by Katy Baker
He blew out a breath. “Aye, ye are right. I...I shouldnae—”
“Let’s just get out of here before they recover and come after us.”
They mounted Firefly and left the settlement at a gallop. Beth sat rigid, trying to keep as much distance between herself and Cam as possible. Neither spoke. The silence grew like a wall between them and Beth had no desire to breach it.
They reached a crossroads and Cam took the smallest of the three trails. It looked little used and snaked towards the mountains like a faint ribbon winding through the hilly landscape. Eventually the sun began to fall towards the horizon and still Camdan showed no signs of stopping. Beth though, was tired and her muscles were starting to ache. The long ride and the silence between them was sapping her morale. She wanted nothing more than to curl up by a fire and fall into oblivion.
“We need to find a place to camp,” she said. “Before it gets dark.”
Up ahead, she spotted a spiky silhouette that stood out against the skyline. As they got closer it resolved itself into a ring of standing stones, tall basalt blocks half-covered in moss and weathered by time that reared out of the earth like jagged teeth.
Seeing it, Cam hissed and jerked Firefly to a halt.
The stones were tall and wide enough that any fire built by their base would be sheltered from the wind. It would make a good place to camp.
“We should stay here,” Beth said. “It’s about as good a place as I’ve seen to camp for the night.”
Cam didn’t reply. Beth looked over her shoulder and found him staring at the ring of stones with a look of fear on his face. Beth started, taken aback.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“We canna stay here,” he whispered. “We have to get away. Now.”
He nudged Firefly into a canter, giving the stones a wide berth. His expression was wary and even when they’d passed the circle, he kept looking back over his shoulder until it disappeared in the distance. Beth was puzzled by his reaction but decided not to push it.
Eventually the trail skirted around the edge of a wood. Trees grew close to the trail but didn’t encroach, giving a good view of the darkening landscape to the south. The mountains seemed a little nearer and the last rays of the sun illuminated a loch sparkling at their base, looking like an oval mirror reflecting the sky. A few meters from the trail a slight depression formed a kind of grassy bowl that was sheltered from the stiffening breeze.
“We’ll camp here,” Cam announced.
He pulled Firefly to a halt then swung down from the saddle. He held up a hand to help Beth dismount but she ignored it and struggled down on her own on the other side of the horse, away from him. A quick look of anguish passed across his face, quickly stifled. He pulled off the saddlebags and stalked off.
Beth winced inwardly. She didn’t like the thought of causing Camdan pain but after the events in the inn her wariness had come roaring back to the surface. She was painfully aware that she knew next to nothing about him. She found it difficult to reconcile the man who’d come to her rescue in the ravine, the one who’d risked his own life for hers in the clearing, with the cold-blooded, crazed killer that she’d seen at the inn.
She bit her lip and then took off the other saddlebag and carried it into the dell. Cam was crouched in the center, building a fire. In silence Beth knelt and began unpacking. At least Cam had been able to purchase plenty of supplies in the settlement before they’d had to make their quick getaway. In the saddlebag she found two bed rolls, two thick blankets, and the rolled up canvas of a small tent. She shook it out and began erecting it.
Cam glanced her way but didn’t comment. Instead, he fetched water from a nearby stream then put the pan on the fire and pulled some provisions from his pack to begin cooking. Soon the smell of frying bacon filled the dell.
Beth shook out the bedrolls and blankets and put them near the fire to warm then sat down cross-legged on her bedroll, staring into the flames. Cam placed the strips of bacon onto freshly buttered bread and handed her one. She nodded her thanks and began eating.
She didn’t like the silence between them but she couldn’t think of a way to break it. She desperately wanted to talk about the incident this afternoon but Cam’s stony silence warned her not to pursue it. Instead, she chose a safer topic.
“This is good,” she said around a mouthful of food. “Where did you learn to cook?”
He shrugged. “It’s only fried bacon. Any child in Dun Ringill could manage it.”
“Dun Ringill? What’s that?”
His jaw tightened, as though he’d said more than he intended. “Where I grew up.”
“A village?”
He answered reluctantly. “Aye. There is a village that surrounds it but Dun Ringill itself is a castle. The seat of the MacAuley clan.”
A castle? He’d grown up in a castle? She glanced at Firefly where he was cropping grass at the edge of the dell. A horse far too grand for a mercenary. Then she looked at the sword that lay by Cam’s feet. The hilt was carved with a motif of diving hawks, more expensive than any wandering sell-sword had a right to.
“You’re a nobleman aren’t you?”
His nostrils flared and the flash of wariness in his eyes told her she’d guessed right.
“Ye ask too many questions.”
“And you answer too few of them! You ask about my background but tell me nothing of yours. Where are your family?”
He plucked a blade of grass and began shredding it. He fell silent so long that Beth thought he wouldn’t answer.
“My father was Laird David MacAuley,” he said at last. “My elder brother was laird after him for a time.”
“For a time? You mean he isn’t anymore?”
Cam tossed the remnants of the grass into the fire. “Nay. Not anymore.” He climbed to his feet. “Finish yer meal. I’m going to have a look around.”
He grabbed his sword and stalked off into the night. Beth stared after him. He was a laird’s brother. Beth was no expert on Scottish history but she knew that a laird was a lord and a man of some importance. So what was Cam doing out here in the wilds alone? Why was he wandering the Highlands, taking work as a mercenary wherever he could? And why, by Holy God, had he gone berserk in the inn like that?
Stuffing the last bite of her meal into her mouth, Beth scrambled to her feet and followed him. The soft, muddy ground showed Cam’s footprints clearly and it wasn’t hard to follow his trail. Beth moved carefully through the wood. It was not yet full dark so there was enough light to see by but even so, Beth knew this was probably a stupid move. What if she got lost? Hadn’t she learned anything from falling down the ravine? She ought to return to the camp and wait for Cam to come back but she knew she wouldn’t. She wanted answers.
From up ahead she heard the ‘thunk’ of metal on wood and the grunt of physical exertion. Slowly she stalked closer and peered between the branches. Ahead lay a wide clearing that had been created by the fall of a huge oak tree which still lay, half-rotted, across the space. Its bare, dead branches poked into the air like skeletal fingers and the trunk, so wide that Beth was sure it must be at least three times the width of her outstretched arms, took up most of the space.
Camdan was hacking at it.
He’d stripped off his shirt and held his sword. Oblivious to his audience, he whirled and spun and slashed, chopping his blade into the hard wood of the trunk over and over again. Fury rolled off him in waves and even from this distance, Beth could see that look on his face again, that same half-crazed look he’d worn in the inn that afternoon. He moved so fast Beth could hardly keep track of him and a thin sheen of sweat covered his body.
Then Beth’s eyes alighted on the tattoo on Cam’s arm. The inky black design of interlocking coils was black no longer. Instead it blazed red and angry, like a brand that had been newly pressed into Cam’s skin.
Beth’s hands flew to her mouth. Holy shit, the pain of such a brand must be unbearable. The sight of it sent a shiver down h
er spine. She thought suddenly of the ring of standing stones they’d passed and Cam’s reaction to them. He’d seemed uneasy, afraid even. Why had he reacted like that? And why was his tattoo glowing? The design of it was similar to the design she’d seen on the walls of the ruins where she’d entered this time. A coincidence?
She shook her head. Everything about him was a mystery. She sensed that being around Camdan MacAuley was dangerous, and not just because of his volatile nature. Secrets swirled around him like smoke.
Careful to make no noise lest Cam notice her spying, she withdrew and returned to camp. She had a lot to think about.
Chapter 8
The rage burned through Cam’s veins like fire. As he hacked and slashed at the tree stump, his tattoo, the mark of his terrible bargain, blazed with agony just as it had the night it had been branded into his arm. When it was like this, the urge was so strong he could barely hold on to his sanity. It coursed through his veins like molten metal, demanding violence, demanding blood, and it took all of Cam’s strength not to give in, to not become a blood-crazed berserker, killing indiscriminately.
The thought of what would happen if he let it take control was terrifying. Everyone around him would be in danger. Beth would be in danger and that was something he could not tolerate. He would die before he let anyone hurt her. Lord above, he would drive his dagger through his own heart before he let himself hurt her.
The look in her eyes that afternoon had cut him to the bone. Aye, there had been fear but he was used to that. Nay, it had been the look of utter horror on her face that had sent shame flooding through him like warm tears.
Did she think him a monster? The thought of that was unbearable and, gritting his teeth, he redoubled his attack on the tree stump, taking out his rage and frustration on the old wood, letting it work out of his system.
Curse the Fae! And curse himself for ever agreeing to their bargain!
He shivered suddenly as he remembered the stone circle they’d passed earlier. The sight of it had nearly unmanned him. Over the years he’d avoided all such places. He wanted nothing to do with anything Fae—it had been such a place that had stripped him of his former life and consigned him to this half-life existence.
He swung his arm, the impact of his blade against the wood sending painful shock waves right up into his shoulder. He welcomed the pain. After a while he paused, panting. The tree stump had been hacked viciously, its white inner flesh chopped and gouged into a messy pulp. With a grunt he sheathed his sword. It would need sharpening now he’d used it like an ax.
He glanced at his brand. It was beginning to dull now, returning to the inky black tattoo it appeared to be.
Crossing to the stream he took a quick, cold wash then put his shirt back on before heading back to camp. He spied firelight glimmering through the trees and paused on the edge of the dell.
Beth was sitting cross-legged by the fire. The flames cast a healthy glow onto her features and highlighted the golden strands in her otherwise dark hair. The dress he’d procured fitted her perfectly, accentuating her figure in a way that made Cam’s stomach tighten. Lord above, she was captivating. From the crinkle that formed above her nose when she concentrated, to the quick intellect that shone in her deep brown eyes, to the effortless grace of her movements.
Her attention was fixed on something in her lap that Cam couldn’t see and from the frown on her face, it was causing her some vexation. She suddenly climbed to her feet and he saw that she was holding a flat rectangular object that was lit up more brightly than any torch. She stretched out her arm, holding the object high and waving it around. After a moment she peered at it, jabbed it with her finger then uttered a curse any sailor would have been proud of.
As Cam watched, perplexed, she began pacing the clearing, holding up the strange object before pressing it to her ear, peering closely at it, then beginning the whole process again. Camdan had never seen the like. What was the lass doing? And what, by all that’s holy, was that device?
It was slimmer than the slimmest ledger and would have easily fitted into the palm of Camdan’s hand. But it was not a book. What book would glow like that? And was he imagining it or did he see an array of colored icons covering its surface?
“Damn it!” she cried suddenly. “I want to go home! Irene! Just give me a damned cell signal! Is that too much to ask?”
Cam frowned. Secrets. Bethany Carter was surrounded by them.
He stepped into the clearing and she whirled at the sound of his footsteps. She hid the device behind her back and grabbed a stick, holding it up to defend herself.
“Whoa, lass,” he said, holding out his hands. “It’s only me, dinna go whacking me with that thing.”
She breathed out, relaxing slightly. She dropped the stick but didn’t bring her arm out from behind her back. “Jeez. You startled me. Has anyone ever told you you move like a cat?”
“Aye, I’ve heard it said. What is that thing ye are holding?” he asked. “I’ve never seen aught like it.”
She looked a little flustered. “I...um...it’s something from home, that’s all.”
“Aye? Then ye willnae mind me taking a look at it.”
She stepped back and raised her chin defiantly. “Actually, I’d rather you didn’t.”
Annoyance flared in Cam. “Why? Because I might discover something about ye? Because it might tell me who ye really are?”
“I’ve told you who I am!” she snapped. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“Ye’ve given me yer name and someplace I’ve never heard of as yer birthplace. Both of which tell me exactly nothing about who ye are. Ye refuse to answer questions about yer kin. Ye wear jewelry that marks ye out as a noblewoman yet ye clearly know how to set a camp. What am I to make of someone who hides their identity?”
“Me? That’s rich!” she exploded. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming, have you? You told me you were a mercenary then I find out you’re actually the brother of a laird! And the way you reacted to that stone circle was weird in the extreme—like you’ve been there before or something and you have a tattoo that glows for god’s sake! So don’t talk to me about hiding!”
Cam went very still. “Ye saw my tattoo glowing? Ye followed me into the woods?”
Uncertainty flashed across her face. “Yes,” she mumbled. “But is that any worse than you spying on me?”
“Aye, lass,” he breathed, keeping a grip on his anger with an effort. “It is far, far worse. Ye have no idea of what ye could have done.”
“So why don’t you tell me?” she demanded. “Why don’t you tell me what is going on with you?”
His nostrils flared as he struggled to keep his temper. What should I tell ye? he thought. That if ye’d disturbed me whilst in the grip of my rage I might have killed ye? Is that what ye want to hear?
For one terrible, terrifying instant he almost told her everything. Only his brothers knew the truth of his curse and they were both lost to him as surely as if they’d died that night on the beach. How good it would feel for somebody else to know the truth, to stop pretending and let his mask slip, if only for a moment.
But he snapped his mouth shut. He couldn’t tell her. Long years of hiding who he was had become too ingrained for him to break the habit now. Besides, if she knew the truth she would run from him in horror and she would be right to do so.
“There’s naught to tell,” he snapped. “Naught that ye would understand.”
“That’s a poor evasion,” she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him.
“Is that so?” he snapped back. “Easier than diverting attention so ye dinna have to answer my questions? Do ye think I’m stupid, woman? Do ye think I havenae noticed how ye still havenae answered anything I’ve asked ye?”
She glared at him for a moment before stomping off towards the fire where she promptly disappeared inside the tent. Cam stared after her. Lord above, but the lass could be infuriating! Infuriating and intriguing at the same time. What was he to d
o with her?
With a growl of annoyance he made his way to his own sleeping mat and rolled up in his cloak. For a long time he lay there with eyes open, staring into the fire as full dark settled around them. What was he going to do about Bethany Carter?
BETH WOKE SLOWLY THE next morning, rousing gradually from strange dreams of standing stones and roaring waves. She opened bleary eyes and found herself staring up at undyed canvas. She’d slept soundly but didn’t feel refreshed and had a nagging unease in the back of her mind as though she’d been having nightmares she couldn’t quite remember.
Scrubbing at grainy eyes with the heels of her hands, she sat up and yawned. From the light seeping in from the badly tied tent flap, she knew it was after dawn.
She wondered how Cam had fared last night sleeping outside and felt a little twinge of guilt. Their argument had left her unsettled and edgy. She’d been terrified when he saw her with her cell phone and had cursed herself for her stupidity. Why had she taken it out? Did she want him to know she was a time-traveler?
Um, no. Definitely not. Camdan’s unpredictable moods meant there was no way to know how he’d react to that little revelation.
Besides, she thought. I only got the cell out because he freaked me out so much yesterday. That fight at the inn and then him attacking that log. He frightened me. Was it any wonder I needed some connection with home?
Her rationalization did nothing to assuage her guilt. She didn’t like lying to him even though she knew she had no choice.
She pulled in a deep breath, stretched her arms over her head and then slowly moved her head from side to side to work out the stiffness. Moving to the tent flap, she yanked it open and stepped outside. The dawn air was cold enough to send goose bumps riding across her skin and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm. Lazy streamers of mist lay close to the ground and wove around the tree trunks like wispy gauze.
There was no sign of Camdan.
She spun around, searching the clearing. His bedroll was gone and there was no sign of his pack. She felt a twinge of panic. Where the hell was he? Had he abandoned her because of one little argument?
