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

by Carmen Caine

  For days, they rested little and spoke even less, stopping only when the horses were in a lather, until they finally stood on the western shores where the waves shattered the cliffs hanging over the sea.

  A boat took them to Skye then, sailing up the coast under an immeasurable expanse of blue sky as sea-birds drifted in the wind over their heads. And though it took hours, it seemed only minutes before they saw the Three Maidens, the three isolated pillars of rock standing in the sea just beyond the mighty cliffs that signaled they were close to Dunvegan. And shortly after, the familiar walls of Dunvegan Castle appeared, rising high on its green-and-purple islet, close to the wild shores of the sea loch.

  They had no sooner arrived at the sea-gate than Cameron leapt from the boat, with Julian at his heels. And he had taken only a few steps up the stone passageway before Isobel hurried down to greet him.

  “Cameron!” The woman’s eyes lit with pleasure. “I’ve missed your silver tongue, lad!” And then taking one look at his face, she gasped, “What has happened?”

  Bowing politely over her hand, Cameron replied grimly, “I came the moment I received Ruan’s summons, Isobel. Is he well?”

  Isobel frowned. “Summons? Ruan didna send for ye, lad! What are ye speaking of?”

  Cameron held still.

  And then Julian sauntered to his side and draped a casual arm about his shoulders. “Ach, perhaps I was a wee bit mistaken. But now that we are here, let’s at least greet the man, Cameron!”

  Chapter Sixteen - Dunvegan

  Kate hovered over the small writing desk in her tower room, biting the tip of her quill in frustration.

  She eyed the letter she had been struggling with for several days and cringed.

  Sir Arval would have been right disappointed in her.

  Composing her own letter had proven to be much harder than she had thought. Blotches of ink splattered over the parchment, blotting out half of the words. Ach, she didn’t even recognize half of them herself anymore. The entire letter-writing effort had been a laborious and disappointing affair. She wished she had paid more heed to what the kind Frenchman had attempted to teach her at Craigmillar.

  Sighing, she rose to her feet and opening the wooden chest next to the bed, carefully laid the parchment atop a fine plaid that Bree had given her the evening before. It was a fine garment, a symbol welcoming her into their clan, but she could not bring herself to wear it. Not yet.

  She didn’t want to let Cameron go. Ach, why did the father of her bairn have to be an earl with royal ties? As if sensing her thoughts, the baby kicked. She smiled. Cameron’s bairn was a strong one, constantly kicking her through the night.

  She heaved a wistful sigh.

  If only Cameron truly were a thief, they could have wed and shared a humble home with their sweet bairn. She knew Lady Elsa was right; he could only wed a lady of high birth. But the very thought of that tore Kate’s heart asunder. How could she bear that?

  There were moments when she wondered if the letter was better left unfinished.

  Perhaps she was better off not knowing.

  “Ach, Kate, it does ye no good stewing over matters ye canna control!” she wryly criticized herself, and with a sad smile, placed a protective hand over her expanding belly and left her tower room. Holding onto the rope that spanned the length of the stair, she carefully navigated down to encounter Bree walking her way.

  The Lady of Dunvegan wore a blue, woolen gown with a brown and yellow plaid flung over her shoulders. Balancing her dark-haired son on her hip, she waved as the bairn giggled, and grabbing a fistful of her brown curls, began to yank.

  “Roderick MacLeod! If you have your way, I swear I’ll be balder than your grandfather soon!” Bree frowned at her son, but her voice was rich with laughter. Extracting his chubby fingers from her hair, she sent Kate a look of amused exasperation.

  Smiling, Kate reached forward to pinch the bairn’s cheek playfully.

  Roderick giggled and clapped his hands.

  “And where are you off to, Kate?” Bree lifted a suspicious brow. “I’ll not have you in the scullery scrubbing pots again!”

  “Ach, but I’m not one to stay idle, my lady.” Kate’s eyes twinkled as she caught the bairn’s hands and waved them back and forth. Soon she’d have her own babe to play with. The thought made her throat constrict, and it was a moment before she could continue. “I’m fair restless. I canna sit still.”

  “Then keep Merry company instead!” Bree suggested with a laugh.

  Kate smiled, shaking her head in wonder. “I wish I could, but I fear I canna ride wild stallions on the moor nor shoot an arrow with such skill!”

  “Yes, she’s quite an uncommon—” Bree began when Isobel and Afraig appeared at the end of the passageway.

  With their hands on their hips, the two old women began to bicker, rolling their eyes and huffing.

  Bree’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “It seems as if I’m needed, Kate. Ruan and I figured that today it would be time for another battle. They’ve been unusually friendly to each other the past four days.”

  Kate suppressed a giggle. She’d already heard enough from Isobel to know that although the women engaged in continual spats, their respect for each other ran deep.

  Bree was halfway down the corridor when she shot a warning over her shoulder. “And, I had better not find you in the scullery, Kate!”

  Kate smiled. Both Bree and Ruan were beyond kind. Smoothing her skirts, she headed to the kitchens anyway.

  She was restless. She had to keep her hands busy. The Lady of Dunvegan had only ordered her not to scrub pots. She hadn’t said Kate couldn’t help prepare the mid-day meal.

  Stepping under the arched doors, Kate made her way to the long, wooden table where the cooks bustled over platters destined for the laird’s table in the great hall above.

  They eyed her warily.

  With a cheerful smile but critical eye, she sniffed the waterfowl and inspected the fish and mutton. Leaning close, she pulled off a sliver of the roasted mutton lying in a bed of herbs and tasted it. “Ach, that needs a touch more rosemary, my good man. And the waterfowl is too dry! Ye’ll have to add a sauce and perhaps a pinch of cinnamon.”

  One of the men gave a slight growl and turned away.

  The other lifted a red, bushy brow in amusement. “I do agree with ye, lassie. I told him so myself!” Pushing a dish of almond cakes across the table, he shot her a good-natured grin. “And what of these almond cakes, do they meet with yer approval, ye wee beastie?”

  Kate smiled at him warmly. Selecting the smallest cake, she popped it into her mouth. It tasted wonderfully sweet. Closing her eyes, she breathed. “I’ve just tasted a bit of heaven!”

  At that, both men laughed. Time passed quickly as she watched them work and chattered, and it seemed only a moment later that they stood back, dusting their hands in satisfaction to announce the meal ready.

  Reaching for a platter, Kate volunteered brightly, “I’ll just take the mutton up to the table now!”

  The bushy-browed man caught her wrist, “Ach, no, ye wee beastie, Ruan would be right sore with us! He was fair angry we let ye into the scullery yesterday. Ach, ‘twasn’t as if we could stop ye, and ‘twas only as he knew ye to be right hard-headed that we escaped harsher words!”

  Wrinkling her nose in a smile, Kate brushed him aside and grabbed the mutton anyway. “I’ve no fear of the man! And ye’d best add a wee bit more sauce to the waterfowl afore I return. ‘Tis not fit to serve as it stands!”

  Ignoring their protests, she swept through the arched doors, pausing a moment to look out of the window facing the sea. A warm beam of sunlight fell on her skin, and a soft gust of wind blew through the opening to ruffle her hair.

  A boat had just docked at the sea-gate.

  She watched it for a moment with a twinge of nostalgia, and then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had lost so much. Her wondrously carefree childhood fishing on the lochs. Her mother and sister. Now
, her father as well.

  And Cameron.

  Would she lose him, too?

  Would she even ever see him again?

  As if sensing her distress, her babe moved as though to remind her that she was not alone, and she whispered softly in reply, “Ach, wee one, even if I never see him again, I’ll keep him safe, locked deep in my heart. And I’ll remember enough of him for the both of us.”

  Aye, she could never forget the man. He was forever burned in her soul.

  Choking a little, she murmured, “God keep ye well, Cameron.”

  And then stubbornly raising her chin, she marched with the mutton towards the stairs only to collide with Isobel scurrying down them as quickly as her old bones allowed.

  “What are ye doing, Kate?” her aunt asked with a lovingly fierce frown. “Ruan willna want ye to serve him, lassie! ‘Twill please him less than when he found ye in the scullery yesterday!”

  “I canna be so idle, auntie,” Kate said with a sunny smile. “It does me good to keep moving! I canna simply sit!”

  Her aunt continued to frown, but her eyes were darting through the windows to the boat at the sea-gate. “Give me a moment and then we’ll talk, lassie! I canna have Afraig discovering who our visitors are first!”

  And with that, she rushed down the passageway.

  Kate laughed, shaking her head, and swept up the stairs. She almost felt she belonged in the place. Another month and perhaps it would feel like home. Mayhap tomorrow, she would wear the plaid that Bree had given her.

  At the top of the stair, a sudden draft blew the aroma of the mutton into her face, and a riotous wave assaulted her stomach. She grimaced. Aye, this bairn was proving trying at times. ‘Twas still difficult to eat most days, and some days it was nigh impossible.

  “Ach, ye wee one, you must help your mother now,” she fondly reprimanded her belly.

  Dunvegan’s main hall bustled with activity. Tables lined the length of the room. And standing before the fireplace was the laird’s table with the MacLeod coat of arms hanging above it. Nearby, stood the heavy iron locked chest protecting the castle’s treasure—the famed Fairy Flag of Dunvegan. Kate eyed it curiously, wondering how she might get to see the wondrous thing when several boisterous children began to chase around her, catching her skirts.

  Laughing, she stumbled a little, lifting the platter of mutton over their heads.

  “Be watchful, ye wee hellions!” Ruan shouted, swatting them away with a good-natured chuckle, but upon spying Kate holding the mutton, he quickly scowled and snatched the platter away. “Kate, what are ye doing, lass? Why dinna ye sit and rest a wee spell?”

  “I canna simply sit, my lord,” Kate protested with a smile. Again, a delicate waft of rosemary and mutton rose to attack her nostrils. She gagged.

  “Sit, Kate!” Ruan ordered with a frown, and then one of the lads ran back to whisper excitedly in his ear. The Laird of Dunvegan’s dark brows lifted in surprise. “He’s here? Now?”

  Taking advantage of his distraction, Kate escaped back to the kitchens.

  “Is this to yer liking, my lady?” the bushy-browed cook teased, handing her the platter of waterfowl now swimming in sauce. “And I’ve added the pinch of cinnamon as ye requested, your majesty.”

  “’Twill do, my good man.” Kate laughed. She experienced only a small wave of queasiness as she returned to the bustling hall.

  But this time, the tall, cloaked figure of a stranger blocked her path as he stood speaking to Ruan softly at the high table.

  “Ye look ill and beleaguered, lad!” Ruan frowned, clasping the man’s shoulder in a familiar gesture. His face was flooded with concern. “What happened? Surely, ye’ve nae been wed again?”

  Suddenly and with a vengeance, the wave of nausea returned.

  Desperately covering her mouth with one hand, Kate lunged for the table, intending to place the wobbling platter there as quickly as she could with the other. But it was too heavy and the tart fragrance of the sauce caused the bile to rise in her throat. Dropping the entire thing, she fell to her knees and retched violently.

  She became aware of the man’s fine leather boots only after she had soiled them.

  Horrified, she clamped her hands over her mouth.

  A long-fingered, ringed hand swam into view, and a familiar deep voice offered politely, “Allow me to assist ye…”

  Ach, but she missed Cameron so sorely that she was now hearing his voice!

  Heaving a sigh, she glanced up, preparing to seek forgiveness for ruining the man’s fine leather boots.

  Dark, passionate eyes met hers. The chiseled lips. The dash in the middle of his chin.

  Cameron Malcolm Stewart, Earl of Lennox, Lord of Ballachastell, Inchmurrin, and a score of other holdings towered over her, his hand still outstretched, his dark eyes stunned and his carved lips parted in shock.

  And then Kate’s mind went blank.

  Dimly, she heard Ruan ask, “Ach, what is it, lad?”

  But Cameron’s attention had focused only on her.

  Dropping to his knee by her side, he lifted his hand as if to stroke her cheek but paused halfway, whispering, “Kate? Is … it really ye, Kate?” His voice caught.

  Ach, but he looked fair awful, much thinner and grimmer. Dark stubble graced his chin. She’d never seen him so unkempt and disheveled, yet even still she thought him the handsomest man that she’d ever seen. Slowly, her finger rose of its own accord to trace the dash in the middle of his chin.

  Capturing her hand, he pressed her fingers against his lips and closed his eyes.

  “Do … ye know the lass, then?” Ruan’s astonished voice sounded above them.

  But still Cameron had eyes only for her. Lifting his lashes, he caught Kate’s face between his hands and whispered, “I’ve been searching everywhere, Kate! There’s not a stone in Edinburgh that I haven’t overturned to find ye! I thought … I feared ye were … dead!” His voice broke.

  Tears slid down her cheeks, happy tears. Tears of relief. How could she have ever doubted him? Cupping her hands over his, she slid her lips sideways to kiss his palm, and then finally found her voice. “I’ve been trying to write ye a letter, Cameron, but ‘twas sore difficult! Ach, I’ve only just awakened from a stupor not even a fortnight past! ‘Twas Maura who brought me here to Skye, though I still remember little of it.”

  “Maura?” Cameron’s dark eyes widened.

  “Aye, she rescued me from the Tolbooth.” Kate shuddered. “She sought forgiveness for my poor father’s death, and Sir Arval’s—”

  “But they both still live, my sweeting!” Cameron’s lips curved in a compassionate smile. “Though your father struggles to regain the power of speech still, but I am sure—”

  Kate gasped. “Alive? He’s alive? My father’s alive? And Sir Arval?” Her words came out in a shriek.

  “Aye, my wee Kate!” Cameron laughed.

  Suddenly, Kate thought her heart would burst from sheer joy. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and laughed, and then lunging for Cameron, threw her arms about his neck, fairly knocking him over.

  “What a wondrous day!” she cried in a voice thick with tears. “Ach, this must be a dream! ‘Tis too wondrous to be real!”

  She felt Cameron’s deep laughter rumble through his chest, and then he rose to his feet, taking her along with him.

  Belatedly, she recalled her bulging belly. Blushing furiously, she hung her head and babbled hurriedly, “Ach, Cameron, I understand that ye can never make me an honorable woman, but ‘tis no matter! Our bairn will know only love, and I’ll show the wee one how to ignore the harsh words of others. After all, ‘twill only be words, and words can be ignored easily enough, and simply because the words are uttered, it doesna make them true—”

  But it was clear that he wasn’t listening. He stood still, staring at the prominent, smooth curve in complete shock.

  “Surely…’tis nae…your bairn, Cameron?” Ruan choked, his brows rising to his hairline. “Kate, ye s
aid the father ‘twas an outlaw, a thief!”

  The comment roused Cameron at once and with his chiseled lips curving into a smile, he murmured, “Aye, so ‘twas, Ruan.”

  With his dark eyes locked on Kate’s, Cameron gently caught her wrist and pulled her into the circle of his arms. And as his gaze possessively traced the soft angles of her body, his long fingers dropped, lightly caressing the swell in wonder.

  Suddenly, she was very shy.

  “I never dreamt I’d be taking ye to task over this! Of all men to walk this fair Earth!” Ruan’s deep, puzzled laugh cut in. “But ye should make this right, lad. ‘Tis not—”

  “Ach, there is no need.” Another familiar voice chuckled. “It has been made right in the eyes of all, Ruan.”

  Startled, Kate ducked around Cameron’s shoulder to see Lord Julian Gray lounging against the wall, with his arms folded and his gray eyes dancing with mirth.

  “My lord!” she smiled warmly, stepping away from Cameron to curtsey, but he quickly caught her elbow.

  “There are few ye bow to now, my sweeting,” Cameron murmured in her ear, and then sweeping her back into his embrace, he kissed the top of her head.

  As Kate frowned in confusion, Julian approached and swept into a low bow before saying, “My most beloved Countess of Lennox, ‘tis your favorite onion-eyed varlet come to greet ye!”

  Kate’s brows knit in a mixture of hurt and confusion. Placing a hand protectively over her unborn child, she chided, “Ach, my lord. ‘Tis not a matter for jest—”

  “’Tis no jest.” The corner of Cameron’s lip lifted in amusement. “I wed ye not a week past. ‘Tis signed, sealed, and witnessed. Lady Elsa stood for ye, lass, and spoke your vows.”

  It was Kate’s turn to stare in shock. “Ach, but I fear ye’ve gone mad, Cameron—”

  “’Tis true, my lady,” Julian interrupted with a light-hearted laugh.

  “But…but… I wasna there!” Kate sputtered, bewildered. “And I’m the daughter of a fisherman! How can this be?”

  “There is little in this world that I canna have if I want it,” Cameron rumbled in her ear.