Fifteen
Two days later, Cameron, Sorcha, Broch, Grant, Alex, and Lena set out with fifty MacLeod warriors for Brigid Castle. Cameron had been reluctant to bring Lena along, but he relented to Marion’s advice since Lena had skill in the healing arts and desperately wished to feel needed—and because his guilt at making Lena feel she was being forsaken was plaguing him. Cameron pushed the guilt aside and focused on what was to come, desperately hoping that Graham would offer men to support the attack on the Earl of March’s home.
The journey to Brigid would usually only be one day, but now that they were accompanied by Sorcha and Lena, he did not want to tire them, so they would do it in two days. He was also well aware that stopping halfway gave him time to be alone with Sorcha. That would be harder to find at his brother’s home. They would be at Graham’s for several days, as they would be waiting on Alex’s men to meet with them, but there would be no solitude to be found at Brigid, though the castle was large.
With all of this in his thoughts, he located a suitable place to stop that had lush, soft grass to sleep on and many trees to hide them, along with a rushing stream that ran along a winding path. He called for his men to halt.
He helped Sorcha down from her horse, soaking in the chance to touch her. Every time his skin met hers, his body set to flame. He’d spent much of the early part of the journey replaying the intimate night they had spent together, so that now, with his hands curled around her waist, all he could think of was sliding them lower to the soft, silky skin he knew to be between her thighs. Of course, he could not, surrounded as they were by his men and his sister, which is why when she said, “I’m going to attend to my needs,” he allowed her to disappear before barking orders to his men to set up camp. He hurried into the woods after her.
He spotted her before she was aware of him. She stood in the center of a circle of trees with the last rays of the day’s sunlight shimmering down on her. Her head was tilted back, her hair grazing the top of her perfectly rounded bottom, and her eyes closed. Her lips parted slightly as she inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled with obvious enjoyment. It was the most innocent yet erotically alluring thing he had ever seen. She was the picture of beauty, made perfect by her ability to enjoy such a simple thing as warmth upon her face. He’d known many women intimately, but he had never taken the time to know a woman truly. All he wanted now was time to learn the woman before him.
“Sorcha,” he said, wincing at the catch in his voice caused by a swell of emotion only she could cause.
She whipped her gaze to his, and a flirty smile twisted her lips. “Couldn’t resist following me, I see,” she teased.
“Someone needs to guard ye,” he said smoothly.
She snorted at that. “The only person I need guarding from is ye,” she replied with a laugh.
“The enemy could be about,” he reminded her gently, though he had taken great pains to ensure no one was following them.
Her eyes widened a bit. “Do ye truly believe so?” she asked, glancing around the woods.
“Likely nae,” he replied, closing the distance between them. He slipped his arm around her waist. “But I will nae risk yer life.” He yanked her against his chest, and her soft body crashed into his, her breath whooshing out and her eyes widening. She slid her hand to the base of his neck and twined her fingers in his hair. “Do ye ken what I want more than anything in this moment, Cameron MacLeod?” she asked in a throaty voice.
His body hardened at her tempting question. “I’ve a thousand wicked replies, and I pray each one of them is on yer mind, lass, but I invite ye to show me, instead of my guessing. Of course, if ye wish me to guess by actions…” He allowed his words to trail off as he brushed his mouth teasingly over her plump lips.
She smacked him playfully on the arm. “Dunnae ye fear ye will give in to my wish for ye to claim my body if ye touch me as ye did last night?” she asked, seeming so innocent now.
“I’ll manage somehow,” he growled.
Quirking a finger at him, she abruptly turned in his arms and skittered away from him, forcing him to chase her deeper into the woods. He overcame her at the stream, and when he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her backside against him, she laughed and leaned her head back onto his chest. His breath snagged with contentment.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered, raising her head to look at the glistening stream.
“Aye,” he replied, sparing a momentary glance at it but then settling his attention back on her. “It is, but it dunnae compare to ye.”
She twisted in his arms toward him and deftly tied her thick, golden hair into a knot high upon her head, exposing the long, slender column of her neck. He could not resist the temptation to press his lips to her skin. He kissed along the creamy length of her neck, relishing the way his touch made her pulse beat so rapidly. When she moaned, he took it as an indication that she wanted him to continue, and he was more than happy to do so. He trailed a path of kisses to her breasts, but her hands suddenly threaded in his hair and tugged his face to hers.
“Lie down with me,” she demanded, her voice a velvet tone of persuasion.
He nodded, stripping off his plaid and laying it on the ground for them. Bright-yellow flowers covered the ground all around her, and her hair trailed off the plaid, becoming lost among the flowers that matched its color. She settled on her back and grinned up at him, so trusting and secure in his presence. Every doubt he had about himself and every worry about whether or not others saw him as worthy dissipated in her adoring gaze. She made him feel unconquerable. Something deep in his chest jolted and tightened as if someone had just squeezed his heart in their fist.
A frown appeared between her brows. “Are ye nae going to join me?”
Silently, he kneeled beside her. For a moment, he considered looming over her, but then chose to settle on his back next to her. He took his hand in hers as he stared up at the slit of orange sky visible between the canopy of trees. For many breaths, he lay there, enjoying the soft sound of her deep, steady breath, the enticing scent that swirled from her skin every time the wind blew, and the feel of her warm hand resting in his. This moment, though not intimate in the way last night had been, offered a different sort of happiness, one he had never known. This, he suspected, was a hint of what it was like to be with a woman one truly knew. He’d thought the greatest thing he would ever achieve was to become a renowned warrior like his brothers, but now he wondered if perchance the greatest achievement was to learn a woman’s heart and her mind.
“Do ye want to ken what I wish for ye to do?” she whispered.
He turned his head slowly toward her, and the emotion that struck him made it hard to speak. “Aye,” he forced out on a whisper.
She rolled to her side, bending her right arm, and cradling her head in her hand. Her gray eyes clung to him, searching for what, he was not certain, but he knew he wanted to give it to her. “I wish ye to fill in the voids in my memory with ones of yer own. Tell me of yer childhood, of ye as a young lad, of what drives ye so relentlessly to be a strong warrior.”
He’d never had an open, honest conversation about himself with any lass, much less another person at all. His brothers probably realized better than anyone what pushed him to act the way he did, but what they did know, they had deduced. He’d never told them bluntly. It had seemed a secret to be kept hidden, one that made him somehow vulnerable, but with her, he did not feel the need to appear more than human. He could show her who he was, and perchance she would accept him, weaknesses and all.
He slung his arm behind his head to prop it up so he could see her as he talked. “My childhood was nae a bad one,” he started, trying to decide how to put into words what he wanted to say.
She reached out and caressed his cheek. “Saying it was nae bad is nae saying it was good. Tell me,” she prompted, “I’m listening.”
It was as if she had the key to unlock what he’d held in for so long. “It was hard. My da was a harsh man. He loved me, dunnae misunderstand, but he made sure I kenned I was nae close to the warriors my brothers were. I ken now that he pushed me so I would become a better warrior, but it did the opposite for a verra long time. Instead of focusing only on training, as I felt it was futile, I chased the lasses much more than I should have.”
He glanced up from his hand, which he’d been staring at, sure he would see judgment in her eyes, but all he saw was understanding and compassion. It humbled him.
“Tell me more,” she prodded. “I ken ye were still chasing the lasses when I met ye…”
He grimaced. “Nay, I was nae. I have nae chased the lasses since I was fifteen summers. That dunnae mean I have nae enjoyed the lasses, but I did nae chase them. I mostly trained, truth be known, but since the lasses seemed to like me—” he gave her a sheepish smile “—I developed a reputation.”
She chuckled. “I can see how that could happen. So at fifteen summers ye had decided nae to try to be a great warrior anymore? What made ye do so?”
“My father died, for one, so I did nae have him in my ear all the time anymore, telling me I was nae equal to my brothers. And actually, Graham gave me a strong speech on nae giving up and on being seen as an equal. He told me Iain was testing me, and my reckless pursuit of the lasses was dividing my attention too greatly and causing me to fail.” He shrugged. “Graham’s words jiggled my mind, and what he said made sense, likely meeting ye that night helped to drive his words into my heart.”
“Truly? Ye think meeting me had something to do with it?”
“Aye, I do. I did nae really ken it then, but looking back now, I ken it to my bones. I decided I had to be more focused if I wanted to show everyone I was strong and worthy to fight by my brothers’ sides.”
“And ye have shown it!” she exclaimed.
“Nay.” He shook his head. “Nae as I hoped. I have the physical strength to fight now, but I have failed to prove myself a worthy leader when I failed to defend Katherine. That was the most important task I have ever been given, and I failed. My brothers never would have allowed that to happen.”
“Ye kinnae say that,” she protested. “Yer brothers are nae faultless, and from what I have heard, Katherine disobeyed ye.”
“I let her. I was weak.”
“Nay,” Sorcha said, her face fierce with indignation for him that made his heart tug. “Ye are kind. There is a difference between kindness and weakness. How did Katherine’s death occur?”
He told her quickly about the trail and the lady talking after he had told her not to, which allowed the enemy to determine her location even though it was dark.
“Ye could nae have kenned she was going to make noise,” Sorcha said. “Yer brothers could nae have kenned it, either, if they had been there,” she added, a confident look upon her face. “That dunnae make ye weak. It makes ye human.” Her tone was so emphatic it gave him pause.
“Perchance,” he relented, thinking about what she had said.
She snuggled close to him, wrapping her arm around his waist and laying her head on his chest. “Is this agreeable to ye?”
“Ye in my arms is more than agreeable, bean bhàsail. It is perfect.”
She smirked up at him. “I bet ye said that to every lass ye joined with.”
“Nay,” he growled. “Ye are the first lass I have ever held in my arms. It is something I nae ever wished for, something I thought I would nae ever desire, but then ye appeared, and with ye, it is different. I am different.”
“Ye nae ever held the lasses that ye joined with in yer arms?” she asked, incredulity in her voice.
“Nay,” he replied.
She frowned. “I imagine that made them feel as if ye did nae care about them.”
Her words struck him to his core. He had not cared about the lasses, not as he already cared for Sorcha, and he did feel guilty thinking upon that. “I did nae offer any hope for a future with me, and I made sure they understood there was nae going to be one. But that dunnae excuse how I behaved. I dunnae have excuses. All I can say is that until I held ye in my arms, I had nae ever wanted to. I had nae ever wanted to allow someone that close to me.”
She quirked her mouth. “It dunnae make ye weak to let a woman close, ye ken.”
Her words stilled him. How had she known the thoughts he had not voiced? It was astonishing to him and a gift he would defend with his life. “I ken it now,” he said gruffly, holding her tighter and running his hand through her silken hair.
They lay head to head, body to body, their hearts seemingly beating as one. When Sorcha let out a sigh, he glanced at her. Her brows dipped together in a frown. “What’s the matter, lass?”
She bit her lip, then released it and spoke. “I’m so happy, and I fear it will nae last. I feel as if our time together is borrowed.”
His fingers curled reflexively around her arm. “Dunnae fash yerself,” he said fiercely. “I vow to ye that this is just the beginning, nae the path to the end.”
She took a deep breath, as if she was going to argue something, but she released it on a whoosh. “How pretty the stars are tonight. So bright and beautiful.”
He pointed to the sky with his free hand. “Do ye see the star that shines the brightest? It looks like an eye?”
He studied her as her face became a mask of intense focus. “Aye! I see it,” she said in a breathless whisper.
He grinned, her excitement contagious. “My da always said that was the eye of the first MacLeod laird watching all his descendants and judging whether they were worthy or nae. It seemed every time I was out at night with him I saw that star, and he would say it was because I had much improvement yet to make. It got so I feared the night, which made my da furious. Once he forced me to accompany him and my brothers on a hunt in the darkest hour of the night, and when he realized I was too scairt to walk alone in the woods, he ordered all of them to leave me and ride back to Dunvegan. I was nae allowed to return until I caught the wild pig we were hunting.”
“How old were ye?” she asked, her words vibrating with anger.
He had to cast his mind back, as it had been many years since he’d thought of the night he’d shamed himself so. “Seven summers,” he replied, then shook his head. “Nay, six summers.”
“Yer father was a beast,” she gasped.
“Nay,” he said. “Harsh, but only because he wanted us to be fierce warriors.”
She suddenly shifted and climbed atop him, resting her chin on her folded hands upon his chest. Their faces were a hairsbreadth apart. “Is that how ye would train yer sons?”
“Nay,” he replied. He stilled, realizing she had made her point without him even knowing what she was doing.
She grinned. “I’m pleased to hear it.”
His body stirred with awareness of her pressed so firmly against him. God’s teeth, he needed to touch her. Thankfully, he knew no one would come for them; his men knew better than to intrude. And even if someone was foolish enough to search them out, they were well hidden, and he would hear them before he and Sorcha were seen. With a wolfish smile, he slid his hands to her back, running his fingers up and down the perfect curve that ran from the top of her bottom to the base of her neck. She shivered and moaned, and her breath quickened. An ache sprang to life in his gut, a pulsing longing to flip her onto her back, spread her legs gently, and claim her body as she had begged him to do so recently. To feel her that way, to be so deep inside her… He groaned with the painful need.
“I want ye,” he bit out, his voice husky and ragged.
She reached behind her with both her hands and brought them to the top of his, which now rested near the base of her spine. She grasped them firmly and led his hands over the delicious curve of her bottom to just below where her legs began. Pressing her hands firmly atop his, she leaned toward him and brushed her lips against his ear. “Then take me.”
He squeezed her flesh hard, flipped her onto her back as he had yearned to do, spread her legs in a deft move with his knee, and settled between her thighs. Leaning on his right hand, he used his left to tug down her bodice until her creamy, full breasts spilled out. He brought his mouth to her nipple and suckled it with one long, exquisite pull, lashing and teasing the taut bud with his tongue.
She hissed and bucked upward, arching her chest into his mouth, letting him know she liked what he was doing very much. Her hands fisted in his hair and pushed his head harder toward her chest. He chuckled, released her right bud, and showed her left bud the same attention. His blood roared in his ears, and his heart beat furiously as he settled his mouth between her thighs, and gained access to the core of what made her a woman. He lingered over her, torturing himself and her, by tasting her and teasing her into such a frenzy that she had to cover her mouth on a scream of need before he took her over the edge and offered her release.
When she lay quiet and panting, and he had put her gown back in order for her, she quirked an eyebrow at him. “That was nae what I meant when I said take me.”
“I ken,” he replied, coming to settle beside her once more. “But when I join with ye, Sorcha, it will nae be on the forest floor and things between us will be settled in a permanent way.” He didn’t want to mention marriage again, not until he was certain she would agree and until he understood fully what this woman meant to him. She was a drug. A temptress. A light in the darkness he had dwelled in, and when he looked at her or thought about her, his heart ached. But what did that mean? He sensed he’d need to know how to persuade her to be his wife if agreeing to do so still meant that he may have to go against the king.
She rolled to her knees, her hair enticingly tousled, her lips swollen and rosy from his kisses, and her eyes heavy with her own desire. “I think it only fair I give ye the same torment and release ye just gave me.”
“Ye dunnae need to convince me,” he assured her with a grin.
Her hands came to his thighs, and she gained her own access to him as he had to her. As she lowered her mouth to his staff, he could not contain the groan of pleasure that tore from deep within. She was true to her word about offering him the same exquisite torture he had given her. She took him deep within her warm mouth with hard pulls and then withdrew, stroking greedily down one side of his staff and then the other. She was tireless in her attempt to treat him as he had her, bringing him to the very edge and pulling back repeatedly with a wicked laugh.
The next time she did it, he growled, “I ken ye’re trying to break me. It will nae work. I’ll nae be joining with ye this night, but I will be finding my own release in a breath if ye dunnae give it to me. I’m dying.”
Her answer was to take him once more into her mouth and offer him pleasure unlike any he had ever known. When she was done, he gathered the little remaining strength he had and pulled her up onto his chest, then nestled her back at his side. “There is nae a doubt left in my mind that ye are truly a bean bhàsail.”
She frowned. “I ken it, as well, but I ken in my heart that ye bring it out in me.”
“It better be only me,” he growled and kissed her soundly on her pretty mouth. “I have nae ever been jealous over a lass, but with ye, it is different. Ye are mine. I’d kill any man who dared to touch ye.”
“I am nae yers yet,” she teased, but the shadows of worry flickering in her eyes told him it was not so lighthearted as she would have him believe.
He grasped her chin gently. “Ye are mine.”
“For now,” she conceded, settling back beside him.
He lay perfectly still, listening to her breathe and thinking about what she had said. Her words reinforced what he’d thought earlier. She would need utter surrender from him, all his heart and soul, to make her trust him completely and give hers in return. Was he prepared to surrender to her fully? For so long, he had kept his heart shielded and allowed no one in—as he had believed it was what he wanted—no, needed—to do to become the warrior he intended to be. And now? What did he need to do to protect her, keep her, and still be worthy of the MacLeod name?
His brothers all had wives they had surrendered to, and they were still fierce warriors. Of course, he was not his brothers and never had been. Maybe that was the problem, or maybe it was the answer? The truth evaded him, and after a while, he realized Sorcha’s breathing had grown deep and steady. He glanced at her to find her eyes shut and her face peaceful with slumber. As much as he wanted to sleep here with her, it was safer to return to the others, so he gathered her and his plaid in his arms as carefully as he could, pleased he managed to do so without waking her. She had to truly trust him with her safety to sleep so soundly.
He walked slowly into camp with her nestled in his protective embrace. A fire burned in the middle of multiple rings made of his men. The inner circle, the one closest to the fire, included Lena, Alex, Broch, and two empty spaces that Cameron knew had been left for Sorcha and himself. He nodded to the guards who’d been assigned the first watch as he weaved toward the inner circle. Lena lay between Broch, who was facing her, and Alex, whose back was to her. Lena, Cameron realized with a start, was awake and staring intently at Alex’s back. She seemed to have no notion that Cameron even approached so focused was she upon Alex.
Cameron knew the moment she noticed him. Her gaze skittered from Alex, and a scowl came to her face, followed by a disapproving frown.
He could feel her eyes on him as he laid out his plaid, settled Sorcha onto it, and then went searching for a blanket to cover her. Once he had it tucked under her chin and at her sides, he started to lie down, as well.
“I dunnae like that ye are growing so close to this woman,” Lena said.
He straightened and looked at his sister, who had sat up and had her knees drawn to her chest. Her long russet hair fell over her knees, reaching all the way to her ankles. She looked fragile, as if she had been broken and put back together but left with great cracks.
Her blue eyes were narrowed upon him, hinting at her displeasure. “We dunnae even ken her past. She may well have plotted to kill Katherine,” Lena hissed.
He ground his teeth in an effort to stamp out his rising temper. He knew his sister meant well, even if she was showing it poorly. “She did nae,” he said firmly.
“Ye dunnae ken that for certain,” Lena snapped. “What if when she recalls exactly who she is and realizes she is our enemy, she tries to kill ye or, at the verra least, warns whoever she plotted with that ye are after them?”
“She will nae,” he insisted.
“Are ye sure?” Lena whispered ferociously. “Would ye risk my life on it? The king’s? Alex’s? The safety of the MacLeod clan? It could be—” Lena scrambled over to him and clutched him “—that her family was involved in the plot to kill Katherine. It could be that her family is one of the ones rebelling against the king. Use yer brain, Cameron,” Lena urged, her voice rising.
He opened his mouth to argue, but his sister’s words had sent doubt slithering through his mind. Furious with himself for allowing any uncertainty in, he growled, “I would gladly risk my life on her nae hurting me or any of ye.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed further. “And mine? Yer family’s? Dunnae ye see that Eolande’s prophecy is coming true? Ye are forsaking yer family and yer king for this woman!”
He set a hand to his sister’s arm. “Have faith in me, Lena. I will nae ever forsake ye or our brothers. Ye are my family.”
“We shall see,” Lena muttered and went back to her place, lay down, and turned her back to him.
Grunting with frustration, he lay down, too, knowing he needed sleep, but when he rolled onto his side, he froze.
Sorcha stared back at him, tears streaming down her face. His gut twisted with her pain, and fury at his sister heated his blood. “Sorcha,” he murmured, reaching for her, but she shook her head while swiping at her tears.
“I’ll nae be the thing that separates ye from yer family,” she said vehemently. With that promise, she turned away from him. He brushed his fingertips against her shoulder, but she shifted farther away from him, placing her almost against Broch. Left with no choice but to cease trying to grasp her or see her practically lying on top of Broch, he pulled back and settled for staring at her.
He could not say how long he watched her, waiting to see her breathing deepen and know she had succumbed to sleep, but eventually her back rose and fell in long breaths, her tense posture relaxed, and she rolled onto her back, her face tilting toward him.
Moonlight streamed over Sorcha’s face, highlighting her beauty while tightening Cameron’s chest and quickening his breath. The need to touch her strummed through him, keeping sleep out of his reach. How ironic that he’d never before ached to hold a woman with the intent of nothing more than tenderness or cared to sleep the night with a woman by his side, and now he could not sleep because the desire to do both those things with Sorcha was battering him. When he decided it was safe to attempt to touch her once more, he moved toward her and slipped his arm across her waist. With her eyelids still closed in heavy sleep, she released a contented sigh that made him smile. She turned on her side again, but this time, instead of trying to put distance between them, she wiggled her backside against his groin.
The overwhelming need to protect and shelter her flowed through him. He tugged her as close as he could get her, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the simple exquisiteness of her heat against his skin, the soft exhalations of her breath, and the lush womanly curves nestled trustingly in his arms. He turned his focus to the weeks ahead, his stomach tightening at the thought of all that was at stake—his family, his honor, his life, and most certainly his heart. Before he could think much upon it, sleep finally, mercifully, claimed him.