The Bedeviled Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (35 page)

How could she live if she didn’t see the man again?

What was she doing? Why was she pining and staring out of the window? Nothing would come from lack of action. She should hie herself away and hunt him down.

And then she recalled Lady Elsa’s words, informing her that he deserved a well-bred lady at his side, one of his own class and not a commoner.

She clenched her hands.

She’d not let another woman kiss his chiseled lips or trace the dash on the middle of his chin. She’d rather be his mistress than nothing at all. Aye, perhaps she truly was a craven, fallen woman, but she loved him, enough to live even a life of perpetual shame.

The bairn in her belly shifted, and she made up her mind all at once.

He, at least, deserved to know his bairn existed. ‘Twas only fair.

Feeling more alive than she had in some time, she threw back the door to her chamber and went in search of parchment, blessing Sir Arval for teaching her how to write at least a few words—enough so that she was sure she could at least let Cameron know where she was.

Chapter Fifteen - The Wedding

Cameron stood in the center of Kate’s cell. It was empty, save for the rat rustling the sour straw in the corner.

“Heaven save us!” one of the guards gasped, crossing himself frantically. “The lass truly
was
a witch! Satan himself must have ferreted her away—”

Lifting the corner of his lip in contempt, Cameron felled the man senseless with a blow to the head.

The remaining guard nervously licked his lips. “Perhaps she’s been taken back to the scribe, my lord,” the man offered helpfully. “I’ll lead the way right quickly!”

But Kate was not there.

He searched the entire prison but found only a sheet of parchment accusing her of practicing witchcraft against the king. Holding the document aloft, he read the name of the witness aloud.

“Maura.”

Cameron’s heart sank. Ach, he would ever curse the day that he had rescued the woman! Because of her, Mar was dead and Kate, gone missing. He refused to think that she might be dead.

Crumpling the parchment in his long fingers, he drew his dirk in a single, swift motion and strode down the corridor to where Thomas Cochrane waited outside under his men’s safekeeping. Kicking the door back, he intended to confront the man at once, but a crowd had suddenly gathered around the Mercat Cross, and Thomas and his men were nowhere to be seen.

And then, a familiar voice hailed him. “Cameron!”

Turning, Cameron spied King James astride his black charger a short distance away with Thomas Cochrane at his side, sitting on a dappled gray gelding. The pleased and proud expression on the man’s long face announcing he was once again under the protection of the king.

Cameron felt sick at heart.

“Cameron!” the king called out, urging his horse through the crowd to peer down at him. “Thomas has found Mar! Dead! He is dead, Cameron! Mar is dead!” His face was pale, distraught.

Catching the king’s stirrup, Cameron yanked it savagely. “Aye, and ‘twas Thomas’ own hand that saw it done! I was there!”

The king blinked in surprise as Thomas pressed forward to join them.

“Mar was ill, my lord,” the man’s nasal voice inserted. “’Twas an accident, nothing more!”

“An accident?” Cameron repeated in disbelief. “Aye, the only accident ‘twas I caught ye in the act!”

“Mar was ill, Cameron!” The king frowned, shaking his head. “The royal physicians opened his veins to reduce the heated frenzy of his fever! And ‘twas Mar’s own thrashing in the water that broke open the bandages.”

Cameron stared at them incredulously.

With a wavering smile, the king staunchly insisted, “’Twas ill fortune, Cameron! Nay, ‘twas Mar’s own fault, had he not lashed out so wildly in the water, he would be with us still!”

Cameron found himself struck speechless. How could Mar have had so much loyalty to such a fool? Ach, the last words on the man’s dying lips had been concerned ones for his own brother. Cameron felt sick.

“His lordship is overwrought, your majesty. ‘Twas what caused him to strike at me so, but I harbor no ill will towards him.” Thomas murmured to the king, holding up his bandaged hand. “It seems that his mistress has also suffered some misfortune here today.”

King James’ eyes lit with a guilty relief. “‘Tis no wonder he mistook the situation. A man canna think clearly in such times. Aye, this has been a trying day for us all!”

Cameron’s dark eyes narrowed in contempt, and he moved away in disgust. It was a waste of time to be speaking with either of them.

As the king called after him, begging for him to stay, Cameron shoved his way through the crowd. He’d find his Kate and see Mar’s death avenged, no matter how long it took. And upon returning to his apartments in Edinburgh Castle, he ordered his men to continue the search for Kate.

“Aye, and send men to Stirling and her village as well. Look for any kinfolk she might have fled to.” Glancing down at the crumpled document declaring her a witch, he added grimly, “And search for the lass, Maura. Mayhap she’ll know something.”

When they had gone, he bowed his head and whispered, “I’ll find ye, Kate. I swear I’ll find ye, and when I do, I’ll never let ye go again!”

* * *

Treachery and intrigue filled the following weeks, more than Cameron had thought he’d ever experience in a lifetime.

They had scarcely buried Mar when Thomas Cochrane escalated the accusations of witchcraft. In the name of the king, he had a dozen men and women burnt at the stake, before Cameron, the queen, and the nobles succeeded in stopping the madness.

As the news of Mar’s death rippled throughout the land, a steady stream of clan chieftains flocked to Edinburgh, intent on waging war.

The country had nearly split in twain.

And as the king found his reception at court growing colder by the day, he removed himself from Edinburgh Castle and retired to Holyrood House at the opposite end of the Royal Mile, taking Thomas with him.

Through it all, Cameron relentlessly searched for Kate. He sent for Lord Julian Gray and scoured the streets of Edinburgh, interviewing countless numbers of witnesses himself. Several times each week, he rode to Craigmillar hoping that Kate’s father had recovered enough to give him some hint of where she might be. But though the man grew stronger by the day, he had lost the power of speech.

Kate had simply vanished.

And so time passed, each night growing only darker and longer, until one particularly torturous night he finally collapsed into an exhausted sleep and had scarcely closed his eyes when he began to dream.

It was a wondrous dream, images of Kate’s laughing brown eyes and her soft lips caressing his. It was a dream that he wanted to last forever, but upon waking, the pain of finding her still gone was unbearable.

With a haggard step, he quit his chambers and called for his charger, and as the sun rose on the horizon, he thundered down the streets of Edinburgh bound for Craigmillar once more—as quickly as his horse could gallop.

The Prestons guarding Craigmillar lifted their arms in greeting as he rode through the gates, and Sir Arval himself met him as he entered the keep.

“‘Tis good to see ye walking once more!” Cameron greeted the man with a warm clasp on the shoulder. “I’ve missed ye sorely.”

The grizzled Frenchman was thin, pale, and clearly still very weak. “Have you news of Kate, my lord?” he asked with a haunted look.

Cameron closed his eyes.

It was enough of an answer.

“Then that could be good tidings in itself, my lord,” Sir Arval murmured in encouragement, but more to himself than Cameron. “For it means she’s still—”

Cameron eyed him grimly. He didn’t want the man to finish the thought. He couldn’t allow himself to think she might be dead. “How fares John Ferguson?” he interrupted.

“Stronger, my lord.” Sir Arval bowed gravely. “But the power of speech still fails him.”

Taking the steps two at a time, Cameron made his way to John’s chamber.

It was heartening to see the fisherman out of his bed, sitting on a cushioned chair in the early warmth of the sun. And as Cameron approached, the man’s head tilted and his hand lifted in a gesture of recognition.

As he had oft done the past few months, Cameron knelt beside the man, holding his fingers between his own, to share the latest tidings of his search for Kate.

“I will find her,” Cameron swore softly. “Even if I must turn over every stone in Scotland, I will find her.”

The fisherman groaned, and Cameron glanced up to see the man’s lip twitching in a smile.

It was the first time he had seen the man regain the use of his mouth since his near fatal injury. He bowed his head in hope. Mayhap soon her father would regain the ability to speak and help guide them to where she might be.

They simply sat there for a time, until shouts in the courtyard below drifted through the open window.

There were voices, loud and angry ones.

Cameron’s lips drew in a thin line. Ach, ‘twas another crisis, no doubt. He was fair sick of them. Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet and peered through the narrow window to spy Archibald Douglas, the Earl of Angus, bellowing, “Where is Cameron! Find him at once! I must speak to him at once!”

Expelling a deep breath, Cameron moved to the door and was halfway down the stair when the earl nearly collided with him.

“I’ve just come from Holyrood!” the red-haired, blunt-faced earl roared in greeting. “The fool has made the idiot the Earl of Mar! Earl of
Mar
, Cameron!”

Cameron’s lips parted in surprise, and he repeated softly in astonishment, “The king has given Thomas Cochrane his brother’s own title and lands?”

“Aye, and I’ve had enough!” Archibald swore, kicking the wall. “I’ll bring Albany back from France this very night!”

Gripping Archibald’s arm, Cameron guided him to the hall as the man continued to shout threats of war, and it took some doing before the Earl of Angus was finally convinced to put such thoughts aside for a time and wait.

The shadows were long when Cameron wearily mounted his charger and returned to Edinburgh, but he did not immediately return to the castle rising high on the hill.

No, he had words he must say to the king.

Reining before the wide, green expanse of grass, he entered Holyrood House, heading at once for the royal residence in the gray-stoned abbey guesthouse.

The king was not there, but the monks guided him to the gardens. And moments later, Cameron strode down the hard gravel paths to where the king and Thomas stood under a rowan tree, clad in sumptuous, ermine-trimmed robes.

“Cameron!” King James’ face lit with pleasure. “’Tis well to see ye here! I would our feud would end—”

With anger seething in his veins, Cameron interrupted him coldly, “Did ye truly bestow the earldom of Mar upon this venomous serpent?” He allowed his dark eyes to rest upon Thomas for the briefest of moments.

The man’s long face reddened as the king swallowed visibly.

“Have ye no shame, James?” Cameron eyed the king with icy contempt. “I’ve told ye the truth of Mar’s death, yet ye ever turn a deaf ear on me! How can ye bequeath his lands to the very man who murdered him?”

“’
Twas the fever!” The king licked his lips. “Ye’ve misunderstood, Cameron!”

Cameron graced him with a smile riddled in disdain. “I do not envy ye, James. Ye truly are cursed. Ye’ll spend many a long, sleepless night convincing yourself that Mar’s death was an accident. Aye, such torment will be a fitting punishment.”

All color drained from the king’s face.

“And I’ll never forgive ye for Mar,” Cameron grated in a low tone, permitting his eyes to mirror his disgust. “I’ll see ye undone for it.”

At that, the king’s nostrils flared. “Is that a threat, Cameron?”

“’
Tis a warning.” Cameron let his voice turn rough. “Tread carefully, or ye’ll lose what little ye have left quicker than ye think.” He turned to leave.

“Wait!” the king lurched forward, grabbing his arm. “Walk here awhile!”

Shaking him off, Cameron murmured, “I’ve no appetite for your company.”

He had taken only a step before Thomas cried out, “My fellow earl, ye may think ye are untouchable with many friends, but I’ll see ye banished from court for such insolence towards the king!”

With a smile of the deepest scorn, Cameron turned halfway to reply, “Ach, I know ye to be a fool of the highest order, Thomas, and I’ll aid ye in punishing yourself. Ye’ll not walk this Earth much longer.”

Spinning abruptly on his heel, he left them standing there, mouths agape.

He returned to Edinburgh Castle then, to comfort the distraught queen and to persuade the nobles to remain united in keeping the country free of civil war. He wanted nothing more than to rid himself of James and Thomas Cochrane, but not at the risk of losing the entire country to chaos. He could not place Albany, another murderer, upon the throne, and the crown prince was yet too young. The resulting battle over his regency would be even more dangerous.