How a Scot Surrenders to a Lady

by Julie Johnstone

  Cameron felt horrible treating Serene as he had—as he must—but it would be better for both of them if he behaved that way. There had to be a wall between them. He had to be cold and measured, getting only as close to her as he needed to glean as much information as she could remember. He’d not intended to take her with him as he searched for the attackers, but there’d be no choice now that the king had commanded it. The relief he had felt when David had given the order worried Cameron. How easy it would be to allow desire for her to overcome good choices.

  His brothers would never do such a thing. When Marion had been stolen by English swine, Iain had not rushed off to rescue her, overcome by emotions for the woman he loved. His brother had methodically planned out the attack, gathered his forces, and then went to reclaim his wife and conquer his enemies. Cameron wanted to be that logical, that controlled. His father had often accused him of lacking the required control needed to be a legendary MacLeod warrior, and his father had been right.

  Cameron clenched his jaw as he led Serene to the solar in silence, the memories clamoring in his head. He’d been an impetuous child, often doing things without thinking, which had often resulted in injuries to himself and sometimes others. He could still recall climbing a tree he’d been told not to climb and Lena coming up after him. She had fallen from the tree and broken her arm. Luckily, she had healed and retained the use of her arm, but that did not change that the accident had been his fault. His father had never for a moment let him forget it, just as he hadn’t let him forget the countless other thoughtless things he’d done. Cameron had tried to think before doing something, but he had always forgotten. It wasn’t until he had reached thirteen summers that he could recall stopping to ask himself if he should do something just because he wanted to. It was too late to change how his father saw him; no matter how he’d tried, it had not changed. But it was not too late to prove himself to his brothers, to be a true protector of Lena as a brother should, and to prove his worth to his clan.

  He entered the empty solar and led Serene to the window seat. He deposited the food and wine on a nearby table. He imagined she’d want to talk first. He’d known it would likely be empty in here, and it was the best place to ensure no one overheard them. It occurred to him then, as he stood there, that some people might whisper it was untoward for them to be alone in here. No one had seen them come in so he felt it was fairly safe.

  Sunshine streamed through the windows, bathing Serene in its golden rays. It glistened over her, making her hair and skin shimmer. Desire strummed through him, and he struggled to keep control of it. If there had been any doubt in his mind that this woman posed a danger to him, there was none anymore.

  His mind still whirled with the astonishment of what he had done. Lying to the king was a crime punishable by death. Given that his life was already in danger, his actions appalled him not only for the dishonor but the idiocy. Yet no matter how hard he thought back to the moment, he could not see that there had been any choice. There had been real fear in him when the king had threatened to be rid of her. Not for himself, nor that he’d no longer have her to learn anything she may remember. The stark, all-consuming fear had been for her safety.

  He thought back to the sequence of events that had led up to this moment, examining his memories once more for places he could have made a better choice. He’d recognized his desire for her immediately when she had entered the great hall with Marion. That’s why he had not spoken to her and left her at the table at the far end of the great hall, away from him.

  But distance had not stopped his gaze from finding her. The moment anger and then misery had swept across her face, it had been as if a spirit possessed him. He’d risen, heard Lachlan demanding to know what he was doing, and seen the king and Iain give him questioning looks, but he’d ignored them all to go to her aid. He’d sensed in his bones that the argument had to do with her. And when Cormac had made the crude reference to the king’s intention to give her to an ally, Cameron had known well the man had meant what she would be giving, willing or not, was her body.

  The king also had made the threat to rid himself of Serene, and something inside Cameron had come unhinged. Reason had fled him. There was no other explaining it. Rage had consumed his thoughts for Cormac’s words, true or not, as well as a strong desire to deny that another man would ever touch her. What was the matter with him?

  He stole a glance at her, and she gazed back steadily with those passionate gray eyes. He wanted to lose himself in her eyes, her arms, her body. The thought made him groan, and he gripped his head, battling to gain the control he needed to have. He had to guard himself from her, as well as guard her from others, yet he was keenly aware he was failing miserably on both counts. The effect she had on him was as unstoppable as the gales of a fierce storm, yet he had to stop it.

  “Cameron?” she asked, her voice a tentative whisper.

  “Aye?” He couldn’t look at her yet. If he did, he feared he’d seal his mouth over hers.

  Her hand settled on his arm, her warm, silken touch like lightning through his veins. “Why did ye lie to the king and to yer clan?”

  He slid his teeth back and forth, listening to the grinding in his ears and feeling the scrape between them. A war raged within him—the need to speak the truth versus the need to lie. His honor had to bow down now to save it and his clan from what he might be led to do in the future. He swallowed the metallic taste down. “I could nae allow the king to rid himself and us of ye before I glean all the information ye have to give me.”

  Her sharp intake of breath gutted him. He had to curl his hands into fists and conjure all his restraint to keep from telling her the truth. He had simply not been able to stand the thought of her being killed or sold off to a cruel man at the king’s whim. He could not allow her to be hurt. But eventually, he would have to stand by and allow her to depart. He was acutely aware of that fact dangling sometime in the future.

  “I’m sorry I dunnae remember any more yet,” she offered tentatively, like a peace offering one was unsure would be accepted. “Hopefully, I will soon, and then ye can rid yerself of me.”

  He shouldn’t look at her. He shouldn’t. Yet he rose, turned, and when he saw her eyes shining bright with unshed tears, his will unraveled as if someone had yanked a loose string on a blanket and destroyed it in the blink of an eye. He scrambled to gather the remains of his control, but she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. A sharp ache to snag her lip and suck it into his own mouth gripped him. He cursed inwardly as he battled the rising tide of his desire for her. She dashed a hand at a tear that fell down her cheek, while quickly turning her face to hide her actions. But she was not fast enough.

  He’d seen the misery he was causing her with his callous words and cold treatment. His insides twisted like an ancient vine twined upon itself. He wanted to undo it. His body trembled as he raised his hand, gripped her chin softly, and turned her face toward him. Her eyes rounded as he sealed his mouth over hers, and then something primal took over. The need to possess her blazed through him like a wild fire. He slid his hands into her silky hair, capturing her moan with his mouth, and demanding with his tongue that she open for him. And when she did, oh God, it was heaven. She tasted like honey stolen from a beehive that sat in the heat of the summer sun. He wanted to plunder all that she had to give.

  He swirled his tongue around hers, and when hers hesitantly touched his, he encouraged her to boldness with his growls. She gave a sweet, low moan, and her hands swept up his back, over his arms, and down his chest, finally resting on his thighs, where her fingers kneaded his burning flesh. She had the power to destroy him if he was not careful, and in this moment, he was but a foolish lamb racing to the slaughter. He moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness. She matched his hunger, sliding her tongue over the crease of his lips and then circling her tongue around his enticingly. Her response would have brought him to his knees had he been standing. She writhed in his arms, her nails digging into h
is thighs, causing biting, pleasurable pain. With a thundering heart, he tore his mouth from hers, trying to gather the will to stop, but her eyes gleamed, and he knew then that her desire equaled his.

  A groan of submission escaped his lips. He kissed the pulsing hollow between her collarbones, then her neck, and finally low on her chest where the too-tight gown exposed her breasts. She pressed her mouth to his chest and his throat, and traced her soft lips along the edge of his jaw. Desire so acute took him that he feared he would not stop until it was too late for both of them. He wrenched away, jerked to his feet, and stormed to the other side of the room to a window overlooking the loch. His blood pumped viciously through his veins as he lifted his hands to the wall and pressed his palms against the cool surface, struggling to calm what raged within.

  The loch shimmered in the distance. He knew his men would now be on the shore, waiting on him to train them and lead them, and here he was doing what he had vowed he would not do. He cursed and turned to face her. She looked as disheveled as he felt with her mussed hair, swollen mouth, flushed cheeks, and bright eyes. Confusion swam in their depths, and her lips had tugged into a small frown. He wanted to go to her once more, and this time kiss her with tenderness. He hardened himself slowly from the inside out until it felt as if ice had replaced the blood in his veins. If he could not rely upon his will alone, he needed hers, as well.

  “I will hurt ye if ye let me, Serene,” he growled, striding toward the door. “I need ye to remember that for both our sakes. I have to leave.” He didn’t want to hurt her more by telling her that he needed space from her. “I’ll send someone to fetch ye.”

  With those parting words, the door slammed behind him, separating him from her physically. But she was in his head now, and he was unsure how to get her out.

  Eight

  Her name was not Serene. The knowledge swept over her and made her gasp.

  Sorcha! Her name was Sorcha!

  She stood, full of excitement to tell Cameron, but she paused halfway to the door out of which he had just stormed and much of her joy drained away. Confusion buffeted her mind as she raised a trembling hand to her swollen lips. She could still feel his kiss, still taste him. He tasted of wine, intoxicating and warming. She pressed her fingers to her ravaged lips, and her belly clenched with the memory of how he had lit her body on fire. She was positive she had never felt such desire in her life. What Cameron had just made her feel was seared into her memory as well as her lips.

  She was sure she’d never been kissed before because it felt strange but wonderful. All her fear and confusion had disappeared while he had held her in his passionate embrace, but it all rushed back now. What did he mean that he would hurt her if she let him? Was he saying he was not good or just not good for her? Or perchance it was because he knew all he wanted from her was to join with her?

  For a moment, she debated running after him, but he’d looked irritated enough that she feared what might happen if she did. Not to mention that her thoughts and heart raced, and she needed time to calm down. She walked back to the window seat and sat. What had just happened? No, the better question was, what was happening between them? Something was, but she didn’t understand what. One minute the man was warm and kind, and the next he was cold and distant. Then he’d looked at her after she’d apologized, and his eyes had smoldered with desire.

  The thought had her wrapping her arms around her midriff. Her body had responded eagerly to his touch, almost wantonly. Yet, she truly did not think she was a woman of questionable morals. Maybe she had simply not yet met a man who she would abandon her morals for until Cameron.

  She ground her teeth, and when her stomach growled, she stomped over to the table and snatched up a hunk of cheese and bread. She took a bite and tried to calm her chaotic thoughts, but her heart still beat too fast from Cameron’s touch. She bent down and picked up the wine carafe, lifted it to her lips, and took a large gulp. She winced at its strength, nearly spitting it out. A cough racked her body once she swallowed the liquid, and when she was done, her belly felt pleasantly warm. The wine seemed to be working to ease her tension. She took another sip, but this time she exercised care with how fast and how much she drank.

  The second drink made her feel even better than the first. Taking the wine, bread, and cheese, she made her way back to the window seat and sat for a long while, drinking and thinking about what had occurred with Cameron. She went to take another sip from the carafe and was startled to find it empty. Hiccupping, she plunked it onto the ground. She had sat and waited long enough for Cameron to send someone to fetch her. She’d make her own way back to her bedchamber.

  She strode to the door, threw it open, and blinked in surprise when she saw Broch. He consumed all the space of the doorway.

  “My lady,” he said with a gentle smile. “Cameron instructed me to see ye to Lady Marion in the healing room. She wants to look at yer head.”

  Sorcha ran her fingers over the bandage that was still wrapped around her head. She’d forgotten it was there. She nodded at Broch, then gratefully took the elbow he extended to her. The room seemed to be spinning a bit, though, and when he started to lead her out of the solar, she realized just how wobbly she was and had to clutch onto him so she wouldn’t sway.

  He frowned at her and paused at the stairs. “Is something the matter, Lady Serene?”

  “My name is Sorcha,” she replied, immediately correcting him.

  “My apologies,” he said. “Cameron referred to ye as Serene still.”

  “That’s because he dunnae ken that I recalled my true name. I only did so after he’d left the solar.”

  Raced away from her was more like it, but this man didn’t need to know that.

  “Ah,” Broch replied. “I’ll tell him immediately. We’ve been instructed to relay any information ye recall to him the moment ye recall it.”

  “I’m certain ye have,” she replied, feeling sour at the reminder that the only reason Cameron had lied to the king about her was so he could glean what she might remember.

  “Are ye feeling unwell, Lady Sorcha?”

  Broch looked at her with genuine concern. Couple that with the fact that he’d not agreed with everyone earlier in the great hall when they said she wasn’t to be trusted, and she decided that she liked him. She took a deep breath and said, “I believe I’ve drunk too much wine.” With that, she promptly hiccupped once again, and they both burst out laughing.

  Once the laughter died, he tightened his grip on her arm. “If ye need to lean into me more as we walk, ye may.”

  “That’s verra kind of ye,” she said, doing just that as he started them down the stairs.

  She debated for a moment asking him to explain what the man in the great hall had said about her. The worst Broch could do was refuse to tell her, but maybe he would reveal something she needed to hear, and then she would know for certain what awaited her in the future. She had a niggling suspicion what the king likely intended, but she prayed she was wrong. Her stomach knotted as she wet her lips and gathered her courage. “Do ye ken what the man in the great hall meant when he said the king had plans for me?”

  A disgusted look swept across Broch’s face. “I ken what he meant, but if Cameron has nae told ye, I dunnae believe that he will wish me to do so.”

  She scowled at that. “Dunnae I have a right to ken my own future?” she demanded, her words coming out in sharp breaths.

  His blue eyes widened. “Ye do. I kinnae argue that. However, ’tis doubtful ye’ll find the kenning pleasant. Are ye ready for that?” he asked as he led her out a door and into the courtyard. The day was gray and misty, which seemed rather appropriate for their conversation.

  She nodded. “I’d rather ken my future and be ready than nae ken a thing.”

  “Spoken like a lass with a braw heart,” he replied. He shifted from foot to foot and sighed. “I kinnae deny ye the right to ken what the king intends, so I’ll tell ye.”

  She understood that the man
may well be putting himself at risk for being punished by telling her. Despite how much she wanted to know, she could not ask this man to do something that would cause him harm. She set a hand to his arm to still his progress across the courtyard. He stopped immediately and turned to her.

  “Dunnae tell me,” she said. “I could nae abide it if harm came to ye for my sake.”

  Both his eyebrows arched high, and he surprised her by taking the hand that was tucked into his arm, raising her fingertips to his lips, and kissing them.

  “Why did ye do that?” she asked, feeling only confusion and not the rush of desire she had when Cameron had touched her.

  “Because ye are beautiful, compelling, and kind,” he said with a sly smile.

  Irritation flared in her chest. Was he trying to lure her to him?

  “Perchance I did nae wish ye to do that. Did ye nae consider asking first?” she demanded.

  He grinned. “Nay. I’ve nae ever met a lass who complains when I kiss or touch her.”

  Sorcha gaped at Broch for a moment. “Are all MacLeod men this arrogant?”

  Broch cocked his head and scratched at his beard for a moment. “Only those of us who ken we are great warriors and nae too terrible to look upon.” He winked at her, and she could not help but laugh, to which he responded by kissing her hand again.

  This time, she jerked her hand away and gave him a stern look. “Dunnae kiss my hand again!” she insisted.

  He frowned, looking so truly perplexed that she almost laughed again, but she held it in, not wishing to give him any reason to try to kiss her once more.

  “Am I nae pleasing to look upon to ye?” he asked.