Cameron marched toward Ross’ tent, where he had been summoned. There had been no feast last night in the palace, in deference to the death of Princess Elise’s husband, and he hadn’t seen her since she’d left him at the pagan stones yesterday. But she’d invaded his dreams, except this time instead of leaving him hard and frustrated he’d awoken with a chilling sense of foreboding.

“MacNeil.” Ross welcomed him with a curt jerk of his head. Cam glanced at MacAllister who stood by Ross’s side. There was a calculating gleam in the other man’s eyes that Cam didn’t trust at all.

“So you’re MacNeil.” MacAllister ran his shrewd gaze over Cam. He gave a small, satisfied smile that made no sense. “The Queen of Ce tells me the recently widowed Princess Elise wishes to travel to Fib.”

Was he supposed to answer that? It appeared self-explanatory, especially if the queen herself had told MacAllister.

And then the meaning of MacAllister’s words hit him. Elise had spoken to her queen. And if the queen had told MacAllister of Elise’s wishes that meant she was seriously considering Elise’s request.

But why had MacAllister demanded to see him? Why was he being informed of this development?

“Does she?” He sounded surly even to his own ears. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ross clench his jaw, but MacAllister appeared uncaring of Cam’s attitude.

“Aye.” MacAllister took a step toward him. “Were you not aware of the princess’ plans, MacNeil?”

Silence hung heavy in the tent, a tangible force. Cam slowly exhaled a long breath. MacAllister was testing him, trying to discover if Elise confided in him. He didn’t know why. But he would never betray Elise by repeating those few precious conversations they had shared.

“Why would I be privy to the princess’ plans?”

MacAllister regarded him through narrowed eyes for a few moments before he gave a nonchalant shrug and tossed a brief glance in Ross’ direction.

“According to the queen, one of their heathen gods has foreseen that the princess will travel with us when we leave Ce.” MacAllister’s lips twitched as though he found this amusing. Cam attempted to control his scowl because MacAllister was the king’s man and ranked higher than Connor MacKenzie. But in spite of his best intentions, he knew he failed. “What is more,” the older man continued, “the queen appears to believe that her gods intend you should be the one to whom the princess’ wellbeing should be entrusted.”

He didn’t know anything about that and was inclined to believe MacAllister had simply made it up in order to gauge Cam’s reaction. He took grim pleasure in maintaining his scowl.

A flicker of impatience crossed MacAllister’s face. Clearly, he had expected some kind of response to that disclosure. “Well?”

What the fuck did MacAllister expect him to say? “You intend to escort the princess to Fib?” Cam asked.

“I’m weighing up my options.”

Something was going on here. Something he couldn’t quite grasp. It seethed beneath the surface, barely hidden, waiting for the right moment to strike.

But he couldn’t imagine what.

“It would be a lengthy diversion.” Why was he trying to put MacAllister off? Yesterday he’d wanted nothing more than to spend more time in Elise’s company. This journey, if MacAllister agreed to it, would be the last chance he’d ever see her. So why was he raising obstacles, even if those obstacles were blatantly obvious?

“It would be an unacceptable diversion if our destination was Dal Riada.” MacAllister offered him an insincere smile. “But our liege is currently in Fortriu, the kingdom that adjoins Fib.”

Fortriu, supreme kingdom of the Picts. But now, after the massacre of the nine Pictish nobles in the spring, under the rule of Kenneth MacAlpin.

The sense of foreboding that had haunted him all morning thickened like a storm cloud in his chest. They would need to travel through Fortriu in order to enter Fib. But every sense he possessed warned him that if Elise entered the supreme kingdom, she would never leave.

He had to alert her to the danger.

“MacNeil.” MacAllister stood in front of him, arms folded across his burly chest. There was no longer any hint of amusement in his expression. “I’ve decided we will escort the princess to Fib. I entrust her personal safety to you. And one more thing.” An intangible sense of menace throbbed in the air between them. “You’ll say nothing to the princess as to our true destination before we leave Ce, upon pain of death. Is that understood?”

***

It was late afternoon before Elise managed to escape both the other ladies and her bodyguard and make her way to the standing stones. She needed to commune with Bride alone. But it didn’t matter how many times she told herself that. The truth was quite different.

She wanted to see Cameron MacNeil. And she couldn’t shake the certainty that she would see him if only she went to the sacred stones. Alone.

But he wasn’t there. She walked around the great circle that surrounded the monastery, trailing her fingertips over the ancient monuments. The lingering remnants of the mighty storm two nights ago had vanished, leaving the air crisp and fresh.

As though the goddess had washed away the darkness and now offered a new beginning.

She sighed and leaned her back against one of the stones that faced the copse. How she secretly longed for a new beginning. A new life. But it was foolish to imagine she could have any such thing with Cameron.

He was a Scot. A commoner. And she was a princess of Circinn.

But her cousin Aila had married a Scot. And Aila was the eldest princess of Ce, not the fifth daughter as she was.

Ah, what was she thinking? She would have little say in the choice of her second husband. There simply weren’t enough eligible royal or noble born Picts to choose from, especially since so many were still held hostage in Dal Riada.

The choice would be slender but it was her duty to wed again. And no matter that the thought of the marital bed sent fearful shivers skating along her spine, at least the experience might one day lead to having a precious babe of her own.

But she would make the most of her year of widowhood. Not only would she secure Droston’s freedom…

She would take Cameron as her lover.

The thought slid into her mind, unbidden, and heat flooded her cheeks. Perhaps, in the darkest hour of the night, she imagined how it could be with Cameron. But in the harsh light of day, her courage always failed.

The ancient stone grazed her fingers where she pressed against it. Her heart thudded and nipples peaked against her bodice. Bride had chosen Cameron, and Elise had thought it was because he was the one who would take her to Dal Riada and help her find Droston.

But she no longer needed Cameron for that. The queen had now agreed to allow Elise to leave Ce. She had enough treasure to find out what she needed without coercing Cameron.

There could be only one reason why Bride continually allowed their paths to cross.

As if to reinforce her revelation, a figure appeared on the slope that led down to the copse. Tall, broad shouldered. Achingly familiar. Her mouth dried and she was grateful for the solid rock that kept her upright.

Surely there could be no doubt left in her mind.

He paused at the top of the ridge and looked down at her. The breeze whipped his plaid around his legs, and even from this distance, she could see how the material molded his muscular thighs. He didn’t appear inclined to come to her, so she pushed herself from the comforting presence of the standing stone and slowly made her way toward him.

“Cameron MacNeil.” Her voice was breathless as she greeted him. “Are you on your way back to your camp?” She hoped not. And surely he couldn’t be if Bride had led them both here.

“Aye.” His answer was uncompromising and her fragile courage wavered. But she should have known Cameron would be blind to her subtle invitation. If she wanted to walk with him, she should have simply said so. He wasn’t, after all, adept at the accepted nuances of light banter. “But I’m in no hurry if you are in need of protection during your walk.”

She stared at him, secretly shocked. Clearly he’d noted the absence of her bodyguard and disapproved. But instead of telling her so, he had offered her his company instead.

“I should like that.” She smiled at him and he stared at her as though mesmerized. It was unnerving and her smile faltered. She had never been the one to initiate a clandestine liaison and despite her extensive experience in the art of flirtation, she had no idea how best to approach the matter.

Kila and the other noblewomen would be scandalized if they knew the true extent of her inexperience in the bedchamber. What Ferelei had subjected her to didn’t count. She’d never been a participant, only a vessel for his depraved pleasure. A chill raked over her flesh and she forcibly shoved the memories aside.

She wouldn’t allow Ferelei in death, any measure of power over her. He had passed through the veil and she hoped the gods judged him fairly.

The thought of his suffering the gods’ judgment gave her some small satisfaction.

She turned and began to walk down the slope, ignoring the ache in her leg from the damp grass yesterday. Cameron fell into step beside her. He didn’t offer his hand to assist as another warrior might have done, but simply having him so close to her was enough to send her pulses racing.

Goddess, she would likely pass out from bliss if they did any more than kiss.

The thought amused her and she bit her lip to stop herself from smiling.

“Are you well?” He sounded hesitant, as if unsure whether his question would be unwelcome.

“Very well.” She chanced giving him a sideways glance. His usual frown was in place. What would it take to wipe that look from his face for all time? How dearly she would love to be the one to accomplish such a feat. “It seems our gods listened to our prayers. I am to leave Ce in two days.”

Instead of vanishing, his scowl noticeably deepened. She hadn’t expected that reaction. Did he no longer wish to travel with her? But why wouldn’t he?

“It might be wise if you remained in Ce, where you’re safe.”

They had already had this conversation. “Ah, but now I will also be protected by a contingent of fearless Scots warriors.” She smiled up at him, willing him to smile back. But it appeared today such a thing was beyond him. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from trying. “Indeed, I believe my queen would not have granted permission had you not been accompanying us.” Surely that would rouse him from his dark thoughts?

“Why?”

She blinked, uncertain as to his meaning. She hadn’t expected him to challenge her comment. Then again, Cameron never did anything she expected. Clearly, her expression mirrored her thoughts as he drew in a great breath and came to a halt.

“Why does your queen place such trust in me?”

And now he wanted specifics. She knew he wouldn’t be impressed that Bride had chosen him. But that was the very reason why her queen had finally relented.

Perhaps she could tell him the partial truth, instead.

“Because I told her I trusted you.”

He stiffened and if it wasn’t such a ludicrous notion, she could have sworn bleak despair gripped his features for a fleeting moment. It was as if her confession had somehow wounded him.

But she hadn’t offended him. If anything, she had complimented him. Truly, Cameron MacNeil was the most intriguing man she’d ever met.

“I’ll do everything within my power to protect you, my lady.” His formal address combined with the underlying hint of raw passion was a powerful combination. She swallowed, suddenly aware that here, by the stream, they were utterly alone.

The stream. Instinctively she drew back. Her heart hammered and palms grew sweaty. The storm had swollen the normally tranquil waters, and now it reminded her more of a treacherous deluge.

It reminded her of the river where she had almost lost her life.

“Elise.” Cameron took her hands and the concern in his voice dragged her back to the present. She took a deep breath and forced herself not to think about that terrifying time. And with Cameron’s intense gaze on her, it wasn’t hard to let those memories slide away. “What is the matter?”

His strong hands held her steady. She was about to laugh off her panic attack as nothing when something stopped her.

Perhaps this was Bride’s way of telling her to warn Cameron of her injuries. So that he wouldn’t recoil if he saw them.

But she never spoke of her accident. Those who knew of it never mentioned it, and those who did not remained in ignorance. And, except for the ladies who attended to her needs, nobody since it had happened knew of the damage she had sustained.

Nobody but Ferelei mac Uurguist. But Cameron was nothing like Ferelei.

She owed it to him to warn him. So he wouldn’t be repulsed by her disfigurement.

So she would not have to bear witness to his shocked disgust.

“Forgive me.” Without meaning to, her fingers tightened around his. Somehow it gave her the courage to continue. “When I was a child I almost drowned. I’ve had a fear of fast flowing rivers ever since.” And today the stream was a fast flowing river, with hidden dangers swirling beneath the frothing surface.

She took a fortifying breath. Now she should tell him. But the words locked in her throat. Suppose her confession caused him to retreat without even seeing the damage?

Cameron was frowning. But since he invariably frowned, she didn’t think that had any bearing on what she’d just told him.

She licked her lips. Surely Bride wouldn’t have chosen Cameron MacNeil if he could be so easily repulsed. And then he spoke.

“Is that when you injured your leg?”

The tortured words fled her mind. She stared at him, staggered by his words. How did he know? Who had told him?

But it was impossible anyone could have told him.

“What?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“You favor your right leg at times.”

She did? But she was always so careful not to draw attention to her leg when in company. She trawled through her mind but couldn’t remember any time when she had done such a thing in front of Cameron.

Yet the fact remained. He had noticed.

She wasn’t certain whether his powers of deduction impressed or shocked her.

“Yes. I…” she hesitated. It was one thing to decide she wouldn’t allow Ferelei’s contempt rule her life. But it was another to face her fear of rejection so blatantly. Countless men had told her she was beautiful. Perfection. She had always smiled prettily and accepted their outrageous compliments. And all the while she had thought how quickly you would run if you saw the damage beneath my gown.

Compliments meant nothing to her. But Cameron’s opinion…

Great Bride. Cameron’s opinion meant so very much.

Her goddess had given her this opportunity to forewarn him. Now it was up to Elise.

“I fell from a crag into the river below. My leg shattered on impact.” There. The words were between them. She searched his face for any sign of disgust but all she saw was dawning comprehension on how close she had been to passing through the veil.

Or was she merely deluding herself?

“You could have died.” There was a trace of awe in his voice, as though the fact she hadn’t was something of a miracle. To be sure, her grandmother always maintained it was only the intervention of Bride that had saved her life, but marriage to Ferelei had diminished the miraculous by focusing on what had been damaged.

The hard knot in the center of her chest eased. “I didn’t emerge unscathed. My leg is… ” She swallowed and Cameron squeezed her fingers. She hadn’t imagined it. It gave her the courage she needed to continue. “My leg is quite disfigured.”

“I cannot believe you still possess your leg.”

The nervous fluttering in the pit of her belly faded as the absurd desire to giggle assailed her. How like Cameron to say something like that. “It was a close thing. The Healers were divided as to which path to take. But I am significantly… scarred.”

It was the first time she had said the word aloud. Before her marriage, she had tried to pretend her scars didn’t exist. And after her marriage, Ferelei had flung that word, and worse, at her so frequently she hated the very sound of it.

“Aye,” Cameron said, as though the revelation was of little significance. “I am badly scarred also, Elise.”

This time she couldn’t contain her laugh. “But you’re a fierce warrior, Cameron. Of course you have scars. What warrior does not?”

“They shape the course of my life.”

“Indeed they do.” Goddess, was Cameron concerned she might find his scars abhorrent? She’d never believed a warrior could ever think such a thing. “You could scarcely be the man you are today without them.”

“Aye.” That was all he said, but he looked at her as though he could see deep into her soul. For a long moment, she luxuriated in the dark intensity of his eyes. But as the silence lengthened, an odd sensation curled through her breast.

Heat washed through her and once again, she could feel a blush suffuse her face. Surely she was wrong. Surely Cameron had not just turned her own words back at her?