The Kindling Heart (34 page)

“Ye seem drunk,” Ruan stated, folding his arms. “Exceedingly drunk.”

Cameron smothered a laugh.

“In fact, I’ve only seen ye this drunk on your wedding day…days.” It was difficult to speak to Cameron concerning marriage. Though he was a year younger than Ruan, he was already a widower six times.

“Aye, ye always were an unusually astute man,” the Earl said. He raised his brow to the wench and sent her a sultry look, “I’d warn ye to avoid him, lass, only he’s a changed man, now that he’s found himself a wee wife.”

Ruan frowned, eyeing the woman darkly, and said, “The Earl has had enough of your company.”

She looked as if she’d protest, but thinking the better of it, she disappeared with a quick nod.

Cameron didn’t seem to mind, but he did heave a growl of exasperation when Ruan appropriated the wine.

“Are ye wed again?” Ruan prompted suspiciously.

The Earl gave a derisive laugh and shrugged. “I’m drunk.”

Ruan sighed. He was beginning to lose track of Cameron’s marriages. “Who is this one?”

Ignoring the question, Cameron lurched to his feet and stumbled into the hall. Grasping the edge of the high table to steady himself, he searched for another bottle of wine. Upon finding none, he swore, grasping the closest candlestick and dashed it to the wall.

“When?” Ruan asked, grasping his friend firmly by the shoulders to guide him to the nearest bench.

“Ach, this one is nine months gone with a bairn,” Cameron laughed, but it was a mirthless laugh.

That was a surprise, but the Earl gave him no time to wonder.

“Nay, ‘tis nae mine,” the man supplied. He ran his hand through his raven hair. “Another bairn of the King’s…’twill be his third that I have in my keeping.”

“Then why did ye wed her, lad?” Ruan blinked in surprise.

Cameron looked away but said, “’Twas at the request of the barons. If I had nae wed her, one of Cochrane’s kin would have and we canna allow that man to gain more power than he already has. She has kinfolk in both England and France that he’d use against us.”

Ruan knew that Cameron detested court affairs, but he could never escape from being deeply mired in them. And, he was far too rich and powerful to remain unwed. It was a shame, the lad was an honorable sort that deserved to find love. Thoughts of love reminded him of Bree and he was suddenly aware he was beginning to grin like a fool.

Cameron hadn’t noticed. He was still speaking.

“Heed me well! Cochrane’s up to some devilry against the Earl of Mar, but the King is blind. He follows the man like a fool!” Cameron allowed a faint expression of disgust. “Ach, the fool is nothing more than Cochrane’s puppet! ‘Tis time we dealt with the man!”

The words hung in the air and Ruan wasn’t entirely certain if he was speaking of the King or of the King’s unscrupulous favorite, Thomas Cochrane. In either case, those words were too dangerous for a man of his position. It only proved that the Earl was exceedingly drunk. “Enough, Cameron. ‘Twould nae be wise to be overheard,” he said.

“Aye,” Cameron agreed and closed his eyes.

“Aye,” Ruan nodded.

Silence fell between them.

“Ach, I’m a cursed man,” Cameron said finally. “The lass was terrified to wed me, convinced she will nae live the year. Aye, ‘tis the only reason I agreed to this madness. I’ve no faith myself that she’ll live past the month of May.”

“Nonsense!” Ruan growled in reply.

Cameron lurched back to the table, but this time to splash water on his face from a silver bowl, “Heaven forgive me, but I’ve never have I met a more disagreeable lass. Aye, she is bonny, in a hard, rotten sort of way ...”

He stumbled a little to the nearest bench and collapsed onto it, covering his face with a hand.

Several servants hovered under the archway uncertainly. Ruan waved them away. The Earl was in no shape to eat or face the numerous guests who always flocked to his table. The silence between them lengthened once more and Ruan found his thoughts wandering to Bree.

It had felt so right, that night in the stables, to hold her close, and to touch her soft skin. He’d wanted to kiss the curve of her neck and more. He still did. He stretched on a nearby bench, lost in thoughts of Bree, and it must have been at least an hour later before he grew aware of Cameron quietly observing him.

“I never thought to see the mighty Ruan wed, trapped by a lass,” the Earl commented impassively. “I thought ye, at least, would keep your wits about ye to remain free.”

Ruan gave a heavy sigh, suddenly feeling the weight of recent events. “Nay, ‘tis I who trapped her,” he admitted reluctantly. “I ruined her life to save Merry, poor lass.”

Cameron listened as he recounted the events of the past few months, ending with Robert’s death and the subsequent journey.

“Tormod and Michael fear ye,” the Earl stated, twirling an empty goblet in his hand. “And they are right to do so. I’ve long said Dunvegan should be yours. We all know it. Tormod has no heir, and I doubt he’ll ever get one, Silas is still a priest, and Michael… he deserves death for Robert. None of them warrant aught else after what they’ve done.”

“Aye,” Ruan agreed in bitter reluctance.

Cameron sent him an appraising look, “’Tis the first time I’ve heard ye agree… in words, though I’ve long known your heart. I told ye some time ago, lad, that it should be done, but ye swore to never spill your brothers’ blood.”

“Tormod and Michael… I no longer consider brothers. But, I must think on what must be done later,” Ruan replied, brushing him aside. “I have more pressing matters for which I must ask your aid.”

The Earl’s lip twitched in faint amusement. “I’ve asked ye for help oft enough. I’ve never found it so terribly difficult.”

“This is different,” Ruan scowled.

“Aye, asking for help is a sight more humiliating than giving it,” Cameron’s brow creased in laughter, but his lips remained set in a grim line.

“Merry’s annulment–” Ruan began.

“Consider it done,” Cameron said, waving his long fingers.

Ruan released a pent breath, relieved. He could only trust Cameron to that extent. When the Earl of Lennox said it would be done, it simply was.

“And, yours? Shall I have your marriage annulled as well?” There was a smile in his voice, though his expression remained serious.

Ruan’s scowl deepened.

“My lord!” a piercing voice echoed in the hall. “My lord Earl!”

A woman swept into the hall, tall and willowy, beautiful in a chilling way. Her hair was blonde, twisted in intricate loops to frame her face and her fingers dripped with sparkling gems. A large sapphire draped her long, white neck. She waddled as she walked, belly swollen, heavy with child.

“My lord,” she repeated.

Cameron didn’t respond to the sound of her shrill voice, but his mouth tightened in a way that made Ruan pause.

It was as close to expressing revulsion as the Earl usually came.

The woman came to a stop before them. Her brows creased with annoyance as her tone sharpened. “My lord!”

Slowly, the Earl rose to his feet, extending a graceful hand to his newly made wife. “Ruan, allow me to introduce ye to the …” he paused briefly and a small ripple of alarm crossed his face. Shaking his head slightly in the obvious attempt to clear his still wine-muddled thoughts, he continued, “The… Eighth Countess of Lennox, Helo… Heloi—”

“Heloise,” the woman finished for him. She blinked, obviously annoyed, and murmured, “And I’m the Seventh Countess of Lennox.”

Cameron bowed, faintly discomfited, but it was unclear if it were for the fact he’d forgotten her name or what number she occupied in the long parade of wives.

“I’m honored to make your acquaintance,” Ruan replied dutifully.

She smiled and fluttered her lashes flirtatiously.

Her blue eyes were sharp and tiny, and for some odd reason, reminded Ruan much of a vulture. Already, he understood Cameron’s distaste for the woman, but found his thoughts interrupted by the arrival of the other guests.

Cameron’s table always swarmed with those seeking to gain the Earl’s favor, a fact that Ruan knew he hated. The man detested frippery and idle gossip. To watch him, no one would have ever known. Even still drunk, he moved in the hall with sinuous grace, slipping artfully through a host of conversations.

After introducing Ruan to several visiting personages from France, he returned to the high table, attentively assisting the Countess with a strong hand and doting on her as if theirs were truly a love match. Ruan shook his head, amazed at the man’s ability to mask his true emotions, but all thoughts of Cameron and his new situation fled as Isobel arrived with Merry and Bree in tow.

Ruan’s heartbeat quickened at the sight of Bree. She shyly approached a little stiff in a new gown of a soft, green silk that clung to her slender form in the most pleasing of manners. A blue ribbon captured her hair, but a curl had already escaped its binding to frame her cheek. The simplicity only served to enhance her beauty, and he could only stare.

“My Lady Bree, please join me,” Cameron raised his voice, beckoning to the empty chair on his right.

Something in Cameron’s tone caught Ruan’s attention as the Earl held out his hand, eyeing Bree in an overt appraisal. His blood began to burn, and he found himself striding forward, suddenly not wanting her anywhere near the man. Cameron, who could seduce any woman, wed or unwed by merely walking into the room.

“I see!” Cameron mused with a faint glimmer of humor. “This is nae mere dalliance, lad.”

Ruan met his gaze boldly.

The corner of Cameron’s lips curved upwards. Clasping Ruan briefly on the shoulder, he gallantly addressed Bree. “I shall call ye, my dearest sister Bree.”

“And, what of me?” Merry brazenly interrupted, her dark eyes taking in the entire scene.

Cameron’s eyes lit with a smile amidst the circle of laughter. Kissing Merry’s hand, he seated her next to Bree with a flourish and signaled the meal to commence. Merry promptly forgot further complaints as platters of mutton, coney and roasted pheasant arrived with pickled eggs, almond cakes and bowls of stewed pears. As the servants poured the fine French wine, the traveling jongleur arrived.

Ruan settled next to Merry, enjoying her cheerful mood before letting his thoughts center once again on Bree. What had come over him? He trusted Cameron. Why had he inexplicably behaved like the fool? He leaned back for a better view. She was obviously uncomfortable, sitting stiffly next to the Earl, her right hand gripping the arm of her chair with white knuckles. Cameron was attempting to set her at ease, speaking to her warmly as he cut and served generous portions of each platter, seeing Bree’s trencher well supplied before tending to his disapproving wife.

Suddenly, Merry blocked his vision. “What are ye looking at?” she asked sourly.

Ruan affectionately tousled her hair and managed to win a reluctant smile from her sullen lips. “Ye’ve nothing to fear, lass,” he murmured, setting about carving her a healthy portion of meat.

They had scarcely finished the second course when the Countess stood abruptly, her porcelain skin blanching even whiter. “The bairn,” she said, clutching her belly. “‘Tis the time!”

With a courteous nod, Cameron murmured, “I wish ye the best of fortunes.” Waving to a nearby maid, he commanded, “Send for the midwife.”

The Countess sucked in her cheeks. “I’ve only … been wed two days, ‘tis… too soon for yer curse to take hold on me ... isn’t it?” Her voice fell and fear crossed her face.

Cameron didn’t respond. His expression remained impassive as she left. Then, with a graceful, regretful bow, he excused himself from his guests and retired to the small vaulted chamber attached to the great hall.

After a moment, Ruan followed, joined by Merry and Bree.

The Earl stood before the fire, ignoring their presence, as he poured and drained several goblets of wine. Upon emptying the bottle, he reached for another, but Ruan intervened.

“I think ye’ve had plenty, lad,” he murmured, skillfully extracting the bottle from Cameron’s grip.

Cameron took a deep breath and lifted a scornful brow. “Odd, isn’t it? I’ve been wed six… eight times and I’ve yet to bed any named ‘wife’”.

Ruan furrowed his brows.

It was going to be a long night.

Cameron fixed him with a baleful eye, and then turned to Bree, “Aye. My first marriage was in England, at the tender age of eleven, an arrangement by my mother against the King’s wishes. Her name was ...”

“Her name was Camille,” Ruan supplied, shoving a chair closer to Cameron with his foot. “Sit, lad, before ye fall.”

“Nay, Camille was my third wife.” Cameron disagreed, bitterness heavy in his voice.

“Camille was the first, the weakly lass,” Ruan said patiently. He’d recited this list with Cameron many times, and over the years, it had only grown. “Your wedding night was spent reading poems before your mother insisted ye stay away for your health. She died a week later.”

“Ah, yes,” Cameron conceded, turning back to Bree. “She left me wealthy, or I should say wealthier. I’ve still yet to see the lands I gained from her.”