The Bedeviled Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (26 page)

“A wee lad of six?” Julian retorted in surprise.

“Aye.” Cameron nodded slowly. “He can be taught the ways that befit a true king and he may well be the only answer. We can unite the nobles under his name and protect our fair country.”

“’
Tis a task more suited to a man of your skills than mine.” Julian circled the lip of his goblet with a finger, shaking his head. “’Tis not an easy task to unite the clans when they would much rather feud. Scotland grows only more divided by the day. Not an hour past, Archibald Douglas rode from these very gates to raise arms against the Earl of Errol on the news their latest truce has been broken. It only lasted a month this time.”

Cameron closed his eyes. Rebellions were rising in Ross, Caithness, and Sutherland. The feuds in Annandale between the Lairds of Caerlaverock and Drumlanrig had recently turned deadly. That the Earl of Angus had now engaged in yet another feud with the Earl of Errol only fractured the country even more.

“Why cannot James stand and lead his country?” Cameron swore under his breath, pounding his fist against the mantle.

They fell silent.

And then Julian held Albany’s letter up with two fingers, peering down at Kate still sitting on the rug close to the hearth. “’Tis a dangerous thing ye’ve done, lass.” He whistled under his breath. “Thomas will not let this matter go.”

Kneeling by her side, Cameron slid a protective arm about her shoulders. “Will ye escort her to Craigmillar at dawn, Julian? I’ll leave on the hunt with the rest, but I would delay Thomas’ knowledge of her escape for as long as I may. He’ll not expect her to leave so soon.”

“Need ye ask?” Julian cocked a brow and drained his ale in one long gulp. Rising to his feet, he bowed. “But I’ll not return here until I’ve been to the Borders to uncover the truth of John of Scougal myself and to see what the Humes seek. But Albany had best pray what I discover is in his favor.”

“We cannot shake the throne now,” Cameron warned. “We cannot present Scotland as too tempting of a morsel for Edward not to bite, and should he march on us now, Scotland would fall. Already, we are too divided. I need time to speak with the nobles, to open their eyes and gain their support in protecting our land under the name of the crown prince.”

Julian pursed his lips grimly. “Aye, ye speak wisely, Cameron. We need a Stewart to rise and lead us through these shadowed times. ‘Tis up to ye. James is a fool, Albany is blind, and Mar is a dreamer. No man will listen to any of them.”

Cameron thinned his lips grimly.

“Then, Kate, this onion-eyed varlet will return for ye at dawn.” Julian bowed to her with a humorous glint in his gray eyes.

“Ach, my lord, will ye never forget my foolish words?” Kate asked, rising to her feet.

Snagging her hand and pressing it against his heart, Julian grinned. “Never, wee Kate.”

Cameron watched him leave and heaved a sigh.

The court intrigues of years past were mere games compared to the matter he was embroiled in now. Never had he expected to stumble upon such treachery. But, for the sake of Scotland, he would rise to hold the country together.

Ach, but he must immediately take steps to insure the crown prince would be a lad of honor, worthy to bear the crown. Why hadn’t he involved himself in the matter before?

“Enough thinking, my lord.”

He glanced over to see Kate’s soft, smiling eyes peering deep into his.

Reaching to pull his head down, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his brow. “Ye can save Scotland on the morrow, Cameron,” she whispered.

He could feel her breath upon his face, and his skin began to tingle.

“If I’m to be gone soon then let us not sleep.” She smiled, lowering her lashes and peering up from under them with a secretive expression.

And then she slowly kissed him. It was a lingering kiss, and he allowed himself to savor every moment. His hands began moving as his lips searched out the hollows of her neck and then his fingers deftly untied her bodice, revealing her slim shape that made his blood run hot.

“Ye shall have no other but me,” he growled low in his throat. Aye, he had already tread the path, he might as well take the pleasures that came with it. And nothing would satisfy his desire save to make her his once more.

Carrying her to his bedchamber, he lay down upon the bed. Her hair flowed long and free over the goose-down pillows, and his heart began to pound as he stripped off his shirt and unlaced his breeches.

And then, beginning with her toes, he kissed a trail over her soft, creamy skin until she moaned softly, “End this torture!”

Reaching over, he quenched the candle and plunged the chamber into darkness.

Chapter Eleven - Witchcraft

Cameron looked out of the window, eyeing the hazy aura that circled the waning moon with a heavy heart. Behind him, Kate sighed in her sleep, and he silently drew the bed curtains aside, staring down at her for a time with a sad smile upon his lips.

Already, his heart ached with the pain of parting.

Gently, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

She murmured in her sleep and slowly opened her eyes. Sitting up, she whispered, “Is it time?” Her voice wavered, betraying her emotion.

“Aye, my sweeting.” How he wished he could say any other words but those.

She turned her head away, and he could see her swallow in the weak moonlight, struggling to compose herself. Then she faced him once more with a smile, but her eyes were suspiciously bright, and her voice unnaturally cheerful. “’Twill be a difficult ride, my lord. Ye dinna let me sleep long.”

He lowered his lashes and smiled to give her strength. Pulling her into his arms, he nibbled her ear, possessively biting a strand of her hair, and let his hands roam freely over her skin one more time.

Playfully, she swatted his fingers but then burst into tears.

“We will not be parted long. I swear it, Kate,” he promised, cradling her close.

She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat.

“’
Twill be over soon,” he whispered in a soothing tone. “And then I’ll take ye to Inchmurrin. Ye’ll love Loch Lomond, ‘tis the bonniest loch in Scotland, lass. We’ll spend our days sailing the blue waters, and ye can show me how to fish.”

“Ach, I’m a poor fisherman.” She gave a shaking laugh. “I’ve only sold fish in the markets.”

“Relieving good citizens of their coin?” he teased gently.

The jest had the desired effect. She raised her head and sent him a good-naturedly offended look before strangely averting her eyes. “Do ye think of bairns sailing the loch with ye?”

He raised a puzzled brow and repeated, “Bairns?”

“My fondest memories are the days I spent sailing with father and my wee sister, Joan.” She gave a hurried explanation.

Briefly, he wondered if she desired bairns, but then she moved to slip into her shift and lustful thoughts quickly displaced all others. He leaned back on the bed, eyeing her appreciatively until she reached over and pinched his nose.

“Ach, but ye make a lass uncomfortable with such lecherous looks, ye lout!” She laughed. “Get ye dressed! Ye canna escort me naked!”

Turning away from him, she walked to the window to stare out into the dark sky.

Dressing quickly, he joined her there, standing behind her to encompass her in a warm embrace. He leaned down to rest his chin on her shoulder, and breathed deeply, simply smelling her familiar sweet skin.

He wanted the moment to last forever, but all too soon, Sir Arval called from the adjoining chamber.

“It is time,” Cameron whispered in her ear with great reluctance, and slowly threading his fingers through hers, guided her out of the bedchamber.

“My lord.” The grizzled Frenchman bowed a deep greeting. “The Lord Julian Gray has already departed and even now awaits ye at Stirling Bridge.” Sir Arval himself was to escort Kate’s father soon after, making the same journey to Craigmillar at a slower pace.

Cameron nodded his thanks as Kate flung her arms about the man’s neck, giving his cheek a warm kiss. “I canna thank ye enough for the care ye show my father, Sir Arval.” She began to curtsey, but he caught her arm in protest.

“Never to me, my lady.” The man laughed. Blushing, he repeated, “Never bow to me.”

Cameron watched the man go with a smile. Apparently, even the Frenchman had fallen under his Kate’s spell.

Choosing his finest mantle and favorite silver brooch, he gently swathed her in the dark velvet and pinned the brooch at her throat in silence. And then with emotion threatening to overwhelm him, he led her through the dark corridors without speaking a word.

Aye, she would be safe in Craigmillar, in the keeping of the Prestons.

Craigmillar Castle lay on a low hill not far away, only three miles south of Edinburgh. The Prestons had long been among his closest allies, but he would not trust even them with the truth. Sir Arval would introduce Kate as his own distant relative and would remain there with her and her father for as long as was needed. Cameron trusted Sir Arval as much as Julian and knew she was safe in his care.

Slowly, Cameron led her across the darkened courtyard, past the guards and down the king’s private stairs leading to the lower gardens. The steps spiraling into the darkness below seemed endless at first, but all too quickly they arrived at the bottom of Castle Hill, and shortly thereafter, stood on the old stone bridge spanning the River Forth.

Fog blanketed the river in the chilly predawn air, rising to cloak the bridge in a mysterious shroud. And then the sound of clattering hooves announced Julian’s arrival before a whirl of mist suddenly dispersed. The young lord appeared astride his massive black horse, a dark cloak muffling his face.

“Must I go?” Kate turned on Cameron, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Aye, it won’t be long, Kate.” He pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

They stood there, clinging to each other as Julian kindly looked away.

Finally, even as Cameron’s heart pleaded for her to stay, he forced his lips to form the words, “Ye must leave, lass.”

Taking his cue, Julian leaned down to sweep Kate into his lap with an easy arm. “Come, lass. We must be gone while the world still sleeps,” the man rumbled softly. Reaching down again, he clasped Cameron’s shoulder in a comforting gesture and swore, “I will see her safely there, upon my life.”

Cameron nodded.

And then Julian wheeled his great beast, and the dark horse galloped across the bridge, swallowed immediately by the heavy fog.

They were gone.

Cameron drew a long, dragging breath.

He stood there until the sky turned gray, and only then summoned the strength to leave. And as he turned, his eye caught on her small shoeprint in the mud.

Ach, her foot was so tiny.

He smiled, but it was a bittersweet one. With a heavy heart, he slowly returned up the steep slope as the first shafts of the sun bathed the morning fog in a golden glow.

The rosy radiance of the dawn lit the sky as he entered Stirling Castle, but his hand had only just touched the door of the royal apartments when he heard a stifled scream sounding from nearby.

Rounding the corner close to the kitchens, he came upon a short, stocky man kicking a blonde-haired woman groveling on the ground before him.

Within moments, Cameron had the man disarmed and on his knees.

“What devilry is this?” Cameron’s voice filled with disdain as he shoved the man back with a booted foot. “Speak, knave!”

“I am but following my master’s orders, my lord!” the man stuttered.

“And whom might your master be, scoundrel?” Cameron pressed firmly.

The woman struggled to rise unsteadily to her feet. Already, her left eye was swollen shut and her lips bruised, but she did not appear to be gravely injured.

“Thank ye, my lord,” she half-whispered, half-sobbed, bobbing up and down. “Thank ye, my lord!”

Turning back to the man once more, Cameron repeated, raising his voice, “Who ordered ye?”

But the man stubbornly remained silent.

Ordering the nearby guards to take the man to the dungeons, Cameron assured the woman he would have one of his men settle the affair. Looking down upon her with pity, he asked, “Are ye well enough, lass?”

“Aye, my lord,” she replied through cracked lips. “Ye saved my life, my lord.”

“What cause had the man to beat ye so?” he queried gently.

“’
Twas a misunderstanding, my lord.” She began to shake uncontrollably. “He thought I was negligent in my duty, but I swear I did what he asked, my lord.”

Filled with compassion, Cameron unclasped his mantle and threw it over her shoulders. Ordering another guard to escort her to safety, he returned to his apartments and promptly gave the affair no further thought.

Now, he must ready for the hunt, but ‘twas now a hunt in more ways than one.

He would see Scotland on solid footing, and to accomplish that, the influence of one Thomas Cochrane must disappear from court. ‘Twould take some doing and likely longer than he wished, but he would see it done.