Katrine wasn’t concerned that he hadn’t given Raith an answer. Argyll obviously didn’t want to give the appearance of caving in too easily. But as he’d said, he had no choice. When they were alone, Katrine faced Raith with wrath flaming in her green eyes.
Raith studied her warily. “Would it be too much to ask what set you off this time?”
His obtuseness did nothing to soothe her temper. “You knew all along he wouldn’t hang you! You knew it and you let me think—How could you put me through such torment?”
The rigid set of his shoulders relaxed. “So you do care.”
“No, I don’t! I don’t care if they carve out your black heart and scatter the pieces all over the Highlands.”
Raith shook his head. “Katrine, I told you not to worry. I told you I meant to talk to the duke.”
“You could have talked to him months ago. I begged and pleaded with you then, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“I couldn’t then. I needed to negotiate from the strongest position possible. Not until I took Argyll’s seal and cattle and abducted you did he even consider agreeing to my terms. If I had simply gone to him first, he would never have given me even a fair hearing. He had to realize the consequences of his refusal.”
Katrine was not mollified. “So you purposely let him imprison you and frighten me to death? Somehow that doesn’t seem like a position of strength.”
Raith returned her gaze steadily. “I gave myself up so you would realize my sincerity. You wouldn’t believe any other way, my love.”
“I am not your love!”
The tender glow was back in his eyes as he slowly moved toward her. “Yes, you are, Katrine…my dearest love. You spoke of torment before. If you knew what torment the past two months have been for me…” Reaching out for her, he gathered her resisting body to him. His voice gentled as he gazed down at her. “You filled my life with joy, and I let you go. Since then, it seemed as if the sun never rose in the Highlands.”
Bracing her hands against his chest, Katrine returned a look of suspicion. But Raith seemed entirely serious. Indeed, she had never seen him so subdued, so free from pride or arrogance or bitterness. He stood before her in humble supplication, the barriers gone, the defenses down. “I love you, Katrine,” he said softly. “I want you for my wife. I want to sleep beside you for the rest of my life and wake up with you in my arms. I want to watch the sunrise with you.”
His silken words were every bit as practiced as Callum’s charming utterances, but far more beautiful. Katrine felt the tug of love and desire softening her heart. “You would have been well served if they had hanged you,” she muttered.
A slow smile, irresistible in its male charm, dangerous in its potency, curved Raith’s lips. “Wouldn’t you have mourned my death the slightest?”
“No, I wouldn’t, you wretch,” she retorted, but she was weakening, he could tell. For though she tried to keep her expression stern, her lips were quivering with the effort to repress her reluctant laughter.
“I wonder why I don’t believe you,” he prodded.
“Well, I don’t wonder why I don’t believe you. You still despise the English and you still hate the Campbells. You’ll never give up fighting. For all I know, you will end up murdering half my clan.”
“No, I won’t. The feud is over, as far as I’m concerned—as long as Argyll keeps his word. To prove it, I’ll even hold out the olive branch to your uncle. You may invite him to visit our child at Ardgour after it’s born, if you like.”
The laughter faded from her eyes as she looked up at him in stark wonder. She knew what it had cost him to make such an offer. It was that, even more than his fervent professions of ardor, that convinced her Raith’s love was real, that his love for her was more powerful than his hate for her clan.
Still, Katrine refused to give him the satisfaction of too easy a capitulation. “How can I agree to marry you? You haven’t even made me a decent proposal.”
“Very well.” His arms tightened about her, drawing her close. “I want you for my wife, Katrine Campbell. Will you do me the honor?”
His wife, she thought, savoring the word and the quiet beating of his heart against her breast. There was no question what her answer would be. He was the man who could match her spirit and fire her blood. Her soul mate.
When she didn’t reply at once, Raith’s brows drew together in mock fierceness. “I give you fair warning, bonny Katie, I won’t return without you. A stubborn, spirited, sharp-tongued, wonderful termagant claimed my heart and I mean to have it back again.”
Wordlessly, Katrine gazed up at him, remembering that another woman had claimed his love first. Inexplicably she was overcome by a sudden attack of shyness. “I’m not sure, Raith.... I don’t think I want to compete with Ellen’s memory.”
He reached up to hold her face in his hands. “Ellen was a sweet, gentle lass, but she never owned my heart the way you do.”
Katrine searched Raith’s handsome face, wondering if she could believe him. But she had to hope she could overcome his loving memories of Ellen by giving him enough sweet memories of their own. “If I do say yes, you’ll have to agree to a real ceremony. I want to be married in England, in my mother’s wedding gown, with my sisters present.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Raith nodded slowly. “If we say our vows here first. I’m not stepping one foot into a Sassenach bastion without having a half-English wife as protection.”
The thought of Raith needing her protection brought a reluctant smile to her lips. “I suppose we can be married here first.”
“Now. Right away.”