Cameron looked at Trystan, who smiled up at his father and pulled the long beard Cameron refused to cut until he laid eyes on his beautiful wife again. Trystan’s green eyes had grown more vibrant and showed more of Abby’s soul everyday.
“Ma-ma,” Trystan said and laughed, clapping.
Cameron’s eyes caressed his son’s face. Trystan had begun to say the word two months ago. No one understood how he’d learned the word, since he’d been much younger when he’d lost his mother. They certainly hadn’t taught him to say it, fearing it would add salt to Cameron’s wound.
“Mama is gone, Trystan, but we will find her and bring her home. Until then, she lives in here,” Cameron said touching the baby’s small, but growing chest. The baby giggled and Cameron smiled. The only time he ever smiled was when he was with his son.
Alice approached Cameron with hands extended towards her grandson. She’d grown concerned at her son’s change but was powerless to console him. He rarely spoke to anyone. If it wasn’t a clan or familial concern, he didn’t speak. He’d rarely let Trystan out of his sight, and if Trystan was not within reach, he only stayed away for small spans of time.
Alice knew it wasn’t that he was angry with his family, he was just focused on his task. She knew that he blamed himself for not listening to her or Abby. If he had listened to them and waited as they’d wanted him to, then it may have resulted differently. And while nothing or no one could comfort him during this dark time, there was only one who could offer Cameron’s soul the solace it yearned for- Trystan- who held a part of Abby within his little body.
He kissed Trystan on his head.
“Be good for Gran-Gran, Trystan. Papa will return soon with Mama,” he said, choked with emotions as Abby’s eyes looked back at him from his son’s chubby face.
“Ye’re not going to lecture?” Cameron asked his mother.
Alice gave him a sad smile. “For what? Even if I thought it was a foolish plot, ye wouldna listen to me.” She nodded when his eyes showed his surprise. “All of me hopes ye’re correct, but part of me believes ye are wrong.” Her eyes showed her deep sadness and regret. “I love ye son and I understand yer hurt and pain. I recognize it as having been my own when yer father died. While it willna vanish overnight, one day ye will begin to live again. She would have wanted that, Cameron. She loved ye so much, and if she knew how ye punished yerself everyday, she would sob her heart out.”
“Well, she isna dead. ‘Tis time she returns to us where she belongs.”
Alice stopped and kissed her son’s cheek. “Godspeed to ye, son. At the very least, the earth will be rid of that bastard. I’ll see ye when ye come home, for I know that ye shall be the victor,” she said, taking an already crying Trystan away from his father.
Cameron nodded, too overwhelmed by emotion to do anything more. He looked at his son, who was reaching out to him, and kissed him tenderly on his head. With one last look into his son’s precious eyes to fortify him for the days ahead, he nodded to Alice. She took him back to the keep.
Cameron felt the sun’s warmth on his skin, replenishing his will and determination. He felt the familiar bloodlust run through his veins, and flow through his body. He clenched and unclenched his massive hands.
He was ready to kill the bastard.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Night had fallen on the second day, illuminated only by the weak moonlight. They were a half-day’s march away from Haynsworth. With Cameron’s four hundred or so men, it took longer than with smaller numbers. Some of his men had horses, and some would remain on foot. The large numbers slowed them down. Cameron didn’t want his men tired before they reached their destination. He also prevented the horses from tiring by not allowing anyone to ride their mounts until they were ready to fight.
He’d messaged Alexander to tell him and only him, of his intent to war with Haynsworth, citing the murder of his father and kidnapping of his wife as sufficient causes. He’d not asked Alexander for permission, but rather, he told him of his intent. Cameron was beyond formalities now. If Alexander had disapproved Cameron’s plan, which he hadn’t, Cameron would have gone anyway. Alexander had personal gain in the matter, namely retaining the estates on the border he believed should be Scotland’s.
Now, a half day’s ride away from Haynsworth, Cameron’s hands clenched with the urge to kill him. Haynsworth had taken more from Cameron than any man had a burden to lose.
Cameron instructed his men, in the dark because a fire would have alerted anyone nearby, that they were to move quietly the next day. He wanted them to rest long this evening, to hoard their strength. Cameron emphasized the importance of killing Haynsworth’s men, and not women and children.
“He’s come, Cameron,” Aidan said.
“Bring him to me.”
The warrior walked over to Cameron and waited.
“What have ye learned?” Cameron asked, his voice thunder in the sea of darkness surrounding them.
This was Cameron’s most experienced covert warrior. He was the smallest of his clansmen, even taking into account the women. The man was older than Cameron but just stopped growing after a time. He was liked by all, and he proved useful beyond all measure. Cameron’s father had depended on him, too. The day his father died, however, he’d been away visiting family, otherwise, Cameron suspected things would’ve ended differently that day.
Cameron had him sit with them and they brought him food and drink. He waited with a patience he didn’t have for his man to take a few bites of food.
He wanted to go now.
He wanted to raid now.
He wanted his wife.
Now.
Rory knew his laird waited for him. He knew that, like Robert, Cameron had no patience. He appreciated the consideration Cameron showed allowing him a few bites of food and drink to assuage his hunger and thirst.
Rory looked at Cameron, who sat across from him. Cameron’s commanders filled the spaces in between. The men sat around, eating their meager meal, waiting for Rory’s report.
“I counted ten patrolling the grounds. There were six archers…” Rory said, and they listened to his report with hushed interest.
“Good, Rory,” Cameron said, satisfied with the information he’d received. “Were ye seen?”
Rory grinned and shook his head. “Nay, Laird.”
Cameron nodded, digesting all of the information. “Well done.”
“‘Twould be best to go in the morn on the morrow.”
Cameron cocked his head and asked, “Why?” Cameron had anticipated attacking in the morning but he was curious as to why Rory thought the same.
“I hid well and heard soldiers speaking. There’s a wedding at midday.”
“Wedding?” Keith asked, looking at Cameron and Aidan. “He has no more daughters to wed off.”
Aidan nodded, thinking on it himself.
“He has my wife.”
The men didn’t comment on Cameron’s snarled words.
“I heard them refer to the daughter as ‘widow.’”
Keith’s eyebrows raised. “Widow,” he repeated, squinting into the night. “Perhaps one of her sisters was widowed?”
“He believes me dead.”
Aidan shook his head. “He would’ve known ye didna die that day. Haynsworth is many things, but incompetent isna one of them. He has his ear to the ground.”
Keith grimaced. “The bastard weds off a daughter for gain again, no doubt. ‘Twouldna surprise me if the dead husband was still warm and nay even cold yet.” Aidan laughed but Cameron, as usual, remained silent.
Cameron stood. “I’ve a need for a walk and some exertion. The desire to go now and retrieve my wife is overwhelming.” He paused and looked at the men surrounding him in the dim fire they’d cautiously started. Their faces reflected doubt, but Cameron was used to it.
“So Cameron, what of…” Aidan’s voice trailed off, not wanting to mention Abby’s name. “What of Haynsworth’s wife?”
Cameron shr
ugged.
“Will she return with us? Will she remain there?” Aidan clarified.
“She has a son, but from what I understand, he’s a bastard just like his father,” Keith answered.
“She’ll have a choice. She can remain there with her son, or she may return with her daughter and us.” Cameron turned from them, wanting solitude.
“Sleep well. We ride early, before the sun rises,” he said over his back.
Keith and Aidan shared a look of concern.
“What are we going to do when she isna there?” Aidan studied his older brother.
Keith rubbed the back of his neck. “Ye mean when he discovers she’s dead?”
Aidan nodded, his face grave and apprehensive.
“Pray.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cameron and his men arrived at Haynsworth’s at a time when the sun would’ve peaked, had the sun not hidden behind the storm clouds. Cameron was furious.
It had begun to rain.
From one moment to the next, the sky darkened to the point of night, and the rain pelted the ground so harshly, it slowed their progress. Lightning and thunder compounded on one another, making it one of the worst storms Cameron had ever experienced.
While the omen was lost on him, it wasn’t lost on his brothers.
The horses became jittery, neighing and bucking when the thunder crashed. The archer’s arrows had become wet, making it impossible to light them. The ground had become soaked, slowing their march to Haynsworth’s.
Cameron’s face was a mask of death and rage. He’d been anticipating this day for years, and had been obsessed with it for months. So long the wait, and now this storm had to slow him.
They reached the holding and charged with their fury. Immediately, his men began to engage the ground-patrol. Rory’s information had indeed proved to be beneficial, for they had found those men in hidden areas. More of Haynsworth’s men ran out, not having had the time to don their battle gear. Cameron’s men slaughtered them, rushing forward mercilessly. Haynsworth’s holding, they noticed, was extremely vulnerable. The entrances were open to guests. Though Cameron was indeed a “guest,” he was an unwanted one at that.
Cameron’s fury and rage was unleashed. Soldier after soldier was killed as he made his way quickly into the holding. The servants were in despair, running about to seek shelter from the angry, vengeful Scots. Most of them crossed themselves when they saw Cameron’s face. They murmured a prayer, swearing he was the devil.
Cameron had only one thought- to slay Haysnworth and rescue his wife- and nay in that order.
“Where is that bastard?” he asked, taking hold of a servant who tried to run past him but wasn’t quick enough to escape him. “Where is my wife?”
“Sir?” she asked, her eyes wild. “Please, spare my life. I’ve a son! Two summers, he is,” she pleaded, tears running down her plump face. Her brown hair was a mane of bland-brown, with a braid running down her back.
“I’m not a despot, woman. I doona kill innocent women and children like the bastard ye serve. Where are they, damn it?” he asked impatiently.
“They?”
“My wife and Haynsworth!”
He saw something flash in her eyes. “Yer wife is gone, sir.”
Cameron’s breath seized. His nostrils flared. “Speak the truth, woman!”
Her lips trembled. Although the Scot had said he wouldn’t harm her, the look on his face had her wondering.
“He’s in the chapel, to the east of the holding, sir,” she said, and when he let go of her, she ran.
“Keith, Aidan,” Cameron bellowed and his brothers looked up briefly as they fought two men apiece with their swords. “East to the chapel,” Cameron said, quickly turning to ward off an attack.
Aidan and Keith followed Cameron. Other men joined as well, trying to keep Haynsworth’s men at bay while Cameron fought his way to the chapel.
“Ye canna enter there, Cameron. Even in yer rage, ye know the sanctity of the church!” Keith said, staying Cameron back with a strong arm. Cameron was in a frenzied state. His face was a mask of rage and his eyes were wild and furious. They were gray no more, but instead appeared to be a fathomless black that gave those who looked at him chills.
Cameron hastily scratched his long beard. His eyes were hard and pensive.
“Then I shall enter without my sword.”
“Nay,” both Keith and Aidan said in unison.
“They’ll murder ye!” Keith said.
Cameron laughed. “Ye just said that we canna offend the sanctity the church, Keith,” Cameron said, derisively. “He’ll not do a damn thing,” Cameron said, his chest heaving from exertion. “With spectators,” Cameron shook his head, “He’ll do nothing.”
“He’ll have ye overpowered,” Aidan said, and continued to talk over Cameron’s burst of laughter, “and then kill ye.”
He looked at both of them, along with the other soldiers who’d fought behind Cameron. Ignoring them, he ordered his men to surround the chapel. No one was to leave. Without another word, he opened the door to the chapel and stopped.
“God damn it!” he roared in fury.
The chapel was empty.
“He must have heard the commotion,” Keith said, aggravated.
Standing there, Cameron seemed to grow in physical proportion to his ferocity.
“Find him!” he roared. “And leave him to me!” He picked up his sword and stalked back to the castle, killing those in his path.
Cameron went room by room, trying to find Haynsworth. Finishing downstairs he stalked upstairs with Aidan and Keith. After thoroughly searching, Haynsworth was nowhere.
“Damn it!” Cameron said, punching the air. “He will not run from me again.”
He led them downstairs again. His men were killing the last of the English soldiers. Haynsworth’s force had dwindled in number since the battle months ago. Luckily for Cameron, the bastard hadn’t the time to call upon his allies for help.
Cameron cornered another skittering servant who ran past him in a hurry.
“Where is my wife?”
“Who, sir?”
Cameron growled. “Abigail.”
Trepidation entered the servant’s eyes. “She’s gone, sir.”
“Gone where?”
The servant looked over his shoulder, calculating his chances of escape at his next words.
“Dead.”
Cameron’s grip tightened on him. “You. Lie.”
The servant was breathing so harshly, he was in jeopardy of collapsing.
“Where is he?” Cameron asked.
The servant didn’t pretend not to know whom Cameron was asking about. “There’s a secret passage, milord. In the great room hangs a large tapestry, and behind is the hidden passage.”
Cameron let the servant go and prowled to the great room. He snatched the large tapestry down and saw the door.
“Coward,” Cameron roared before carefully entering the barely lit passageway. Aidan, Keith, and his soldiers followed behind him. It took minutes before Cameron reached the end. Opening the door, he saw that the passage had ended just outside the stable. He heard commotion inside and entered.
“Hurry up, Haynsworth! We must leave. I only pledged my men to yer cause if I wed her. I cannot wed a dead woman.”
“Quiet, buffoon. How was I to know what would happen this day? How was I to know that damn Scots bastard was alive!” Haynsworth said, straining as he heaved himself on the horse and exited. “I’ll kill him, like I did his father.”
“Then by all means, Haynsworth,” Cameron said calmly, as he spread his arms wide, his right hand gripping his broadsword, “have at me.”
The rain continued its assault and had soaked them all. Cameron’s wet beard made him look spine-chilling.
Haynsworth visibly paled. The barbarian had gained muscle and an evilness that far surpassed the devil’s. He shuddered and not because of the cold rain.
“I thought you dead, bastard.”
“Ye thought wrong, to yer detriment.”
They had to shout over the storm. Aidan and Keith stood watching. They were there to make certain that Haynsworth was fair this time, unlike when he’d killed their father. They itched to have at Haynsworth, too.
“I should have ordered her to give you poison instead,” Haynsworth spat. “She had a damn weakness for you. Jealous she was, but foolish I’d not taken her for,” Haynsworth gritted, dismounting.
Cameron’s gaze pierced Haynsworth. “I suppose ye’re speaking of Gillyanne.”
Haynsworth found his first smile. “Aye. She contacted me after you forced her out. It had been years since I’d heard from her. She’d been quite helpful throughout the years, even when your father was alive.”
At Cameron’s widened eyes, Haynsworth smiled.
“Aye. I can see you did not suspect her treachery.” He laughed. “That one had her sights set on seeing you as laird, and she alongside you.” His laugh was hearty. “Initially, she only provided information as to your father’s actions. She hoped his enemy would send him to hell, and I did. For her, the sooner he died, the sooner you would lead that group of mongrels you call a clan.”
Haynsworth quirked an eyebrow. “We conspired a scheme to prevent my whorish daughter from conceiving your bastard. Poison, she said, would prevent her from conceiving. Gillyanne became overly zealous, nearly killing your damned wife. I needed Abigail, though. That daughter of mine was to beget me a large estate.”
Haynsworth had seen that his words had affected Cameron. The Scot had fairly twitched with seething rage. There, Haynsworth had found his solution to his present dilemma. The more he spoke of his damned daughter, the more the Scot would lose focus and control.
“I was told about that fateful day of battle. Do you recall? Oh, perhaps you don’t. You were on your back like a babe, watching that whore of my daughter get what she deserved, hmmm?”
Haynsworth laughed when he saw Cameron breath through his mouth. Cameron snarled at Haynsworth, and though Haynsworth showed no outward reaction, he was quivering with fear inside. The angry Scot looked at him with those dark eyes- so frightening they were, they could make time stop.
Forget Me Not, My Scottish Love (Heart of a Highlander Collection Book 3) Page 26
