The Bedeviled Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series)

by Carmen Caine

  “And I pray ye do not,” Cameron murmured, clenching his jaw. He wasn’t ready to give up playing the part of the outlaw. Not yet. Her company was far too intoxicating. He would enjoy it just a wee bit longer first. But only a wee bit longer.

  The door to the inn burst open, and a middle-aged woman swept inside. Spying Kate, she blew her a kiss as she hurried into the back room, calling over her shoulder, “Thank ye for minding the place, lass!”

  “’Twas an honor,” Kate called back. Then, smiling up at Cameron, she invited in a warm, cordial tone, “Come with me! I’ve something that will put a smile upon your lips!” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him out of the inn and down the street.

  “Where are ye headed, lass?” he asked, not particularly caring for secrets.

  Sending him a mischievous look, she refused to answer. Still holding tightly onto his fingers, she tugged him up a familiar street and turned down the lane that led to the Brass Unicorn.

  Stopping in front of the vine-covered inn, she reached into her pocket and drew out a penny. Dangling it before his nose, she said brightly, “Allow me to buy ye supper with a hard-earned, good honest coin! ‘Twill taste like a king’s feast!”

  He had no doubt it would taste far better, but he shook his head. “I’ll take nothing from ye, lass—”

  “Pah!” Kate rolled her eyes, yanking him into the place and pointing to an empty table. “Sit there, ye lout. I’ll be back shortly.”

  Cameron eyed the place that he had only just left that morning.

  From the corner of the common room, Morag straightened curiously and watched Kate sailing toward her with purpose.

  Reluctantly, Cameron made his way to an empty table, jostling and bumping elbows along the way. And then moments later, Kate joined him with a meat pie filled with pork fat, a dish of stewed hare, and a tankard of ale. Seating herself by his side, she took a big bite of the pie before holding it up to his lips, nodding for him to do the same.

  He watched her tongue lick her lips and then all thoughts fled, save ones of pulling her close and exploring her mouth with his own tongue. Quickly averting his gaze, he swallowed and murmured, “I thought ‘twas the lord’s duty to see the lady’s trencher filled first.”

  Kate snorted. “What fine words, but ye aren’t a lord and I’m certainly not a lady!”

  Cameron tensed, wincing at his lapse and expelled a breath, relieved Kate had taken it as a jest. But then he noticed she was watching him, her brows drawn in a puzzled line.

  “Ach, but ye always appear to be fighting some inner battle, Cameron,” she said, laying a compassionate hand on his arm. “I wish I could be of aid to ye.”

  Covering her hand with his long fingers, he squeezed it and answered truthfully, “Ye are, my sweeting, for I find ye a warm welcome in an otherwise inhospitable place.”

  She smiled at that and leaned her head against his shoulder.

  For a moment, he was tempted to bury his face in her hair.

  He drew back a little.

  It was a mistake to be here with her. She was quite unlike any lass he had ever met, and if he were honest, a temptation he would fail in resisting. He should be an honorable man and leave while he still could.

  The traveling minstrel from the night before took out his recorder and began to play a lively tune, and the folk gathered in the room began to clap. Several women picked up their skirts and began to dance.

  Springing to her feet, Kate grabbed his hands and pulled him up. “Dance with me!”

  Holding the tankard in one hand, she slipped her other arm through his and tried to reel him around, collapsing into laughter when she failed miserably in the attempt.

  Her merriment was contagious and his lips began to twitch in amusement. It was hard to worry in her company. She knew how to distract him from his dark thoughts.

  Tingling with excitement, he caught her about the waist, twirled her around and bending her head back, kissed her full on the lips. It was a quick kiss, but a vibrant one. Her lips were sweet and eager.

  And then Kate moved away, her merry eyes teased his as she danced a moment and then she stepped close to whisper ruefully in his ear, “I should have nothing to do with the likes of ye!”

  “Aye,” Cameron agreed, looking steadily down at her. If only he were a thief instead of an evil bane to womankind.

  “What is it?” Kate asked softly, laying a light hand upon his chest. “I wish I could unburden ye.”

  With a deep breath, he replied darkly, “’Tis dangerous to be with me, lass. Ye should go.” Losing interest in dancing, he returned to the table.

  “Then, dinna be such a fool!” Kate followed him and slammed her palm on the table surface. “Walk away. Ye aren’t bound to live a life of ill repute as an outlaw!”

  He glanced up, a little startled at her misunderstanding.

  She stood close to him, too close, with a fierce expression on her face and her hands upon her hips. And he found himself falling under her spell once again. It was impossible to think morose thoughts when she was standing so close. Her lips were compelling. Everything about her was a temptation.

  She was giving him an earful about mending his criminal ways and then, in spite of it all, he found himself smiling.

  He rarely smiled.

  Why was he doing it so often in her company?

  Aye, she was the lively talker, but he knew one way to stop her chattering.

  Succumbing to his desire, he slipped an elegant finger under her chin, tilted it up, and slid the pad of this thumb gently over her lips before touching her mouth lightly with his in a slow, lingering kiss. She responded at once, sliding her hands up his chest to lock them behind his neck, and making soft sounds in her throat, opened her mouth eagerly to his.

  But then hoots of laughter from the surrounding folk in the inn shattered the moment and, feeling her smile against his mouth, he reluctantly lifted his head.

  “My mother warned me to stay away from men like ye,” Kate accused breathlessly with her brown eyes dancing. “But she didna say ‘twould be so hard!”

  His dark, smoldering eyes locked with hers and the corner of his lip curved into a smile, but then he caught sight of the tall, black velvet-clad figure of Lord Julian Gray stepping into his field of vision.

  Cameron straightened, noting the wicked gleam of mirth in the man’s eyes.

  “A good evening to ye, Cameron.” Julian winked, folding his arms to observe Kate from under half-closed lids. “And, who might this sea-siren be?”

  “Sea-siren?” Kate burst into laughter. “I would think ye must be speaking of Cameron, good sir, for I know ye canna be speaking of me! But then I would remind ye that only a lass could be a sea-siren.”

  A smile creased Julian’s cheek as he eyed her with a curious interest.

  Leaning close, Kate whispered in Cameron’s ear, “I’ll leave ye to your fellow thief now. I’ve errands to run afore I go home, but we’ll speak on your choice of trade the next time we meet!”

  She turned to leave, but Cameron caught her fingers and gave them one last squeeze before she disappeared through the throng of merrymakers still dancing to the minstrel’s tunes.

  “’Tis a curious thing to find ye here with a lass,” Julian drawled, lifting a long leg over the bench to settle across the table from him.

  “Aye, ‘tis foolishness that must halt,” Cameron murmured. Clenching his jaw, he began tapping the table with a long finger.

  “If ye speak one word claiming ye are a bane to womankind then I’ll have little patience with ye this night.” Julian rolled his eyes. “Ach, I’ll never understand the Stewarts and their penchant for superstition! ‘Tis a warm-blooded lass ye have in your arms, lad. How can ye even think of curses at a time like this?”

  “And I’ve not said a word of curses, Julian,” Cameron replied in an aloof tone. He couldn’t admit that he had been thinking of them. Deliberately switching the subject, he asked, “What brings ye here?”

  But Julian wa
s just warming up to the subject. “Ye never even slept with your wives, Cameron. How could ye have cursed them?”

  Cameron sent him a cold look of disapproval. “I’ll not speak of this now, Julian.”

  A merry glint entered Julian’s gray eyes. “But I’ve solved your problem, lad! Your ill luck with women lies in the fact that ye dinna bed them. Just bed this one, and you’ll find your curse broken!”

  With a scathing look, Cameron rose to leave.

  When it came to women, Julian had never understood him. Aye, he’d never understood Julian, either. Though neither of them had ever formed a true attachment to any lass, Cameron hadn’t out of fear of harming them with his ill luck, aye, perhaps even a curse. Julian merely lost interest after a few short weeks.

  Julian caught his forearm. “Ach, dinna be such a fool. I meant no slight on the lass. Wed her first, if ye must,” he growled in apology. Withdrawing a rolled parchment from the folds of his cloak, he pushed it across the table and then helped himself to the tankard of ale and added, “I came to deliver ye that most pressing missive.”

  Sitting back down, Cameron slid a long finger along the crease of the parchment, breaking the wax seal. It was a letter from one of the stewards of his holdings stating that a certain Lady Elsa MacRae was now his ward. The newly-made heiress had recently lost her father in a border skirmish and had fled her tiny castle in order to seek his justice and protection.

  He tossed the letter back onto the table and murmured, “I’ll send a man to see to her protection straightway.”

  “Ah, but the lady is already here.” Julian set the tankard down and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “She delivered the message herself. And, if I might add, she has the look of a woman on the hunt for a husband.”

  Cameron raised a brow. “Then, as my ward, it is my duty to find her one.”

  They fell silent then, each lost in his own musings, and it was not long before Cameron’s thoughts returned yet again to Kate. He missed her already. Her presence alone made his heart light. And it was nigh impossible to think of curses for long when in her company. Her lips were far too distracting.

  “I dinna like the way ye look at me, Cameron.” Julian lifted a wary brow, his mouth shifting into a suspicious smile. “I’ve no inclination to wed your ward!”

  Cameron’s lips twitched in amusement at that. Recognizing Julian’s unspoken apology, he replied in a lighter tone. “‘Twould be an uncommonly cruel fate for the both of ye.”

  Julian grinned and stretched. “Aye, there is not a lass walking this Earth who could ensnare me into marriage,” he swore good-naturedly, but then his face grew serious as he abruptly switched subjects. “I’ll do what ye ask and look into the doings of Thomas Cochrane. Already, I dinna like what I see.”

  “Aye,” Cameron tapped a finger thoughtfully on the table. “He has changed. He’s up to some devilry concerning the king’s brothers, of that I am certain. And if he has the backing of a noble then I fear for Scotland herself.”

  “And he dresses overly rich, even for the favorite of the king.” Julian snorted. “His wardrobe is worth a king’s ransom. I have no doubt the path of his coin will lead us to his supporters.”

  At that, they mused on possible supporters and their motives for a time, but Cameron still found it difficult to concentrate with images of Kate dancing in his head.

  Chapter Four - Eight Shillings a Year!

  Kate left the Brass Unicorn Inn with a spring in her step.

  The strong presence of the man was overwhelming, and the air of intrigue about him made her heart flutter, but she knew she shouldn’t associate with an outlaw.

  Why couldn’t she walk away?

  Saving him from a life a crime was a feeble excuse. Few people changed. And if truth be told, when she was with him, she quickly forgot such noble thoughts in favor of admiring the man and his chiseled lips.

  Ach, his chiseled lips made her blush.

  Hurrying through the streets of Stirling, she made her way to the almshouse, continuing to war with herself.

  Why couldn’t she remember he was an outlaw? A cutpurse! And the fellow at the inn was clearly disreputable as well. He was dressed far too fine to be an honest commoner. Cameron must be involved with a band of them.

  The thought was a dismal one, for it meant he was likely entrenched in his misguided ways. And only tales portrayed thieves as heroes. Aye, the Englishman hero, Robyn Hode, had given alms to the poor, but he was the only outlaw known to have done such a thing. The rest were brigands preying upon their victims.

  With a sinking heart, she knew she must resolve to avoid the man.

  ‘Twas best that way.

  Depressed, she charged down the lane and turned toward the almshouse only to stop abruptly in surprise.

  The warm glow of many candles flooded through the windows. A cartload of slate roof tiles stood to one side. New timber stretched across the gaps in the roof, and several men were climbing down, apparently just finishing their work for the day.

  The cheerful hubbub of voices, laughing and singing, emanated from within the almshouse, as in stunned amazement, Kate slowly stepped over the threshold.

  A crackling fire blazed upon the hearth with a large cauldron bubbling over the dancing flames, releasing the delicious aroma of what smelled like mutton stew. Several monks distributed wooden bowls and blankets to those gathered around.

  “Kate!” exclaimed a voice. Donald, the young lad from the Thistle and the Pig, rushed forward to tug her arm. His peaked face split into a wide grin. “We’ve a benefactress now! She’s hired us to fix the almshouse!”

  Kate laughed as everyone babbled at once, but it only took a few moments to piece the story together. A noble highland lady had decided to fund the almshouse as her private charity. She had hired the able-bodied to repair the building, establish a kitchen, and tend a garden on the plot of land she had purchased a short distance away. She had also bestowed a yearly stipend to the monks from Cambuskenneth Abbey to manage the effort.

  “And her name is Kate!” The young Donald laughed, still tugging her sleeve. “Lady Kate!”

  Kate blinked sudden, grateful tears from her eyes. “Aye, ‘tis a fine name for a lady!” She laughed with him, grabbing his spindly arm and twirling him around. “I’m honored to share her name!”

  After spending some time with them, and after convincing the monks to bring eggs, herbs, and a higher quality blanket on the morrow, she quit the almshouse with a pleased smile upon her face.

  Aye, she was grateful to Lady Kate for her charity, and she’d personally see that the monks properly tended the almshouse on the lady’s behalf. “Aye, maybe one day I’ll meet her and let her know another Kate saw it done aright!” Kate mused aloud, smiling at the thought.

  A gentle breeze, perfumed with the flowers of spring, ruffled her hair as she made her way back to Maura’s cottage.

  And once again, in spite of her resolutions otherwise, her thoughts wandered to Cameron.

  Ach, wasn’t the man worth saving? If she could guide him from his wicked ways, ‘twould not only benefit them both but society as well.

  Torn, she pushed open the door and entered.

  The main room was dark, indicating that Maura had not yet returned. She expelled a silent breath of relief. The soft glow of firelight poured from the back room, and she tiptoed inside to find her father sleeping.

  Silently kneeling by his side, she cradled her chin on her knees and stared at his pale face.

  His breathing had improved dramatically, and there was a bit of color on his cheeks.

  Aye, he would likely recover now.

  Tears of relief threatened, but she scowled, brushing them away in annoyance. She had little time for tears, even happy ones.

  The Chamberlain had ordered her to report to Stirling’s Great Hall before the sunrise. She tossed her faded plaid in front of the hearth and settled down to sleep, but it was nigh impossible. So much had happened in the past few days. Sin
ce meeting Cameron in the alehouse, the evil in her world had unraveled at an extraordinarily rapid pace. Such rare good fortune was astounding.

  And Cameron.

  How could she not think of the man?

  Gradually, her eyes grew heavy as she again and again relived the memory of his chiseled lips upon hers. But her last conscience thought, before she fell into a deep slumber, was the one hoping he had eaten all of the meat pie and the hare stew. It was decadent to waste such fine food.

  It seemed like only a moment had passed before she heard the cocks crowing.

  Rubbing her eyes, Kate rose, shook out her plaid, and fanned the coals of the fire into life. As the flames licked the peat, she set the small room in order, humming a little tune and surveying her father’s sleeping figure with satisfaction.

  He was much stronger. Perhaps even his eyes would heal!

  If she could only travel to the Pilgrim’s Well at St. Fillans, she had heard in the almshouse that the water was healing to the eyes. She sighed. It was not far, only in Dunfermline, but it might as well be in France. She could not think of how to get there.

  Her father’s voice startled her. “I can tend myself, lass. Be off with ye, afore ye try the Chamberlain’s wrath!”

  “Ach, but I haven’t made your gruel yet, and—” Kate protested.

  “I’m blind, my wee bairn, not helpless! And I’ve gained such strength these past two days!” He demonstrated by swinging his thin legs over the edge of the straw pallet. “Hie off with ye, now!”

  Grinning widely, Kate kissed him a farewell before slipping into the main cottage room where Maura rose sleepily from her bed.

  “Ye canna wear that tattered dress!” The woman swept her with a critical eye. “Not at Stirling Castle!”

  “’Tis all I have,” Kate replied, drawing back but raising her chin stubbornly. “The Chamberlain said naught of it!”

  Growling, Maura opened the wooden chest next to her bed and searched a moment before drawing out a suitable brown dress. Tossing it at Kate, she snapped, “Ye can pay me next week. I’ll not have my reputation ruined by the likes of ye! I canna let myself be seen in the company of a ragamuffin!”