Highland Surrender (21 page)

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Authors: Dawn Halliday

BOOK: Highland Surrender
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He glanced at her over his shoulder, then rose and went to sit beside her. Her tears had turned silent, but they still coursed down her cheeks in two clear streaks.
He wished he could kiss them away. Kiss that haughty look back onto her face.
Pulling her against him, he reached up to stroke her hair. “What happened?”
“I . . . cannot tell you.”
“You can tell me anything.”
Still, she didn’t speak.
“What was it? Was it the earl?”
Goddamn.
He stiffened all over but tried not to let her see it. Despite everything, despite his increasing trust and confidence in the earl, he’d kill Cam if he had anything to do with these tears.
“No.” She gulped. “Not Cam.”
Her fingers curled over his arms and gripped the backs of his shoulders, and she burrowed into his chest. Rob shifted, pulling her more fully onto his lap. She seemed to take comfort from his touch, so he wrapped one arm tightly around her while continuing to stroke her hair with his other hand. After just a few seconds, his cock was so tight and hot, he thought he might explode beneath her.
Hell—this wasn’t the time or place for that. He shifted to adjust himself, then ground his teeth and tried to ignore it.
“Who, then, Elizabeth?” he gritted out. “Who has made you cry?”
Her fingers tightened over his shoulders, and she looked up at him with glassy blue eyes that widened when she saw the rage in his own. “You mustn’t say or do anything, Rob,” she said in a hushed, urgent voice. “Please. Swear it. I don’t want you in the middle of this. He’s too . . . too powerful.”
Those final words melted his confusion.
“Your uncle,” Rob said flatly.
Pressing her lips together, she turned her face to the fire.
Rob continued grazing her hair with his fingertips, but inside him a battle raged. What had the man done to her?
God, how could he promise to separate himself from this when she’d chosen him as the man to reveal her sorrow to? Not Cam. It should have been Cam. Yet the thought of thrusting her off his lap and taking her to her betrothed made nausea swirl in his gut. He held her more tightly.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said quietly.
She whipped her face around so fast, a strand of blond hair stung his cheek. “No!”
“What did he do to you?”
“You are just a stable master. If you face him, you will not win. He’ll crush you.”
“I am no weakling.”
“You’re just a servant.”
“I’m more than that.”
She laughed bitterly. “I might know that. I see the strength in you. But to the Duke of Irvington, you’re no more important than a gnat.”
“I’m the Earl of Camdonn’s brother!”
He blinked in surprise at his outburst, and his eyes stung. He quickly looked away from her in an attempt to regain his composure.
“You’re . . . you’re Cam’s brother?”
He clenched his teeth. What in hell had possessed him to blurt out the truth?
It was
her
. She weakened him. Her vulnerability brought out his own.
“What? How? Does he know?” she said softly.
“No.”
It took her several moments to absorb this. “How can he not know?” She gazed up at him, her teary eyes thoughtful. “That is why your father resented you. The earl and your mother . . .”
Rob nodded briskly. “Aye. He never forgave her. Or me.”
“I should have known,” she murmured. “You are so like him.”
He stiffened further. “What do you mean?”
“You remind me of Cam in many ways. You . . . you have the same mannerisms. The same hands.”
Rob was silent. Too many unfamiliar feelings tumbled within him. He’d never before revealed his true parentage to anyone.
“Why haven’t you told Cam?”
He shrugged. “He hasn’t been here to tell. He’s spent most of his time in England.”
Rob had come to Camdonn Castle seven years ago in hopes of learning more about his father and only brother. He’d remained in the shadows, never approaching the old earl, just watching and learning. The truth of it was, when Rob was younger, his da had said the Earl of Camdonn would never accept him as his own. He’d said Rob belonged to no one.
Upon meeting the earl, he quickly realized it was true. The late Earl of Camdonn was a dour man, a hard man who’d brought only misery to those around him. He’d never have accepted Rob as his son. As the years went by, Rob’s disenchantment had grown, and by the time Cam returned home after his father’s death, Rob had little desire to reveal their bond.
Despite his resentment and despite his status as a bastard—and an unknown one at that—Rob had remained quietly steadfast first to the old earl and then to Cam. They were his family, even if they didn’t know it.
A tear slipped down Elizabeth’s cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb.
“It’s all so unfair,” she whispered.
“What is?”
“Your life. My life. Bitsy . . .”
“Bitsy?”
“My lady’s maid. Uncle Walter . . . He . . . he beats her when I displease him.”
He pulled back from her in disbelief. “Why?”
“He is determined that I shall remain untouched. She has always borne my punishments for me. And each time it happens, something in me dies a little more.”
Rob sat stunned. “Elizabeth . . .”
“No.” Desperation brimmed in her blue eyes before she looked away from him to burrow into his chest again. “Please. Please, Rob, just hold me. You make me feel so safe. When you touch me everything is pure and white, and I am safe from my own horrid self. Everyone is safe. Everything will be all right.”
He closed his eyes. Bending his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
“Very well,” he murmured. “I will hold you.”
CHAPTER TEN
 
 
C
am stared into the face of one of his tenants. Bram MacGregor was angry; that much was clear. The man was itching for a fight.
Cam leaned back on his chair and stared up at the burly man prowling his study, plaid swishing over his hairy legs with every long stride. Robert MacLean stood by the door, his eyes wary and alert as he watched the proceedings, and Cam’s young factor, Charles Stewart, stood near Cam’s desk. Before he’d left Scotland last year, Cam had taken on Charles, who was Sorcha’s brother, as his new factor. Though young, the boy was quick-witted, and since his father had served in the capacity before him, he’d adapted to the duties easily.
Cam had agreed to this audience only because Rob had intervened. Now he was beginning to regret it. Since Ceana had left, his shoulder had not stopped aching, and exhaustion crept through his bones whenever he considered the daunting task that lay before him. How to turn men like Bram MacGregor to his side? Hell if he knew.
“How can I help you, MacGregor?”
“I’ve come on behalf of Hamish Roberts.”
“Ah.” The man he’d had removed from his lands as soon as he’d arrived home. Two years ago, Roberts had been leading mobs of MacLeans into Argyll’s land to steal and slaughter his cattle. Cam had put a stop to that as soon as he’d heard. Since then, the man—a surly bastard he was, too—hadn’t paid his rents. The whole ordeal put a sour taste in Cam’s mouth.
“The Robertses have been tenants of the Earls of Camdonn for a hundred years.”
“I know that,” Cam said.
“And ye’ve tossed them out. Not only Hamish, but his mother, his wife, and his six bairns.”
“He didn’t pay his rents. Hasn’t paid for quite a while, if my factor’s reports are correct.”
“Aye, my lord,” Charles said from beside him. “It’s been over a year since Roberts last paid.”
MacGregor drew to a halt in the center of the room, turning furious eyes on Cam. Cam stared back at him, undaunted. First off, though Cam hadn’t enforced the Disarming Act on his lands, he didn’t allow his tenants to bear arms on castle grounds, so MacGregor carried no weapons. Second, Cam didn’t fear anyone. Certainly not this man. The worst he could do to Cam was kill him with his bare hands, but that wouldn’t be wise.
Perhaps Bram and the others who treated him with such distrust didn’t comprehend exactly how stupid it would be to kill him. If Cam died, the earldom would go to his cousin, a man who’d never stepped foot in the Highlands and possessed no tolerance for anything non-English and non-Whig. At the first sign of seditious intent, he would trample these people into the dust.
Did Bram know this? Cam sighed. Lack of foresight was a problem with many of his Highlanders.
MacGregor threw a sneer across the room. “And how’d ye expect ’em to pay rents? There be no way do so anymore. What with the restrictions ye’ve placed on the acquisition of cattle, ’tis impossible for them to survive.”
“The
acquisition
of cattle?” Cam raised a brow. “You refer to my desire to prevent Argyll’s men from slaughtering my own.”
“ ’ Tis the way of things.” Bram clenched his fists. “Cattle filching is a time-honored tradition. How Highlanders have endured since the dawn of time. ’Tis the only way they know how to survive.”
“I won’t argue tradition with you, MacGregor. But I won’t advance my wealth through thievery, and neither will anyone who lives on my lands.”
“Then they’ll be starving.”
“There is no need for that—not on my lands. There is an abundance of work to do.” And plenty of capital with which to do it.
MacGregor’s hand flew up. “Where?”
Cam took a deep breath. “I’ve several projects in mind. I wish to build a road from here to Glenfinnan. Fortify the cliffs and build a larger wharf. Redo the inside walls of the castle outbuildings. Build a new mill. Institute a loan program for the farmers and cattlemen. I need men. The MacDonald laird and I are investing in more stock, so management of the herds will require more manpower. If you know of a man whose family is going hungry due to his idleness, have him come to my factor or myself, and if he proves himself worthy, he will have work.”
MacGregor narrowed his eyes. Still he didn’t trust him. Cam hadn’t expected it to be easy, but he couldn’t let this man believe he held the power. Cam was still the master here. “You are dismissed.”
A muscle jerked in the man’s jaw; then he swiveled around and marched out. Casting Cam a grim look, Rob followed after him.
As if relieved that the men had gone away, Charles’s stomach growled. The boy ate with the usual abandon of a still-growing youth.
“Go on, Charles. I know you’re hungry.”
Charles nodded somberly. “I’ll be back in under an hour. Do you wish to work out the details of your loan program this afternoon, sir?”
“Yes, that’s a good idea, lad.”
After the door closed behind his factor, Cam took a deep breath, pressed his fingers to his temples, and lowered his head to stare down at the surface of his desk.
Ceana had left more than a week ago. Since the morning of her departure from Camdonn Castle, he’d split his time between work and entertaining the Duke of Irvington, taking him hunting and fishing, and showing him his lands, but all the while a flicker of panic had burned in his gut. As much as he’d tried to quash it, as the days passed, the flicker grew into a steadily burning flame. Standing at his drawing room window a few nights ago, he’d watched a Beltane fire burn in the courtyard below, and that fire had fueled the flames of his own.
He’d come to the conclusion that his feelings for Ceana were different from the way he’d felt about Sorcha. His need for Sorcha had been a selfish thing—wrought by arrogance and lust. Something told him that Ceana, however, had the power to change him, to change his world. His life.
Yet, as much as the ache for Ceana plagued him, he couldn’t forget his reasons for coming home. He understood his goals, what he needed to change, and what he needed to accomplish. He must ensure the well-being of his people. He must win their confidence and their loyalty. In doing so, however, he must count on the backing and support of the most powerful men of England and Scotland: Argyll, Parliament, the king. Cam’s plan wasn’t a simple one, but three weeks ago, he’d been prepared to implement it without any knowledge of Ceana MacNab’s existence.

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