Katrine, standing there shivering in her nightshift while her fate was being decided, was startled by the sudden fierceness in the dark blue eyes. She had no trouble understanding that his reaction was due to her name; he despised her simply because she was a Campbell, doubly because she was related to her uncle. And, she realized as she warily glanced around her, the other unkempt, hard-faced Highlanders shared his enmity; they were all glaring at her.
It was the black-haired Raith who verbalized their obvious thoughts. His cold expression matched the deadly chill in his voice as his eyes flicked contemptuously over her. “Take her back, Lachlan. I’ll not keep company with the kin of a bloodsucking Campbell.”
He turned abruptly to the horses tethered among the trees. “Mount up, lads. We’ll not stay to have our necks stretched on a gibbet. No doubt her yammering has raised the hue and cry.”
At his withering dismissal, Katrine was torn between the desire to retort and the more sensible course of holding her tongue. Common sense won out. If he wanted nothing to do with her, she wouldn’t try to change his mind. She had begun to let out her breath in relief when her beefy nemesis once more intervened, an alarmed look on his face.
“Nay, ye dinna understand, Raith! Think on it. Will no’ Colin Campbell pay to get her back? Ransom!”
He bellowed the word, which made his fellow Highlanders pause and Katrine catch her breath again.
The black-haired thief slowly turned, his gaze flickering over her before he shook his head. “The notion’s clever, lad, but not necessary. We’ve had our revenge on Colin Campbell. Besides, it’s not his money we want, but Argyll’s.”
Lachlan looked crestfallen. “Aweel, maybe the bluidy duke would pay. She’s a Campbell, isna that so?”
Katrine felt her palms grow damp as the dangerous blue gaze found her. The ruffian leader didn’t seem to favor the idea of holding her for ransom. On the other hand, he was looking at her thoughtfully, the way a hawk watches its prey. Katrine decided it was high time to discourage the speculation she saw in his dark eyes.
“You cannot hold me for ransom!” she blurted out. “I mean—you could, but it wouldn’t do any good. I doubt my uncle would pay to have me returned.”
There was a pause, before he said coldly, softly, “Oh, and why not?”
“Because my uncle scarcely knows me. And Argyll doesn’t know me at all. He’s never laid eyes on me.”
“Suppose you tell me why I should trust the word of a Campbell.”
The soft sarcastic tone, less tinged with the brogue that rolled thickly from the other tongues, set her teeth on edge. Katrine returned a stare that she hoped was just as arrogant.
“You don’t have to believe me, but it’s true. I just arrived from England yesterday. My mother’s family is English, and they took us in when—”
“Wouldn’t ye know it,” muttered Lachlan. “A damned Sassenach.”
The Gaelic term denoted anyone of English birth, but on the lips of a Highlander, the word was a curse. Stiffening, Katrine raised her chin. “My mother may have been English, and I may have lived in England for most of my life, but I’m half Scottish. In fact, I was named for Loch Katrine.”
Her revelation didn’t seem to impress the Highlanders, not at all. “A Sassenach Campbell,” the black-haired Raith murmured, his acid tone making it into an obscenity. Katrine could see he spoke for his kinsmen, for the grim, mirthless Scotsmen were staring at her as if she were some vile thing.
Lachlan, however, seemed to be more concerned about the failure of his plan. He glowered at Katrine, complaining bitterly, “I should hae known after I had ye clawing at me that naebody would pay to get ye back.”
Katrine returned her abductor’s glare with indignation. He made it sound as if she were at fault for not being the prize he’d supposed. But wrangling with Lachlan would not benefit her or extricate her from this precarious situation. She knew very well who was in charge.
She looked questioningly at the man called Raith, hoping he would be gentleman enough to release her. He was still watching her with that hard, unforgiving expression. Even as their eyes met, though, he seemed to come to a decision.
Alarmed by what she suspected, Katrine tried to take a step backward and nearly fell, having forgotten about her bound ankles. “Please don’t let me detain you. You must be anxious to be on your way.”
“Not so anxious as all that.”
His response gave her pause. “Well, I am rather desirous of returning home…so I’ll just take my leave now.”
He crossed his arms over his muscular, tartan-covered chest. “And how will you get back?”
“I shall walk. I am an excellent walker.”
“You don’t expect us to leave you here in this wild terrain to fend for yourself, garbed only in a nightdress?”
“I don’t mind, truly. You needn’t concern yourself with my welfare.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Oh, I won’t, Miss Campbell, you can be sure. There are a great number of people whose welfare concerns me more than yours.”
Katrine stared at him with growing dismay. “You don’t intend to release me?” Her protest was more of a squeak than a forceful challenge. She swallowed to control the shameful quivering of her voice.