Seven
After Marion collected Serene from her bedchamber the next morning, she took her to the great hall, and the first person they encountered was Cameron. Faster than Serene knew what was occurring, Marion was handing her over to Cameron and striding away. For a long moment, he simply stared at her with an uneasy look on his face before he took her by the arm, and then he led her to a table and deposited her for the morning meal without a word. From the pitying looks the curly redheaded woman beside her gave her and the sympathy-filled blue eyes Marsaili turned upon her, Serene was certain it was as obvious that Cameron wanted nothing more than to put distance between them. She swallowed hard as she listened to him order the giant warrior sitting beside Marsaili to guard her.
When the man acknowledged his duty, Cameron turned away and strode toward the dais. Confusion churned in her belly. He’d said he did not consider her his enemy, but the moment she had confessed that she thought their lives were meant to intertwine somehow, he’d become cold. Feeling her throat tighten with all the emotions bottled inside her and her vision blur with unshed tears, she reached blindly for the goblet in front of her, desperate for some way to quell the tide within. Her fingers brushed someone else’s, and she pulled back quickly while glancing to her right. Dark, assessing eyes framed by long, dark lashes met hers.
“I’m Alanna,” the woman said in a serious voice while shoving a mass of red curls over her shoulder. “I’m Rory Mac’s wife.”
When Serene frowned, the woman’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “Rory Mac is the warrior who was gravely injured in the attack that killed the king’s mistress.”
“Oh!” Serene gasped. “How does he fare?”
“His fever has broken,” Alanna said, her tone anything but friendly.
Serene got the feeling Alanna blamed her for Rory Mac’s injuries. “I’m glad to hear his fever broke,” she said, choosing her words with care. “I hope he makes a swift recovery. I wish I could remember the attack so that I could help find who ambushed yer husband and the others.”
Alanna raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Just because ye dunnae have a memory of doing evil, dunnae mean ye did nae do it.” The woman stood. “I’ll nae break my fast beside ye.”
Serene clenched her teeth for a moment. Anger coursed through her, but understanding did, too. “That’s yer choice,” she said quietly. “Though I hope to prove to ye and everyone else that I’m a good person.”
Alanna pursed her lips, and then she let out a rattling sigh. “I hope ye prove that, as well.”
Her departure and the words she’d spoken left the table in absolute silence. Marsaili quietly stood next, causing Serene’s breath to catch. Were they all going to leave the table one by one? How humiliating that would be!
Much to her surprise, Marsaili moved to the empty space Alanna had left on her departure. Marsaili turned to her. “I ken well how it feels to be an outcast here. I dunnae believe ye would have bothered to try to aid Cameron last night, if ye were a willing partner in the attack against Katherine.”
“I dunnae believe so, either,” said the large warrior Cameron had assigned as her guard. The man swiped a hunk of bread through the thick sauce on his plate, wiped his hands on his plaid, and grinned at her as he leaned his elbows on the table. “I’m Broch, and it will be my pleasure to keep watch over ye.” With those surprising words, he winked at her.
An older gentleman with red hair and nubs for ears leaned around Broch to look at her. He eyed her for a long moment before thumping Broch on the head. “Dunnae let lust for a beautiful lass rule ye. Ye see that Cameron dunnae lose his good judgment simply because the lass is bonny. She may have tried to aid him,” the man said, directing his steely gaze at Marsaili, “but let none of us forget she dunnae remember who she is. When she does…” His eyes narrowed.
Heat singed Serene’s cheeks, and she opened her mouth to defend herself, though she did not have much of a defense since she did not recall the truth. Before she could speak, Marsaili slammed her hand on the table, rattling the trenchers. “Ye are a grumpy old man, Neil,” she bit out. “Ye have decided she’s guilty of the worst without any proof.”
“I’m nae the only one,” the man named Neil sputtered. “Clearly Cameron has decided so, as well, and Alanna. I am certain everyone in this room is wary of her but ye, Broch, and Marion. We all ken Marion is too nice and too trusting, and as for Broch…” He waved a hand at the warrior. “We all ken his brain is nae leading him in this.”
The heat in Serene’s cheeks spread down her neck and to her chest.
Grunts of agreement sounded from all around the table, and Neil said, “Broch turns into a clot-heid whenever a bonny lass smiles at him.”
“Aye,” everyone at the table besides Marsaili said.
“Ye’re the clot-heid, Neil!” Marsaili said with such force that people from the nearby tables turned to look at them.
Desperate to quiet the rising argument, Serene said in a low but firm voice, “If I am guilty of conspiring to kill the king’s mistress, I will willingly give my life.”
“Ye’ll be giving something anyway,” someone to her left snarled.
She turned to ask them what they meant and blinked in surprise at the sight of Cameron standing there. Fury was etched into his features and burned in his eyes. He jerked the younger man out of his seat and yanked him forward until their faces were a hairsbreadth apart.
“Keep yer filthy mouth shut, Cormac,” Cameron growled.
The man scowled. “We all ken what the king has planned for her. Why do ye defend this woman who may well have murdered our king’s mistress?” His words were like thunder, reverberating around the now-silent great hall.
Serene wished she could disappear, but she forced herself to sit tall.
“I find I’ve the same question as young Cormac,” a deep voice said from the direction of the dais.
Serene turned to find a man standing. His brown hair and beard were both impeccably kept. He wore a long, ruby-red cloak trimmed in gold; the material was thick and obviously rich. He was tall and of lean build, and he had a long, patrician nose and prominent cheekbones.
“Dunnae ye have an answer for yer king?” he asked in a quiet, yet powerful voice that managed to send chills racing down Serene’s back. “If ye dunnae, perchance I should rid us all this very hour of this woman who trouble seems to haunt.”
Terror clawed at Serene, but she forced herself to sit perfectly still, except her gaze, which she cast furtively at Cameron, who shoved the man he’d been gripping back into his seat. Cameron did not look the least concerned with the king’s question. In truth, the expression on his face almost bordered on anger. But it seemed to disappear before her very eyes, as if he had slid a magic shield in place that was to leave whoever was staring at him baffled and confused.
“Because, Yer Grace,” he said in an easy, casual tone, “Serene recalled a new memory that further points to her innocence. I simply have nae yet had a private moment to share it with ye nor Iain.”
Shock bolted through her at his lie. She barely managed to keep her lips together, but as his gaze settled on her, his shields dropped down, and in the depths of his mesmerizing eyes, a warning dwelled. He was warning her to stay silent! Her heart thudded heavily as she tilted her head ever so slightly.
Footsteps resounded in the silent hall, and without turning to see who approached, Serene knew it to be the king. He appeared beside Cameron. The king was a bit shorter and his build not near as commanding; nevertheless, he had a presence about him that commanded attention.
“Do tell,” he said in a tone that was low enough that the whole room could not hear but not so hushed that everyone at the table did not lean forward to listen. Serene found herself leaning forward, as well, unsure what he was going to say or why he would boldly lie to his king for her. She was both terrified and so grateful that she wanted to weep.
“She recalled that she had been taken by force from land near her home,” he said smoothly.
Serene felt her lips part, but she immediately pressed them shut and looked down at her hands. She feared she would give away his falsehood, and she would rather cut out her tongue than betray this man who had just deceived his king for her.
“What else do ye remember, my lady?” the king demanded in a harsh voice that made her twitch.
Slowly, she looked up and met the king’s probing gaze. Her blood roared in her ears as she licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Nae anything else, I’m afraid, Sire.”
His eyes narrowed, and he offered a tilt of his head. “I’m certain if ye are now recalling things, ye will soon remember more that will help Cameron in his search for my Katherine’s killers.”
She wiped her suddenly sweaty palms against her skirts. “Aye, Sire,” she started, but had to clear a catch in her throat. “I’m certain I will recall more that shall shed light.” Pray God it would prove innocence when she did finally remember.
The king strolled over to her and motioned for her to stand. She did so on trembling legs. He quirked his finger in commandment for her to come to him. She took a deep breath to quell her quaking nerves as she walked to the king. When he gripped her by the chin, she bit her lip on her cry of protest. His grip was not punishing but firm, and seemed to hint that punishment would come if she were to move.
Behind the king, Cameron tensed, and his hands curl into fists by his side. Suddenly his brothers Iain and Lachlan were flanking him. Her attention was diverted back to the king when he turned her face sharply to the left, then the right.
He smiled, the brittleness increasing her fears. “I’m pleased to hear it is unlikely that ye are a traitor,” he offered, turning her face directly to his. “I’ve designs for ye, my lady, but first…” He squeezed her chin with such force that she winced. The king shifted, and she could once again see Cameron. Both his brothers had a hand on each of his arms. The king released her as suddenly as he’d grabbed her, and she rubbed her aching chin. “First, I think it wise if ye go with Cameron on his search for Katherine’s killers.”
Relief at the king’s proclamation nearly sent her to her knees. She did not want to be left at Dunvegan Castle without Cameron. She looked to him, afraid he’d argue that she’d slow him down in his quest, but he was already striding toward the king.
“An excellent idea, Sire,” Cameron replied. “I can use any information Serene may recall.”
The king’s mouth twisted into a smug smile. “Just be sure to keep her unscathed,” he drawled, raking his gaze over her so she had to back up a step. “I want her returned just as lovely appearing as she is now, to use as I see fit.”
Serene shuddered inwardly at what the king was implying. She yearned to flee the great hall and keep running, but she had no notion where she would even go.
With those ominous words, the king turned toward the silent great hall, held up his hands, and announced, “I’m away to my home in a short while. Let us finish breaking our fast before my departure.” The hall once again erupted into chatter as the king strode back to the dais.
Serene stood face-to-face with Cameron, her heart racing as he stared into her eyes.
“Brother,” Iain said, coming up behind Cameron. He studied Serene before he spoke once more. “Come back to the dais and break yer fast. We will discuss Serene and what’s to be done after the king has departed.”
She stilled, wishing fervently that Cameron would not leave her once more, and when he shook his head, she could not hold back the exhalation of relief that he planned, perchance to keep her near. His eyes widened, and wariness flickered within them. “I’ll be down to the loch for the king’s departure, but I’ve nae an appetite for food.”
“As ye wish,” Iain replied, though he looked anything but happy about relenting.
He passed by her, as did Lachlan, both of them seeming guarded, as if she could somehow harm them. She didn’t have time to question it as Cameron stepped closer and took her by the elbow. His fingers curled tightly around her arm, and he started to pull her closer when a startled look crossed his face. He dropped her elbow as though it burned him. She swallowed. He hadn’t meant to touch her. She knew it was unreasonable to be bothered by it, but it was like he had taken a chunk of her pride and smashed it with his fists.
His eyes had an almost hungry look as he stared at her. “Try nae to cause any more trouble as ye break yer fast.”
She flinched at his words as disappointment that he had every intention of leaving her filled her chest. She clenched her teeth at her continued foolishness. Given the way he was acting toward her, it was obvious that, despite his earlier words, the man detested her. Embarrassment mingled with sorrow and confusion. She shouldn’t care. She didn’t even know him, not really; the little she remembered of him was all she knew. But whether she should or not, the simple fact was that she did care.
She forced out a steady response. “I did nae cause the trouble,” she said, frustrated that her voice was not as strong as she had liked. Devil take it, she sounded weary, defeated, almost wounded. “Yer clan hates me,” she whispered furiously so only he could hear, though as the words left her mouth she could have kicked herself. Now she sounded wounded and like a weepy child. She vowed in that moment not to say anything else that would make her seem weak or foolish.
He looked as if he was about to argue, but then he clamped his jaw shut and raked a hand through his hair, making her wonder what it would feel like to run her fingers through his thick locks. How appalling! Apparently she was weak and wicked.
“Dunnae move,” he growled.
She nodded, and he strode purposely around her toward Cormac. His eyes widened at Cameron’s approach. She noted with self-satisfaction, which was likely sinful, that the man was not so full of bluster now.
“My lord,” he began, but Cameron interrupted him by holding his palm up. The man fell silent, and when Cameron leaned over him to talk—she supposed so no one else would hear—all the color leeched from Cormac’s face. When Cameron stood up straight again, the other warrior slunk low in his chair, hunching his shoulders and casting his gaze down. The men around him jeered openly at him, calling him a clot-heid.
Though the young warrior had made her angry, her heart ached for him, and she felt a twinge of familiarity, as if she too had been humiliated before. Cormac’s gaze darted to her for a moment, and she vowed she saw remorse there, but he turned his eyes quickly down before she could offer an understanding smile.
Cameron grabbed two hunks of bread, cheese, and a carafe of wine before striding back to her. “Come,” he said gruffly, making her certain he didn’t really want her to but that he felt he must offer.
“Ye dunnae have to snap at me,” she grumbled.
His lips parted, then twisted into a smirk as a dangerous gleam filled his eyes. “If it pleases ye, come now.” The paltry please he’d added did nothing to disguise the order that was still there. She ground her teeth at his high-handed treatment and folded her arms across her chest, tilting her chin up stubbornly.
He grunted. “I did nae ken ye wished to stay and break yer fast amongst my clansmen who dunnae like ye.” he said in a low tone. “I’m nae one to stand in the way of a lass’s desire.” He swiveled on his heel and started for the door. She was sure he’d turn back, so when he got to the door and started out of it, she raced after him, catching up just as he rounded the corner out of sight.
Cameron felt horrible treating Serene as he had—as he must—but it would be better for both of them if he behaved that way. There had to be a wall between them. He had to be cold and measured, getting only as close to her as he needed to glean as much information as she could remember. He’d not intended to take her with him as he searched for the attackers, but there’d be no choice now that the king had commanded it. The relief he had felt when David had given the order worried Cameron. How easy it would be to allow desire for her to overcome good choices.
His brothers would never do such a thing. When Marion had been stolen by English swine, Iain had not rushed off to rescue her, overcome by emotions for the woman he loved. His brother had methodically planned out the attack, gathered his forces, and then went to reclaim his wife and conquer his enemies. Cameron wanted to be that logical, that controlled. His father had often accused him of lacking the required control needed to be a legendary MacLeod warrior, and his father had been right.
Cameron clenched his jaw as he led Serene to the solar in silence, the memories clamoring in his head. He’d been an impetuous child, often doing things without thinking, which had often resulted in injuries to himself and sometimes others. He could still recall climbing a tree he’d been told not to climb and Lena coming up after him. She had fallen from the tree and broken her arm. Luckily, she had healed and retained the use of her arm, but that did not change that the accident had been his fault. His father had never for a moment let him forget it, just as he hadn’t let him forget the countless other thoughtless things he’d done. Cameron had tried to think before doing something, but he had always forgotten. It wasn’t until he had reached thirteen summers that he could recall stopping to ask himself if he should do something just because he wanted to. It was too late to change how his father saw him; no matter how he’d tried, it had not changed. But it was not too late to prove himself to his brothers, to be a true protector of Lena as a brother should, and to prove his worth to his clan.
He entered the empty solar and led Serene to the window seat. He deposited the food and wine on a nearby table. He imagined she’d want to talk first. He’d known it would likely be empty in here, and it was the best place to ensure no one overheard them. It occurred to him then, as he stood there, that some people might whisper it was untoward for them to be alone in here. No one had seen them come in so he felt it was fairly safe.
Sunshine streamed through the windows, bathing Serene in its golden rays. It glistened over her, making her hair and skin shimmer. Desire strummed through him, and he struggled to keep control of it. If there had been any doubt in his mind that this woman posed a danger to him, there was none anymore.
His mind still whirled with the astonishment of what he had done. Lying to the king was a crime punishable by death. Given that his life was already in danger, his actions appalled him not only for the dishonor but the idiocy. Yet no matter how hard he thought back to the moment, he could not see that there had been any choice. There had been real fear in him when the king had threatened to be rid of her. Not for himself, nor that he’d no longer have her to learn anything she may remember. The stark, all-consuming fear had been for her safety.
He thought back to the sequence of events that had led up to this moment, examining his memories once more for places he could have made a better choice. He’d recognized his desire for her immediately when she had entered the great hall with Marion. That’s why he had not spoken to her and left her at the table at the far end of the great hall, away from him.
But distance had not stopped his gaze from finding her. The moment anger and then misery had swept across her face, it had been as if a spirit possessed him. He’d risen, heard Lachlan demanding to know what he was doing, and seen the king and Iain give him questioning looks, but he’d ignored them all to go to her aid. He’d sensed in his bones that the argument had to do with her. And when Cormac had made the crude reference to the king’s intention to give her to an ally, Cameron had known well the man had meant what she would be giving, willing or not, was her body.
The king also had made the threat to rid himself of Serene, and something inside Cameron had come unhinged. Reason had fled him. There was no other explaining it. Rage had consumed his thoughts for Cormac’s words, true or not, as well as a strong desire to deny that another man would ever touch her. What was the matter with him?
He stole a glance at her, and she gazed back steadily with those passionate gray eyes. He wanted to lose himself in her eyes, her arms, her body. The thought made him groan, and he gripped his head, battling to gain the control he needed to have. He had to guard himself from her, as well as guard her from others, yet he was keenly aware he was failing miserably on both counts. The effect she had on him was as unstoppable as the gales of a fierce storm, yet he had to stop it.
“Cameron?” she asked, her voice a tentative whisper.
“Aye?” He couldn’t look at her yet. If he did, he feared he’d seal his mouth over hers.
Her hand settled on his arm, her warm, silken touch like lightning through his veins. “Why did ye lie to the king and to yer clan?”
He slid his teeth back and forth, listening to the grinding in his ears and feeling the scrape between them. A war raged within him—the need to speak the truth versus the need to lie. His honor had to bow down now to save it and his clan from what he might be led to do in the future. He swallowed the metallic taste down. “I could nae allow the king to rid himself and us of ye before I glean all the information ye have to give me.”
Her sharp intake of breath gutted him. He had to curl his hands into fists and conjure all his restraint to keep from telling her the truth. He had simply not been able to stand the thought of her being killed or sold off to a cruel man at the king’s whim. He could not allow her to be hurt. But eventually, he would have to stand by and allow her to depart. He was acutely aware of that fact dangling sometime in the future.
“I’m sorry I dunnae remember any more yet,” she offered tentatively, like a peace offering one was unsure would be accepted. “Hopefully, I will soon, and then ye can rid yerself of me.”
He shouldn’t look at her. He shouldn’t. Yet he rose, turned, and when he saw her eyes shining bright with unshed tears, his will unraveled as if someone had yanked a loose string on a blanket and destroyed it in the blink of an eye. He scrambled to gather the remains of his control, but she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. A sharp ache to snag her lip and suck it into his own mouth gripped him. He cursed inwardly as he battled the rising tide of his desire for her. She dashed a hand at a tear that fell down her cheek, while quickly turning her face to hide her actions. But she was not fast enough.
He’d seen the misery he was causing her with his callous words and cold treatment. His insides twisted like an ancient vine twined upon itself. He wanted to undo it. His body trembled as he raised his hand, gripped her chin softly, and turned her face toward him. Her eyes rounded as he sealed his mouth over hers, and then something primal took over. The need to possess her blazed through him like a wild fire. He slid his hands into her silky hair, capturing her moan with his mouth, and demanding with his tongue that she open for him. And when she did, oh God, it was heaven. She tasted like honey stolen from a beehive that sat in the heat of the summer sun. He wanted to plunder all that she had to give.
He swirled his tongue around hers, and when hers hesitantly touched his, he encouraged her to boldness with his growls. She gave a sweet, low moan, and her hands swept up his back, over his arms, and down his chest, finally resting on his thighs, where her fingers kneaded his burning flesh. She had the power to destroy him if he was not careful, and in this moment, he was but a foolish lamb racing to the slaughter. He moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness. She matched his hunger, sliding her tongue over the crease of his lips and then circling her tongue around his enticingly. Her response would have brought him to his knees had he been standing. She writhed in his arms, her nails digging into his thighs, causing biting, pleasurable pain. With a thundering heart, he tore his mouth from hers, trying to gather the will to stop, but her eyes gleamed, and he knew then that her desire equaled his.
A groan of submission escaped his lips. He kissed the pulsing hollow between her collarbones, then her neck, and finally low on her chest where the too-tight gown exposed her breasts. She pressed her mouth to his chest and his throat, and traced her soft lips along the edge of his jaw. Desire so acute took him that he feared he would not stop until it was too late for both of them. He wrenched away, jerked to his feet, and stormed to the other side of the room to a window overlooking the loch. His blood pumped viciously through his veins as he lifted his hands to the wall and pressed his palms against the cool surface, struggling to calm what raged within.
The loch shimmered in the distance. He knew his men would now be on the shore, waiting on him to train them and lead them, and here he was doing what he had vowed he would not do. He cursed and turned to face her. She looked as disheveled as he felt with her mussed hair, swollen mouth, flushed cheeks, and bright eyes. Confusion swam in their depths, and her lips had tugged into a small frown. He wanted to go to her once more, and this time kiss her with tenderness. He hardened himself slowly from the inside out until it felt as if ice had replaced the blood in his veins. If he could not rely upon his will alone, he needed hers, as well.
“I will hurt ye if ye let me, Serene,” he growled, striding toward the door. “I need ye to remember that for both our sakes. I have to leave.” He didn’t want to hurt her more by telling her that he needed space from her. “I’ll send someone to fetch ye.”
With those parting words, the door slammed behind him, separating him from her physically. But she was in his head now, and he was unsure how to get her out.