then moved past
him to kneel beside the burn.

He watched her splash icy water on her face then, with bound
hands, awkwardly finger comb her long, black mane. Next, pulling the mass of hair to one shoulder, she wove it into a rough
braid. After breaking off a piece of tough, long grass that grew
beside the burn, she rose and walked back to him.

"Would ye tie off the end of my braid for me?" Caitlin handed
Dar the strand of grass. "It's not the best braiding in the world,
but it'll at least keep the hair out of my eyes today."

He moved close, took up the braid that had already begun to
unravel, and deftly rewove it. As he tied off the end, a faint breeze
stirred. On its passing, Dar caught her scent.

She smelled of sweet grass and lavender. His nostrils flared,
and he sucked in the scent of her. It was his undoing.

Just being in her presence never failed to stir him. But standing
so close to her was beyond stirring. It was intoxicating.

Her hair felt like raw silk. Her skin was milky white, her cheeks
washed with rose. And her lips, so full and lush and red, were like
a ripe cherry or big, succulent raspberry. Lush, ripe, succulent,
and begging to be touched, tasted ... taken.

"If ye think, after what ye've done, after what I know about ye
and who ye truly are," Caitlin's frigid voice slashed through the
warm haze that had engulfed him, "I'll ever again want to kiss ye,
ye're a bigger fool than ye already make yerself out to be."

He jerked back his head, a head that he belatedly realized had
already begun to lower toward her. His face grew warm. Aye, he
indeed was a fool and, once again, she had lured him into making
an even bigger fool of himself.

"Fool I may be," Dar said through gritted teeth, "but ye risk
being an even greater fool by continuing to ply yet feminine wiles.
Especially," he added with a hard twist of his lips as he took her
arm, "knowing what ye claim ye now know about me."