Nine
Cameron was starving, yet he did not move to fill his plate from the trencher laden with food in front of him. Food was not what he needed. He needed to see Sorcha. He rolled her name around in his mind as he had done at least a hundred times since Marion had casually told him the lass he had called Serene had remembered her name—Sorcha.
It had taken a great deal of self-control not to go to her so he could see her smile when she told him of her recollection. But he had maintained control and kept a purposeful distance. Yet now—now—the need to see her clawed at him. He clenched his teeth against the urge. No, he did not need to lay his gaze upon her; he wanted to. Need was for things one could not live without. One needed air, and food, and drink. One did not need to look upon a woman that made one feel weak. That was want, and want was for men who were not trying to prove they were worthy to stand beside their legendary brothers and represent their clan. To acknowledge the difference meant he could conquer the yearning that had been building in him since he last laid eyes upon her early yesterday.
After he had trained with his men for many grueling hours, he had started to search her out, but the way his pulse had sped at the possibility of seeing her, perchance even touching her as he trained her, made him realize he needed a bit more time to gain full control. Part of him wondered if it had been cowardly to ask Alex to find her this morning and learn what, if anything, she recalled of riding a horse and throwing daggers, but he ignored that part of him that doubted, and instead chose to think he was making wise choices. Men who knew their weaknesses and adapted to overcome them were being prudent, and that’s exactly what he was doing.
She was his weakness. It hadn’t taken a week or a month for her to seep into his mind and consume it, devil take it. It had taken one kiss. The great hall was full this night, and the hum of voices participating in conversations filled his ears. To his right sat Lena and to his left was Lachlan, both of them eating heartily from their plates. The dais, which was usually occupied by himself, his brothers, and their wives, was unusually empty. Iain had gone to attend to the tenant who had been attacked by a wolf, and Marion and Bridgette had not yet arrived at the great hall for supper. As if his thoughts conjured them, the great hall door opened and the two women entered the room, arms linked and conspiratorial looks upon their faces.
A smile pulled at his lips. His brother’s wives were very close and always into some sort of mischief. What would it be like if he had a wife of his own to watch stroll into the hall with a twinkle in her eyes and a grin upon her lips? The errant thought had him reaching for his goblet of wine and taking a long drink. He’d never once pondered what it would be like to have a wife. In truth, the idea had never held any appeal, yet now he could imagine it. He was not such a fool to ignore how the timing of this change within him coincided with meeting Sorcha.
Marion and Bridgette walked down the center of the great hall, giggling and chatting as they approached the dais. They quickly took their seats, and then Marion leaned around Lena and met Cameron’s eyes. “Have you heard about Sorcha?”
His pulse immediately leaped. “Nay. Is something amiss?”
“Not at all,” she crooned. “It seems she is even better at archery than at throwing daggers! She bested Alex in every shooting contest they had.”
Lachlan whistled, and Bridgette chuckled. “Ye should have seen my brother. He behaved as if he was so superior when he took her out to the woods—”
“The woods?” Cameron asked in a steely voice. “I told Alex to keep her close and to keep a watchful eye on her.”
“Oh, he did,” Bridgette said with smirk. “He kept her verra close and could hardly wrench his gaze from her. I think he’s smitten.”
“Ye think Alex wishes to lay a claim upon the lass?” Lachlan asked, surprise clear in his voice.
Bridgette nodded, without looking directly at her husband. Jealousy rushed through Cameron’s veins, and he had to fight to keep his fingers from curling into fists. Beside him, Lena drummed her fingers on the table. When he glanced at her, she had an agitated expression on her face, as if the news of Alex and Sorcha bothered her as much as it bothered him. Sometimes he thought his sister cared for Alex but didn’t want to, or perchance she simply did not know what to do with the feelings. Given her past and the abuse she had suffered from her first husband, he could well understand this. He set the thoughts aside.
“Where are Alex and Sorcha?” he asked. He was pleased with how indifferent he sounded.
“They should be along any moment,” Bridgette responded. “Alex insisted on attending Sorcha to supper.”
“Did he now?” Cameron growled, fighting the desire to rise and go fetch Sorcha himself.
When Lachlan shook his head at Cameron, as if reading his private thoughts, he drank another large gulp of wine and shoved some bread in his mouth, though he had lost any hunger he had possessed. As he chewed, the door to the great hall opened once more. Alex and Sorcha entered, heads turned to each other in conversation. As they walked down the center aisle, men paused to gape at Sorcha, but she did not seem to take notice. She walked without a hint of sway to her hips, as if she didn’t care to use the curves God had given her to garner attention.
Her seeming innocence appealed to him on a primal level. Had he been the first man to kiss her, to awaken the yearning and desire of her body? His own body grew instantly hard as he imagined schooling her in the wonders of what their bodies could do together, and all the air in his lungs whooshed out as he drank in the sight of her.
Her hair shone like spun gold cascading over her shoulders and hanging down to her waist. Her face glowed as if she had been out in the sun all day, and her eyes were luminous in her delicately sculpted face. His chest squeezed, and he moved his gaze lower to her shoulders. He froze with his goblet halfway to his mouth.
Sorcha was wearing a plaid. The MacLean plaid. Alex’s clan’s plaid.
Beside him came a strangled cry, but when he looked to his sister, her face was a mask of indifference. Still, he noted her pulse beating furiously in her neck, just as his was beating within him. Alex deposited Sorcha at a table where there was an empty seat beside Broch, who looked only too eager to have her near him, and with a lingering parting glance, Alex made his way to the dais and took the seat beside Lena.
Cameron inhaled a long steadying breath before leaning forward to address Alex. “Why is Sorcha wearing yer plaid?” The words came out calm, though he felt anything but.
Alex, too perceptive for Cameron’s liking, narrowed his dark eyes upon Cameron. “I could tell she was feeling as if she dunnae belong, and I had the means to make her feel like part of a clan until she remembers her own. So I did.”
“Did ye nae consider how this would seem to others? To the king?” Cameron growled.
“And how does it seem?” Alex snapped.
“It seems ye declared for her,” Lena said in a low voice before Cameron could answer.
“Aye, it does,” Lachlan agreed, sounding happy about it.
Anger flooded Cameron’s veins. He was sure Lachlan was thinking if Alex declared for Sorcha that would end his need to worry about Cameron and Eolande’s prophecy.
Cameron turned to glare at Lachlan, and as he did, Alex spoke. “And if I did?” he asked, looking directly at Lena. “Would it matter to anyone sitting on this dais?”
“Nae to me, though why ye would declare for a woman who may well be treacherous does baffle the mind,” Lena promptly answered. But as she quickly reached for her goblet of wine, Cameron saw that his sister’s hand was shaking. He frowned. Did she truly care for Alex? His gut hollowed at the thought of what his sister had been through and how it continued to affect her, even after her husband’s death. He wanted to shield her from things that hurt her, but he could not allow her to be cruel to Sorcha. Yet he feared she may feel he was being disloyal to her if he defended Sorcha from her. It was a problem he needed to solve, but now was not the time.
“I’m glad to ken it dunnae bother ye,” Alex muttered, bringing Cameron’s attention fully back to him.
“The king has designs for her,” Cameron said between clenched teeth.
Alex leaned forward once more to look at Cameron. “If I wished to make the lass mine, I would find a way to change the king’s designs, but as it stands, I was simply being kind to her. Nae one MacLeod offered to extend a branch of belonging to a lass who is floating in a sea of lost memories, so I did it. Do ye have a quarrel with that?”
“I dunnae,” Lachlan replied in that same annoying happy tone.
Cameron ground his teeth. Yes, devil take it, he had a quarrel with that! If Sorcha was going to wear any plaid, it would be a MacLeod plaid!
“Nay,” Cameron bit out instead, shoving food in his mouth to avoid further conversation about the plaid and Sorcha. As he ate, all he could think upon were Alex’s words regarding the king and finding a way to change the king’s intentions for Sorcha. What if there was a way to persuade the king in his choice of who he married her to? What if—
Cameron cut the thought off. What was he doing? He was sitting here looking for ways to possibly, what? Allow himself to claim her if he wished it? He had to quit this line of thinking. It was dangerous.
“Sorcha is the second-best archer I have ever seen,” Alex said, breaking the rather tense silence that had descended upon the dais.
Alex’s praise for Sorcha irritated Cameron, though he knew he was being unreasonable. The man could pay Sorcha a compliment if he wished it.
“Who is the best archer ye’ve ever seen?” Lachlan asked.
Alex tilted his head toward Cameron. “The two of them are oddly matched in their superior skills in dagger throwing and archery.” Alex shrugged. “I told her I’d work with her tomorrow again, but in truth, the lass taught me a few things today. To me, it seems wiser if ye work with her, Cameron. Ye’re the only one who could do anything to improve her already impressive skills.”
“I think that’s an outstanding idea,” Marion agreed, her gaze landing on Alex and then on Cameron.
“I dunnae,” Lachlan said. His words earned him a poke in the side from Bridgette.
“I agree with Marion,” Bridgette said. “If the goal is to ensure she has the skills to defend herself in the hunt for the killers, don’t ye want to work with her yerself, Cameron, and give her the best chance of survival?”
He did want to work with her—too damn much—which was why he should not, but Bridgette and Alex had good points. By choosing to stay away from her, he could possibly put her at a disadvantage, not to mention that he had to prove to himself and his brothers that he had the self-control to train her without falling under her spell. “I’ll work with her tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Alex said. “I’ll train with ye, Lachlan, if ye can abide it?”
“We can all train together,” Lachlan said, giving Cameron a stern look.
Cameron’s felt his anger rising. His brother clearly thought him weak. “I dunnae need ye watching over me as I train,” he bit out, shoving away from the table just as music started to fill the great hall.
Tables were quickly moved to the sides to make room for dancing, and Cameron, seeing Angus, Neil, and Neil’s wife standing with Alanna at the wall by the door, made his way to them. He greeted the others, then asked Alanna, “How fares Rory Mac today?”
“Better,” she said with a grin. “He’s awake, alert, and grouchy,” she finished, chuckling.
Cameron smiled. “Back to his old self!”
Alanna snorted. “Aye and nay.”
“What do ye mean nay?” Cameron asked, concerned.
Alanna glanced out at the crowd of people dancing. When her gaze seemed to fasten upon someone, Cameron searched out who she was staring at—Sorcha. “Alex’s lass came to visit Rory Mac today.”
“Sorcha is nae Alex’s lass,” Cameron growled.
Alanna smirked. “Then why is she wearing his plaid?”
“She was cold,” he snapped. “What did she want with Rory Mac?”
Alanna’s face immediately softened, and regret flittered across it. “She wanted to see if he was improving, and she wanted to repent for any hand she may have had in his injuries.”
Cameron snapped his jaw shut when he felt himself gaping. “Did she recall something that made her believe she had a part in the attack?” Just asking the question made his chest ache.
When Alanna shook her head, he barely suppressed a sigh of relief. “Nay. She dunnae recall more than her name, but Rory Mac recalled something about her.”
“What?” he demanded, his need to know hitting him with the force of a tempest.
“She turned back from fleeing to save him,” Alanna announced.
“What? What say ye?”
“Rory Mac says he saw her fleeing on her horse, but she turned around.” Alanna’s eyes had grown wide, as if her husband’s memory still surprised her. “Rory Mac said she may have been looking to see if any of ye were chasing her, or in light of her actions, it’s more likely she turned to see if any of the men who must have taken her were chasing her.” Alanna cocked her head, a thoughtful expression on her face. “He says when she saw him losing the battle with the enemy, she galloped back to him and struck the man he was battling in the arm with a dagger, just as the man hit Rory Mac. He’d meant to take Rory Mac’s head, nae slice his gut!”
“God’s teeth,” Cameron whispered, his gaze drawn back to Sorcha. Broch twirled her in a fast circle, and she had her head thrown back and a grin on her lips. Cameron wanted to go to her, sweep her into his arms, and kiss her as he had done yesterday.
“I’m ashamed I judged her so,” Alanna murmured. “I told her so, and she was verra gracious. Told me if she had been in my place she would have responded the same way. She is nae an enemy of mine.”
“Nor of mine,” Cameron said, though the words were hard to get out as his throat had tightened with emotion from the simple act of looking at her. The longer he watched her, the greater the desire grew, until he feared he was losing his grip on his control. “I bid ye good evening,” he said abruptly. He turned and pushed his way through the crowd, not slowing until he was out the door and striding through the hall.
He was not even certain where he was going until he was halfway down the seagate stairs to the water. When he reached the shore, he discovered Lillianna carrying two buckets of water in each hand. She quickly set them down as she saw him, put her hands on her hips, and pouted at him. “Why have ye nae come to my bed since returning from the king’s mission?”
“I’m sorry, lass,” he replied. He and Lillianna had been enjoying each other’s favors for the last several years. He had made it clear long ago that he didn’t want marriage, however, and she had said she was fine with that. She had been forced to wed very young to a man who had treated her cruelly. He was dead now, and she’d told Cameron she had no interest in marrying ever again, so it had been the perfect agreement.
She slid between the buckets to press her body against his. “Help me deliver these buckets to the kitchen, and then I’ll help ease the stress I see on yer face.”
He should take her offer. If he did, perchance he could get Sorcha out of his mind. Yet he found himself shaking his head. “I’m happy to help ye with the buckets, lass, but I’m in need of an ice-cold swim.” It was the only thing that would extinguish the searing yearning that Sorcha had lit in him. Kissing Lillianna would not help that. Though the lass was pretty, and he had surely desired her not long ago, he felt nothing now as he looked at her, except a festering wish to hold Sorcha, kiss her sweet mouth, caress her beautiful body, and help her unlock the secrets of her memories.
“Cameron!” Lillianna snapped, making him aware that he’d been standing there like a clot-heid. “Did ye hear what I said?”
“Nay, lass. I’m sorry.”
Her pout grew more pronounced, but then her tongue darted out to lick her lips as she gave him a smoldering look. “I said I’ll be more than happy to swim with ye…naked.”
“I dunnae believe I’ll be taking ye up on the offer tonight. Shall we?” he asked quickly and picked up the buckets before she could offer any more.
She gave him a wicked smile before turning and climbing the steps. Lillianna was a very shapely woman, and she purposely swayed her hips in a manner he knew was meant to entice him. And it would have done exactly that if the damned recesses of his mind weren’t filled with thoughts of Sorcha, but her image kept popping into his head. He recalled her plain and purposeful stride that didn’t have even a hint of provocativeness it in, as if enticing a man was the very last thing she would ever think to do. Could he make her wish to entice him?
Devil take it! His lack of control over his own thoughts was appalling.
When they reached the courtyard, Lillianna turned around and launched herself at him so quickly that all he had time to do was drop the buckets in order to ensure they both did not fall backward. Just as his hands encircled her waist to keep her on her feet, she twined her fingers in his hair and crushed her mouth to his. As he broke the kiss to set her away, he was instantly aware that they were not alone.
He turned his head to the right and stormy-gray eyes met his. Sorcha stared at him, her lips parted. Beside her, Broch chuckled and said, “I’d like to tell ye that ye dunnae often see such displays around Dunvegan, but when Cameron is afoot and a beautiful lass is near—” Broch winked at Lillianna “—ye’ll see such things as ye just saw. But dunnae ye fret, lass,” he said, slinging his arm around Sorcha and drawing her firmly to his side. “I’ll make sure to keep ye safe from Cameron’s advances.”
A wave of anger and jealousy rolled over Cameron, but he choked it down with a forceful swallow and bared his teeth in an attempt at a smile. But judging from the way Broch’s gaze widened, as did Sorcha’s, he was certain he looked more ferocious than friendly. He wanted to close the distance between himself and Broch and pummel the man into the dirt for daring to touch Sorcha. It was that desperate desire that propelled him to pick up the buckets for Lillianna once more, which was preferable to leaving her standing alone in the courtyard after launching herself at him.
“If ye’ll excuse us,” he said in the general direction of Sorcha and Broch while turning his gaze on Lillianna.
She seemed astonished that he was still accompanying her to the kitchens with the buckets. He followed Lillianna as she walked past Sorcha, intentionally keeping his focus on Lillianna’s backside. She worked her hips so hard, he wouldn’t doubt if the lass was sore the next day from her attempt to be seductive. Unfortunately for her, the attempt was lost on him. His lust was now apparently only for lasses with blond hair and gray eyes who could well destroy him just by being themselves.
By the time he reached the kitchens with Lillianna he knew two things for certain: he had to make sure Lillianna understood he no longer wanted to dally with her, and he had to keep contact with Sorcha to a minimum when they trained. One touch too long of his body to hers and he feared his control would not hold.