Samantha James (27 page)

At length he drew back, clearly in a daze. “I still do not understand. The sisters at Connyridge told me you were dead—that you had taken your own life! Meredith, it has been nearly a year! Where have you been all this time? Why did you not send word?”

“I would not let her.” Cameron stepped forward. “I was the one who led you to believe she was dead. My men and I found a woman dead on the road near the priory—a woman who bore a faint resemblance to Meredith. After I stole her away from Connyridge, my men dressed the woman in Meredith’s robes and threw her over the cliff.”

“But the note she left—”

“Was written at my instruction.” Cameron paused. “Since the night I stole her away from Connyridge those many months ago, your daughter has been with me…at Dunthorpe.”

“Dunthorpe,” Angus echoed. Shaggy brows drew together over his nose. “But that is the MacKay stronghold!”

Cameron raised his chin. “Aye,” was all he said.

For the first time Angus seemed to notice the man at his daughter’s side. “Who the devil are you?” he demanded.

Cameron raised his chin. “I am Cameron, of the Clan MacKay.”

Angus looked as if he might explode. “MacKay,” he repeated through his teeth. “By God, that you should dare to set foot in my home, and with my daughter, yet…Seize this man!” he shouted. “Seize this man and take him—”

“Papa, no, for I tell you now, where he goes, I go as well!” Her eyes ablaze, Meredith stepped close to Cameron’s side.

Angus’s face was like a thundercloud. “Meredith, are you daft? Why do you defend this man…a MacKay, yet?”

“Because he is my husband, Papa. He is my husband and I love him”—her voice rang out clearly—“and we have a son.” Her hand went to the blanket that covered her slumbering child. She pushed it aside to reveal his form. “This is Brodie, Papa. Our son.” The merest smile played over her lips as she added softly, “Your grandson.”

As if he knew he was the subject of discussion, Brodie stirred. The babe yawned, and waved a sleepy
fist high in the air. His eyelashes fluttered just as Angus stepped close.

He beheld eyes as blue as the skies above…as blue as his own.

For the second time in a few short minutes, Angus wept.

Cameron had never been as proud of his wife as he was in that moment when she stood before her father, defiant and determined as she claimed him as her husband before all…

She was so brave, so courageous. She risked her father’s wrath, for him.
For him
.

And she loved him. Sweet Jesus, she loved him!

He was still reeling when they adjourned to the great hall. It was here that Angus first held his grandson. An odd sensation closed Cameron’s throat as he watched the Red Angus with his son—he held Brodie as if he were the greatest of treasures. After Angus gave the order that food was to be prepared, Cameron decided it was safe for Egan as well. It was Angus who rode out with him to find Egan. By the time the three returned, a meal had been laid out. Someone had fetched a cradle, and Brodie now slept there, his mouth open, his little rump curled high in the air.

It was then that Robert, Angus’s brother, strode into the hall. Taller and less stout than Angus, his hair was a shade darker than Meredith’s and her father’s, and not quite so bright. His eyes were different, too, a deep, dark brown.

He strode straight to her chair. Meredith stood while he embraced her. “Meredith! My God, lass, I could scarce believe it when I heard the news. Why, you’ve risen from the dead!”

Meredith gave a shaky laugh. “Not quite, Uncle.”

His sharp gaze took in Cameron, who had also risen. “Ah, and who have we here? Your husband, I take it?”

Cameron inclined his head. “Aye, sir. I am Cameron.”

“Well, well, it appears I am just in time for supper.” He glanced between Cameron and Angus. “A MacKay and a Munro sitting together at table. Why, ’tis surely an occasion not to be missed.”

His lightness was forced, his manner a bit stiff. Meredith decided it best to ignore his discomfort. Her gaze moved to her father. Nearly three years had passed since she’d seen him, she realized. More gray threaded the strands of his fiery red hair and brows, and he was not so heavy as she remembered, yet she had expected him to be in his sickbed, not up and about, and so she commented.

“What! Why would you think such a thing?” Angus was puzzled at her admission.

“We received word that you were dying, Papa. Have you not been ill?”

“Nay! Oh, I admit, when word of your death came to me, I did not leave the grounds for many a day, but I was hardly on my deathbed. And that was months ago.”

Meredith did not miss the way Egan’s eyes met Cameron’s—nor did Angus.

“Do you think you were lured from your home, lad?”

Cameron’s reply was cool. “I do not know, but aye, now that I see you are well, it does make one wonder.”

“That it does, lad, that it does. But come, let us eat. The three of you are no doubt ready for a good
meal after so many days in the saddle. How long a journey is it from Dunthorpe?”

“Nearly five days, sir.” Cameron could not help but be suspicious. Angus had been so angry in the bailey, yet now there was no sign of it. Yet, the old man’s manner toward him was not particularly amiable; rather, it was as if he weighed and measured his new son-in-law.

Indeed, Cameron realized, the Red Angus’s manner was much the same as his own.
My father is not a murderer
. Meredith’s plea tolled through his mind. Well, he would see. Aye, he would see what the Red Angus had to say about the butchery of his father and brothers.

The time came soon enough, once the last dish was served and the platters and trenchers were cleared from the table. Angus raised a grizzled brow. “Now, then. I should like to hear precisely what precipitated your abduction of my daughter from Connyridge.”

Cameron met his challenge with one of his own. “Murder most treacherous, sir,” he said softly. “The murder of my father and my brothers.”

Angus was astounded. “What! And you blame me? Because of the feud between our clans?”

Cameron’s voice was tight. “Nay. Not because of the feud.”

“What, then? I cannot deny, I’d heard the MacKay chieftain and his sons were murdered by brigands and thieves—”

“Nay. Not brigands and thieves, but men who wore the Munro plaid. Men who gave the Munro battle cry…and were commanded by a man with red hair.” Grimly he relayed the details of the attack.

Angus was on his feet in a heartbeat. “Do you accuse me?”

Cameron countered with a question of his own. “Did you order the murder of my family?”

Angus’s denial was a roar. “Nay, I did not! Deceit is not my way. Ask any who knows me!”

“And what if I say I saw you?”

Gray eyes locked with blue in a sizzling battle of wills. All at once the tension in the room reached a fever pitch. Even Brodie began to cry. As she reached for the babe and settled him on her lap, Meredith’s heart froze in her chest. She did not know what terrified her more—her father’s unfamiliar, forbidding countenance or the icy cold mask of her husband’s.

It was Angus who let out his breath slowly. “I do not know who you saw, lad, but it was not me. It may well be that this foul deed was done by my clansmen—but I swear I had no knowledge of it—not until this night.”

“So you deny all knowledge of the murder of my father? Of my brothers?”

“Dear God, aye! This feud has simmered between our clans for many a year—yet not since I was a child have I heard of such bloodshed as you have described. I pray that never again will I hear of it! But first I must know…” His gaze turned to Meredith. “He sought vengeance through you, lass. Did he harm you? Did he hurt you in any way…ever?”

Meredith heard the slight break in her father’s voice. She felt his anxious fear with all that she possessed, just as she felt the way Cameron had gone rigid and stiff beside her.

Her hand came out to cover Cameron’s where it lay on the sturdiness of his thigh. “Nay, Papa. Never has he hurt me. Not ever. For you see”—she smiled, not caring that her love was undisguised—“my husband is a man such as you.”

Angus nodded, his relief audible. “Then know this, lad. I will do all within my power to see that those who murdered your family are found and sentenced.”

Cameron went utterly still. For the very first time, doubt crowded his every pore. Could it be that he had been wrong all this time? Could it be that he had wrongly accused the Red Angus? He did not want to believe it, and yet…

His heart told him otherwise. Meredith had told him the Red Angus was a man of honor…and somehow he was beginning to believe it.

“Wait,” he said suddenly. “We have yet to speak of the feud.”

“What of it, lad?”

Cameron’s heart squeezed.
Lad
. Angus did not seek to needle him. He spoke the word with a natural ease, as casually as his own father once had.

Meredith’s fingers slipped between his own. At the contact, Cameron swallowed. Her hand looked pitifully small there against his palm. The contrast between their skin was riveting. Soft against hard, he noted dimly. Dark against fair.

His gaze was drawn helplessly to her face. She was smiling ever so slightly, her head tipped to the side as she gazed at him, her eyes full of some emotion he dared not name.

He looked into her eyes…Angus’s eyes, he realized. His son’s eyes…

There was a terrible tightness in his chest—it hurt to breathe. Sheer pain ripped through him, for an instant rendering him wholly immobile. For there was an agonizing struggle being waged in the center of his breast…The past against the present, the future. MacKay against Munro…

He moved without conscious volition. He stood,
pulling her up beside him. For all at once he knew what he must do…and why.

It was not easy—indeed it was the hardest thing he’d ever done! Yet he heard himself speak the words he’d never thought to say…

“It must end. Dear God, this feud must end.”

It was over. The feud was over.

Meredith stepped inside her bedchamber a short time later. Her head was still swimming as she laid Brodie in the cradle that stood before the fire. It was still so hard to believe the feud was over…

At Cameron’s insistence.

Her father—bless his soul!—had agreed it was long past time the antagonism ended.

It would not be easy. Both men were aware that their clans would not dismiss their hatred so readily, for their hatred stretched back a very long time—the possibility had kept them at the table for a long time afterward. Yet both Cameron and Angus were in accord on one very important point…

No matter what the provocation, the hostilities must not be renewed.

It was much later when the discussion was at last concluded. They all arose—Meredith, Cameron, Angus, and Robert. Angus cleared his throat.

“I would like a word alone with my daughter.”

Meredith’s gaze swung immediately to Cameron—an uncharacteristic uncertainty flickered across his features. Offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she passed Brodie into his father’s arms.

“I won’t be long,” she murmured for his ears alone. Raising her head, she glanced at her Uncle Robert. “Uncle, would you please show my husband and our son to my chamber?”

Robert stepped forward. “Of course,” he said smoothly.

Cameron said nothing, but moved to follow Robert toward the stairs.

Meredith and her father were left alone.

Without a word Angus opened his arms.

Meredith wasted no time, but stepped within his hearty embrace.

Angus rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Meredith,” he said, and then again: “
Meredith
! My child, you cannot know how I’ve felt these many months without you! ’Twas just like when your mother was taken from me—it was as if a part of my soul had been lost and would never be found. Yet here you are before me…” He broke off, his every emotion reflected in the unsteadiness of his voice.

Tears misted Meredith’s vision. She made a small choked sound and raised her head. “I know, Papa, I know, and I am so sorry! I tried to escape, but Cameron found me, and then…then somehow I was falling in love with him…Papa, I was so torn, between him and you!”

Angus’s body had turned to stone. “I know what you said in his presence, Meredith. But I must hear it again. Did he harm you? Hurt you in any way?”

Meredith shook her head. “Nay, Papa.
Nay
! Why, he defended me before his own clan. Oh, at first I was so very frightened, for he was so fiercely determined! But then I began to see the man beneath the vengeance. Indeed, ’twas the loss of his brothers and father that provoked his vengeance. Papa, in so many
way he reminds me of you. He is unquestionably loyal to his clan, so protective of those he holds dear…and I love him. Papa, I do!”

“Aye,” he said slowly, “I can see that you do.” His expression softened. “You trust in your heart, and I must trust in you.”

Not long thereafter, she kissed him good night and climbed the stairs to her old chamber.

A glowing fire now burned in the hearth; she spied Cameron stretched out in the chair before it. Brodie slumbered in the cradle which had been brought up and placed near his feet.

He glanced up when the door opened. By the time she crossed to him, he was on his feet. He gazed searchingly into her face. “All is well?”

“Aye.”

Shyly she raised her eyes to his. “Cameron, I want to thank you for what you did in the hall—ending the feud. I know what it cost you.”

He shook his head. “There is no need to thank me, Meredith. I did what was right. I could not live with myself were my son—
our
son—to grow up despising his grandfather and all his clan.” His features turned pensive. “Tis odd, really,” he said slowly, “but I feel as if an oppressive weight has been lifted from me.”

And so do I, Meredith echoed silently. Before she could say a word, Brodie began to squirm and fuss. Meredith’s breasts began to sting as they filled with milk. She’d been able to soothe him in the hall, but it had been some hours since he’d eaten and she knew he was impatient. It was Cameron who fetched him, his big hands immeasurably tender as he lifted Brodie from the cradle. He brought the babe to her, laying him in the crook of her arm.

“He needs you,” he said simply.

Meredith settled herself in the chair before the fire. The evening had turned chill, and she watched as Cameron threw a chunk of wood onto the flames. In a few minutes she switched Brodie to the other breast. Thus far he’d given no indication that he intended to leave—that he wished to sleep elsewhere, as he had for so long now. He stood near the hearth, his hands linked behind him. Staring at the taut, spare lines of his shoulders, her yearning for him ripened.

All she wanted was to feel his arms snug and warm about her back, the drumbeat of his heart strong and steady beneath her ear. She craved his nearness with a force that made her tremble inside. Yet she was afraid to hope he might stay—just as afraid not to.

She’d managed to hold the thought in abeyance until now—now she could no longer avoid it. As overjoyed as she’d been to see her father, the thought of spending the night alone here—here in the chamber where she’d once been snatched from the bed—made her stomach cramp with fear. A trickle of apprehension snaked down her spine. It was all she could do to stop her gaze from skipping to the door again and again.

Soon Brodie slept. Meredith laid him in the cradle, then drew a deep, uneven breath.

Somehow she managed to disguise her true feelings. “Would you like me to see if another chamber can be found?”

“There is no need. I will sleep here this night.” Looking deeply into her eyes, he raised a brow questioningly. “Remember what you told your father? That where I go, you go?”

She locked her hands together to stop them from trembling. “Aye.”

“So you said—and so say I.” He was utterly grave. “I would not sleep elsewhere, even if I wanted to.”

“If you wanted to!” A faint bitterness bled through to her voice. “Why should you want to, when you have slept elsewhere these many weeks?”

There was a small silence. His gaze seemed to delve deep into hers. “’Tis not what you think,” he said finally.

All at once she was perilously near tears. If he remained, she told herself, it was solely for her father’s benefit—so Angus would not know that anything was amiss with their marriage.

She turned away, for she could no longer endure his piercing scrutiny. An elusive hurt stabbed at her, but she was determined not to let him see it.

“Must you make this more difficult? There is no need for you to remain with me. I—I know you find me distasteful.”

Cameron stared. “Distasteful! Meredith, nay. Nay, I say!”

“You do! Since Brodie was born, you avoid me. When we are alone, you—you quickly find some excuse to leave. You do not share my bed. Well, I am not a fool, Cameron. I know when I am not wanted!”

He was quiet for a moment. “It is true,” he said at last, his tone very low. “I have made excuses so that I am not alone with you.” He gestured vaguely. “Meredith, I know not how to explain, but…it hurts to be with you. It hurts to—to want you.”

Everything was coming apart inside her. “And is that so terrible? To want your wife? Ah, but I forget that
you
cannot forget. I am the daughter of the Red Angus. Ah, and to think I was foolish enough to believe that you truly wished to end this feud.”

“I do want it ended! And I am the fool, not you.”

She said nothing. Her shoulders had begun to heave.

“Meredith. Meredith, come here!” Lean hands caught at hers. She resisted when he tried to tug her close, but he wouldn’t allow it. Finally, with an impatient sound, he snared her around the waist and caught her up against him.

“I am the fool, not you,” he said again. His knuckles beneath her chin dictated she look at him. His eyes captured hers.

“Listen to me, sweet. When Brodie was born, I knew a fear such as I had never known! The memory haunts me still, for it was my fault that you nearly died.”

Meredith caught her breath. “You? You were afraid?” It seemed strange, that this strong, powerful man might be afraid…

“Aye.” With the pad of his thumb, he caressed the pouting fullness of her lower lip. “All I could think was…what if I lost you? You are more precious to me than anything in this world. I cannot be near you without craving you, without wanting to hold you tight against my heart, to claim you for my own…’Tis you and you alone who fill my every moment, you who light the fire in my heart, the questing in my soul…you alone who can satisfy me. And yet I dare not touch you for fear that my seed will lodge in your womb, that you might suffer yet again the agony you suffered when Brodie came into this world. For if I lost you, I would lose my very heart.”

His fervent admission made her quiver inside. Never had it occurred to her this might be the reason he held himself so distant. Indeed, it sounded almost as if he loved her…

“’Twas not your fault,” she said with a tiny shake
of her head. “I scarcely remember the pain, and I did not die. I am well and healthy and…and I cannot bear to go on like this! I need you, Cameron. I need for you to hold me!” The confession broke from her with a ragged sob, before she could stop it. “I love you, Cameron! I love you!”

A powerful tide of emotion rose inside him, taking from him the ability to speak, even to move. Then, with a groan, he engulfed her in his arms, for Cameron could no more deny her offering than he could the depth of his longing. He trapped tremulous lips beneath his own.

As Cameron carried her to the bed, Meredith buried her face against the hardness of his shoulder, savoring the warm haven of his embrace. His lips grazed her temple. Yet all at once a shiver coursed the length of her.

“Cameron, though I am heartily glad, ’twas most odd, finding Papa well. Do you truly think we were lured from Dunthorpe? That those men who attacked us were lying in wait?”

His arms tightened. “I was mistaken, sweet.” He would not nourish her fears further, though in truth he still questioned the coincidence. He masked his unease with a faint smile. “Go to sleep, love, for I know you are weary.”

He was satisfied just to hold her, not with passion’s urge but with a basking contentment that came only when she was in his arms. Before long, her limbs grew limp. Her lungs rose and fell deeply. Soon she slept.

For Cameron, sleep was impossible, for he was still reeling at her declaration. Mother of Christ, to think that she loved him, after all he had done! He had wrested her away from the priory, commanded that
she bear his son and then wed him! He should have told her, he realized with a twinge of regret, told her that he loved her. In light of all he felt, the sentiment seemed so frail and hardly enough to express the boundless surge in his heart.

It was later that his mind eventually turned back to the feud. Aye, he thought with the greatest relief, he was glad it was over. It would take some time for his people—and the Red Angus’s—to accept, but in time they would understand and be grateful that the hostilities had ended.

Angus had sworn he would find those responsible for the murder of his brothers and father. Damn, but he’d been so certain he’d caught a glimpse of the Red Angus! Could it be that his hatred had somehow conjured up the vision in his mind? Nay, he thought. There had been someone…

He was right. And that someone had watched the evening’s events unfold with venomous disgust. For in this man’s view, if the world existed with one less MacKay, it was a far better place.

Such was the churning of this man’s mind as he crept up the stairs toward the chamber where Cameron and his wife lay in sleepy repose. He vowed that before the hour was through, Cameron MacKay would blacken this earth no longer.

A thin sliver of yellow appeared as the door gave way beneath his hand, lit from the rushlight that burned in the hall outside. It was that which roused the two inhabitants of the bed.

Still caught in the heavy drape of sleep, Meredith raised a hand to protest the light. Full wakefulness struck as air rushed by her and Cameron’s figure charged from the bed.

In the still of the distant night beyond, the risen moon emerged from behind a froth of clouds and spilled through the open shutters. Against that yellow haze, two figures grappled with each other. Meredith bolted upright the second she saw a hand shift high aloft. Moonglow glinted off the gleaming blade of a dagger. Even as a cry spilled from her throat, the dagger carved an arcing path downward. The man on the right flung up an arm, but it was too late.

He crumpled to the floor.

A hand like a claw dragged her from the bed. Meredith let loose a piercing scream. There was a vile curse. A hand clamped over her mouth, drowning the sound. She was spun around and brought up against a hard male form. “Merry,” grated a raspy voice in her ear. “My sweet Merry.”

Meredith’s blood turned to ice. She knew that voice. Knew it well indeed…

“Uncle Robert,” she whispered. “Oh, sweet heaven, it was you who stole me from this very chamber. You who took me away and—” She could not go on.

His eyes gleamed. “Ah, Merry, but I have such fond memories of that night! I could never look at you again without remembering how you felt naked against me!”

Meredith was sick to the core of her being, for it was he who had abused her. He who had hurt her that long-ago night, who had so terrorized her and driven her from her home.

“But you didn’t know until now, did you, lass?” he taunted. “I always wondered if you knew, or if you were too much the coward to say so. But I am not a coward. It was I who killed Ronald MacKay
and his sons,” he boasted, “and now I’ve killed your husband.”

No.
No
! Cameron lay on his side, still and motionless. One lean hand lay palm upward. A horrible dread ripped at her insides, for she could not bear to think he was dead!

“The man Cameron saw that day. It was not Papa, but you!”

“A pity he did not die that day. I thought he had. Indeed, ’twas some while before I learned that he had survived. I sent a spy to Dunthorpe, one who found work with the smithy—oh, aye, a big, handsome lad…and he found a pretty, dark-haired beauty so angry that the new chieftain had married another.”