She often puzzled over how the problem of Cameron's sister could be solved without using her or Gillyanne. If the girl could be exposed as the liar she so clearly was, that would solve everything, but Avery doubted that could be accomplished easily. From what little information she had gathered about Katherine, the girl knew how to get what she wanted—and she wanted Payton. There was little chance that the man who had been her lover, if there even was one, would step boldly forth and claim responsibility. That left only the chance that Cameron would fall in love with her, would be so anxious to keep her at his side, that he would find some other solution to his sister's problem. Avery saw little sign of that miracle occurring.
Some ripe berries caught her eye and Avery hurried to collect them. They would add a nice sweetness to the camp fare that consisted mostly of meat and porridge. As she filled the hollow made by her gathered skirts, she sensed something that sent a tremor of alarm through her. She stared off into the woods but could see nothing. Just as she was about to turn to look behind her, a large, gauntleted hand was clamped over her mouth.
Avery dropped her skirts, scattering the berries, and started to reach up to try and remove that hand. She gave a muffled scream as her hands were grabbed, yanked behind her, and bound at the wrists. The hand over her mouth was removed, but she was gagged with a cloth so swiftly she did not even have time to draw the breath needed to scream for help. Despite her struggles, she was easily lifted up and flung over a broad shoulder, the thrashing of her legs stilled by the tightening of a muscular arm around them. She was painfully bounced along as the man who held her captive ran through the wood, away from the MacAlpin camp.
A few moments later, she was flung belly-down over a saddle, the breath knocked out of her. As she struggled to recover from that, her captor mounted and spurred his horse into a gallop. Avery set her mind to not becoming ill. She tried to see who held her, but gained only the knowledge that there were three men, their attire and fine horses marking them as knights, or at least, rather successful mercenaries.
It was not until they reached a camp that Avery got a better idea of exactly what kind of trouble she was in. Dazed, her head pounding, and her stomach bruised, she was dragged from the horse and set roughly on her feet. It was then that she saw the DeVeau banner. As she was yanked toward an ornate tent, she prayed this was some ploy to get DeVeau's coin back without losing any more men, and not because Sir Charles had discovered who she was.
Her gag was yanked off as she was set before Sir Charles, and she welcomed the wine that was poured down her throat, despite the fact that it was given to her so roughly it nearly choked her. “This becomes tedious,” she finally said, meeting Sir Charles's cold gaze and holding it. “Is there yet another gambling debt to be paid? Or do you think Sir Cameron will pay to get me back?"
"Sir Cameron will not be given the chance to get you back,” Sir Charles replied, studying her closely as he sipped his wine.
"Why? You did not think I was worth enough to pay off Sir Bearnard's debt. Has my worth suddenly risen then?"
"Oh, yes, quite. You are a Murray."
Avery fought down the surge of fear that rushed through her and gave the man a look of pure, innocent confusion. “A who?"
"Very well done,” Sir Charles drawled, almost smiling. “Do not waste your time and mine with that game. Your kinsmen, the Lucettes, have been demanding your return and that of your cousin. They refuse to believe that I do not have you—either of you."
"And what do you care about what the Lucettes want or believe?"
"I care nothing at all, except that the extent of their concern tells me that you could prove very useful to me."
"How?” Avery prayed that he would speak of some simple ransom or an exchange of prisoners. His reply made her heart sink into her boots.
"I am not yet sure. My only plan thus far was to remove you from Sir Cameron's grasp. Now that that has been accomplished, I must pause to consider all possibilities. I suppose the Scot has bedded you?"
"Sir Cameron has taken a vow of celibacy. He is returning me to my family."
"Ah, yes, to the murderess and the lover who aided her in escaping justice."
"My mother did not kill anyone. She was proven innocent; the real murderers were found and hanged."
"Or so the Lucettes would have us believe. It matters not. It is an old crime, although the bitch profited well by it.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Now, there is a thought. I wonder how much Lady Gisele would be willing to give up to get her daughter back?"
"I think your king might frown upon your forcing her to give up what he, and his father before him, have said belongs to my mother and the Lucettes."
Sir Charles stood up and slowly walked around her. Avery cringed inwardly as he stroked her tumbled hair, patted her backside, and then, with an almost frightening coldness, placed one pale hand over her breast. She held steady, forcing herself not to reveal any of the deep revulsion she felt, and to meet his gaze with a cold stare.
"I wonder how your father and mother would feel if I sent you back to them with your belly swollen with my bastard,” Sir Charles said as he returned to his seat and had another drink of wine.
"And I suggest that you try to recall how your cousin Michael died."
"Think to geld me, do you?"
"In a heartbeat."
"Such fire. It will be interesting to see how well it warms a man's bed."
He languidly waved his hand at her guard. “Secure her in my tent, Anton.” He smiled faintly. “And be sure there are no sharp objects about."
Avery did not fight as she was taken into the tent, knowing it would be a useless waste of her strength. She shook her head when she found the inside of his tent furnished like an elegant bedchamber. Her guard untied her wrists and, with the help of Sir Charles's burly squire, tied her hand and foot to the large bed.
The moment the men left, Avery stared blindly at the fire in the center of the huge tent and tried to calm herself. She needed some strand of hope to maintain her strength. Cameron would come after her. What troubled her was the feeling that he would not really do so because he cared for her, but because honor and the fact that he needed her for his sister drove him to it. Then she told herself not to be such an idiot. The reasons why he would come did not really matter at the moment—only that he would come. She set her mind to praying that her rescue would not cost Cameron too dearly, and that it would come before Sir Charles had a chance to defile her with his touch.
Cameron took several deep breaths to calm himself, then signaled Leargan that he could safely release him now. When he had seen Avery brought before Sir Charles and heard the man's plans for her, rage had blinded him for a moment. Only Leargan's quick action had saved him from the fatal error of bursting into the DeVeau camp and relieving Sir Charles of the hand that had touched Avery. Cautiously, he followed his cousin back to their horses.
"I have to get her back,” Cameron said as he stood by his horse, tightly gripping the saddle and struggling to further control his rage and fear.
"Of course ye do,” Leargan agreed. “I wonder how his cousin Michael died?” he asked, thinking to divert Cameron long enough to help him regain some calm.
"'Tis said that his manhood was cut off, shoved into his mouth, and then his throat was cut."
"Jesu,” Leargan whispered. “How did ye find that out?"
"I asked why Sir Charles wanted to attack the Lucettes and learned a great deal about the feud. Avery also told me of her mother's side of the tale. Clearly there is a measure of greed involved in it all.” Cameron mounted. “We shall need a few men."
Leargan mounted and followed Cameron as they slowly rode away, needing a little more distance from the DeVeau camp before spurring their horses into a gallop. “'Twas easy to slip close to the camp, and Sir Charles's tent is foolishly set near the edge."
"So, enough men to create a diversion, and a small number to raid Sir Charles's tent."
"A
ye, that should do it."
"And we shall have to tell the others to break camp and move on. No point in sitting there waiting for the DeVeaux to try and retrieve their prize. I think I shall have to kill Sir Charles,” Cameron added quietly, spurring his mount into a gallop before Leargan could argue the wisdom of that.
They found the camp in an uproar; Avery's disappearance was already discovered. Cameron fought against the urge to vent his tumultuous feelings upon Wee Rob. He had told the man to make sure that Avery did not try to escape, and the man had done his job. He had never considered the possibility that Avery might have enemies who would try to take her. That had been foolish. He had known about the feud, the old hatreds, between the DeVeaux and the Murrays. He should have considered the possibility that DeVeau would discover just whom Sir Bearnard had captured and would want the girls back. At least Gillyanne was safe, Cameron thought as he met her fear-widened gaze and nearly winced with guilt.
"Are ye sure that Sir Charles kens who Avery is?” Gillyanne asked.
"Aye, I fear so, lass,” Cameron replied. “I heard him say so myself. Leargan and I were close enough to hear every word said."
"Jesu,” Gillyanne whispered. She shivered. “He will hurt her."
"Nay, lass, ye cannae be sure of that,” Cameron lied, desperate to soothe her.
"Aye, I can, though I thank ye for the kind lie. Nay, DeVeau men hurt women. ‘Tis their way. I wonder why Avery didnae sense the danger,” she muttered, frowning slightly.
"Weel, they probably slipped up behind the lass, caught her by surprise."
"That wouldnae matter. She must have been distracted.” She smiled faintly at Cameron's look of confusion. “Avery is verra good at sensing an approaching threat. She gave us warning ere the DeVeaux attacked our kinsmen. There isnae much time to act upon her feelings or warnings, but that time ‘twas enough to allow the Lucettes to fight, to make the DeVeaux attack a battle instead of a slaughter.” She shrugged.” I suppose it doesnae always work."
"She can sense danger?"
"Aye. ‘Tis as if she can smell it in the air sometimes. Her father can, too. ‘Tis a fine skill, e'en if it doesnae always work. Like this time.” She saw the men beginning to gather around Cameron. “Ye are going to save her."
"'Tis our plan. I dinnae think her life is in any danger,” he added, hoping to ease any fear she might still suffer.
"Nay, not unless she gets loose and tries to kill Sir Charles. God's speed,” she said before hurrying off to help the women break camp.
Cameron led his men back toward the DeVeau camp. He tried to push Gillyanne's parting words from his mind, but he could not. Avery was not a woman to meekly accept her fate, to sit quietly weeping and pray someone would come to save her. He was not sure what one small, unarmed woman could do against Sir Charles, but he knew the man was a dangerous one to anger. For a brief moment, Cameron was sorry he had kept Avery's knife, then shook that regret aside. The fact that she was unarmed might be enough to keep her alive until he could get her out of there.
"Your plan to free her is a good one,” Leargan said. “We will get the lass back."
"Aye, if she doesnae do something foolish like try to save herself,” Cameron muttered.
"Ah, I hadnae considered that. Sir Charles ordered her weel secured. She probably willnae be able to try anything nay matter how much she may wish to."
"While the thought of that swine keeping her tied and helpless isnae one I care to linger on, ‘twould be best for her if she is."
"The lass must be used to it by now."
Cameron was glad they were mounted, or he would have struck his cousin for that remark. And, the sad truth was, Leargan did not deserve to be knocked flat for stating a simple fact. He could only hope Avery did not see too many similarities between what Sir Charles planned for her and his own actions. Cameron knew he could never have hurt Avery, not physically, but he was not sure she knew it.
"Let us hope he, too, softens the sting of the ropes with silken underwrappings,” Cameron murmured, feeling the need somehow, even subtly, to defend his actions. “And let us hope he is still eating his dinner."
"Do ye think he meant his threat? About setting his bastard growing in her?"
"I dinnae think he kens just what he will do with her, although the tone of his voice when he made the threat implied that he rather savored the idea."
The thought of Sir Charles touching Avery, possessing her, made Cameron almost ill with rage. Avery was his. It did not matter that he intended to set her aside, or that he staunchly resisted feeling anything more than lust for her. He was the first man to taste her passion, and until he set her aside, he intended to be the only man who enjoyed it. If Sir Charles raped Avery, he would soon be made to view his cousin Michael's death as a merciful one.
Leaving their horses at a safe distance with two men to stand guard over them, Cameron and the rest of his men crept closer to the DeVeau camp. Cameron tensed when he saw that Sir Charles was no longer outside his tent. He had to fight down the urge to charge into the man's tent, sword swinging. Quietly he ordered four of his men to slip around to the other side of the camp and enact their diversion. That left Cameron with Leargan, Wee Rob, and Colin. It also left him with the nerve-racking need to do nothing but wait.
"It willnae take them long to pull all eyes their way,” Leargan whispered.
"Cease trying to comfort me, cousin,” Cameron replied in an equally soft voice, wondering how he must look if Leargan kept feeling the need to try and calm him down.
"Weel, ye did look ready to charge that tent a moment ago, sword swinging, and a battle cry upon your lips."
"It was only a passing urge."
"Mayhap ye ought to ask yourself why ye have the urge at all. After all, ‘tis only wee Avery Murray, the lass ye mean to toss back into her family's lap soon after we reach Cairnmoor. Ye still have wee Gillyanne to make your trade."
"And if ye shut your mouth right now, ye may still have a tongue to delight the lasses with."
Leargan rolled his eyes, but he shut his mouth. Cameron returned to staring at the tent, frustrated that he could not see inside, that there was no way to let Avery know he was near. Such waiting also left him with little more to do than think, and he cursed silently, when Leargan's words refused to be silenced or ignored.
He should not be so enraged that another man touched Avery. He should not be so angry and afraid because she was under threat that he nearly acted with reckless foolishness, even had to have help to stay calm. Somehow, he was failing in keeping himself aloof in enjoying the passion they shared but never allowing it to become some emotional entanglement.
Avery was fun, he mused, making him laugh—something he had done little of in the past few years. She was actually a very likable young woman with her own special, endearing wit and charm. Despite her higher station in life, she did not hesitate to work alongside, and even befriend, the wives of his men at arms. Avery was quick to rush to the aid of any injured or ill person. The journey across France had been rough, sometimes even grueling, but she made no complaint. In truth, the only thing they could not even discuss without anger was the matter of his sister's accusations against her brother.
Cameron decided that he did like Avery, enjoyed her company. It amazed him, but it did not feel odd to think of Avery as a friend as well as a lover. There was also the fact that he and his men owed her their lives. All good reasons to risk life and limb to save her now, he decided, easily dismissing the faint voice that told him he was fooling himself again.
To Cameron's relief, if only because it stopped him from thinking any more, his men gave him the diversion he needed. Two of the small carts at the far end of the camp caught fire. To add to the resultant confusion, the horses were sent racing through the camp. Smiling grimly, Cameron made his way to the back of Sir Charles's tent.
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Chapter Eleven
It was not easy, but Avery hid the fear she felt whe
n Sir Charles entered his tent. The way he looked at her splayed out on his bed like some ancient sacrifice, and then smiled, made her wish that she still had her knife. Killing the man, as she so dearly wished to do, would undoubtedly earn her a quick, brutal death, but, at that precise moment, it seemed worth it.
"Is this how your fine Scottish lover kept you at his side?” Sir Charles asked.
"Nay,” she replied; then she recalled that she had to speak French. “He but secured one wrist to the bed. A braver man than you.” She barely repressed a squeak of alarm when he suddenly drew his sword and touched the cold, sharp point to her throat.
"You should be more careful with your taunts, woman, especially considering your current position."
"You will stain your fine sheets, my lord."
"Ah, yes, there is that to consider."
Avery held her breath as he began slowly to cut the laces on her bodice. This DeVeau was obviously as cold and twisted as the ones her mother had confronted. Considering how long her mother had had to deal with such chilling insanity, Avery was surprised the woman was as sweet and happy as she was. It also explained why her mother rarely returned to the land of her birth. Despite how fond she was of her Lucette kin, Avery knew that, if she managed to get out of this trap alive, she would be reluctant to return to France, too.
"Do you mean to return me to my family naked?” she asked, proud of the calm way she spoke, her voice revealing none of the very real terror she felt as he carefully, almost idly, cut the clothes from her body.
"No, I would never be so lacking in chivalry,” he replied. “I shall put you into a fine, elegant gown. One worthy of a DeVeau whore. One much like my cousin Vachel gave your mother so many years ago."
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