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

by Carmen Caine

  There was a strange silence between them.

  His frown deepened.

  “I should return to the princess,” Kate said finally, moving as if to rise.

  “No, ye cannot go back, my sweeting.” He gently grasped her hands, pulling her back down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What is it that concerns ye so? Have I—”

  “Canna go back?” It was her turn to frown. “What can ye mean?”

  He sighed. “Ye’ve heard the letters, Kate. They are of the most treacherous nature, and now we must assume Thomas knows that I’ve seen them. Ye aren’t safe here anymore, lass.” He squeezed her fingers tightly as he vowed, “I’ll see ye and your father sent off afore dawn to—”

  “Ye’ll be sending me away?” She snatched her hands angrily from his.

  “For a short time only, until this is settled—” he began, but she interrupted him again.

  “But I dinna want to leave, Cameron!” Her dark eyes were suspiciously bright.

  “I won’t send ye far, my love,” he promised and then whispered into her hair, “I will not make it without ye, lass. I cannot bear to be apart from ye long.”

  Somehow, he was kissing her again, a deep, intimate kiss of sweet abandon when Lord Julian Gray strode into the chamber.

  Spying them on the floor, the man’s long lashes dropped in a mirthful expression as he stifled a yawn and queried, “And what might this most urgent matter be, Cameron, that ye sought fit to drag me from a most pressing matter of my own?”

  Rising to his feet, Cameron sent him a dark look of amusement. “The lass can wait, whomever she may be, Julian.”

  Julian sent him a devilish grin. “Ach, ‘tis three of them, Cameron. I canna decide which—”

  With a grim expression, Cameron pressed the letters into his hands, murmuring a quick explanation of how Kate had come by them.

  Julian read them where he stood, scanning the contents quickly. He showed no emotion until he had finished them both. Waving the letter addressed to Cameron with a snort of disgust, he said, “’Tis not even a clever forgery. The writing is not Edward’s.”

  “Aye,” Cameron agreed.

  Exchanging a long look with him, Julian bent forward and tossed the parchment into the fire.

  They watched in silence as the paper began to smoke before a sudden burst of flames rose to devour it.

  “And what of Albany’s?” Cameron asked quietly.

  Julian gave a rough laugh. Settling into a chair, he helped himself to a goblet of heated ale brought by Sir Arval before continuing. “I found myself in Cumberland afore coming to Stirling and there I crossed paths with an Englishman of the most suspicious nature. He burnt the letter ere I could read it, but I saw the red wax seal well enough.”

  Cameron clenched his jaw.

  He had known there was truth in Albany’s missive.

  Albany was proving as big a fool as his brother James. Was the dreaming, wistful Mar the only royal Stewart with a shred of honor left in him?

  “The plundering of the Borderlands had been laid on one John of Scougal and his band of desperate retainers. For that reason they were executed by the hand of Albany himself,” Cameron informed grimly. “Word of it reached court on the day of my own arrival here.”

  Julian blew his hair back from his face and mused aloud, “So, he murdered others to cover his crimes?” After a moment, he noted, “Have ye not seen how Lord Hume speaks with Thomas at every feast now? The man refused to acknowledge his presence before, and I now have no doubt I will find out on the morrow that the Humes’ coin is behind the gold chain that now proudly hangs on Thomas’ neck.”

  Lord Hume headed one of the most powerful Borderland clans. If Albany had broken truce with England by plundering the Borderlands for his own gain, and had then made John of Scougal pay the price, it was no small wonder the fierce Borderland clans would seek vengeance against the prince. They would stop at nothing until they saw Albany beheaded. But such a thing would pitch Scotland into a civil war in its current state, for James was not a loved king. He could no longer count on the nobles to rally to his call.

  But if the Borderlanders had the truth on their side, why had they embroiled Thomas in the matter? What were they seeking? And had Thomas stumbled upon yet another secret? Had Albany, corrupted by greed and power, truly begun plotting for the throne?

  Were they headed for a civil war already?

  “I find it tempting to let Thomas have his way with the scoundrel.” Julian voiced the thought crossing his mind as well. “Betraying his own country and executing innocent men are crimes that should not go unpunished for any man and doubly so for one of royal blood.”

  “Aye, he must be punished, but we must see what the Humes want from Thomas. In any case, I’ll see Scotland safe first,” Cameron said at last. “We must assume Albany has Edward’s backing and plans to wage war. We must band the nobles together, to protect our land, or we will surely fall.”

  Julian snorted. “I fear Scotland is already lost. The king is an imprudent, feeble-minded puppet. Albany has become a bloodthirsty plunderer seeking his own gain. And Mar is a melancholy lad, mourning for days long gone and only lives now for the hunt. None of them can unite Scotland under a single banner.”

  Gazing into the crackling flames, Cameron murmured softly, “We have the crown prince.”

  “A wee lad of six?” Julian retorted in surprise.

  “Aye.” Cameron nodded slowly. “He can be taught the ways that befit a true king and he may well be the only answer. We can unite the nobles under his name and protect our fair country.”

  “’Tis a task more suited to a man of your skills than mine.” Julian circled the lip of his goblet with a finger, shaking his head. “’Tis not an easy task to unite the clans when they would much rather feud. Scotland grows only more divided by the day. Not an hour past, Archibald Douglas rode from these very gates to raise arms against the Earl of Errol on the news their latest truce has been broken. It only lasted a month this time.”

  Cameron closed his eyes. Rebellions were rising in Ross, Caithness, and Sutherland. The feuds in Annandale between the Lairds of Caerlaverock and Drumlanrig had recently turned deadly. That the Earl of Angus had now engaged in yet another feud with the Earl of Errol only fractured the country even more.

  “Why cannot James stand and lead his country?” Cameron swore under his breath, pounding his fist against the mantle.

  They fell silent.

  And then Julian held Albany’s letter up with two fingers, peering down at Kate still sitting on the rug close to the hearth. “’Tis a dangerous thing ye’ve done, lass.” He whistled under his breath. “Thomas will not let this matter go.”

  Kneeling by her side, Cameron slid a protective arm about her shoulders. “Will ye escort her to Craigmillar at dawn, Julian? I’ll leave on the hunt with the rest, but I would delay Thomas’ knowledge of her escape for as long as I may. He’ll not expect her to leave so soon.”

  “Need ye ask?” Julian cocked a brow and drained his ale in one long gulp. Rising to his feet, he bowed. “But I’ll not return here until I’ve been to the Borders to uncover the truth of John of Scougal myself and to see what the Humes seek. But Albany had best pray what I discover is in his favor.”

  “We cannot shake the throne now,” Cameron warned. “We cannot present Scotland as too tempting of a morsel for Edward not to bite, and should he march on us now, Scotland would fall. Already, we are too divided. I need time to speak with the nobles, to open their eyes and gain their support in protecting our land under the name of the crown prince.”

  Julian pursed his lips grimly. “Aye, ye speak wisely, Cameron. We need a Stewart to rise and lead us through these shadowed times. ‘Tis up to ye. James is a fool, Albany is blind, and Mar is a dreamer. No man will listen to any of them.”

  Cameron thinned his lips grimly.

  “Then, Kate, this onion-eyed varlet will return for ye at dawn.” Julian bowed to her with a humorous
glint in his gray eyes.

  “Ach, my lord, will ye never forget my foolish words?” Kate asked, rising to her feet.

  Snagging her hand and pressing it against his heart, Julian grinned. “Never, wee Kate.”

  Cameron watched him leave and heaved a sigh.

  The court intrigues of years past were mere games compared to the matter he was embroiled in now. Never had he expected to stumble upon such treachery. But, for the sake of Scotland, he would rise to hold the country together.

  Ach, but he must immediately take steps to insure the crown prince would be a lad of honor, worthy to bear the crown. Why hadn’t he involved himself in the matter before?

  “Enough thinking, my lord.”

  He glanced over to see Kate’s soft, smiling eyes peering deep into his.

  Reaching to pull his head down, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his brow. “Ye can save Scotland on the morrow, Cameron,” she whispered.

  He could feel her breath upon his face, and his skin began to tingle.

  “If I’m to be gone soon then let us not sleep.” She smiled, lowering her lashes and peering up from under them with a secretive expression.

  And then she slowly kissed him. It was a lingering kiss, and he allowed himself to savor every moment. His hands began moving as his lips searched out the hollows of her neck and then his fingers deftly untied her bodice, revealing her slim shape that made his blood run hot.

  “Ye shall have no other but me,” he growled low in his throat. Aye, he had already tread the path, he might as well take the pleasures that came with it. And nothing would satisfy his desire save to make her his once more.

  Carrying her to his bedchamber, he lay down upon the bed. Her hair flowed long and free over the goose-down pillows, and his heart began to pound as he stripped off his shirt and unlaced his breeches.

  And then, beginning with her toes, he kissed a trail over her soft, creamy skin until she moaned softly, “End this torture!”

  Reaching over, he quenched the candle and plunged the chamber into darkness.

  Chapter Eleven - Witchcraft

  Cameron looked out of the window, eyeing the hazy aura that circled the waning moon with a heavy heart. Behind him, Kate sighed in her sleep, and he silently drew the bed curtains aside, staring down at her for a time with a sad smile upon his lips.

  Already, his heart ached with the pain of parting.

  Gently, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  She murmured in her sleep and slowly opened her eyes. Sitting up, she whispered, “Is it time?” Her voice wavered, betraying her emotion.

  “Aye, my sweeting.” How he wished he could say any other words but those.

  She turned her head away, and he could see her swallow in the weak moonlight, struggling to compose herself. Then she faced him once more with a smile, but her eyes were suspiciously bright, and her voice unnaturally cheerful. “’Twill be a difficult ride, my lord. Ye dinna let me sleep long.”

  He lowered his lashes and smiled to give her strength. Pulling her into his arms, he nibbled her ear, possessively biting a strand of her hair, and let his hands roam freely over her skin one more time.

  Playfully, she swatted his fingers but then burst into tears.

  “We will not be parted long. I swear it, Kate,” he promised, cradling her close.

  She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat.

  “’Twill be over soon,” he whispered in a soothing tone. “And then I’ll take ye to Inchmurrin. Ye’ll love Loch Lomond, ‘tis the bonniest loch in Scotland, lass. We’ll spend our days sailing the blue waters, and ye can show me how to fish.”

  “Ach, I’m a poor fisherman.” She gave a shaking laugh. “I’ve only sold fish in the markets.”

  “Relieving good citizens of their coin?” he teased gently.

  The jest had the desired effect. She raised her head and sent him a good-naturedly offended look before strangely averting her eyes. “Do ye think of bairns sailing the loch with ye?”

  He raised a puzzled brow and repeated, “Bairns?”

  “My fondest memories are the days I spent sailing with father and my wee sister, Joan.” She gave a hurried explanation.

  Briefly, he wondered if she desired bairns, but then she moved to slip into her shift and lustful thoughts quickly displaced all others. He leaned back on the bed, eyeing her appreciatively until she reached over and pinched his nose.

  “Ach, but ye make a lass uncomfortable with such lecherous looks, ye lout!” She laughed. “Get ye dressed! Ye canna escort me naked!”

  Turning away from him, she walked to the window to stare out into the dark sky.

  Dressing quickly, he joined her there, standing behind her to encompass her in a warm embrace. He leaned down to rest his chin on her shoulder, and breathed deeply, simply smelling her familiar sweet skin.

  He wanted the moment to last forever, but all too soon, Sir Arval called from the adjoining chamber.

  “It is time,” Cameron whispered in her ear with great reluctance, and slowly threading his fingers through hers, guided her out of the bedchamber.

  “My lord.” The grizzled Frenchman bowed a deep greeting. “The Lord Julian Gray has already departed and even now awaits ye at Stirling Bridge.” Sir Arval himself was to escort Kate’s father soon after, making the same journey to Craigmillar at a slower pace.

  Cameron nodded his thanks as Kate flung her arms about the man’s neck, giving his cheek a warm kiss. “I canna thank ye enough for the care ye show my father, Sir Arval.” She began to curtsey, but he caught her arm in protest.

  “Never to me, my lady.” The man laughed. Blushing, he repeated, “Never bow to me.”

  Cameron watched the man go with a smile. Apparently, even the Frenchman had fallen under his Kate’s spell.

  Choosing his finest mantle and favorite silver brooch, he gently swathed her in the dark velvet and pinned the brooch at her throat in silence. And then with emotion threatening to overwhelm him, he led her through the dark corridors without speaking a word.

  Aye, she would be safe in Craigmillar, in the keeping of the Prestons.

  Craigmillar Castle lay on a low hill not far away, only three miles south of Edinburgh. The Prestons had long been among his closest allies, but he would not trust even them with the truth. Sir Arval would introduce Kate as his own distant relative and would remain there with her and her father for as long as was needed. Cameron trusted Sir Arval as much as Julian and knew she was safe in his care.

  Slowly, Cameron led her across the darkened courtyard, past the guards and down the king’s private stairs leading to the lower gardens. The steps spiraling into the darkness below seemed endless at first, but all too quickly they arrived at the bottom of Castle Hill, and shortly thereafter, stood on the old stone bridge spanning the River Forth.

  Fog blanketed the river in the chilly predawn air, rising to cloak the bridge in a mysterious shroud. And then the sound of clattering hooves announced Julian’s arrival before a whirl of mist suddenly dispersed. The young lord appeared astride his massive black horse, a dark cloak muffling his face.

  “Must I go?” Kate turned on Cameron, tears sliding down her cheeks.

  “Aye, it won’t be long, Kate.” He pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

  They stood there, clinging to each other as Julian kindly looked away.

  Finally, even as Cameron’s heart pleaded for her to stay, he forced his lips to form the words, “Ye must leave, lass.”

  Taking his cue, Julian leaned down to sweep Kate into his lap with an easy arm. “Come, lass. We must be gone while the world still sleeps,” the man rumbled softly. Reaching down again, he clasped Cameron’s shoulder in a comforting gesture and swore, “I will see her safely there, upon my life.”

  Cameron nodded.

  And then Julian wheeled his great beast, and the dark horse galloped across the bridge, swallowed immediately by the heavy fog.

  They were gone.

  Cam
eron drew a long, dragging breath.

  He stood there until the sky turned gray, and only then summoned the strength to leave. And as he turned, his eye caught on her small shoeprint in the mud.

  Ach, her foot was so tiny.

  He smiled, but it was a bittersweet one. With a heavy heart, he slowly returned up the steep slope as the first shafts of the sun bathed the morning fog in a golden glow.

  The rosy radiance of the dawn lit the sky as he entered Stirling Castle, but his hand had only just touched the door of the royal apartments when he heard a stifled scream sounding from nearby.

  Rounding the corner close to the kitchens, he came upon a short, stocky man kicking a blonde-haired woman groveling on the ground before him.

  Within moments, Cameron had the man disarmed and on his knees.

  “What devilry is this?” Cameron’s voice filled with disdain as he shoved the man back with a booted foot. “Speak, knave!”

  “I am but following my master’s orders, my lord!” the man stuttered.

  “And whom might your master be, scoundrel?” Cameron pressed firmly.

  The woman struggled to rise unsteadily to her feet. Already, her left eye was swollen shut and her lips bruised, but she did not appear to be gravely injured.

  “Thank ye, my lord,” she half-whispered, half-sobbed, bobbing up and down. “Thank ye, my lord!”

  Turning back to the man once more, Cameron repeated, raising his voice, “Who ordered ye?”

  But the man stubbornly remained silent.

  Ordering the nearby guards to take the man to the dungeons, Cameron assured the woman he would have one of his men settle the affair. Looking down upon her with pity, he asked, “Are ye well enough, lass?”

  “Aye, my lord,” she replied through cracked lips. “Ye saved my life, my lord.”

  “What cause had the man to beat ye so?” he queried gently.

  “’Twas a misunderstanding, my lord.” She began to shake uncontrollably. “He thought I was negligent in my duty, but I swear I did what he asked, my lord.”

  Filled with compassion, Cameron unclasped his mantle and threw it over her shoulders. Ordering another guard to escort her to safety, he returned to his apartments and promptly gave the affair no further thought.