“Men like ye?” Sorcha asked, wishing to make sure she understood.
“I am one of the king’s men,” Iain said, his words sounding carefully chosen to her, as if he did not wish to reveal too much, “but the king dunnae promote me. I already had land and wealth when he was released.”
“Aye,” she agreed, hoping she was not overstepping her boundaries with what she was going to say next, “but kinnae the king take away any man’s land if he wishes it and give it to another?”
Something dark and dangerous entered Iain’s gaze, but it was gone with a blink. “He has the right,” Iain confirmed, his tone one of barely controlled anger, “but he’d need the strength to do so.”
She thought she comprehended it now. The king did not have the fighting strength to go against Iain MacLeod, not that the king had wanted to, but if he did, it would take swaying a great many people to join him. So the MacLeod laird held power others did not, but the king left it alone. But why?
“Ye are verra loyal to the king?” she asked.
“Aye,” Iain agreed immediately. “I lived near David and grew older with him. He is like a brother to me.”
She nodded. “So ye support him, possibly even when ye believe he is nae choosing wisely.”
“Ye’re verra astute, Sorcha. I support the king always, kenning that sometimes it is the best choice to support the king while offering my opinion and counsel, which I pray to God he takes.”
“And what has the king chosen for me?” she blurted, wanting to get it over with. Her stomach was in knots, and sweat trickled down her back.
Iain surprised her by descending the dais and coming to stand in front of her. He studied her for a long moment before speaking. “David wishes to use ye because it is convenient. He dunnae have to go through the hassle of bargaining with yer father, who may well be a lord, because ye dunnae recall who yer father is.”
She nodded, not overly shocked by this news.
Iain’s nostrils flared a bit, hinting at his suppressed anger, but that was the only clue he was unhappy with the king. “He wishes to marry ye to one of the lord’s sons who signed the petition against him because, in doing so, he can use it as an excuse to give ye a dowry since ye dunnae have anyone else to do so.”
She frowned. “How does giving me a dowry help the king?”
“It aids him because he will give back the land he had previously taken from the lord under the guise of yer dowry, if the lord withdraws his support from the rebellion against the king.”
“So he wishes to marry me to this lord? What is his name?” Her throat tightened, thinking of the possibility of being married to some nameless, faceless, older stranger, as opposed to the possibility of having a future with Cameron.
“The lord who signed the resolution is the Earl of Ross.”
Fear sliced through Sorcha, causing her scalp to prickle. She didn’t know why, but something about the name tugged at her memory.
“Ye’re nae to marry the earl, though,” Iain continued, unaware of how his words had affected her. “Ye’re to marry his son. The king cleverly planned to give ye as bride to the son, with Northam Castle as yer dowry. What was the father’s will become the son’s.”
She inhaled a sharp breath, understanding starting to dawn.
“Thereby both father and son will be occupied with their quarrels over the castle,” Iain went on, “and trying to best each other to gain the king’s favor and attain the land.”
She nodded. “What is the son’s name?”
“Hugo,” Cameron said, coming to her side and taking her hand. “Hugo.”
Such strong fright gripped her that she found herself clutching onto Cameron. “What is it?” he asked, concern etched on his forehead.
She searched her memory, her frustration rising that she could not say why the name had struck her so. “I dunnae ken,” she choked out, the words hard to get past her tight throat. Her free hand fluttered to the column of her neck, and her fingers brushed against her skin where her pulse raced. “I—” she faltered, wishing she could put to words exactly why she was fearful, because she sensed in her gut that it held great importance. “I sense I ken the man, and that I dunnae like him. Dread has knotted my belly and tightened my chest.”
Cameron took her hand with his, offering silent strength, which she appreciated. “Perchance ye met Hugo the time ye were here for the St. John’s Eve celebration. He threw daggers in the same contest ye did. He tried to goad Bridgette into an argument by taunting her.”
“I did nae ken that,” Lachlan said suddenly from the dais. “I should cut off Hugo’s tongue for daring to talk to ye that way,” he added, looking at his wife.
Bridgette gave him an indulgent smile. “It was years ago, Husband. He’d nae dare to speak to me that way now or I’d cut out his tongue myself.”
Lachlan’s response to his wife was to pull her to him and kiss her soundly. Sorcha felt the slightest twinge of jealousy about how settled and sure Lachlan and Bridgette’s life together seemed, but Sorcha reminded herself that they had been through much to get there.
Bridgette looked at Sorcha. “I agree with Cameron that ye likely remember Hugo from the St. John’s Eve festival. He was verra obnoxious, and if I were told I was to marry that man after such a meeting, dread would settle in my belly, too. Of course, I truly ken Hugo, so if ye told me I was to marry him now, I’d disappear.”
At first, relief had Sorcha nodding her head vigorously in agreement with Bridgette—she’d likely met Hugo at the festival—but as Bridgette continued to talk about what she would do if she were told to marry Hugo, Sorcha’s relief fled. There may be no choice but to marry this man she feared but did not remember. She stole a glance at Cameron’s profile. Tension was evident in the clench of his jaw and his narrowed eyes.
Iain cleared his throat pointedly at Bridgette, whose words trailed off as her cheeks promptly turned red. When all was silent, Iain said, “I wish to hear what ye desire, Sorcha, and I will do my best to honor it.”
Cameron’s fingers curled tighter around hers, but when she glanced at him, thinking it was purposeful, he seemed completely absorbed with scowling at his eldest brother, who glared back. She loved that Cameron was so close with his brothers, and that they seemed to be able to express themselves without too much animosity. She had a sudden yearning to be part of this close family where the wives spoke their minds and challenged their husbands, and the husbands not only accepted it but seemed to take a measure of pride in the fact that their wives were so bold.
Cameron did not seem much different from his brothers in that regard. She had seen smiles tug at his lips when she responded boldly to him, and he had listened to her thoughts on things with real attention. Suddenly realizing that taut silence had descended upon the great hall and that everyone was staring at her, she cleared her throat. “I dunnae wish to marry Hugo, but I will willingly submit to the king’s wishes before causing strife for Cameron or any of ye.”
“Let us hope it will nae come to that,” Iain said.
Cameron tugged her close so that the length of her body was pressed against the length of his. “I welcome strife,” he growled, “if it means I’m keeping ye safe.”
His words brought her comfort but also fear. She did not want Cameron to put himself in harm’s way to protect her, and she worried that despite what he had said, he would be putting himself and his family in grave danger. What if he lived to regret it?
Her thoughts were brought abruptly back to the moment as Iain strode to door of the great hall, opened it, and accompanied a tall man with a long scar down his right cheek and eyes so blue they almost did not seem real, into the room. He had black hair shorn close to his head and dark stubble covering his chin and lower cheeks. “Sorcha, this is Grant Macaulay, a trusted and loyal friend.”
Grant flashed a smile at her and winked, before saying in a low, silken voice, “Cameron and I have a long-standing competition when it comes to wooing away whatever pretty las
s the other is currently interested in.”
“Grant!” Bridgette and Marion said as one.
“Our competition is over,” Cameron said, his tone harsh. “And if ye so much as look at Sorcha in a covetous way, I’ll be forced to teach ye a brutal lesson.”
Sorcha rather liked that Cameron was protective of her, and she was not overly concerned that he would actually execute that threat, given he ended his sentence with a smile, even if it did look a bit more like a wolf baring its teeth than a man offering a show of pleasantry.
Grant chuckled as he shook his head. “It seems I will be the last man standing, which suits me fine.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but Cameron seemed to as he nodded. “Likely ye will,” he said, “and I’ve nary a doubt ye’ll fare well in the position.”
Grunts of agreement came from all the men, and then Iain spoke. “Relay the plan that ye told us of earlier, Cameron.”
Sorcha looked to Cameron. She was not surprised he had devised a scheme, since he had told her to trust him. Though worry knotted her stomach, she had vowed to trust him, and that was exactly what she intended to do, unless his plan was too great of a risk for him.
“’Tis quite simple. I intend to seize March’s castle and inhabit it to give the king bargaining power with March. Once I am in the castle, I’ll send a special messenger to the king telling him what I’ve done, and then he may meet with March and negotiate with him. It will appear that the king has either compelled or ordered me to return the castle to March, but the king will only do so if March agrees to withdraw his name and support from the petition. In return, I will ask the king to consider my request that Sorcha nae be forced to marry Hugo.”
“Why do ye care if this woman is forced to marry Hugo?” Lena spat.
Sorcha could not help but glance at Cameron. What would he say? He desired her with the same ravenous hunger with which she desired him, and she knew well he felt the same pull to her that she did to him. Still, they had not spent enough time together for anything deeper to form, even though she could not imagine a future without him in it.
His jaw twitched with suppressed irritation, but he offered his sister a sympathetic smile, as if he somehow understood and forgave her anger. Sorcha knew Lena had endured a terrible past, and perchance everyone gave her greater leeway for her behavior because of it. Cameron squeezed Sorcha’s hand and then said, “Because she is important to me. Just as ye are, Sister.”
Lena’s scowl deepened. “Ye ken what Eolande said. This woman will bring ye trouble.”
“Lena,” Cameron said. His voice was seemingly calm, but Sorcha heard the tension that vibrated in it. “I dunnae need ye to tell me what the seer said. I’m old enough to keep my own counsel, and ye should stop eavesdropping and listening to conversations ye have nae been invited into.”
“Ye’ll forgive me for caring about ye and wishing to keep ye safe! I was denied the opportunity to do so when we were younger, and I see clearly that none of ye need me now,” she growled and stormed from the great hall.
The door slammed and silence fell, broken after a moment when Marion said, “I’ll go talk to her.”
Cameron nodded. “Make sure she understands,” he said, his voice low and full of emotion, “that I’d nae ever forsake her.”
Marion patted Cameron on the arm. “She knows this, Cameron, deep within.”
As Marion departed, Sorcha glanced toward the dais to Bridgette, but instead, Alex MacLean’s face caught her attention. Pain twisted it, and something else… Longing perchance? Sorcha was unsure, and when Alex’s eyes fell on her and he realized she’d been watching him, whatever emotion had been there disappeared, as if extinguished by an iron will.
Iain cleared his throat, then spoke. “Once ye seize the castle, I advise ye go straight to Ross’s home. Leave men to defend the castle and send a messenger to me, as well as to the king. Include in yer message to the king that ye desire for Sorcha nae to marry Hugo. That way, if the king dunnae agree, ye will be far away. That will give ye more time to come up with a new solution, yet ye will still appear as if ye’re obeying.”
“And when he gets to the Earl of Ross’s?” Lachlan asked. “What if the king denies the request? Cameron would be at Ross’s, and the king will expect the lass to be offered in marriage in exchange for Ross yielding to his wishes.”
“I will find another way to compel the Earl of Ross,” Cameron said, his tone unfalteringly confident.
“And if ye dunnae?” Lachlan persisted.
“I will do what I must,” Cameron replied, giving his brother a dark, warning look. Worry spiraled through her at what he had left unsaid. She feared he’d not expanded because he did not want her to hear.
“The question is,” Cameron said, “can I rely upon yer support, Alex and Grant? I need warriors but also yer silence. If it is asking too much, there will nae be anger on my part.”
“Ye have my unwavering support, my friend,” Alex replied immediately. “Ye ken I stand with the MacLeods as if we were brothers.”
“As do I,” Grant replied. “But what of yer original message to me? What of finding Katherine’s killers in the midst of all this?”
“I’ve till the leaves turn to find who was responsible,” Cameron replied, matter-of-fact. “After that, I forfeit my life to the king.”
“Nay,” Lachlan and Iain said together.
“If ye have nae located who was responsible,” Lachlan said, “ye will flee.”
“Nay, I—”
“Will flee,” Iain interrupted Cameron’s attempt to object, which made Sorcha exhale with relief. “That is an order as yer laird and a plea as yer brother.”
Cameron opened his mouth as if to argue more but then snapped it shut. But Sorcha knew with absolute certainty that he’d never flee. He would not put his family in danger like that. She was both proud and fearful at once. Moreover, she was determined to help him. She had to get back her memory somehow. If she could recall the details of the night Katherine was killed, she was sure that she could help Cameron find the woman’s murderers.
Fifteen
Two days later, Cameron, Sorcha, Broch, Grant, Alex, and Lena set out with fifty MacLeod warriors for Brigid Castle. Cameron had been reluctant to bring Lena along, but he relented to Marion’s advice since Lena had skill in the healing arts and desperately wished to feel needed—and because his guilt at making Lena feel she was being forsaken was plaguing him. Cameron pushed the guilt aside and focused on what was to come, desperately hoping that Graham would offer men to support the attack on the Earl of March’s home.
The journey to Brigid would usually only be one day, but now that they were accompanied by Sorcha and Lena, he did not want to tire them, so they would do it in two days. He was also well aware that stopping halfway gave him time to be alone with Sorcha. That would be harder to find at his brother’s home. They would be at Graham’s for several days, as they would be waiting on Alex’s men to meet with them, but there would be no solitude to be found at Brigid, though the castle was large.
With all of this in his thoughts, he located a suitable place to stop that had lush, soft grass to sleep on and many trees to hide them, along with a rushing stream that ran along a winding path. He called for his men to halt.
He helped Sorcha down from her horse, soaking in the chance to touch her. Every time his skin met hers, his body set to flame. He’d spent much of the early part of the journey replaying the intimate night they had spent together, so that now, with his hands curled around her waist, all he could think of was sliding them lower to the soft, silky skin he knew to be between her thighs. Of course, he could not, surrounded as they were by his men and his sister, which is why when she said, “I’m going to attend to my needs,” he allowed her to disappear before barking orders to his men to set up camp. He hurried into the woods after her.
He spotted her before she was aware of him. She stood in the center of a circle of trees with the last rays of the day’s sunli
ght shimmering down on her. Her head was tilted back, her hair grazing the top of her perfectly rounded bottom, and her eyes closed. Her lips parted slightly as she inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled with obvious enjoyment. It was the most innocent yet erotically alluring thing he had ever seen. She was the picture of beauty, made perfect by her ability to enjoy such a simple thing as warmth upon her face. He’d known many women intimately, but he had never taken the time to know a woman truly. All he wanted now was time to learn the woman before him.
“Sorcha,” he said, wincing at the catch in his voice caused by a swell of emotion only she could cause.
She whipped her gaze to his, and a flirty smile twisted her lips. “Couldn’t resist following me, I see,” she teased.
“Someone needs to guard ye,” he said smoothly.
She snorted at that. “The only person I need guarding from is ye,” she replied with a laugh.
“The enemy could be about,” he reminded her gently, though he had taken great pains to ensure no one was following them.
Her eyes widened a bit. “Do ye truly believe so?” she asked, glancing around the woods.
“Likely nae,” he replied, closing the distance between them. He slipped his arm around her waist. “But I will nae risk yer life.” He yanked her against his chest, and her soft body crashed into his, her breath whooshing out and her eyes widening. She slid her hand to the base of his neck and twined her fingers in his hair. “Do ye ken what I want more than anything in this moment, Cameron MacLeod?” she asked in a throaty voice.
His body hardened at her tempting question. “I’ve a thousand wicked replies, and I pray each one of them is on yer mind, lass, but I invite ye to show me, instead of my guessing. Of course, if ye wish me to guess by actions…” He allowed his words to trail off as he brushed his mouth teasingly over her plump lips.
She smacked him playfully on the arm. “Dunnae ye fear ye will give in to my wish for ye to claim my body if ye touch me as ye did last night?” she asked, seeming so innocent now.
How a Scot Surrenders to a Lady Page 24
