Cam saw nothing more of Elise that night or the following morning. No Pict warriors marched through the Scots camp, demanding justice for the death of one of their own. From overheard conversation, it appeared mac Uurguist, while a wealthy and powerful noble, had commanded little personal respect in life.

He had been old. The facts had spoken for themselves.

When drunk, he’d slipped in the storm and cracked open his skull. An inglorious death for a warrior, even a retired warrior, but no one appeared inclined to investigate further.

It shouldn’t have been this way. Cam had wanted public retribution, to grind the Pict’s reputation into the mud. But had he done so, his own life would be forfeit.

“I have a bad feeling about the arrival of MacAlpin’s men.” For once, there was no laughter in Stuart MacGregor’s voice as they and half a dozen others cleaned weapons and equipment in the camp.

Cam grunted in response and glanced at their commanding officer’s tent. A score of Kenneth MacAlpin’s warriors had arrived at Ce-eviot barely an hour ago. The leader, MacAllister, had not requested audience with the queen. He had demanded to speak with Ross.

The other new arrivals guarded the tent as though they expected to be attacked. Had something happened to Connor? It was unlikely any other Pict tribe would have attacked him. The eldest princess Devorgilla of Ce was with him, and she was his wife.

Besides, MacAlpin’s men would have left Dal Riada at the earliest over a week ago. Even if something had befallen Connor, how would they know of it?

***

It was late afternoon before Ross called his men together.

“MacAlpin was not best pleased to discover Connor had brought his bride back to Ce-eviot.” He swept his glance around each man. They had all known the mission back into Ce from Dal Riada had been undertaken without their king’s knowledge, and all had been willing to risk his wrath. Cam knew each man was in conflict over the massacre of the Pictish nobles in Dunadd, and while they would always serve their king, their fealty was to Connor.

“Are we to return to Dunadd?” another warrior asked.

Ross held up his hand for silence. “They met up with Connor on the way here. The fact he was returning to Dal Riada with the princess goes in his favor as far as MacAlpin’s concerned. But MacAllister wanted me to confirm what Connor had told him.” His jaw tightened. “It appears our facts not only tallied but met with MacAllister’s approval.”

“What happens now?” Stuart asked.

Ross looked grim. “Six of us are to return with them, while ten of them will remain here. I will choose who stays and who is to leave and let you know my decision in the morning.”

As the warriors dispersed, Ross beckoned Cam over. “You’ll be leaving with them, MacNeil.”

Cam had expected the order. But instead of relief that he’d soon be back in his own land, disquiet stirred his blood.

He wanted to leave Pictland. He wanted to return to Dunmar to try to appease the restless soul of Isla. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fight the truth—he didn’t want to leave Elise.

***

Cam recognized the man standing a short distance from the pagan stones, arms folded across his massive chest. He was Elise’s bodyguard.

A strange sensation churned his gut. He wanted to see her. But how could he look her in the eyes when he had been responsible for the death of her husband?

True, he hadn’t killed mac Uurguist in the way the bastard had deserved to die. But if Cam hadn’t been in the alley, the Pict would still be alive.

It was as well Ross had decided the full truth would remain buried. Cam didn’t want Elise to ever discover the part he’d played in her husband’s death.

God. When had things become so complicated?

He could feel the bodyguard’s glare burning into his back as he made his way toward the stones. He knew where Elise would be even though he couldn’t see her from this angle.

The same stone where he had almost fallen over her three days ago.

He saw the spill of scarlet gown across the grass and his chest tightened. She was sitting on the ground before the massive stone, as though she was praying.

Of course she was praying.

A shiver ripped over his flesh.

He couldn’t interrupt her while she was communing with her heathen gods. But neither could he stand here watching her without her knowledge. He hovered, uncertain, before the matter was taken from his hands as stones slid from beneath his boot.

Elise jerked upward and their gazes clashed. His stomach clenched. Had she been crying?

“You startled me.” Her voice was soft. Husky. It reinforced his thought.

She had been crying. Because of his actions. It didn’t matter how despicable mac Uurguist had been or how deserving of his fate. Elise still mourned him.

If ever a man needed a silken tongue, he needed one now. How could he comfort her when he was responsible for her grief? He was proficient neither at sweet talk nor lying.

“Forgive me.” He sounded feral. Oddly, Elise didn’t flinch beneath his tone. Her steady gaze encouraged him to continue. “I heard of your loss.” He had fucking well caused her loss. Should he have left mac Uurguist in peace? But what then of his sister’s peace?

In one rain sodden moment, he had destroyed any chance of peace for both Isla and Elise.

She looked at the ground and he followed her gaze. It was no surprise to see her crystals forming the pagan symbol. He watched her gather them up and slide them into her pouch before she braced her weight on one hand and began to rise.

This time he offered her assistance, and with barely a moment’s hesitation, she accepted his help. His hand dwarfed hers, and he couldn’t bring himself to release her when she was standing before him.

She didn’t appear offended. Unless it was his wretched imagination playing tricks, her fingers briefly curved around his before she gently disengaged.

A white shawl draped over her shoulders to keep the Highland chill at bay. It matched the color of her veil.

Scarlet and white. The Pictish colors of mourning.

“It falls to me to take Ferelei’s body back to Fib. The queen believes I should remain here or return to my family in Circinn. But I believe I will do as my goddess commands.”

He hadn’t expected her to tell him of her plans. He had no idea how to respond to her disclosure. He didn’t even understand what she meant by doing as her goddess commanded. But he had to say something. Because she was looking at him, and he didn’t want her to think him disinterested in anything she might say.

“I also am leaving Ce shortly.” Elise would need a full complement of guard if she traveled. But Fib was due south from Ce. Dal Riada was in the southwest. Would MacAllister consider a Pictish princess worthy of his warriors’ protection for such a diversion?

Her eyes widened and lips parted in evident shock before she quickly recovered herself. He wasn’t sure why her reaction made him uneasy, but it did.

“You are returning to Dal Riada?” He heard a trace of disbelief lingering in her voice, as though she needed further confirmation.

“Aye. MacAplin’s sent reinforcements. Ce will not be left undefended.”

He saw her grasp her crystal filled pouch but had the uncanny notion she had no idea that she had done so. Was she calling on her goddess again?

“I intended to travel with Ferelei’s band of warriors. But if you are going in the same direction…” Her words trailed away but her meaning was clear. She wanted them to travel together.

***

Elise held her breath as she waited for Cameron’s reply. Vaguely she noted the fresh wound on his face. Thank Bride it didn’t look poisonous. She’d spent half the afternoon begging for Bride’s guidance, and despite how she’d sat upon a blanket, she was damp to the marrow of her bones from the wet ground.

But that was a minor concern. For Bride had once again answered her desperate prayers, and in the one way Elise had not imagined possible.

There was a price for everything. But Bride’s price for releasing her from Ferelei was not leaving Cameron behind in Ce.

“Fib is not on the route to Dal Riada.” There was a ferocious glare on Cameron’s face, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her or her question. It was because he spoke the truth but wished it otherwise.

How refreshing she found his directness. Another warrior would have played with words, offering her assurances he had no way of fulfilling.

But then, she had no intention of traveling to Fib. Bride had granted her freedom, and with that freedom, she would discover the fate of Droston. With no husband to answer to, she could command her own destiny. Once she was beyond the borders of Ce, the queen could no longer deny Elise’s wishes.

She wanted to tell Cameron her plans. But the time was not yet right.

“No. But perhaps arrangements could be made that suit us all.” The warriors who’d accompanied Ferelei on his sea voyage were not hers to command, but she would have no trouble with his mercenaries. So long as she paid them, they would follow her orders. And Ferelei hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told her he had brought many exotic treasures from his last adventures.

She would use those treasures to buy and bribe her way to Dal Riada. And once there she could pay whatever ransom the barbarous MacAlpin demanded for Droston’s release.

“If I could influence MacAlpin’s men in this matter I would. But…” Cameron hesitated and something dark haunted his eyes, something that made her want to reach out and take him in her arms. She pressed her fingers against her damp gown before she followed through on the thought. “I’m out of favor and doubt Ross MacIntosh would lend weight to my words.”

Elise had lost count of how many warriors, both royal and noble born, had promised her the stars so she would look favorably upon them. But Cameron MacNeil, a foreigner from a savage land, stood before her and confessed he was powerless to change his commanding officer’s mind.

An odd pain pierced her breast. His brutal honesty meant more to her than any number of pretty, insincere words.

“This is a matter for the queen. Neither you nor I have any influence on this outcome.”

It was true the final word would come from her queen. But Elise was no longer prepared to accept whatever her aunt might decide. If the queen decreed Elise had to remain in Ce, then she would disclose that Bride was guiding her.

Even the queen wouldn’t deny Bride.

Cameron stepped toward her. His dark hair whipped across his face in the breeze, but she could still see his intense frown. And the concern in his eyes caused her heart to ache.

She desperately wanted to feel his strong arms around her once again. To have his lips tenderly claim hers. He was a raw, uncivilized Scot, and yet he was the only man she craved to touch.

“Elise.” His husky voice sank into her blood and her breath became uneven. His hand reached for her face and liquid desire heated her pussy. Barely reined lust simmered in the air between them and tendrils of need enslaved her senses. But before his fingers made contact, he paused. “I don’t trust the mercenaries.”

She blinked and tried to gather her scattered wits. While she daydreamed of Cameron making sweet, undemanding love with her, he thought of Ferelei’s warriors and her safety.

It wasn’t what she expected or was used to when confronted by a man who desired her, but it was strangely fitting when that man was Cameron MacNeil.

“Neither do I.” Goddess, had she really confessed that? But if he was surprised by her frankness, he didn’t show it. “But they will guard me well for payment.” Besides, once the queen had agreed to her request she would ensure a small contingent of Ce warriors also accompanied Elise.

“They have no loyalty.” The tips of his fingers traced the line of her jaw. His callused flesh enhanced the tenderness of his touch and tremors danced over her exposed skin. “They wouldn’t think twice about killing you if that offered them greater financial reward.”

She knew he was serious. Knew what he said was the absolute truth. Yet she couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped. “You’re such a comfort, Cameron MacNeil. I shall be sure to watch my back when among them.”

His frown intensified, but his fingers remained gentle against her face. “It’s no laughing matter, my lady. If the mercenaries are your only guard then may your queen forbid your request.”

Had any other man said such a thing to her, she knew she would’ve been regally offended. But despite his blunt ways and lack of finesse, Cameron’s concern was as enchanting as his accent.

He didn’t expect her to stay in Ce because it pleased him. It was because he feared for her safety.

Tentatively she raised her hand to her face and threaded her fingers through his. He swallowed, as though her touch affected him as much as his affected her. Her pulses hammered and her chest constricted as his wild Scots scent filled her head. They were in full view of anyone who might pass by. Her bodyguard was within calling distance. Yet they might have been the only two people alive on this windy Highland day.

There was no doubt in her mind that, one way or another, she would travel with Cameron to Dal Riada. Bride was guiding them both to the same destination. But she couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t believe in her goddess and she had no wish to see that look of mingled disgust and horror on his face at the mention of Bride.

“Then we must pray to our gods my queen has no reason to deny my request.”

“Aye.” He might have agreed with her, but she saw the conflict in his eyes. The knowledge that she worshipped the ancient gods troubled him deeply, and she couldn’t fathom why. None of the other Scots warriors had ever had a problem with it. But then, Cameron was unlike any other warrior she had ever encountered.

With reluctance, she pulled back from him. She had been out far longer than she’d intended and the queen expected her back at the palace. There were rituals to perform and sacrifices to offer the gods in order to allow Ferelei safe passage beyond the veil.

But far more importantly, she needed to obtain her queen’s permission to leave the kingdom of Ce.