Not until I figure out why Marcus has accused them of witchcraft.
* * *
“Well, well. What have we here?”A feminine voice called to Cameron through the heavy wood door of his cell. A voice from his past—a past he did not wish to relive—caught him off guard. He felt vulnerable and alone in his cell, and her voice did nothing to eliminate his guilt. At his trial, the accusations of kidnapping had rung true. He inhaled a deep breath, determined to speak to the woman who caused his ruin.
“Lady Haven?” he whispered, to keep Iona from overhearing their conversation. More guilt gripped him across his chest, a pain so undignified he did not want to add to it. Haven was here, outside his cell, and he was doomed to listen.
“Please tell me you didn't drag my friend Iona into your mess.”
Lady Haven was correct. He had used Iona's abilities with her spells to return to the past. His plan had been so clear at the start. Go back in time, make his way to Keldurunach, and win Haven MacKay’s heart. He also planned to kill his cousin, but things had gone to hell.
“Ye know the lass. She is verra stubborn. Dorcas Swann told her my plans. Iona insisted on tagging along. She was worried about ye, my lady.
“Where is she?” Haven shouted.
“I'm down here,” Iona cried, from farther down the hallway.
Haven turned away from Cameron’s cell door, but he reached through the bars and grabbed her shoulder. Haven turned back to him, her face contorted in a mix of fear and disgust.
She never loved me. She never will.
“Ye must help us escape. I will not see her harmed.”
Haven's expression softened as she covered his hand with hers. She patted his hand as if comforting a child, and in that moment, Cameron realized he felt nothing for her. Before she could leave he asked, “Is my cousin here?”
She nodded, then disappeared in the direction of Iona's cell. Cameron collapsed onto the small bed and stared at the ceiling. While a prisoner, he could do nothing for Iona. Lady Haven had the power to set her friend free. He fingered the necklace hanging like a lump on his chest. He had power in his hands, but had no idea how to use it in their current predicament.
If I give it to Haven, she can use it to take herself and Iona back to the future.
When Iona was safe, and far from the perils of the Highlands, Cameron would live the rest of his life alone. No wonder his chest hurt and tears clouded his vision.
* * *
Unbelievable! Haven MacKay stood outside Iona’s cell door with her arms crossed. Her foot tapped the dirt floor, while her frowning expression had trouble written all over it. Her green eyes were fairly hidden by her lowered lashes as if her friend didn't want to look at her.
I don't blame her.
“Quite a pickle you've gotten yourself into. What the hell happened?”
Where should she start? Haven expected an immediate answer, but Iona worried about Cameron. “Were you just talking to Cameron? Is he okay?”
“He looked fine to me. He’s a handsome fellow, more so than I remember.”
Iona clenched her fists. Jealousy slapped her in the face, then she realized Haven was baiting her.
The matchmaking little fool.
Iona had missed her friend, but wasn’t about to let slip that she’d fallen for Cameron. Besides, there was no future in a relationship with a man from the 16th century.
“He's okay, I guess, if you like the tall, Viking look.”
“I do. Kirk told me his clan is descended from Viking warriors. Cameron sure looks the part, and I don't mind looking.”
Iona cursed beneath her breath.
Haven peeked through the cell door window, and said, “And you don't? Has he kissed you yet? Are you blushing?”
Iona slapped both hands on her face. Her cheeks were hot, and the thought of Cameron's lips pressed against hers caused her legs to tremble.
“Did he do more than kiss you? He did, didn't he!” Haven flicked her gaze back down the hallway toward Cameron’s cell, then returned her avid attention to Iona. “I am so happy for you. Really, you deserve to be loved.”
“As I’ve told you for years, Haven, there’s a big difference between being in love and making love. Men are more adept at the latter, and avoid the former.”
“He doesn't love you?”
“He told me he couldn't. He loves someone else. A woman in this time. At least I'll have my memories.” Suddenly chilled, she rubbed her arms as she glanced at her friend. She didn’t want Haven’s pity, but something odd crossed Haven’s face. Shock, or guilt?
Haven blushed and would not meet her gaze. Did she know whom Cameron wanted? Now was not the time to discuss relationships. Not while she sat in a cell accused of witchcraft.
“Cameron said Marcus claims you are a witch. I thought you of all people were careful not to flaunt your powers.”
“Powers? All I did was open a packet of powder and dress a wound. I didn't wave my hand over her arm, and I didn't say any spells. Can you get me out of here?”
“Not sure. I'll be back.”
“Haven, I need…” But she was gone before she could take a message to Cameron. “Dragon’s teeth.”
* * *
A key turning in the lock brought Cameron to his feet. He reached for his dirk before he remembered the guards had taken all his weapons before they had thrown him in the cell. He was at his visitor's mercy, and prayed for another day to live. Protecting Iona required his escape. She had no idea the danger she was in.
An accusation of witchcraft was a death sentence throughout much of Scotland. He wanted no chance of her dying. Luckily, only a few that resided in the harsh Highlands believed village healers practiced dark magic. An idea hit him, but he had to escape to put it into motion.
The door swung open and Lady Haven entered with her black hair streaming down her back, loose and free. Her green eyes sparkled in the light of the candle she carried. Her dark cloak barely covered her transparent white nightdress.
Lady Haven was their only hope. With his own eyes, Cameron had witnessed her power the night she had tended to Balfour, when his friend had fallen and burned his hand in a campfire. She had mixed up a poultice from strange packets hidden in her pocket, then had wrapped the injured hand, and Cameron witnessed Balfour’s healed hand the very next day.
Another time, Kirk told him she had spread a mixture of herbs on Kirk's scar. By the time of his trial, Kirk's face was back to normal.
Haven was a powerful witch, and Iona was her best friend. She would help her, but why was she in his cell? Had she changed her mind about his cousin? Did she remember how Cameron felt about her?
This is my opportunity.
Haven had served herself up on a platter, and had arrived alone, fulfilling the dream that had carried him through his trial and subsequent banishment. Haven stopped in front of him, and Cameron laughed.
Instead of throwing her on the cot, and making violent love to his cousin’s woman, his thoughts strayed to one person and one person only. Iona.
“No funny business, Cameron. Leave. Grab your stuff at the top of the stairs. Disappear before Kirk finds you.”
“Not without Iona.” Cameron leaned closer to the woman who had filled his nights with amorous dreams, then barreled past her.
“No, Cameron. You have to leave immediately, while the castle sleeps. Iona is safer behind a cell door than anywhere on earth. Trust me.”
“Trust ye? It was ye who told me to tell Kirk everything. I told him how I jeopardized our people, aided in yer kidnap, and caused Balfour’s death.”
“The truth is the best policy,” Haven whispered.
He turned toward her then stopped and stared down at the tiny woman. “The truth? He banished me.”
“How could I know Kirk would react like that?” Haven glared up at him, then touched his forearm. Her hand was warm, but not heated or as perfectly pale as Iona’s. Haven smelled nice, but not as sweet as Iona.
Dragon’s te
eth, I want Iona.
“Please. Go!”
“I will return for her, but I doona understand what ye expect me to do, instead.”
“If you love her, you will fix the mess she is in. Somehow. Use your talents to win over Marcus, Fia, and the rest of their people. Convince them Iona is only a healer, not a witch.”
The plan sounded easy when Haven said it. She had not mentioned gaining Kirkwall’s trust. What would he do if he crossed paths with Kirk? Whatever happened, it was best not do it without weapons.
Turning away from the direction of Iona's cell, Cameron stealthily climbed the dungeon stairs and found his weapons piled on the top step as promised. He slipped the leather straps over his chest, filled the matching sheaths with two large swords, then fisted his dirk.
Cameron pushed open the door, then scanned the room. Gray light filtered in through small windows high above, and washed the room with soft, gray light. He crossed the great hall and entered the bailey. The castle gate stood open, and several villagers walked in carrying food and firewood.
Assuming he would feel safer outside the walls, he headed for the stables. A young groom slept in the straw beside a stall. Stealth and whispered words kept him from awakening to raise the alarm. Besides, Marcus had offered them the use of two horses, so taking one was not stealing.
Once away from the castle and its guards he would come up with a plan to save Iona. What that plan would entail, he had no idea, but he would start in the village.
Every village had a healer, and he would talk with the local healer for help in convincing Marcus that what Iona did to his wife’s injured arm was easily explainable. With a solid plan in mind, Cameron saddled the horse, mounted, then rode out the open gate.
* * *
“What do ye mean, he's gone!” Marcus’ words echoed off the great hall’s ceiling as the guard who had delivered the message stepped back. Servants scurried away, and Haven glanced at her husband. Did Kirk suspect? Would he understand?
“The door to his cell was wide open with the key stuck in the lock. The other witch is still in her cell, have no fear,” the guard said.
“Find Cameron Robeson.”
Marcus's fury made the guard jump. The man ran from the hall to gather others in the quest to return Cameron to his cell. Haven crossed her hands behind her and locked her fingers.
“Kirk?” she whispered.
“What? Best ye hold yer tongue, lass.”
When his darkened eyes bore into her face, Haven chewed her bottom lip. She excused herself, but he grabbed her wrist. Haven looked at Marcus, but he was in deep conversation with his wife, near the fireplace.
“If ye want to talk we will do it in private.”
Haven nodded, and he released her wrist. After leaving the great hall, she made it as far as a small closet off the hallway. Kirk pushed the door in, grabbed Haven by her forearm, and drew her inside the tiny room. The smell of clean linens washed in rainwater filled her nose, soon replaced by an angry warrior’s musky aroma. She had flirted with him on the last day of their trip to Castle Ruadh, and he quickly turned the tables on her.
“Kirk, I only—”
“No talking.” Kirk turned and pressed her against the door. His fury was apparent even in the low light, and when his blue eyes turned nearly black. Heat pulsed off his chest and something long and hard prodded her stomach.
“I don't think this is the appropriate time—”
Kirk cut off the rest of her comment with his mouth. He devoured her as he licked and nipped her lips, chin, and throat while his hands worked her dress up and over her thighs.
When he lifted her off her feet, Kirk pressed her harder against the door. She gasped as hot flesh met her damp curls. He entered her with one, swift thrust. He plunged inside her, again and again, until she gasped for breath. When he suddenly stopped impaling her between hard muscle and the wooden door, she glared at him.
When she could make her mouth work she asked, “Why did you stop?”
“The babe. Will I hurt our child by loving ye?”
Haven shook her head.
Kirk smiled at her in the intimate darkness of the little room, and continued his thrusts. Haven raised her legs, wrapped them around his waist, and surrendered to the pleasure. Higher and higher she flew. When his roar signaled he’d joined her, she squeezed him tightly, loving him with everything she had.
“How can loving someone ever hurt?”
CHAPTER 21
Iona hurt all over, especially in the middle of her chest. She’d lost her heart to a man she could never have. A man who didn’t want her. Cameron had escaped, leaving her behind. She'd heard the guards’ shouts. He'd found a way out.
Where was he now? Who was he with? Most likely, he'd stolen a horse and disappeared into the Scottish countryside. Was he on his way to find his lady love having forgotten all about Iona, a woman he used for one night of pleasure? What was she going to do now? She prayed that Fia would appear at her door, since she might be able to convince the young woman to let her out.
“Where be Cameron Robeson?”
The masculine voice boomed through the little window in her cell door, and Iona jumped. It wasn't the jailer, or Marcus Mackenzie.
“I have no idea. He didn't take me with him, obviously. He can go to hell for all I care.”
The man roared with laughter. It was kind of creepy, but he didn't sound like the sorcerer either. Maybe she could get him to open the door.
“Let me out of here.”
“Nay, lass. Marcus is not too happy with ye right now. Until he believes ye are no threat to his wife, yer safer locked away. I understand the benefits of witchery, seeing how my sister and my betrothed are witches.”
Iona drew in a ragged breath and closed the distance between her bed and the cell door. On the other side, a man nearly as tall as Cameron stood. He had similar features, though his hair was dark red where Cameron’s was golden blond. His blue eyes widened under her perusal the same way Cameron’s amber eyes had the first time they’d met. His cheek bones, chin, and warrior stance were vaguely familiar.
“Kirkwall Gunn, I presume?”
“Aye, and ye be Haven's friend, Iona Mackenzie. Before Haven promised to stay with me, the only person she claimed she would miss was ye. Oh, and some man named Jake.” Kirk spat the last word.
“Haven told me about you, too. Did you force Haven to stay?”
When he shook his head, she no longer worried he had kept Haven against her will. However, she’d heard something in Haven’s voice. To find the truth would take time. Iona worried she had little time left.
“Was Haven here this morning?” he asked, his voice low as if he didn’t want to be overheard.
What an odd question, until she recalled that someone had let Cameron escape. If Haven was involved, she might be in trouble; big trouble. Hadn’t Haven's letter alluded to Kirk as a gruff man who kept her on a short leash? And what about the threat from the sorcerer?
“I don’t know. My turn to ask you something. Haven sent me a letter that said she was pregnant. I mean, with child. Is this true?”
Kirk's eyes widened, confirming the truth of Haven's letter. But, why would she stay with someone she didn't love?
“I love Haven. She loves me. We are to be wed. Enough,” he said, and his hand slashed the air. Then he closed the gap between them. “Devil’s own luck, no friend of Haven should be in such a place.”
Kirk looked toward the stairs, then unlocked her door.
“How did you get the key?”
“Never ye mind. The safest place for ye is with Haven. Her spells are powerful magic, and she can wield that little knife of hers like a warrior.”
Iona smiled. “Sounds like she put my gift to good use. Do you really love her?”
He nodded, then hastened down the dungeon hall. Iona followed him up the stairs. At the top, she hid behind his bulky frame. They made their way to the stairway, then climbed to the bedrooms on the upper floor. Wh
en he pushed open a door, Haven jumped from a chair by the fire and dropped her knitting basket on her foot.
“Devil’s own luck, that hurt.”
“Same old klutz.”
“You’re free!”
“Kind of obvious, Haven. I thought you hated knitting.”
Haven's cheeks reddened as she gathered up the dropped basket and skein of gray wool. She set it aside. “If I'm going to live in the 16th century, I need a trade.”
“Ye be our healer, lass.” Kirk slipped the door shut behind them, strode to Haven, and kissed her.
Iona fanned her face. When they came up for air, Iona understood that the words in Haven's letter had misled her. Haven and the Gunn Laird were deeply in love. Iona had made a terrible mistake.
Why hadn't I stayed where I belonged?
“I shall leave ye ladies to talk. I have hunting to do.”
Before Iona could question him, he was gone. “Is he going after Cameron? He looks really angry.”
“He and his cousin have their differences, and I hope they can work things out.”
“Work things out? The man banished Cameron. He lost everything, and ended up working for Dorcas Swann as an errand boy.”
“You're kidding. Dorcas Swann? The potions tent vendor?”
“This is no joke. He's a warrior, a Highlander. This is where he belongs. Besides, he's probably gone to find his woman.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Before Iona could ask about her reasoning, loud voices filled the hallway. The door swung inward, crashed into Iona, and threw her to the floor by the wall. All the air in her lungs whooshed out, and a cloak fell from a hook onto her head.
Haven screamed.
Iona fought her way out from under the heavy, wool coat, then pushed to her feet. The room was empty, and the shouts grew in volume.
“What just happened?”
* * *
While Iona kept out of sight around the corner from the great hall, Marcus shouted orders to his men. Kirk had treated her with compassion and kindness, and had released her from the dungeon. He knew she was the last person to see Haven. Would he blame her for Haven’s abduction?
Highland Games Through Time Page 48
