Nineteen
Sorcha much preferred to wake as she had this morning at Brigid Castle—in Cameron’s arms after he had joined with her in a soft bed—as opposed to being jarred awake on the back of a horse. She instantly felt the protective, warm embrace of Cameron’s arm’s encircling her waist, though, and she smiled. As the bleariness of sleep cleared from her eyes and her thoughts sharpened, the Earl of March’s castle became visible in the moonlight. Suddenly, dread seized her. She knew the plan to attack the earl’s castle and force him to take his name off the petition against the king, but that did not stop fear from blossoming in her belly.
The massive castle sat atop a hill and seemed to be made up of several adjacent stone structures, as well as one structure that was set apart from the others. She attempted to breathe in a deep, calming breath, but she furrowed her brow at the brackish air that filled her nose. Cameron brought his destrier to a halt, and behind them, she could hear a collective whoosh as the army of men who had come with Cameron to seize the castle halted, as well.
A shiver coursed through her, and her thoughts swirled in her mind. Would they have to swim through water to reach the castle? She could swim well enough, but something about swimming at night had always given her a fright. “Cameron, is the castle surrounded by water?” she asked.
“Nay, the harbor is on but two sides.”
She sighed. “Oh, good. Night swimming is nae my favorite. I’m nae scairt, mind ye,” she fibbed, not wanting him to perceive her as weak.
“Dunnae fash yerself, Sorcha. Neither ye or Lena will be coming with us to attack the castle,” he replied matter-of-factly.
Before she could protest, he gripped her around the waist and set her on the ground. Around her, men and Lena dismounted and a flurry of activity began. Broch started to tug her away from Cameron, who was only just getting down from his horse, but she twisted free and stepped toward Cameron, placing her hand on his arm to gain his attention, as he was turned to speak to Graham.
Cameron looked to her at once, his eyebrows quirked up with annoyance. His face softened immediately as his eyes locked with hers. “Broch will make ye and Lena a bed, and I’ll say farewell before we depart to attack the castle.”
“I’m coming with ye,” she said, letting him hear the resolve in her voice.
“Nay.” The reply was but a word, yet it had the ring of finality.
Her temper flared. “I’ll nae slow ye down. I’m faster than most of yer men on horseback, I’d venture to say.”
“I’m inclined to agree with ye, bean bhàsail—”
“Ye’re trying to sway me to do as ye wish,” she accused.
He gave her a wicked grin, which she could just make out in the moonlight. “Always.” The word danced with merriment.
“How can ye be so lighthearted when ye’re about to go into battle?” she asked, exasperated.
He cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers before pulling away. “Because I’ve nary a doubt that we will triumph. It should nae take overly long to take the castle. Ye sleep, and I vow I’ll return before light even breaks the night sky.”
“Nay,” she growled. “I will ride with ye.”
“We are nae riding in, Sorcha. We’ll climb the rock and take the castle by stealth.”
Around them, the men had moved away, and she could see most of them tethering their horses and preparing their weapons. Her heart quickened with real fear of being left behind. Her gut tightened with worry as she recalled Eolande foretelling that if they parted, they’d not be reunited. If only Sorcha knew the rest of Eolande’s sentence! She did not want to part with Cameron in a time of strife. She did not wish to part with him ever, but to do so now made her heart beat furiously and her palms sweat.
“Eolande said if we part, we will nae be reunited.” She didn’t bother to tell him that the seer’s foretelling had been interrupted. She wanted him to relent and allow her to accompany him.
“Eolande is wrong,” he said in a hard voice. “We will always be reunited, Sorcha.” He tugged her to him and folded her in his arms. “Even if I had to spend the rest of my life searching for ye, I would find ye. Ye are my air, my food, the shelter for my soul.”
“And ye are the same for me,” she murmured into his chest, giving him a squeeze. “Which is why I must accompany ye. I kinnae bear the thought of ye going into battle and me staying behind.”
He pulled back and stared at her. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice gentle. “If ye accompany me, I will nae be as focused as I need to be. Do ye ken what I’m saying?”
“Ye’re saying I’m a weakness for ye,” she mumbled, feeling miserable because she understood but did not want to.
“Aye.” He kissed her soundly. “In the best sort of way. Ye are a weakness because yer life means more to me that winning the battle, but ye are also my greatest strength. I will win the battle kenning it will allow us to spend our lives together.”
“I’ll stay,” she agreed quietly, her gut wrenching at the thought of the upcoming separation.
“And I’ll return,” he vowed.
“Before daybreak?” she asked hopefully.
“Aye,” he said. “Before daybreak.”
“Ye two need to sleep,” Broch said. He sat on a rock a few feet away from where he and the other four men left to guard Sorcha and Lena had made beds for the two women.
“I kinnae,” Sorcha replied as she paced, Lena by her side.
“Nor I,” Lena agreed.
“’Tis almost day,” Broch continued. “Ye’ll be very weary tomorrow, and I feel certain Cameron will ride us on toward the Earl of Ross’s home, which means fitful sleep on the horses at best.”
Almost day. Sorcha stared off toward the castle. Where was he? He’d promised to return before the sun broke the sky, and the sky was now lightening with the dawn. Eolande’s prophecy grew to a deafening roar in Sorcha’s ears. She swung around and marched toward the nearest horse. “I’m going to the castle,” she blurted as she started to untie the black destrier.
“Nay! Cameron will kill me if I let ye put yerself in harm’s way,” Broch said. “Look!”
Triumph filled his voice, and she swiveled around to see what he meant. Her heart leaped with joy and filled with relief, as on the horizon, a large group of men approached. As they came closer, Cameron’s tall, powerful build and light hair made it easy to identify him. She did not hesitate. Racing forward, she quickly closed the distance between them and flung herself into his arms.
“Are ye hurt?” she asked breathlessly, pulling back to run her hands over his chest and sweeping her gaze over his legs, arms, trunk, and face.
He pulled her against his side and slid his arm around her waist. “I’m nae harmed, and we’ve gained the castle.” Cameron released her and tugged out a piece of foolscap. “March has withdrawn his support of the petition and pledged his undying fealty to the king.” At those words, Cameron and Graham both paused to spit at the ground, as she had noticed they always did when speaking of disloyal men.
“He’s nae trustworthy,” Cameron explained, “but he’s fearful, and he wishes to keep his castle.”
Lena had walked up as Cameron was talking and now touched her brother on the arm. “Where is Alex?” she asked. Sorcha saw the unbridled worry on her face.
“He’s staying here with his men and some of ours. He’ll hold the castle in the king’s name until David gives word to return it.”
Lena bit her lip. “Was he unharmed, as well?”
“Aye,” Cameron said.
Lena’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and while Cameron had already turned his attention to speaking with Graham, Sorcha studied Lena for a moment. The woman evidently cared a great deal for Alex, but it seemed she did not want anyone, including Alex, to know. Or it could be that she didn’t want to care but could not seem to help it.
“We have to ride out now,” Cameron announced, squeezing Sorcha close and scrutinizing her. “Did ye sleep?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.
“Nay,” Broch replied, answering for her.
She glared at Broch. She had not intended to tell Cameron that she had been awake all night because she knew he’d worry. At the concern that swept across Cameron’s face, she held up her palm to cease him from speaking. “Dunnae even try to leave me here and ride off. I vow I’ll follow ye.”
She saw the beginning of a smile tug at his lips, which he quickly mastered. He gave a curt nod before leaning toward her and whispering, “Ye need to be tamed.”
His words held a seductive, teasing promise that made her belly clench with longing. “What is next?” she asked, greatly relieved he would not argue against her accompanying him.
He darted his gaze away for a moment, then settled it on her. A strange look flickered in his eyes, almost as if something was bothering him. Was he worried about what was to come? She gripped his hand tightly to offer silent support, to which he gave her a strained smile. “I go simply to do as the king bids,” he replied, his words stilted, as if saying them was somehow almost uncomfortable to him.
He was acting odd, indeed, but she suspected it was because he did not want her to be concerned. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his ear. “I have faith in ye.”
“I hope so,” he replied, a grim look skittering across his face.
Cameron was unaccustomed to lying. It did not sit well with him, even though he knew it was to protect Sorcha and to ensure they would have the future together that they wanted. He reminded himself of this again and again during the long, grueling ride to the Falls.
What should have taken three days had been done in one so that they would arrive in time to meet with the king. Sorcha was sleeping the sleep of the dead as they rode through the thickening woods toward the Falls. Up ahead, he saw the king’s banner fluttering in the wind. Cameron’s heart pounded for what was likely to come and the idea of parting with her, even if only temporarily.
He paused and glanced to his left to meet his brother’s gaze. “Are ye ready?” Graham asked.
Cameron nodded, keenly aware of the soft, warm woman sleeping so trustingly in his arms. His wife, and she did not yet even know it. He loved her so much it was a physical ache. He looked to Broch. “Are ye ready for what ye must do?”
Broch gave an easy nod. “I’m always ready to die for ye, Cameron. Feigning to betray ye will be an easy task,” he said, clearly trying to lessen the tension. “I’ll simply recall the times ye angered me.” He grinned, and then his face got very serious. “I will guard Sorcha with my life. I vow no harm will come to her while breath is in my body.”
Cameron nodded, for his throat was too tight with emotion to speak. Signaling his men forward, they entered the pathway of trees and continued until they were almost upon the group, which Cameron could now see contained the king, Hugo, Finn, and the Earl of Ross. Sorcha’s father was notably absent.
Slowing his horse to a near stop once more, Cameron gently woke her. After a minute, she sat up straight, and seconds later, her body stiffened in his arms. “God’s teeth,” she muttered, and he was certain she had seen her brother. “That’s Finn,” she whispered, her tone full of torment. “Cameron—” she turned toward him, fear blanketing her lovely face “—I must tell ye something.”
The urgency in her tone shook his resolve. “Later,” he said, knowing she likely wanted to confess that she had lied to him. “Ye can tell me later. Now, ye must trust me.”
“But Cameron, ye dunnae understand—”
“Cameron and Graham!” the king bellowed, the timing near perfect to what Cameron had imagined in his mind when he had thought this day through. “Bring the lass forward with ye now.” Even though it was all as Cameron had planned, he found himself suddenly loath to do as the king bid.
“It is but temporary,” Graham reminded him in a reassuring tone.
Aye. Temporary.
He signaled to his horse and moved them directly in front of the king. Once there, he quickly dismounted, helped Sorcha down, and they both paid their proper respects to the king while waiting silently for his brother and Broch to do so. Behind him, the collective tension of his men pressed against his back like a wave of heat. All they knew was that no matter what came to pass, they were not to take action without his orders.
Beside him, Sorcha’s tense face was twisted with pain as she stared at her brother, whose dispassionate face made Cameron want to rip out the man’s black heart.
“Sorcha Stewart, come forward,” King David commanded.
It took Cameron a moment to force his fingers to uncurl from hers. He watched her walk forward, head held high, back straight, and her shoulders thrust back. He’d never been so proud in his life, nor so grateful that she was his. She was his wife by God’s law, which the king knew.
The king pressed his lips into a thin white line before he finally spoke. “I’m verra pained to hear that yer father betrayed me so grievously,” the king spat.
Inside, Cameron winced for Sorcha as her eyes widened and fastened accusingly on her brother. She had no idea of the plan, and he could well imagine her fear of what was happening. “Yer Grace, my father was nae the only one to betray ye. My brother and—”
The king held up a silencing hand. “I ken my betrayers well, Sorcha. In time, all will get what they deserve, even if at first they seem to escape justice.”
“My lord,” Sorcha’s brother whined. “I did nae betray ye, I vow it. She simply wants my castle.”
Sorcha gasped. “Nay!”
“Finn Stewart,” the king said in a voice so cold it felt as if an icy wind blasted Cameron, “ye’ve been named traitor to me and murderer of Katherine Mortimer—”
“I did nae kill Lady Mortimer!” Finn shouted. “Sorcha! Sorcha, Sister, tell the king that I did nae kill Lady Mortimer. I beg ye.”
Cameron trained his gaze on Hugo, who was barely controlling the gleeful smile on his face. Cameron would kill the arrogant man this day. He’d kill him for murdering Katherine and betraying the king, but more so, he would kill the man because he intended to make Sorcha his wife to gain the castle that was now hers. Her father, no doubt, would soon die in prison, the Earl of Ross and his son obviously having done exactly as Cameron had suspected. They’d taken their names from the petition, pledged renewed fealty to the king, and given the names of Sorcha’s father and brother as the murderers. And in exchange, they expected Hugo to marry Sorcha and inherit Blair Castle.
“Hugo shot Lady Mortimer,” Sorcha said quietly, “but my brother and father did willingly aid Hugo and the Earl of Ross. They plotted against ye, Sire.”
“Hush, lass,” the king ordered. “It is honorable of ye to try to defend yer brother and father, but dunnae do so with lies.”
Sorcha’s eyes widened. “But, Yer Grace!”
“Sorcha Stewart,” the king declared, and Cameron braced himself for what he knew was coming, “I hereby transfer yer care over to Hugo and give my consent for him to wed ye.”
“Nay!” Cameron thundered, the words bursting from his chest. The situation felt so real that his stomach turned.
As Hugo’s men moved to seize Sorcha, Cameron withdrew his sword, and Broch stepped in front of him with his own sword drawn. “Ye dare to defy yer king?” Broch roared.
To his left, Sorcha was crying, and when he glanced her way and saw that Hugo now grasped one of her arms with a look of possession on his face, Cameron forgot for a moment that things were occurring as he himself had planned. He lunged toward Hugo, only to find the point of Broch’s sword digging into his chest.
“Shall I kill him, Sire?” Broch asked.
For one breath, the king looked as if he were actually contemplating it.
“Yer Grace,” Graham said calmly, “I’m sure ye dunnae wish to do such a thing.” He had withdrawn his own sword, and suddenly the swish of hundreds of swords being drawn behind him filled the tense silence. His brother’s support and fealty humbled Cameron.
“Of course nae,” the king finally answered. “We’ve all lost reason over a woman before. Take yer brother and ride home. Ye,” the king said, motioning to Broch, “go with the lass and ensure she is treated well.”
“Yer Grace,” Hugo protested, but he fell silent at the king’s quelling look.
Graham tugged on Cameron’s arm to get him to move. He knew he was supposed to go; he’d devised it all exactly this way. Depart. Hide. Wait for Hugo to ride past with Sorcha on the way to his home. Then Cameron would take her back. Yet, he could not leave. He had something else to do for Sorcha. “Sire, I request ye give the discipline of Finn Stewart over to me.”
“Nay,” the king said in a tone that brooked no argument and rang with the finality of all his rage against those who had killed Katherine or stood by and let it happen. Cameron wanted to argue for Sorcha, but to do so would be folly and possibly destroy his carefully laid-out plan.
“Away, now!” Sorcha sobbed at him. “Away before ye get yerself killed! I’m yers,” she continued, her sobs racking her body. “I will always be yers.”
Graham had to drag Cameron away, and when he got to his horse, he stood there until Graham hissed, “Mount the damned beast and let us away. Ye have planned this, and I ken it’s gutting ye, but it is going exactly as ye said it would. Dunnae lose faith in yerself now, Brother.”
Cameron nodded grimly, mounted his destrier, and rode away. He didn’t look back. He feared if he did, he’d change his mind and ruin everything.