“Do ye intend to let Hugo actually take Sorcha?” Iain asked.
Cameron’s chest squeezed at the thought, and he barely managed to get out a reply. “Aye,” he said. He paused to clear his throat. “But only briefly. Only long enough for it to look like my desire for her drove me to rebel against the king. Yet David will know what I intend, and he will know I have already taken March’s castle to aid his cause. I’ll also have given him the names of the men responsible for Katherine’s death and delivered Sorcha’s father to him. And I will have done all of this while allowing him to gain the Earl of Ross back as an ally.”
“This is verra dangerous, this game ye must play,” Iain said.
“Aye,” Cameron agreed.
“What next, Brother?” Lachlan asked.
Cameron swallowed, his throat growing dry from so much conversation. “Hugo will be forced to travel back to his castle from the Falls to wed Sorcha, so I will ken exactly where to wait to ambush him and take Sorcha back.”
“And what about that bastard Hugo?” Bridgette spat. “What will ye do with him?”
“Hugo will die in the ambush, thereby giving the king the death of the man who killed Katherine. The Earl of Ross will nae blame the king, either, because he will nae ken that the king knew I was going to kill his son.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, I get ahead of myself. After we take March’s castle, I’ll ride to the Falls with Sorcha to deliver her to the king, as he’s commanded. Once there, I will protest her being given to Hugo, thus forcing the king to demand I leave.”
“Ah, and then ye will have time to hide so you can ambush Hugo,” Isobel said. Cameron smiled grimly, his emotions warring inside him. He was filled with comfort that his entire family was supporting him and offering their aid, yet he did not want to risk any of them, nor risk Sorcha.
“With Hugo dead, I dunnae doubt that the king will want Finn dealt with, as well,” Iain said.
Cameron nodded. “I’m going to request he spare Finn’s life and hand him over to me to punish in the king’s stead.” He inhaled a shuddering breath. “I dunnae ken that he will, however, and it weighs heavy on me. I dunnae want to hurt Sorcha more than she already has been.”
Lachlan clasped Cameron’s shoulder. “Brother, ye kinnae control everything. Yer plot is wise, and ye are doing all that ye can.”
“I agree,” Iain echoed.
“As do I,” Graham added.
Cameron nodded, his throat tight with gratitude for his brothers and their counsel. He prayed that Finn’s life would be spared for Sorcha’s sake, though he was not certain Finn really deserved to be spared. He’d plotted to kill an innocent woman, stood by and allowed it to happen, and had actively tried to murder his own sister. If it were not for Sorcha’s feelings, Cameron would likely kill the man himself.
He clenched his jaw on a fresh wave of anger at Finn. He inhaled a calming breath as he knew everyone was waiting for him to finish explaining. “I have asked Broch to make it seem as if he is betraying me when I protest the king’s marriage of Sorcha and Hugo at the Falls. I will draw my sword, and Broch will stop me. The king will then have a believable reason to order Broch to accompany Hugo and Sorcha to his home. That way, Broch will be there to defend Sorcha for the short time I am not with her. I would nae be able to allow her to ride off with Hugo otherwise.”
“It will also allow the king to appear as if he has upheld his agreement with the Earl of Ross so he does nae join the petition again and will reveal who else is behind the uprising,” Graham added. “Verra clever.”
Cameron merely nodded, suddenly overcome with worry. He would be deceiving Sorcha, and he despised that. And if anything should go wrong… He shook the thought away.
“Ye have my full support,” Iain said.
Lachlan gripped Iain’s and Cameron’s forearms. “And mine. Divided we are weak, but together—”
Graham came closer, clasping their forearms, as well. “We are strong.”
Cameron nodded and swallowed past the thick emotion that was clogging his throat. “Aye. Together we are strong,” he repeated, thanking God that he truly understood that now.
Soon Lena, Marsaili, Bridgette, Marion, and Alex joined them in their huddle.
After they broke apart, Cameron said, “The one question I’ve nae come up with the proper answer to is when I should tell Sorcha that she is my wife.”
He looked to Marion, Bridgette, Marsaili, and Lena for counsel. Marion sucked in her bottom lip, Bridgette cocked her head, Marsaili appeared utterly befuddled, and Lena quirked her mouth.
Finally, Marion released her lip and said, “When all is done.”
“Aye,” Bridgette agreed. “Otherwise, she may do something foolish to try to defend ye.”
He nodded, though the thought of lying to her made his gut ache. “How long do ye believe it will take her to forgive me for lying to her?” he asked the women.
They all grinned, and Marion answered—and by the look shared among the four of them, Marion spoke for them all. “About as long as it took you to forgive her. Love is quite odd that way, Cameron.”
He prayed they were right. “We will leave,” he said, looking to Graham and Alex, “as soon as Broch returns from delivering my plan to the king. I’ll need confirmation from Broch if the king has agreed to this plot.”
“He will agree,” Iain said in a confident tone. “He kens that to name ye an enemy would be to name the MacLeods an enemy, and he will nae do that. Ye have a good plan.”
They all nodded their agreement, and Marion clapped her hands. “Now we must determine the best way to get Sorcha to confess her intent to marry you in front of the priest.”
“That,” Cameron said, “sounds like an excellent idea.”
Everyone was acting so oddly tonight at supper, but then again, Sorcha thought the past several days had been strange. She was not about to voice her concern, however. The longer Cameron chose to linger at his brother’s home instead of heading for the Earl of March’s castle, the more time she had with him. Each moment was precious, and not just because she feared the moments were numbered.
In the past few days, Cameron had spent a great deal of time with her, perfecting her ability to defend herself; showing her how to work with iron, wood, and other metals to make swords, daggers, even a shield; swimming with her; and talking with her about their childhoods. Each night, they danced in the great hall, and afterward took long walks in the moonlight. And at the end of every evening, he’d come to her bedchamber with her, worshipping her body in ways that took them both just to the edge of losing control, but not over, never over. She would fall asleep in the safety of his arms with him singing softly to her. He had one of the most beautiful voices she’d ever heard. She could have been utterly happy, except for her lie. It gnawed at her, and the need to tell Cameron pulsed within her. Yet she could not chance revealing the truth and putting him in a position to choose between her and the king.
Sorcha felt eyes upon her, so she looked up from the trencher she’d been staring down at to find Lena smiling at her. The smile looked suspiciously as if Lena knew a secret. Lena took a long drink from her goblet and set it down, giving Sorcha a hard look. To Sorcha’s left, the young priest she had met earlier accidentally knocked over his goblet of wine.
“I beg yer pardon, my lady,” Father Blackstone said, his cheeks turning red.
Cameron had told her the man was rather new to his brother’s castle and had earned a reputation as somewhat of a clumsy man. Sorcha quickly helped him clean up the mess, and when she was done, Father Blackstone thanked her profusely. He leaned close to her, a twinkle in his light-brown eyes. “My predecessor told me the best way to gain the confidence of yer flock is to show them ye are human. How am I doing?”
Sorcha felt her eyes widen. “Ye mean ye’re doing these things—” she motioned to the table where the wine had been spilled “—on purpose?”
“Aye,” he replied, a look of guilt flashing across his face. “I’ve b
een here since winter and nae a soul has come to confess to me. The last couple that got married even sent word to the old priest and had him journey here to perform the ceremony. It seems my age makes people believe I’m nae ready to lead them.”
He gave her an expectant look, as if she had a reply that would make him feel better. She cleared her throat and said, “I have faith in ye.”
“Do ye?”
She nodded.
He grinned. “Ye may be the only one.” He turned and glanced at Cameron, who sat on the other side of him. Cameron took no note, as he was engaged in conversation with Isobel, but Isobel smiled sweetly at the priest and then gave Sorcha a look. It seemed a strange mixture of happiness and secretiveness, almost like Lena’s had been.
Sorcha frowned, but when the priest patted her on the hand, she focused on him once more. He leaned in again, as if he had something private to say. “Do ye intend to marry Cameron if he asks ye?”
His question shocked her, but she assumed he was asking because he wanted her to say he could perform the ceremony. “I’d like to,” she whispered.
Suddenly, she felt someone hovering over her, and when she glanced up, Cameron stood there, looking down at her, an expression of utter possession gleaming in his eyes. Had he heard what she’d said? Embarrassment had her stuttering for words. “I…I did nae mean—”
“Do ye intend to marry this woman?” Father Blackstone asked Cameron.
“Aye,” Cameron replied. Her heart fluttered in both happiness and wariness.
“Excellent,” the priest replied, suddenly standing and moving from the bench. “When ye are in need of me to perform the official ceremony, I’ll be here.”
As the priest left, Cameron held out his hand to her. She took it, suddenly aware that everyone sitting on the dais was staring at them. She skimmed her gaze over Lena, Alex, Isobel, Graham, and Isobel’s grandmother. What must they think after hearing her say she’d like to marry Cameron? Did they think a marriage would soon occur? Did Lena worry that Sorcha had forgotten the prophecy?
“If ye’ll excuse us,” Cameron said, cutting into the whirling noise of worry in her head.
Once they had quit the great hall and were walking toward her bedchamber, she paused and turned to Cameron. “Please dunnae feel ye must ask me to marry ye this day,” she murmured, her embarrassment so acute that her entire body felt singed. She tensed, prepared for Graham to argue.
“Dunnae fash yerself,” he said, a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, as if he found her embarrassment—the whole situation, really—amusing. “I dunnae feel that way in the least. I ken how ye feel about marrying me. Everything happens when it is time,” he added, his tone almost…what was it? Resigned? Had he resigned himself to the fact that she had thus far refused his marriage proposal? Would he not ask again? But no, he’d said he would. Yet, her stomach turned with sudden worry that he might give up so easily on her. She was being unreasonable. That’s what she was—utterly unreasonable. She could not demand blind devotion when she was not giving it.
Biting her lip so she’d not voice the absurd thoughts in her head, she followed him into her bedchamber, half expecting him to decide not to sleep with her tonight. He closed the door as he ushered her in, and she found herself suddenly agitated and unsure what to say or do. She turned from him, toward the window, and strolled to it, feigning interest in the stars so he’d not see the emotions on her face.
She felt his presence before he touched her. When he moved, the air crackled with his power and intensity. His warm hands came to rest gently on her shoulders, and the heat of his body enveloped her. Unable to resist the pull of her body to his, she pressed her back against what felt like iron but she knew was his body, carved of almost pure muscle.
“I’ve nae ever seen a more beautiful sight,” he whispered, his breath fanning her neck and making her shiver.
“Aye, the sky is lovely tonight,” she replied, staring in wonder at the bright-white stars dotting the dark sky and feeling somewhat calmed by his touch.
“Nae the sky, mo ghraidh,” he said, his voice a balm to her worries.
His love.
She committed to memory how the endearment sounded coming from his lips. Whether they were married in this life or not, she would always know he had loved her and remember this moment.
She turned suddenly in his arms, slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, and pressed her chest to his, her pelvis to the proof of his hard desire for her. “Cameron, I want ye,” she said simply, infusing the four words with a silent, desperate plea. When he didn’t immediately remind her that he’d not join with her until they were married, she pushed forward. “All of ye. I want to ken ye as I nae ever have.” As she might never get the chance to again…
The tenderness that filled his burning gaze as he brushed his hand over her cheek made her stomach clench in hopeful anticipation. The hand that had touched her skin slid to cradle the nape of her neck, and suddenly, he pulled her to him and slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss that began gentle but quickly became demanding. She came to her tiptoes, desperate to meet his need and fulfill her own. Her heart pounded, and her hands shook as she moved them back over his chest to tug at his clothes.
She felt the rough slide of his own hands as his fingers hooked under the shoulders of her gown, and he divested her of it and her léine before she had managed to rid him of his clothing. She gasped when the cool bedchamber air hit her bare skin.
Cameron pulled away, his gaze now filled with unbridled yearning. “Ye’ll nae be cold long,” he assured her, the silken promise in his voice making her belly tighten.
Kicking out of his plaid, he swept her into his arms as his mouth captured hers once again. The greedy kiss sent her senses reeling, so that when the soft bed came under her back she blinked in surprise that he had laid her down and she’d not even realized it. His lips left hers to trace a burning path to her full, aching breast. Without hesitation, he sucked her nipple into his mouth in a long, luxurious pull that forced a ragged moan from her as she arched her back toward him. His tongue flicked deliciously over her hard bud, teasing her and tormenting her.
She dug her nails hard into his back in a silent demand for more. He broke the contact with her breast only to move to the other and give it the same treatment, except this time, he gently swirled his tongue around the bud before taking her breast into his mouth. When he finally suckled her, her insides quivered with sweet need. “Cameron, please,” she begged, not caring at all what she sounded like.
His answer was to swiftly come between her thighs, delve his hands under her bottom, and slide his tongue up the center of what made her a woman. “Cameron!” she sobbed in pleasure and pain. His tongue lavished her with wicked strokes that made her pulse race ever faster and her blood roar. She clenched her hands against the bed, then his shoulders as she thrashed her head back and forth. She was going to die of wanting him. “I kinnae take any more!” she pleaded, and that’s when his tongue touched a spot she’d not known existed.
Pure pleasure spiked through her as he sucked that pulsing spot into his warm mouth, but she needed something more. Her impatience was becoming explosive. His hands came to either side of her thighs, which he spread wider, and when his fingers came to the spot he’d revealed to her and rubbed in a frenzied circle, hot liquid poured through her, and she shattered into a million glowing stars to match the ones in the sky.
Suddenly, he released her, and she opened her eyes to find him above her, strain and wanting warring on his beautiful face. “Now ye’re ready,” he said huskily.
“There’s more?” she teased, though she did wonder how she could possibly take any more. She felt utterly spent.
But in the slide of his hand between her breasts, then around one bud and then the other, her pulse, which had just begun to abate, sped up again, and deep in her core, desire sprang to life once more. “Show me,” she invited, sensing he was waiting for her to give him a sign that she was re
ady. “Show me this more,” she purred.
“I’ll show ye, my bean bhàsail. Over and over again, I’ll show ye until neither of us can speak or move.”
She grinned up at him, the picture of an unrepentant temptress, and his heart squeezed so hard that he had to clench his teeth against the wave of love he felt for her. In moments, their union, which had begun with the priest securing each of their intents to marry the other in the future, would be complete when they joined their bodies. The knowledge made him tremble with gratitude and awe.
He ran his hands over the silken skin of her flat stomach to her round, proud breasts. He trailed a path down her shapely legs and back up over her lush, womanly hips only to move his hands back to her inner thighs, where he spread her a little wider to prepare her for him.
She watched him with the slanted eyes of a cat who was lounging in the sun and appeared the picture of contentment. He parted her at her core and slid his fingers slowly down her center. She was ready for him. “It will hurt—”
She pressed a finger against his lips. “I ken. I’ve seen horses breed, ye ken.”
He chuckled at that. “’Tis nae like horses breeding.”
She smirked at him. “Well, I ken that, but if it hurts for a giant mare when a stallion enters her, then I presumed it would be the same for a man and a woman.”
“I’m nae quite as big as a stallion,” he teased. He pressed his mouth to hers as his fingers found the spot that he knew would make her more than ready.
He watched the need for him grow on her face and through her body as she began to thrash, then buck, and finally claw at him. His own need was a wild storm within him that he kept contained as long as he could, wanting her to experience as much pleasure as possible. When his body prevailed over his will, he touched the tip of his staff to her entrance and shuddered with desire. There was no hope to prevent the moment of pain for her, so he quickly thrust into her and stilled, clenching his teeth against the battering need to move. But she was hot and tight and ready based on her sudden glare and demand that he move now.
How a Scot Surrenders to a Lady Page 30
