by Carmen Caine
That was certainly true enough.
She eyed him sympathetically. Sliding her arm through his, she guided him down the lane. “I’ve had nothing but good fortune since meeting ye, Cameron, and whatever curse ye think ye might be under … well, mayhap we can break it together!”
Ach, he was a weak fool. Within minutes, she had him feeling at ease and even playful, and tossing all concerns aside yet again. Aye, the wee lass had some unholy power over him.
At the bottom of Castle Hill, she paused and pointed to the castle high above them. “I’ve herbs that must be gathered for the kind lady up there, and ye can lend me a hand. ‘Twill heal your heart to feel the good earth under your fingers, Cameron!”
Permitting himself to enjoy her company, he allowed her to lead him to the banks of the River Forth and over the wide stone bridge, weaving through the crowd of carts, peasants, and the occasional monk crossing into the town of Stirling.
As they strolled down the tree-bordered road, Kate chattered of her dreams, childhood, and her father. “And now perhaps I can journey to Dunfermline, to the Pilgrim’s Well at St. Fillans. ‘Tis said the water can even heal blindness!”
“Truly?” Cameron murmured, tracing his thumb over the tips of her fingers. ‘Twas pleasant to hear the soothing sound of her voice while enjoying the warmth of the sun upon his face. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so at ease.
“’Tis worth trying, is it not?” she asked.
There was hope in her voice. “Aye, it cannot hurt to try.” He caressed her hand in a comforting gesture.
With a fierce smile, Kate slipped her fingers out of his and pointed to the edge of the road. “Last year, I’m told that lovage and pearlwort grew here. We might find some new leaves. Follow me, lad, and be quick!”
The next hour was the most enjoyable that Cameron could recall in some time. He climbed as Kate directed, nipping tender leaves and pulling roots, caking his cloak and boots in mud as the spring sun shone on the ancient forest bursting with signs of new life.
Kate was lively and filled with spirit. Artfully slipping away each time he tried to steal a kiss, she tossed her hair and sent him secretive smiles, until at last, standing on a muddy bank, she beckoned him close. “Give me a hand now, will ye? I canna slip and ruin this dress more than ‘tis already!” Ruefully, she lifted the muddy hem of her gown, but higher than was truly necessary and enough to playfully flash her ankle.
Lowering his lashes, he reached up and yanked her roughly into his arms. With his heart pounding with desire, he planted another kiss full upon her lips, and as ever, she responded enthusiastically. Dropping her basket to the forest floor, she entwined her arms firmly about his neck, returning the passion in full measure, her heart beating rapidly against his chest.
Aye, he was a fool.
The passionate blood of the Stewarts ran through his veins.
He had no power to walk away, and apparently, neither did she. He caught his breath and tore his lips away as a hideous thought crossed his mind.
Had he cursed her already?
An unpleasant chill ran down his spine.
“What sadness do ye hide?” Kate’s soft voice broke into his tortured thoughts. “I wish ye could share your burden.”
He hesitated, and then allowed the bitter words to fall from his lips. “My touch is death, lass. I was wed afore and … they died … untimely deaths.”
“They?” Kate stepped back, dropping her gaze to her feet.
“Aye, one or two ...” Cameron cleared his throat uncomfortably. How could he say seven? Suddenly, it was important to add, “But I never loved them. I never chose them. The marriages were arranged—”
“Arranged?” Kate drew her brows into a frown. “What band of outlaws are ye involved with, Cameron?”
At that, he couldn’t resist a perverse smile. “Outlaws of the worst kind, Kate.” Aye, now that she mentioned it, the nobles in the land were indeed far worse than any band of outlaws he knew of. His smile widened.
“But ‘tis no laughing matter!” Kate did not share his mirth. “Ye must run from them!”
He shook his head with a touch of annoyance. “’Tis not possible. I’ve tried. They always find me, lass.”
“But ye canna have them rule ye so!” Kate insisted. “Surely, ye can escape! Is your master the outlaw I saw at the Brass Unicorn?”
“Julian?” Cameron’s lip twitched. Suddenly, it was difficult not to laugh. “No! Julian is a … friend. My master is … a fool ruled by a treacherous lapdog, and I’ll not rest until I unmask the cur for what he is.”
She stared at him, and then her eyes sparkled. “Ach, I knew it. Ye are an honorable thief, just like Robyn Hode! But will ye leave after ye reveal this lapdog’s wicked ways for all to see?”
“Aye.” Cameron sighed. For a moment, he allowed himself to dream of galloping away to Inchmurrin with Kate at his side, but the thought brought the habitual twinge of guilt. And then as Kate grabbed his shirt, pulled him close, and devoured him in a wildly passionate kiss, the guilt mysteriously faded away.
Even if he had tried, he could not have resisted her and when he did pull away, he knew it was hopeless. Curse or not, he would have her. Her eyes were mischievous, inviting, and her moist lips made his blood surge. He wanted to bury his face in her thick, luxuriant hair and kiss the creamy, soft whiteness of her neck.
Catching her to his chest, he slid his hands along the soft lines of her waist and hips as his mouth traveled down her neck. He could feel her heart fluttering wildly against his chest and then she gave a little moan of delight that caused the last shreds of his control to desert him.
Pressing her back against a tree, he intended to make her his right then and there when the sound of a horn split the air.
They sprang apart.
Kate filled her cheeks with air and blew them out in exasperation as Cameron suppressed a groan.
Through the trees, a short distance away, they could see a party of horses moving along the road.
“Let’s see who comes!” Kate’s eyes lit with excitement. Locking her fingers around his wrist, she pulled him through the hedge and burst onto the road just as the first horses rounded the bend.
Cameron recognized the royal party at once.
Alexander, Duke of Albany and John, Earl of Mar, rode upon silver-bedecked chargers in the midst of their entourage. Nobly attired in crimson velvet, they looked every inch the princes that they were.
“Let’s go!” Cameron hissed, attempting to pull Kate away, but she slipped free.
“Oh, ‘tis Albany!” she whispered breathlessly. “And Mar!”
Frowning, Cameron covered his head with the hood of his cloak just as Albany’s penetrating green eyes turned his way.
“Let’s go!” Cameron grated in a low voice.
He had taken only a single step toward the hedge when Albany’s dark brows rose in surprise, and he called out in a loud voice, “Cameron?”
Startled, the man’s steed suddenly neighed and reared, but Albany mastered the unruly beast with ease. Aye, he truly was the prince that everyone wished was king. Even Kate watched in open admiration as the prince laughed effortlessly, his sharp green eyes shifting to lock on hers. Sweeping his hat gracefully from his head, he gallantly bowed in her direction.
Frowning, Cameron yanked Kate through the hedge.
Kate turned upon him, wide-eyed. “Did Albany call ye by name?” she asked, astounded, looking back over her shoulder in shock.
Clenching his jaw, Cameron willed Albany to keep moving, holding his breath as the horses filed by in a jingle of bits and creak of leather. To his utmost relief, no one stopped. Instead, they pressed on for the town on the far side of the River Forth.
“I swear I heard him call your name!” Kate insisted, shaking his sleeve.
Composing his features, Cameron gave her a disarming smile, “Ach, now, why would a royal prince call the likes of me, lass? Surely, Cameron is a common enough name.” He s
hrugged.
She scowled and folded her arms, but then adopted a sheepish expression. “True enough. My father is always reminding me that I’m too fanciful of a lass. And Cameron is not even your given name! Ye have yet to tell me what your true name is!” She raised a brow, challenging him, but when he did not respond, she sighed. “’Tis growing late, and I must be off to my mistress afore she regrets her choice in maids!”
“Allow me to fetch your basket.” Cameron offered smoothly, desiring to escape her piercing gaze. Retracing his steps, he found the thing where she had dropped it, and returned to find her standing on the road once again, watching Albany and Mar make their way to Stirling Town.
Reaching down to capture her hand, he trailed the royal party at a safe distance as she offered a wealth of advice on how he might escape the clutches of his fellow outlaws.
Cameron simply listened, enjoying the soft lilt of her voice, and slowed his pace even more, not to avoid Albany, but to prolong the joy of her company.
Ahead on the road, a crowd pressed around the princes, slowing their progress. Children ran alongside their horses, dancing and singing, and from somewhere distant a band of pipers played until midway across the bridge, the royal party came to a complete halt.
Cameron hesitated, resisting Kate’s tug upon his sleeve.
“I canna be late, ye oaf!” She frowned at him. “I must prove myself to my new mistress!”
“And I’m sure ye will, lass,” Cameron murmured. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he kissed them softly. Aye, he’d speak with Lady Elsa right quickly. He would see his wee Kate treated well and paid more than a mere eight shillings a year. He had no idea what a good wage was for a maid, but eight shillings was a beggarly sum. Kate deserved so much more.
“Oh, look!” Kate shaded her eyes, peering at the bridge. “The nobles have come to greet Mar and Albany! Let’s go see them!”
Glancing over, Cameron spied a group of horsemen trotting down Castle Hill towards the princes on the bridge. Even from this distance, he could see the flaming red hair of Archibald Douglas. He couldn’t resist muttering bitterly, “Surely, ye’ll see enough of their ilk now that ye work at the castle.”
Kate turned a sharp eye on him as her face flooded with sympathy. “Did nobles wrong ye, ye poor lad?”
Cameron winced and looked away. He should tell the lass the truth, but the words stuck in his throat.
“I hope someday that ye’ll trust me enough to tell me.” Kate sighed.
Ach, but she knew how to worsen his guilt.
“When will I see ye again, Cameron?” she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Where do ye sleep at night? Are ye safe?”
Clenching his jaw, he stared at the castle, high on the hill above them.
Kate sighed and her lively brown eyes clouded. “Why do I feel ye have some dreadful secret that I’ll not like, Cameron?”
He remained silent. He felt like a fool. He’d never lost the power of speech before.
“Are ye still wed?” she asked suddenly, skewering him with a suspicious look.
“Ach, no!” The words ripped from his throat.
Satisfied that his response was genuine, she slipped her basket from his arm. “Then, what is it?”
After several long moments, he promised softly, “I’ll tell ye soon, lass.” The farce had gone on long enough.
Gently, Kate cupped his hand in hers and raised it softly to her lips. “I won’t judge ye, Cameron,” she swore. “I swear I’ll understand ye.”
Reverently, he bent down and kissed the top of her head.
“I must be gone now.” She smiled warmly, but a shadow of worry played about her eyes. “Will I see ye again, soon?”
“Aye.” He nodded.
With a bright smile, she gathered her plaid close and ran toward the bridge, turning back several times to wave before disappearing into the crowd.
Cameron watched her go with a heavy heart.
He didn’t want to think. Woodenly, he watched as the princes finished their prolonged greetings. Archibald motioned his fine company of men forward to join the princes’ entourage, and the procession up Castle Hill resumed.
The onlookers followed them, and Cameron pressed forward, slipping through the crowd and Stirling’s side streets to enter the castle ahead of the procession.
Retiring quickly to his apartments, he cast his muddy cloak aside and raised his voice, calling for his man to pull off his boots as he took his seat in the carved chair before the crackling fire.
Sir Arval, the gray-haired, grizzled Frenchman who had served him from birth, entered the chamber. Eyeing the mud-caked leather boots, he raised a brow at the dirt on Cameron’s breeches. “Did some ill befall ye, my lord?”
Suddenly shy, Cameron turned his head to the fire and did not reply.
The Frenchman merely smiled. Removing his boots, the man stepped into the adjoining chamber and returned quickly with fresh attire.
Rising to his feet, Cameron stretched, prepared to don the black and gold velvet when he found himself struck with a sudden thought. “Arval, send straightway for water from the Pilgrim’s Well in St. Fillans and send the fastest horse. I would have it on the morrow.”
“Aye, my lord.” The man bowed.
“And send word to Lady Elsa. See that she pays her maid well.” He’d see Kate well cared for. “Eight shillings is not enough. See to it yourself. I would think a more decent wage should be eight pounds, do ye agree?”
The man’s eyes lit in humor, but his face was grave. “I will see her paid exceedingly well, my lord.”
With a satisfied nod, Cameron shrugged into his fresh, white shirt, before remembering to ask. “The almshouse? Have ye seen to the monks?”
“Aye, my lord. Father Herrick will see ye in the morning.”
Cameron nodded, lacing his velvet breeches.
He wanted to give the lass something, but he knew not what an outlaw might give a lass. As an earl, he had bestowed many a fine gold necklace with precious stones upon those who struck his fancy, but he knew Kate would not accept such gifts.
“Might I suggest ribbons for her hair, my lord?” Sir Arval’s quiet voice held a distinct note of humor.
Cameron stiffened. Aye, his men knew him well.
He grimaced.
He had no business courting her.
With a grim shake of his head, he replied in a reserved tone. “No. ‘Twould be a mistake.”
Sliding into another pair of fine leather boots, he strode out of his apartments and to the courtyard where Albany and Mar had just arrived. Quickly descending the spiral stairs, he reached Albany’s side as the man dismounted.
“Cameron!” Albany clapped him warmly on the shoulder. “I could have sworn I saw ye on the road not an hour hence!”
Muscular and tall, Albany looked Cameron directly in the eye. A skilled warrior with his reddish-brown hair cropped short, he was a handsome man, and his green eyes and engaging smile had won him the hearts of many.
“Well met, my lord.” Cameron bowed.
“Ach, couldn’t have been ye, I suppose.” Albany shook his head. “I was fair hoping ‘twas. The man was with the bonniest lass I’ve seen in many a day! I would know her better.”
Cameron straightened. As a fierce, protective wave surged through him, his dark eyes narrowed of their own accord.
Albany’s brows twitched upwards. With his eyes glittering, he leaned forward, and whispered, “So ‘twas ye on the road now, was it not, fair cousin?”
He remained there, his face planted mere inches from Cameron’s, and for several long moments, their gazes locked in challenge before Lord Julian Gray’s silky voice inserted itself, “Might I escort ye to your chambers, my lord?”
Albany turned away, greeting Julian with a fond punch on the arm as Cameron took a step back.
Perhaps he should send Lady Elsa and her wee maid to Inchmurrin.
Aye, the more he thought on the matter, the more attractive it sounded.
Chapter Six - Love Potions
Kate slowly opened the door to Lady Elsa’s chamber and peeked inside. The room was empty. Taking a deep breath, she tiptoed to the table and set the basket down.
She still found it hard to believe she had the right to be in a lady’s chamber and harder still to believe she was truly a maid in Stirling Castle. And paid eight shillings a year! Eight!
Closing her eyes, she hugged herself, reveling in pure joy at the thought. But only for a moment.
Eager to please her new mistress, she surveyed the chamber with a critical eye. The chambermaids had done their job well, but she plumped up the pillows anyway, moved the chair in a more inviting angle, and added a touch more peat to the fire.
With a pleased sigh, she glanced about the room, smoothing her skirts, and then returned to the table. She found the view from the window breathtaking—the river, the ancient forest and the moors were covered in green, bursting with signs of life.
The afternoon had been delightful. She could think of nothing better than to have wandered through the woods with Cameron, stealing kisses, while gleaning tidbits of information about the man. He revealed more each time she saw him. Ach, he was such a mysterious man, and such a charming and caring one.
For a time, she absently shuffled the herbs in the basket, wondering how she might help gain his freedom before permitting thoughts of quite a different nature. He had kissed her with such raw hunger, crushing her passionately against his hard chest, and she relived the moment, again and again, until her cheeks began to burn.
The door rattled, and she dropped into a deep curtsey as Lady Elsa swept into the room.
“You have returned!” With a pleased nod, Lady Elsa joined her at the table and reached for the basket. “Did you find it all?”
“Aye, my lady.” Kate nodded. “Though ‘tis early in the season, I found roots and some new leaves.”
The woman’s lips quivered and she clasped her hands over her heart. “Well done! Now, you may prepare the potions.”
“Potions, my lady?” Kate repeated, surprised.
