A Highlander Never Surrenders (19 page)

He looked up from Mary’s dreamy gaze, bringing his slow, salacious smile with him. It faded an instant later when he looked over Claire’s shoulder at James leaving the chamber a few feet behind her. When his potent emerald gaze fell back to her, Claire recoiled at the betrayal and fury she saw in them. Och, dear God, he knew! How could he know?

“Lady Stuart, I was looking fer ye.” Graham left Mary and reached her five breaths before James did. “A clandestine meeting with yer dear friend?” he bent to her and murmured low to her ear while cupping her elbow in his palm.

“Grant,” Buchanan slapped Graham’s shoulder. “I was hoping you’d share a drink with me tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed my wine.”

Graham spared him the briefest glance. “Ye have my thanks fer the offer, but right now I intend to have a word with Claire.” He smiled, just in case Buchanan thought to take offense, and if he did, let him draw his sword and do something about it. Graham almost wished he would. He did not trust the bastard, and knowing now that Claire had just left his private chambers scalded his veins with rage. His dismissal of Buchanan was abrupt, and turning his attention to Claire once more, he ground out, “This will take but a moment.”

She tried to free her elbow from his hard fingers, but he pulled her along to the other end of the hall. When he reached the chambers he’d been given to use for the night, he shoved open the door, looked over his shoulder, and pushed her inside.

“Are you mad?” Claire turned on him the moment he shut the door. “He barely trusts any of you. A Campbell and a bunch of barbaric Highlanders have a secret meeting with Monck—”

“Secret meeting?” Graham asked incredulously. “Is that what he has ye believing now?”

“Nae, Graham, he does not know what to believe, just as you and Robert don’t. He does nothing because he is still undecided about you. Do not give him reason to decide against you.”

Graham almost laughed in her face, but he was too angry with her. “I don’t like secret meetings either, Claire.” He took a step toward her, and when she didn’t back up, he gave her a slight push. Her legs hit the bed and she fell back on her rump. “What were ye doing in his chamber if ’twasn’t to grow fat with a dozen of his babes?”

She sprang back to her feet, and when he pushed her back a second time, she swung her fist at his face. He caught her wrist seconds before it hit his jaw. He advanced, forcing her onto the mattress. He swooped over her, pinning one wrist above her head and the other behind her back. “I’ll subdue ye, Claire. Nae matter how skilled ye are, ye will not win, nor will Buchanan. Now, tell me. What were ye doing in his chamber?”

“You have ten breaths to get off me before I start screaming.”

Poised above her, he stared down into her eyes, so damn tempted to kiss her. God, just to taste her again. “Och, Claire, I beg ye don’t, fer then I’ll be forced to quiet ye.”

Something in his raspy plea convinced her not to scream. “Graham,” she said his name softly instead, not wanting to fight with him. “Anne and I cannot go to Skye with you. Would you have us go there to await our fate with no way of escape? Monck will try to wed us to Roundheads.”

Only one of you
. Graham felt anguish looking at her. Ah, God’s mercy! He pushed himself off her and sank back on his haunches. “Hell, Claire,” he said looking as if she’d just struck him with a fatal blow.

She rose on her elbows and faced him. “I must stay here where I’m safe.”

“And how d’ye intend to do that, lass?” he asked her quietly.

Before she could stop herself, she lifted her hand to his jaw and ran her fingers along its bristly edge. He did not move away. His gaze on her warmed, proving her touch affected him. She had to tell him the truth. If he was injured . . . killed because he thought the attack was real and fought harder. . . . She had betrayed him, and she needed to tell him the truth, even if he hated her for it. “I asked James to dispatch a legion of his men toward Killiecrankie.” Now he pulled his face away, his eyes burning her. “No one would be harmed,” she hastened to explain, trying to smooth the harsh steel of her betrayal. “James gave me his word on it. It is a strategy we have used many times with Lambert’s troops. James’s men are to lie in wait and come upon us in the night. None of your men will be harmed, just restrained . . . mayhap knocked unconscious. Anne and I will be brought back here, where James will hide us.”

“And no one will suspect ’twas James since we were attacked far from Ravenglade.”

“Aye,” she spoke as softly as he. “This is where Anne and I will be safest, Graham. Not with the MacGregors, whom I do not even know.”

“Nae, Claire.” He shook his head. “This is where you are the most unsafe. Here, with the man who killed Connor.”

Claire sprang from the bed and glared at him. “James did not kill my brother! How dare you speak such a horrible thing?”

“He did,” Graham said, following her off the bed. “But I cannot prove it to ye.”

“Of course you can’t, because it is not true!”

“I believe James hated yer brother.”

Claire tried to laugh at him, but she was too angry, too stunned by his accusation. “Nae, Graham. You are wrong.”

“James was jealous of him,” he continued even while she shook her head. He had to make her see the truth. She was in danger here. “It began as lads. Connor always won. James leads an entire army of men who are not his and who would likely kill him if they knew the truth. Think, Claire. Do not let yer heart cloud yer judgment.”

“It is too late for that.” Her eyes flashed at him. “You truly are a devil-tongued viper!” When he cast her a puzzled look, she gritted her teeth at him. “You used me to gain information about James, and then used what I told you to aid you in your decision against him.” She whirled on her heel and headed for the door.

“He accompanied yer brother to England, but returned completely unscathed without him.” He spoke quickly, reaching her before she reached the door. “ ’Twas he who told Connor about the meeting, not Monck. They lost forty men, but Buchanan was fortunate enough to escape.”

Claire paused, keeping her gaze averted from his, lest she be tempted to listen to any more of this . . . this blasphemy! “That means naught save James is better skilled than the rest.”

“Better than Connor? Nae, Connor died because he trusted a friend who led him straight to Lambert’s men.”

Now she raised her gaze to his, uncertainty and fear clearly visible in her sapphire eyes. “You are right. You have no proof.”

“I understand brotherhood, friendship.” His words stopped her again when she would have pushed past him. “I know it well, and I would give my life’s blood fer it. A man who grudgingly toasts his dead brother, or who boasts of his prowess in battle instead of boasting of his friend, is not a friend at all.”

Claire squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and left the chamber. When she closed the door, she fell against it. Graham was mad! He had to be. She knew James, had grown up with him. He was incapable of such a devious deed. Never would he have betrayed Connor so. Graham was wrong! He had to be!

Chapter Seventeen

I
s he ruled by honor, or by avarice? I fear I no longer know which is more powerful of the two.

The great hall was alive with the sound of merriment. Everywhere Claire looked men drank, laughed, and stumbled into chairs. Ravenglade had not changed since last she’d seen it. The men were never so rowdy when she used to visit with Connor. If she and her brother remained for a month, the men practiced every day of that month, almost without pause. Connor had built a strong army, but after he died, the men grew lax and fat. Why did James allow it?

She spotted the man she’d known since childhood reclining in the chair that had once been reserved for her brother, as leader. Was it so unusual that James should claim it now? He was the new head of the resistance, after all. Her eyes moved over the long table to Graham seated at James’s left. At his right sat her sister, with Robert beside her. All looked happy enough, save for Robert, who appeared preoccupied with darker thoughts. Claire wondered what they were as she watched him. Anne was right about the young earl’s eyes being radiant. It wasn’t their extraordinary mixture of color, but his utter lack of guile that made them so. Did he share Graham’s belief about James? And what would the noble knight try to do about it, if he did?

She should march straight to them and tell James everything. Her loyalty was to him, after all. But he would kill Graham and Robert for making such a heinous accusation, and mayhap go to war with the MacGregors. What was she to do? She thought about running from Ravenglade, from all of them. She knew many places to hide where they would never find her. She could forget them all and never think again about who had betrayed her brother, or who she betrayed. But that would be cowardly, and she could not leave Anne alone.

Her eyes settled again on Graham reclining comfortably in his chair, his cap pushed over his forehead. Why did she tell him of her and James’s plans? She thought he would understand her plight, mayhap even agree to help her. If he fought James, one of them would surely die.

She watched James throw his head back with laughter at something Graham said to him. She met the Highlander’s sober gaze and realized what he was doing. He was making James like him, trust him, as he had done to her. It was the commander’s most effective weapon.

“Ah, Claire, come join us.” James beckoned her to their table.

She did not want to go, but Graham’s potent gaze drew her toward him. She had changed into fresh trews and a clean, blouse-sleeved shirt. Her thick, pale braid dangled over her breast. His eyes took in every inch of her, touching her like a heated caress. God help her, she knew the true reason she’d told him all. She wanted to trust him with her life, with her heart. She wanted to believe that he was not so uncaring toward her. That his kisses, his warm smiles were real. Hell have her for wanting it, but she did.

When she reached the table, he stood and offered her his seat beside James. She severed her gaze from him and fought to keep her breath at an even pace when she stepped around him and her body brushed his.

She offered her smile to James as she sat. In return, he took her hand, and then her sister’s, and set his rather proud gaze on the inhabitants of the hall. Everything that was Connor’s was his now, and a moment of terror and fury passed through Claire at seeing him revel in it.

She closed her eyes, refusing to entertain such horrible notions. She had the urge to kick Graham under the table for putting them in her head.

“Lord Buchanan has informed me that when the monarchy is restored, he will ask fer yer hand.”

Claire opened her eyes on Graham, certain that her ears had just deceived her. Slowly, she pulled her hand out of James’s grasp. “Is this true?” She turned to him.

Releasing Anne, James leaned forward in his chair and cast a dark glare at Graham. “I told you that in confidence.”

“Fergive me.” Graham’s daring smirk looked anything but repentant. “I wanted to see the joy in her eyes ye told me she’d feel when she learned of yer plans fer her.”

“James?” Claire backed away from him, almost landing in Graham’s lap. “You know I will not marry you. Why would you tell him such a thing?”

“Why will you not marry me, Claire?” He shifted in her brother’s chair and reached for her hand again with both of his. “I know Connor and I used to talk of my wedding Anne, but you are the elder. Now that Connor is gone everything has changed. There is much to consider.”

“Mayhap Connor chose another man for Lady Stuart?”

All eyes turned on Robert, sitting quietly up to that moment. He did not look up right away, but continued drawing small circles on the table with his finger. “Did he not discuss his twin sister’s future with you, or the lands that came with her, should he perish?” He lifted his eyes to Buchanan. “Surely, a man who lived such a perilous life would make arrangements for both his sisters. And surely, he would share his decisions with his closest friend.”

“Surely he would,” Graham intoned, and smiled at Claire when she turned to stare at him.

“As a matter of fact,” James told them both, “Connor never made any arrangements for Claire. She fought with us as a man, and he—”

“As a man?” Graham asked curiously, staring at her.

“He means that I fight like one,” Claire hastened to explain. “Isn’t that correct, James.”

“Aye,” James corrected, reaching under the table for his shin. “She fights like a man, and in truth, her brother doubted she would live long enough to wed.”

Claire went still in her seat. She felt as if a bolt of lightning had just coursed through her. Connor did not doubt she would live. He had never put that fear into her. Aye, he worried for her, as any brother would, but he was confident in the skill he taught her. And he had made certain to teach her everything he knew, so that she would live.

She wiped her brow. Suddenly, nothing made sense anymore. Connor was the only man in her life who had truly accepted who she was, the life she chose. And James knew it. Why would he say such a cruel thing?

She could not breathe. She had to get away from them and try to sort this all out. Her family loved James, and he loved them. She simply could not accept that he hated Connor and had betrayed him out of jealousy. No. She shook her head, but tears welled up in her eyes, and she bolted to her feet before anyone took notice.