Eight
Her name was not Serene. The knowledge swept over her and made her gasp.
Sorcha! Her name was Sorcha!
She stood, full of excitement to tell Cameron, but she paused halfway to the door out of which he had just stormed and much of her joy drained away. Confusion buffeted her mind as she raised a trembling hand to her swollen lips. She could still feel his kiss, still taste him. He tasted of wine, intoxicating and warming. She pressed her fingers to her ravaged lips, and her belly clenched with the memory of how he had lit her body on fire. She was positive she had never felt such desire in her life. What Cameron had just made her feel was seared into her memory as well as her lips.
She was sure she’d never been kissed before because it felt strange but wonderful. All her fear and confusion had disappeared while he had held her in his passionate embrace, but it all rushed back now. What did he mean that he would hurt her if she let him? Was he saying he was not good or just not good for her? Or perchance it was because he knew all he wanted from her was to join with her?
For a moment, she debated running after him, but he’d looked irritated enough that she feared what might happen if she did. Not to mention that her thoughts and heart raced, and she needed time to calm down. She walked back to the window seat and sat. What had just happened? No, the better question was, what was happening between them? Something was, but she didn’t understand what. One minute the man was warm and kind, and the next he was cold and distant. Then he’d looked at her after she’d apologized, and his eyes had smoldered with desire.
The thought had her wrapping her arms around her midriff. Her body had responded eagerly to his touch, almost wantonly. Yet, she truly did not think she was a woman of questionable morals. Maybe she had simply not yet met a man who she would abandon her morals for until Cameron.
She ground her teeth, and when her stomach growled, she stomped over to the table and snatched up a hunk of cheese and bread. She took a bite and tried to calm her chaotic thoughts, but her heart still beat too fast from Cameron’s touch. She bent down and picked up the wine carafe, lifted it to her lips, and took a large gulp. She winced at its strength, nearly spitting it out. A cough racked her body once she swallowed the liquid, and when she was done, her belly felt pleasantly warm. The wine seemed to be working to ease her tension. She took another sip, but this time she exercised care with how fast and how much she drank.
The second drink made her feel even better than the first. Taking the wine, bread, and cheese, she made her way back to the window seat and sat for a long while, drinking and thinking about what had occurred with Cameron. She went to take another sip from the carafe and was startled to find it empty. Hiccupping, she plunked it onto the ground. She had sat and waited long enough for Cameron to send someone to fetch her. She’d make her own way back to her bedchamber.
She strode to the door, threw it open, and blinked in surprise when she saw Broch. He consumed all the space of the doorway.
“My lady,” he said with a gentle smile. “Cameron instructed me to see ye to Lady Marion in the healing room. She wants to look at yer head.”
Sorcha ran her fingers over the bandage that was still wrapped around her head. She’d forgotten it was there. She nodded at Broch, then gratefully took the elbow he extended to her. The room seemed to be spinning a bit, though, and when he started to lead her out of the solar, she realized just how wobbly she was and had to clutch onto him so she wouldn’t sway.
He frowned at her and paused at the stairs. “Is something the matter, Lady Serene?”
“My name is Sorcha,” she replied, immediately correcting him.
“My apologies,” he said. “Cameron referred to ye as Serene still.”
“That’s because he dunnae ken that I recalled my true name. I only did so after he’d left the solar.”
Raced away from her was more like it, but this man didn’t need to know that.
“Ah,” Broch replied. “I’ll tell him immediately. We’ve been instructed to relay any information ye recall to him the moment ye recall it.”
“I’m certain ye have,” she replied, feeling sour at the reminder that the only reason Cameron had lied to the king about her was so he could glean what she might remember.
“Are ye feeling unwell, Lady Sorcha?”
Broch looked at her with genuine concern. Couple that with the fact that he’d not agreed with everyone earlier in the great hall when they said she wasn’t to be trusted, and she decided that she liked him. She took a deep breath and said, “I believe I’ve drunk too much wine.” With that, she promptly hiccupped once again, and they both burst out laughing.
Once the laughter died, he tightened his grip on her arm. “If ye need to lean into me more as we walk, ye may.”
“That’s verra kind of ye,” she said, doing just that as he started them down the stairs.
She debated for a moment asking him to explain what the man in the great hall had said about her. The worst Broch could do was refuse to tell her, but maybe he would reveal something she needed to hear, and then she would know for certain what awaited her in the future. She had a niggling suspicion what the king likely intended, but she prayed she was wrong. Her stomach knotted as she wet her lips and gathered her courage. “Do ye ken what the man in the great hall meant when he said the king had plans for me?”
A disgusted look swept across Broch’s face. “I ken what he meant, but if Cameron has nae told ye, I dunnae believe that he will wish me to do so.”
She scowled at that. “Dunnae I have a right to ken my own future?” she demanded, her words coming out in sharp breaths.
His blue eyes widened. “Ye do. I kinnae argue that. However, ’tis doubtful ye’ll find the kenning pleasant. Are ye ready for that?” he asked as he led her out a door and into the courtyard. The day was gray and misty, which seemed rather appropriate for their conversation.
She nodded. “I’d rather ken my future and be ready than nae ken a thing.”
“Spoken like a lass with a braw heart,” he replied. He shifted from foot to foot and sighed. “I kinnae deny ye the right to ken what the king intends, so I’ll tell ye.”
She understood that the man may well be putting himself at risk for being punished by telling her. Despite how much she wanted to know, she could not ask this man to do something that would cause him harm. She set a hand to his arm to still his progress across the courtyard. He stopped immediately and turned to her.
“Dunnae tell me,” she said. “I could nae abide it if harm came to ye for my sake.”
Both his eyebrows arched high, and he surprised her by taking the hand that was tucked into his arm, raising her fingertips to his lips, and kissing them.
“Why did ye do that?” she asked, feeling only confusion and not the rush of desire she had when Cameron had touched her.
“Because ye are beautiful, compelling, and kind,” he said with a sly smile.
Irritation flared in her chest. Was he trying to lure her to him?
“Perchance I did nae wish ye to do that. Did ye nae consider asking first?” she demanded.
He grinned. “Nay. I’ve nae ever met a lass who complains when I kiss or touch her.”
Sorcha gaped at Broch for a moment. “Are all MacLeod men this arrogant?”
Broch cocked his head and scratched at his beard for a moment. “Only those of us who ken we are great warriors and nae too terrible to look upon.” He winked at her, and she could not help but laugh, to which he responded by kissing her hand again.
This time, she jerked her hand away and gave him a stern look. “Dunnae kiss my hand again!” she insisted.
He frowned, looking so truly perplexed that she almost laughed again, but she held it in, not wishing to give him any reason to try to kiss her once more.
“Am I nae pleasing to look upon to ye?” he asked.
“Ye’re made less pleasing by yer boastful nature,” she chided.
He threw his head back and laughed, and when his laughter died, he kissed her on the cheek before she even realized what he was going to do.
She placed her palm against his chest to stop him from kissing her again. “I dunnae wish ye to kiss me, Broch. I dunnae mean to be hurtful, but I—It’s just—”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Ye’re a lady?”
“I may nae be,” she grumbled, irked that she could not remember. “I honestly kinnae say for certain.”
He grinned at her. “Ye seem quite the lady to me, and it makes me want to kiss ye more.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a staying hand. “I’ll nae tonight, but I will nae vow that I won’t try to sway ye to let me kiss ye again in the future.”
She shook her head in dismay. She could not very well tell him that she feared her interest was stuck upon Cameron, and she was glad she did not have to, because the truth would suffice just fine. “The king has designs for me, remember.”
“Aye, if ye be of worthy stock and unmarried he intends to either marry ye or sell ye.”
“I told ye nae to tell me,” she whispered as her heart squeezed with worry over her worsts fears being confirmed and ones she had not imagined being announced.
He shrugged. “Ye did, and I ken ye were trying in yer way to protect me, which pleases me mightily.”
“I would have done that for any honorable man,” she said emphatically, her thoughts whirling around what she had just learned. She had suspected marriage might be on the king’s mind. She may not have her memories, but she didn’t need them to know men used women for their own gain. But to sell her? She inhaled a shaky breath. “Do ye ken when this is to occur?”
“I suspect soon. Cameron’s needing ye for information secured ye some time, but as soon as ye remember yer past…”
“The king will marry me or sell me according to what I remember?” she asked, her tone as shaky as her body.
“Aye,” he replied, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “If ye be a traitor, he’ll sell ye to the worst possible sort of man.”
Her scalp prickled at Broch’s words.
“But if ye be an ally,” he went on, “he’ll reward ye by using ye in marriage.”
“Aye, ’tis quite the reward,” she growled. “Dunnae he care if I am innocent for this marriage? Perchance I’m nae,” she muttered, bitterness edging her tone.
Broch sighed as he shook his head. “Yer innocence will nae matter to any man the king would give ye to,” he said gently. “Though I’m certain the king will wish to ken if ye are innocent or nae. If ye’re nae, a simple reward of land to make up for yer coming to the marriage without yer innocence will do for most men when they look upon yer beauty.”
Broch’s words infuriated her. She was not angry at him, but furious that women were used so. “Ye men seem to think that women should have as much choice in their future as a newborn bairn does,” she bit out.
Broch smiled gently down at her. “Nae me. I believe women should have choices. If ye wish to join with a man ye desire before ye are married or sold to a man ye dunnae want, I’m happy to oblige ye,” he offered with a grin.
It was hard to get cross with a man who was grinning so happily at her. But that did not mean she didn’t need him to understand her. “I dunnae believe I’ll accept that offer, but I thank ye.”
“Ye’re certain?” he asked, his grin still on his face. “The king will likely wed ye to some crotchety clot-heid, nae a warrior.” Broch cocked his eyebrows at her again, and she did laugh then.
“Ye dunnae relent do ye?”
“Nae when I see something I want,” he said, his tone serious.
She had to discourage this man somehow. For even if she decided she wanted to join with a man before marriage, as Broch had so crudely put it, the man that came to her mind was Cameron. “Perchance I’m already married,” she said, hoping that would dissuade him.
A troubled look crossed Broch’s face. “I had nae thought of that, but if ye are, dunnae ye find it odd ye kinnae even remember yer husband? If he be a good one, dunnae ye believe ye would recall him?”
If she liked her husband, she would think she’d remember him. Perchance she did not care for him, then. Not willing to voice her private concerns, she shrugged nonchalantly. “I would have thought I would recall a great many important things, such as my own name, but I did nae at first. I’m sure I’ll remember soon,” she said with much more conviction than she felt.
Cameron stood at the window in the library and looked down into the courtyard where Serene faced Broch with her hand upon his chest. He still tasted the honey that was her, and when he breathed in, her scent tantalized his senses and heated his blood. His fingers still tingled with the feel of her soft skin and silky tresses, and his body hardened with the memory of her moans when he had kissed her and the urgency of her response to his ravishment of her mouth. By God, the lass had caused him to temporarily lose his mind, and even now, separated as they were, she battered his self-control. Jealousy—the emotion was so strong there was no point denying it—coursed through him. His brothers and Alex were behind him, gathered at a table arguing about the best way to find those responsible for Katherine’s death.
“Cameron, are ye going to offer input into this?” Lachlan demanded. “’Tis yer life at stake.”
Cameron jerked his head in a nod, though he did not move from his position at the window. Whatever Broch and Serene were talking about in the courtyard, the conversation seemed very intense from the looks on their faces, but then suddenly, Serene said something and Broch threw his head back and laughed, as did she. The smile that lit her face made the jealousy within Cameron multiply, and when Broch drew Serene’s hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingertips, Cameron growled.
“What is it, Brother?” Lachlan asked, now directly behind him.
Cameron faced his brother, realizing he’d been so mesmerized with Serene he’d not even been aware that Lachlan had approached him. “Nae anything of import,” he quickly replied, moving away from the window and hoping Lachlan would follow. He’d rather his brother not know he had been staring at Serene and Broch. Instead of following suit, though, Lachlan stepped closer to the window, and after a second said, “Ah. I see now exactly what it is. I suppose such a scene would anger any man who was drawn to the woman involved.”
Cameron was back at the window before he considered how it might look if he’d come so quickly, lured by Lachlan’s words. He glanced back down into the courtyard and ground his teeth. “Devil take Broch!” Cameron spat under his breath, for the warrior had Serene’s hands to his lips once more. “He’s supposed to be watching her, nae wooing her. The king will nae like this!” he added. It was true, but Cameron had mostly said it because he couldn’t voice that he did not like it.
Lachlan gave him a knowing look. “I’d say ye dunnae like what ye see. In truth, I’d say ye seem jealous that Broch is wooing her.” Lachlan looked at him suspiciously.
“I’m nae,” Cameron lied.
“Good. Because if ye already feel the tug of possession for a woman ye have kenned for only two days, then I’d fear ye dunnae have a hope of withstanding yer desire for her.”
“I thought ye said ye dunnae hold living yer life by what Eolande said,” Cameron bit out, his frustration with himself making his words short.
“I did nae hold mine with her dire prophecy for myself and Bridgette because Bridgette was mine.” Lachlan’s voice was fierce, and his eyes blazed. He leaned close to Cameron and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’ll tell ye something I have nae ever told anyone, except Bridgette… From the moment I first claimed her mouth, she claimed me completely. So ye see, by the time Eolande spoke her prophecy, it was too late for me to turn away from Bridgette. My advice is dunnae kiss Serene. Nae matter how much ye want to, dunnae chance it. If she is the mate of yer soul, even one kiss could bind ye.”
“Too late,” Cameron said flatly, meeting his brother’s eyes.
“Ye giant clot-heid,” Lachlan groaned. With a shake of his head, he added, “Well? Do ye feel changed?”
“Aye,” Cameron admitted, but when concern swept Lachlan’s face he added, “Dunnae worry. I will resist the pull to her. I will nae put my family in peril for a woman I lust after.”
“Lust, ye say?” Lachlan replied, and incredulous look twisting his features. “Ye’re a fool if ye believe a man feels changed by mere lust. There’s nae hope for ye now.”
“I’m stronger than ye give me credit for,” Cameron ground out.
“I give ye more credit than ye recognize,” Lachlan said. “Much more than ye give yerself. ’Tis nae a matter of strength, though. It takes more strength to claim yer heart’s desire when it may hurt others ye care for than it does to turn away from what ye long for.”
“Join us, if it pleases ye two gossiping lasses,” Iain barked from where he stood by the table.
Cameron quickly relented, not even answering Lachlan or seeing if his brother had more to say. He welcomed the reprieve that plotting his scheme could offer. Iain pointed at the drawing on the table. “Alex and I agree that ye should go to see Graham first and tell him what is happening. With the king making his way to the Steward’s home, if David names his nephew a traitor, Graham will need to ready Brigid Castle to defend the sea passage to the Isles.”
“I agree, and I can question some of the people in the Earl of March’s town. Those who will nae recognize me but who may ken something about the men we seek.”
“Agreed,” everyone around the table said.
“Since ye will be searching for traitors in enemy territory, anonymity is required,” Iain said.
“Aye,” Cameron agreed.
“The fewer men ye take, the easier it will be to achieve that,” Lachlan added.
Cameron nodded. “Of course.”
“Ye need to take men that are experts at moving in the shadows but who are also skilled fighters,” Iain said.
“I’ll go,” Alex immediately offered.
Cameron raised an eyebrow at his friend. Alex was definitely an extremely skilled fighter who could move unseen, but he also was laird of the MacLean clan and had already risked his life many times to help not only Cameron but the whole MacLeod clan. Cameron shook his head. “I kinnae ask ye to risk yer life for me yet again.”
“Ye did nae ask,” he said matter-of-factly. “I offered. Besides,” he added in a rush as Cameron opened his mouth to protest, “I dunnae do it simply for ye. I offered because a betrayal of the king is a betrayal of all those who support him, including my clan.”
Nods of agreement came from Iain and Lachlan.
Alex’s words were true enough. Though King David had done several things lately that made Cameron and his brothers question if they would be able to continue to support David in the future, he was still their king. If the day came that they could not offer fealty any longer, they would tell David, as was honorable, before breaking away.
Cameron clapped Alex on the shoulder. “I welcome ye by my side.”
“Ye should take Broch, too,” Lachlan said. “The man moves through the shadows with the ease of a blind man.”
Cameron’s first instinct was to say no, but it was jealousy from earlier, and he well knew it. “Aye. I’ll take Broch. I wish Rory Mac were well, though. I’d take him if I could,” Cameron said, feeling the weight of guilt that his friend had been injured at all.
“Aye,” Lachlan agreed. “Thanks be to God that the fool is nae dead,” he added, smiling briefly, as they all did now that their friend’s fever had broken.
“What about Grant Macaulay?” Cameron suggested. “If he agreed to go it would be a great help. He was held prisoner at March’s castle and kens it well.”
“Not to mention it was March’s own servants who helped Grant escape,” Alex added.
“Aye, Grant would be an asset,” Lachlan said.
“It would mean a delay in leaving here in order to get word to Grant and await his reply,” Cameron said, “but I believe it would be worth the delay. The men who ambushed us had one intent—to kill Katherine, so that the king might bend to their wills. They will wait now, I believe, and see what the king will do. Do ye all feel the same?”
“Aye,” came a chorus of replies.
“Then ’tis agreed,” Cameron said, filled with relief. Here, it would be easier to avoid her, until he could build up a better resistance.
“If ye’ll all pardon me,” Iain said, “I need to attend to a tenant who was attacked by a wolf. I’ll likely be gone the night.”
“I’ll go with ye,” Cameron offered, glad for an excuse to put distance between himself and Serene.”
Iain arched his eyebrows. “Ye need to train with Alex, Broch, and even Serene. Ye must all work as a smooth unit, and ye need to teach the lass to defend herself. Like it or nae, she’ll be with ye and will be either an asset or liability.”
“Lachlan can train her,” Cameron said, feeling uneasy about being with her.
Iain’s eyes narrowed. “Do ye feel ye kinnae control yerself around her?”
He knew his brother asked only out of concern, but the question made Cameron feel weak, lesser than his brothers. “Nay. I’ll stay and train her.” He would maintain iron control over his feelings even if it killed him to do so.
Sorcha entered the healing room, looking warily around for Bridgette and Lena, who she knew well distrusted and disliked her.
Marion emerged from a smaller inner room and smiled at first Sorcha and then Broch. She waved a hand to Broch. “You can leave.”
“My lady, Cameron ordered me to stay with her at all times.”
“I’m well aware,” Marion said with a sweet smile, “but I vow I’ll not let her out of my sight.”
When Broch did not move, she scowled at him. “Oh, fine! At least wait outside, if you will.”
Broch looked immediately to Sorcha, giving her an unmistakable questioning look. His concern warmed and worried her at the same time. She had tried to dissuade him, but she was not sure she’d done very well. When she gave a slight nod of the head, he immediately left. She watched him go, thinking upon how he was indeed a fine-looking man, but he did not stir her blood in the least. That was a relief, because the way Cameron had made her feel with his kisses had left her a little fearful that she had the heart of a wanton woman. Now she was sure her body seemed to want to be wanton for only one man.
When the door closed she faced Marion, surprised to find the woman carefully watching her. Marion set down the herbs she had been holding, wiped her hands, and then motioned to a chair. Sorcha sat, and Marion did the same, her steady probing gaze never moving away from Sorcha.
“It seems,” Marion said, “that ye have an admirer in Broch.”
The slowness of Marion’s words reminded Sorcha of the care one might take in testing water to see if it were too cold to swim in. Did Marion think there was something more there? Surely not! Hot embarrassment swept over Sorcha’s face and neck. She cleared her throat. “I tried to make clear to him that I did nae wish for his attention.”
A choked laugh escaped Marion. “Knowing Broch, that will only make him pursue you with more zealousness.”
“I ken that well enough now,” Sorcha muttered. Marion’s eyes narrowed and a pucker appeared between her brows. “Are you sure nothing has occurred between you and Broch?”
She bit her lip, considering if she should tell Marion that Broch had kissed her. She needed someone to confide in, and get advice from, and Marion was her best, really her only, option. “He kissed my hand twice,” she said, a hot flush spreading to her chest. “I told him nae to, and then he kissed my cheek. I had to be verra firm and warn him quite sternly nae to do such a thing again.”
Marion scowled. “I’ll have Cameron talk to him for you.”
“Nay!” Sorcha gasped.
Marion quirked her mouth. “Why ever not? I assure you that Cameron would not like—”
“I’m afraid Cameron would think I encouraged Broch to steal the kisses,” Sorcha blurted, her blood pounding as her entire face, neck, and chest grew even hotter with her humiliation.
“Why would he think that?” Marion asked, her tone filled with confusion.
Sorcha was embarrassed to share her kiss, but her confusion and need for a confidant overrode her embarrassment. “Cameron kissed me, and I could nae stop myself from responding rather eagerly, so ye see—” She halted abruptly at Marion’s gaping mouth but decided she best rush through the rest in hopes that Marion would understand how lost she felt and not judge her too harshly.
“Cameron may think I willingly receive kisses from any man, but I assure ye, his kiss was the only one that I could nae help but return. It… Well, it stole my senses.” And so Marion would not think she was blaming Cameron, Sorcha added, “But I have to admit I liked having them stolen by Cameron. Only Cameron.”
She fidgeted as Marion stared open-mouthed at her, and the need to keep talking now that someone she hoped she could trust was listening filled her. She took a deep breath. “I remembered my real name after Cameron kissed me, but he fled me before I could say anything. Yer brother-in-law is so confusing!” She gulped a breath and let more words rush out. “One moment he’s nice and then he’s nae, but his kisses lit a fire inside me. That is, until he said he’d hurt me.” She frowned in remembrance. “It was as if he threw a bucket of cold water upon my head. Do ye ken what I mean?”
Marion snapped her jaw shut and nodded, which made Sorcha feel better about continuing. “I ken the king has plans for me that dunnae include Cameron or any man I even ken. I’m a pawn to be moved at the king’s whim. Perchance I deserve it for my past, but perchance I dunnae.” She sucked in another quick breath. “I dunnae ken what I deserve! I dunnae even ken if I’m already married!” She clutched Marion’s hand. “I need help. I need a friend.”
Sorcha’s heart raced so quickly the beat of it roared in her ears. Her entire body now felt flushed, and her head pounded. She reached a trembling hand to her head and pressed it to her temple, but on a hiss of pain, she quickly drew her fingers away from the wound she’d forgotten about once more.
Marion frowned and patted Sorcha on the arm. “Shh, now,” she said in the softest, most soothing voice. “It will all be fine. Put your worries in God’s hands.”
The words were like a shot to Sorcha’s head that lodged in her brain and loosened another memory. She gasped and then grinned. “My mother used to say something similar! I have the loveliest feeling in my chest when I recall my mother,” she finished, blinking rapidly to keep the tears filling her eyes from spilling over.
Marion squeezed Sorcha’s hand. “Let’s start by taking a look at your head, and we’ll work our way to your heart,” she said with a wink that immediately put Sorcha at ease.
Sorcha merely nodded.
Marion leaned forward and raised her hands. “I’m going to check your wound.” Sorcha nodded again as Marion unwound the bandage, then gingerly examined Sorcha’s head. “It’s healing nicely. Has it been hurting much?”
Sorcha shook her head. “Nay, though I do feel as if I’ve something stuffed in it,” she said on a hiccup.
Marion frowned. “Did ye drink wine when ye broke yer fast?”
“Aye,” Sorcha replied, her stomach roiling in protest of the wine still in it. “An entire carafe.”
“Oh dear!” Marion exclaimed. “Be more careful with the wine. The MacLeods make especially strong wine. I’m shocked a carafe did not put you to sleep.”
Sorcha yawned at the mention of sleep. “In truth, I am verra tired.”
Marion nodded. “It could be the injury or the wine. Either way, you need to make sure to get plenty of rest tonight. Now,” she said, sitting once again as she set the bandage that had been wrapped around Sorcha’s head down beside her chair. “What is your real name?” She quirked an eyebrow and offered a smile.
“It’s Sorcha,” she said.
“Sorcha,” Marion repeated but much slower as she cocked her head. “Yes,” she murmured. “That suits you perfectly. I happen to know your name means brightness, and you are that.” Marion chuckled, sweeping her gaze over Sorcha’s blond hair and then meeting her eyes once again. “Have you recalled anything else? Like what clan you belong to?”
Sorcha shook her head, her thoughts seeming to slosh around like water. “Nay, but surely more will come soon?”
Marion’s nod of agreement sent relief surging through Sorcha. She hoped remembering her past would be a good thing, but even if what she remembered was bad, it would be better than not knowing.
“So,” Marion said, her mouth pulling into a teasing smile, “Cameron kissed ye.”
“Aye,” Sorcha said, unable to keep the glumness from her tone. She hiccupped again. “And then he fled me as if a fire was nipping at his plaid, but nae before he made sure to tell me he would hurt me if I let him.”
A contemplative expression came over Marion’s face. “That’s not overly astonishing. Things do seem rather tangled, and I’m sure it’s weighing heavily on his mind.”
“What do ye mean? My memory loss?”
Marion sighed. “I imagine your lack of memory is part of it. And the king’s intentions for you are likely another part.”
“I ken what the king wants to do with me,” Sorcha blurted, wanting to hear what Marion had to say about it.
Marion’s brows shot up. “Did Cameron tell you?”
“Nay.” Sorcha didn’t want to keep secrets from Marion when she was asking for the woman to be her friend, but she also did not want to put Broch in a position to be disciplined.
“It matters little who told you,” Marion said, giving her a look of understanding. “My husband says David is a good man at heart, but even good men sometimes lose their way.”
Sorcha was surprised Marion would share such a thing with her but heartened that she had. It showed trust, and Sorcha did not intend to betray it. “Whether he is good at heart or nae dunnae make a difference in the end if he forces me into a marriage I dunnae want. What if I’m already married?” Sorcha asked, voicing one of her biggest concerns.
Marion blinked at her. “Do you think you are?”
Sorcha shook her head. “Nay. I truly dunnae. I’ve had nae any memories of any man but Cameron. It seems to me that if I was married, I would recall my husband, whether I loved him or nae, before a man I’d only met once and whose name I did nae even ken.”
Marion nodded. “It would seem that way to me, as well. What about when Cameron kissed you? Did it feel as if you had done such a thing before?”
“Nay.” Sorcha’s cheeks burned. “It seemed strange and foreign, as if I had nae ever experienced such a thing, but—” she took a deep breath, determined to forge ahead despite her embarrassment “—it was strange in a wonderful way.” She paused and worried her lower lip, nervous to voice what she was thinking next. “Marion, is there any way for a woman to ken if she is still an innocent?”
Color immediately blossomed on Marion’s cheeks as she nodded. “There is,” she said on an uneasy laugh. “Why?”
“Because if I’m still innocent, then I kinnae be a man’s true wife.”
Understanding dawned in Marion’s gaze. “I warn you that the process is quite, um, familiar. But it may be wise for us to know immediately if you are married, because if you are, that at least will stay the king’s hand in marrying you to another. Not to mention that you just kissed a man,” she said grinning.
“He kissed me,” Sorcha protested. She bit her lip on a wave of guilt. “Of course, I did kiss him back.”
Marion chuckled. “Yer secret will remain just that. Now, if you are truly married—that is, if a man has joined with you and made you his true wife—I can learn from a simple exam. Again, it’s quite familiar, but I assure you, it is painless. Do you wish for me to examine you?”
Of course she did not wish for an intimate examination, but she did not wish to remain in the dark about whether she was married or not, either. She chewed on her lip for a moment, considering. “I do,” she said hesitantly, “but—”
“Before you tell me you’ll be embarrassed, I assure you that you don’t have any parts I myself don’t have, and I feel certain you would be far more embarrassed without a carafe of wine in your belly.”
Sorcha chuckled. “Ye are verra good at arguing yer points.”
Marion winked. “That’s because I have had much practice striving to get my way with my husband.” A fond smile came to her lips that made Sorcha wonder what her own face would look like when she spoke of her own husband one day. Would it be miserable or happy? Unbidden, Cameron’s image floated in her thoughts, and she sighed. One very exceptional kiss and she already was imagining the man as her husband? She hardly knew him! And regardless, the likelihood of such a future was almost nonexistent.
“So then,” Marion chirped, breaking into Sorcha’s thoughts. “You will need to take off your underclothes and lie on the bed.” Marion indicated a small bed in the far corner.
Sorcha frowned. “Why do I need to take off my underclothes?”
Marion’s face turned as red as an apple. “Have you never been in a household where a marriage takes place and the men watch the joining to ensure it has actually occurred?”
Sorcha faced burned. “I dunnae ken. I kinnae remember,” she said emphatically. But as she thought of what Marion was saying, more memories flooded her mind. She saw herself standing in a stable watching two horses mate—more accurately she was gaping at the stallion, shocked at what she saw. The same shock swirled through her now. “Ye wish to see if I’ve been mounted?” she exclaimed.
Marion’s brow furrowed. “What?” Understanding dawned on her face. “Oh, well, er, yes, that’s the way of it. If you’ve been mount—er, joined with, then there is a small barrier inside you that will not be there any longer. I will simply feel for the barrier with my fingers.”
“Ye will nae!” Sorcha cried.
Marion gave her a stern look. “I will have to if you wish to know for certain if you are someone’s true wife.”
Sorcha stood there for a moment, torn between her desire to know and the embarrassment of allowing Marion to do such a thing. Finally, she jerked her head in a nod. “Be quick about it, aye?”
“I assure you, I’ve no intention of taking my time,” Marion said, her lips twisting in a comical smile. She quickly went to the bucket, cleaned her hands, and waited patiently with her back turned for Sorcha to say she was ready.
By the time she took her underclothes off, lay back on the bed, and called for Marion, she had worked herself into such a nervous state that her legs trembled when Marion asked her to spread them. She took five deep breaths as Marion had instructed in a low, soothing voice, and just as the shock of what was occurring hit her, it was over.
“All done,” Marion said, sitting up. She smiled at Sorcha. “You are not the proper wife to any man.”
“Thank God!” Sorcha declared, not realizing just how much she had dreaded hearing she may be married.
Marion smirked at her. “Is that relief I hear in your voice because of Cameron’s kiss?”
“Nay!” Sorcha protested, though the memory of his kiss made her stomach flutter. “I barely ken him. But I kinnae deny I feel much better that I did nae play a husband false, nor nae even remember a husband when I remembered Cameron.” She quickly donned her underclothes and faced Marion once more. “Although,” she said, worry suddenly knotting her belly, “this does mean that there is nae a marriage to prevent the king from marrying me to a stranger.”
“Yes,” Marion replied solemnly. “It does mean that. I propose we keep the knowledge of your innocence to ourselves for now. That way the king may not act as soon on his desire to use you for gain if he is unsure who he may be crossing.”
Sorcha’s eyes widened. “Ye’d do that for me?”
Marion walked over to Sorcha and gave her a quick hug. “Yes. That is what friends do for one another, and we are friends,” she stated firmly.
“There are many in yer clan who may nae like that ye have befriended me. In truth, I’d venture to say most in yer clan will nae like it.”
Marion snorted. “I’ve never been one to let others’ opinions sway me, and I will not start now. Besides, most of them will see yer goodness rather quickly.”
“I dunnae ken that it truly matters. I’ll nae be here long, as I’m certain ye heard the king say that I’m to go with Cameron to track Katherine’s murderers. And once we’ve found them, I imagine the king will nae tarry in using me.”
“Well,” Marion said, “we cannot know what will come to pass in your future, but I do know this—not long before Broch brought you in here to me, my husband told me that you will be with us for at least a sennight. And so, for this week, I will do my best to help you feel less alone here.”
A surge of gratefulness filled Sorcha. “I dunnae want ye to anger yer family. I seem to be doing that with Lena plenty.”
“Bah,” Marion said. “Lena is more annoying thunder than deadly lightning. She booms her anger and makes all sorts of ruckus, but she will not strike to hurt unless you try to hurt her or someone she loves.”
“Aye,” Sorcha said. “I recall what ye mentioned about her wishing to protect Cameron as she had been denied being motherly to her brothers. Ye said ye couldn’t tell me more then, but can ye now?”
A sad look crossed Marion’s face, followed by an angry one. “She was taken from the clan as a child by her uncle, who was vindictive and cruel. She thought for many years that her family was dead, because her uncle told her so, and one day he forced her to marry an abusive man named Findlay Campbell. That is Marsaili’s dead brother she spoke of.”
The news of Lena’s troubles made Sorcha feel immediately more understanding of the woman’s unfriendliness.
“Graham, who you have not yet met,” Marion continued, “killed Findlay while defending himself after Findlay came after Graham to try to steal his wife, Isobel, from him.”
Sorcha gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. “That’s awful!”
Marion nodded. “That is not even half of the horrid things the Campbells have done. They are not nice people.”
“How did Marsaili’s other brother die?”
Marion sighed. “This may make the MacLeods sound rather like murdering fiends, but I vow they are nae. Lachlan killed Colin Campbell after the man stole Bridgette, forced her to marry him, and hurt her very badly.”
Sorcha’s stomach tightened at Marion’s words. “It sounds to me like both Lachlan and Graham are men who truly defend the women they love.”
“Aye,” Marion said, a smile tugging at her lips. “All the MacLeod brothers are that way. Well, at least I think they are. Cameron is the only one left who is unmarried, but I believe he has the same capacity to love with his whole heart. I was having my doubts, mind you. He has quite the reputation with the lasses. They shame themselves panting after him with the small hope—hope that he certainly doesn’t give them—that they might be the lass to change him. And he’s always been only too willing to tumble in the hay with anyone who says she understands what he offers is nothing more than just a joining for pleasure.”
Jealousy streaked through Sorcha, which she prayed did not show on her face. “Ye said ye were having yer doubts,” she asked, embarrassed to be prying and likely seeming so eager to learn about Cameron, but she could not help herself.
“Yes, I was doubting…until you came along.”
“Me? But why?” He had kissed her senseless after only knowing her for two days. Maybe he was trying to seduce her. If so, he was going about it in a rather odd way, she thought, though admittedly, she had no experience to rely upon for this conclusion.
Marion held up a fist. “One—” Marion raised a finger “—he kissed you, despite Eolande’s prophecy.”
Sorcha tilted her head in confusion as unease stirred within her. “Who is Eolande? What prophecy?”
“I’ll explain in a moment. First, let me finish my point. Two—” another finger popped up “—he kissed you in spite of promising Iain and Lachlan that he would keep his distance from you.”
Sorcha startled at those words. “They dislike me so much that they asked him to keep his distance from me?”
Marion waved a dismissive hand. “No. It’s not you. It’s the prophecy, and it’s the fact that the king has publicly declared that he has intentions for your future. Now, as for the prophecy and Eolande, I can tell you that the MacLeod clan is one that holds a very strong belief in the power of seers and fairies, and Eolande is a well-known seer who is half-fairy. All the prophecies that she has given have come to fruition, though not every part of them, thank God above.” Marion squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them again. “But enough of what she has foretold has come to pass that all the MacLeod brothers—all the MacLeods, really—are all wary of making choices that will lead to the worst parts of Eolande’s prophecies coming true.”
Sorcha’s pulse kicked up several notches, and a strange, breathless feeling started in her chest. She pressed a hand to her forehead, suddenly feeling overly hot, as well. “I believe,” she said, her voice shaky to her own ears, “that ye better tell me of this prophecy now since it apparently involves me.”
Marion bit her lip as her gaze swept over Sorcha. “Oh dear. I didn’t mean to worry you, Sorcha. Though, now that I think upon it, I don’t believe hearing the prophecy will ease your worry. And beyond that, I know Cameron would not want me to tell you, so I should likely have kept it to myself.”
Sorcha frowned. “Did he tell ye nae to tell me?”
“Well, no,” Marion hedged, “but he did not tell me of the prophecy at all. My husband did, and before he could swear me to secrecy, which I could tell he was about to do, I kissed him senseless.” She offered an unapologetic smile. “So you see, I am quite sure neither of them would want me to say anything to you.”
“So ye’re nae going to tell me?” Sorcha asked, unable to keep the incredulity from her tone.
“Of course I’m going to tell you! We women must lead in matters of the heart because the men may as well be blind and deaf for the way they handle love.”
Sorcha sagged with relief, and Marion winked at her. “I just had to make sure you understood I was not supposed to be telling you, and I wanted to explain why. This too must stay between us for now.”
Sorcha nodded and wiggled forward on her seat as Marion took a deep breath. “I may not remember it exactly—”
“Simply tell me to the best of yer remembrance,” Sorcha said, trying desperately to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
Marion nodded, then twined her hands together. “I know you don’t recall the first time ye truly met Cameron, but what do ye recall?”
“His hands. A woman staring at me. Daggers.”
“Well, apparently you had entered the annual dagger-throwing contest that happens every year at the St. John’s Eve festival. You won the contest, besting Cameron, who is known throughout the land as the most skilled with daggers.”
Sorcha stared down at her hands in wonder. Her fingers tingled suddenly, and she could practically feel a cool, heavy weight there, but whether it was from a lost memory of throwing daggers or she was feeling these things because of what Marion was revealing, she could not truly say.
“Anyway, that is not the important part,” Marion went on. “Cameron ran after you when you fled him, and before he could catch you and learn who you were, the seer stopped him and told him to let you leave. She said that particular night was not the time he was meant to meet you.”
“What did she mean by that?” Sorcha asked.
Marion gave her a knowing look. “I do believe he asked the same thing, and Eolande told him that you would come to him once more.” She paused a moment, looking contemplative. “I think she said that you would come to him in a battle.”
Sorcha hissed in a breath.
Marion nodded. “Yes, I agree. Eolande also said you would be bathed in blood…” Marion’s gaze strayed to Sorcha’s injured head. “She also told him you would be marked by a heart.”
“My God,” Sorcha whispered, her fingers straying to the mark on her body that was shaped like a heart. “How could she ken such things?”
“Because she is a seer,” Marion said simply. Her voice had dropped low and held a tinge of awe and wariness.
“What else did she say about me?” Sorcha demanded, her own wariness filling her completely now that she had heard what the seer had gotten correct about her and how she would meet Cameron once again.
Marion worried her lower lip for a minute before answering. “She said he would betray everything he holds dear for you.”
“What?” Sorcha exclaimed, her chest tightening.
Marion nodded. “King. Family.” Her voice had dropped even lower. “The honor that means so much to him.”
“Nay,” she cried, horrified. She shook her head almost violently. “I’d nae ever ask him to do these things for me.”
“I do not think you would need to ask if he was in love with you,” Marion said in a gentle tone.
To be loved so greatly that a man would risk all, betray all, made her feel both hopeful and horrified. She wanted to be fervently loved, but not at the price of a man going against all that meant anything to him. Her blood roared in her ears as she considered what she had just learned. She did not love Cameron. She barely knew him. He did not love her, either. But there was a strange pull between them. She felt it, and he had said he did, as well. And then there was passion so hot it scalded.
“The other prophecies Eolande has foretold to the other brothers… How much of them have come true?” Sorcha asked, her voice trembling.
Marion sucked in her lower lip as an uneasy expression crossed her face. “Well,” she started, her words slow, reluctant, “Eolande foretold that Iain’s first wife, Catriona, would die young, and she did.” Marion gave a little shudder. “She also foretold that the love between Lachlan and Bridgette would drive a dangerous wedge between Graham and Lachlan, and it did.”
Sorcha shifted uneasily in her seat at the growing direness of what she was hearing.
Marion gulped in a breath and huffed it out before continuing. “However, she said one of the brothers would die, and both are still alive.”
“Well, thank God above for that!” Sorcha exclaimed, relieved for the small sliver of good news.
Marion nodded as if she understood what Sorcha was thinking. “I have not told you all she said about you yet.”
“What else?” Sorcha asked, fearful.
“Eolande said that you are the mate of Cameron’s heart—and the enemy of his clan.”
A wave of powerful queasiness roiled through Sorcha. It was so strong that she covered her mouth quickly for fear she may be sick. After it passed, she slowly lowered her shaky hand. “Oh blessed St. John! I must be guilty of helping to murder Katherine!”
“No, I think not,” Marion quickly rebutted, confidence ringing in her tone. “I think either your clan is an enemy of ours or what Eolande saw in his future was that some MacLeods saw you as an enemy.”
“Perchance,” Sorcha mumbled weakly. “Please tell me there is nae any more to reveal.”
Undeniable regret settled on Marion’s face, which made Sorcha cringe. Marion puffed her cheeks out, then blew out the breath. “One more last thing… Eolande also said that with you comes life or death born of his choices.”
“Well,” Sorcha said, half in desperation and half-sarcastically, only because if she did not make light of the circumstances she would scream, “I can see now why he became angry with himself when he kissed me.”
“Yes,” Marion agreed in all seriousness. “I can understand, as well.”
“I’m a deadly temptation to him,” Sorcha mumbled, moroseness weighing her mind and her words. “I bring destruction and death.”
“No,” Marion said firmly. “Eolande clearly said you bring life. It’s the choices he makes that will be the difference. Perchance they are the choices both of you make.”
“Then I chose not to lure him to his doom,” Sorcha said. Thinking about how that might sound, she added, “not that I think I am so appealing.” But the seer had said she was the mate of Cameron’s heart. That had to mean he was the same to her. “It’s odd, but I feel sad, as if I have lost a great love, yet I don’t love him. I barely know him.”
“So ye must learn him and let him learn you. Only then can you even know if you are willing to risk the seer’s prophecy.”
“I dunnae even ken myself! How am I supposed to learn another?” Sorcha demanded, her frustration bursting through her words.
“Word by word. Day by day. Touch by touch,” Marion replied firmly. “That is how you learn another, and as you are doing this, I am certain your memories will return.”
She wanted to peel back Cameron’s layers. Despite the seer’s foretelling, she did not want to turn away, but this was folly. “There kinnae ever be hope for us. The king will make certain of that,” she said bitterly.
“Yes,” Marion agreed. “But what one plots does not always occur as one expects, even for a king. He had plans for Bridgette, as well, and Graham discovered a way around them. Cameron is every bit as cunning as his brother.” Marion shrugged. “It is your choice in the end. I only know that if it were me, I’d rather tempt fate. I’d discover the secrets of the man the seer says I’m destined for, and that I know well I am attracted to”—she gave Sorcha a stern look—“than settle for being used by the king and married to a man I may despise.”
Sorcha rubbed her aching temples. “How did ye come to be married to Iain?”
Marion smiled, and the fondness of her memories was apparent in the satisfied look on her face. “My father thought to marry me to an evil Englishman so he could attempt to take the throne from King Edward. My king and Iain’s king thought to marry me to Iain and stop my father from achieving his goal of becoming King of England. When presented with the choice of an evil knight or a scary Scot, there was no question in my mind. Well, maybe a few.” She chuckled. “But I was immediately drawn to Iain, and I knew for certain he was a good man and would never harm me.”
“I’m attracted to Cameron,” Sorcha said slowly, thinking out loud.
“It is plain to see,” Marion said with a sly smile.
Heat crept up Sorcha’s neck. “I believe Cameron is a good man, too.”
Marion nodded. “He is. I vow it.”
“And I dunnae believe he’d ever hurt me physically.”
“He’d sooner cut off his own hand than harm you or any other woman.”
The fervor in Marion’s voice made Sorcha smile. The woman obviously loved Cameron, as a sister-in-law should. Sorcha’s mind raced. “I could do my utmost to keep a wall between us, as he is clearly trying to do.”
Marion frowned. “You could,” she replied, disapproval evident in her voice and face. “Or you could slowly break down the wall to learn him. You will be forced to travel together, anyway. It would be fairly awkward to travel with a man by your side that you are determined to overlook. Take my word for this. I have tried it, and if you are drawn to the man, it’s impossible, truly. A woman’s body has a way of defying a mind’s wishes when a MacLeod man is involved.”
She thought about all she had learned. She knew what her heart wanted to do. “I wish to break through the wall,” she said, praying she did not regret the choice.
Marion smiled triumphantly, and Sorcha blinked in surprise. “Do ye ken that ye seem verra innocent, but I see now that ye’re rather devious,” she teased. “Ye were leading me to this conclusion.”
“Yes, I was.” Marion stood, stretched, and started toward the door.
“Where are ye away to?” Sorcha asked, springing up.
“We are away to find Bridgette. If you are going to lure a man to let down his guard, especially one who fears doing so will lead him to ruin, you need an expert enchantress, and that is Bridgette.”
“I dunnae believe Bridgette will be willing to aid me,” Sorcha grumbled.
Marion made a derisive noise from her throat. “Once she hears about the prophecy, she’ll be wanting to help. Eolande’s prophecy for her and Lachlan almost destroyed her chance at happiness with him. I vow to you that nothing will please her more than helping to alter what Eolande has foretold for you and Cameron.”
“I pray ye are correct.”
“Oh, I’m always correct. I’m the laird’s wife,” Marion said with a wink.