The Campbell Trilogy Read Free

part.
She had only one hand this time to keep her balance as she slowly made her way back along the branch. When she was safely near the trunk, she breathed a sigh of relief. Glancing down, she saw that Brian had climbed up a few branches below her.
    “Here, I’ll take him,” he offered.
    Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to climb down with one hand, she carefully lowered the kitten into her brother’s outstretched hands. He tucked the small bundle behind hisleather jerkin, ambled down a few branches, and dropped easily to the ground.
    She took a moment to catch her breath and steady her heartbeat, then started to work her way down.
    “Thanks, Caiti,” he shouted, “you’re the best.”
    She turned at the sound of his fading voice, but it was already too late.
    “Wait, Brian, I need your …” Her voice dropped off.
Help.
She could just make out his back as he turned the corner out of earshot, running back toward the castle.
    “Brothers,” she muttered. “Some thanks. When I get hold of him …”
    She looked down, realizing she was still too far off the ground. A few more branches and she should be able to drop just like Brian. Carefully, she grasped a branch with her hands and lowered one foot and then the other—
    The sound of a loud crack signaled disaster. For a moment her stomach rose to her chin, body weightless as she dropped. She grasped the branch above her head just as the one under her feet cracked at the trunk and bent at a perilous angle to the ground. Her brother’s weight must have weakened it. If she let go now, the branch would probably give way entirely and she’d go crashing to the ground. She wasn’t quite hanging by her fingertips, but almost.
    She was also stuck. She looked down past her toes. The ground was at least fifteen feet below—still too far to attempt a drop.
    She’d have to wait until Brian remembered. She groaned, realizing she might be here all night.
    When I get hold of him …
    “I think you already said that.”
    Caitrina gasped at the sound of a deep voice—a deep
male
voice. She looked down and her eyes locked on the steely gaze of a stranger who stood a few feet away, watching her with an amused glint in his eyes. How long he’d been standing there she didn’t know, but it had been longenough for him to dismount from the massive destrier at his side.
    She didn’t know whether to be relieved or embarrassed—probably a little of both. She had need of a rescuer but would have preferred him not to be so—she frowned, searching for the right word—
masculine.
Blatantly so.
    From her current position hanging so far from the ground, it was difficult to gauge precisely, but she would guess he stood at least a handful of inches over six feet. A giant by any standard—even a Highland one.
    If he was a Highlander.
    He’d spoken in Scots and not in the Highland tongue, but she thought she’d detected a hint of brogue in his voice. It was difficult to tell from his clothing. He wasn’t wearing the
breacan feile
of the Highlands, but that wasn’t unusual for a man of wealth and position. And on that account she had no doubt. Even from a distance she could see that the black leather doublet and trews he wore were of exceptional quality.
    But the fine clothing did little to camouflage the savage beauty of his broad chest and powerfully muscled arms and legs. His impressive build coupled with the enormous
claidheamhmór
sword he wore slung across his back left no doubt in her mind that he was a warrior. And she’d wager an impressive one at that.
    But it was more than his size that bothered her. She would also have preferred a rescuer who wasn’t quite so dominating. It was everything about him: his wide commanding stance, the stamp of absolute authority on his face, and the bold way he looked at her. His manner unsettled her so much that it took her a moment to realize how handsome he was. Arrogantly so—as if his expertly chiseled features were a mere