Aila wrapped her arm around Elise’s shoulders and forced her back along the passageway. With every thud of her heart, Elise’s denials grew fainter.

It wasn’t true. But Bride had spoken in blood.

This was the price her goddess demanded for ridding Elise of Ferelei mac Uurguist.

As they entered the library, her chest grew tight and lungs contracted. A wild rushing sensation filled her head and she pushed Aila away and hurried to the door.

Outside she gasped in the brisk autumn air but it did nothing to allay the terror snaking through her. She had prayed, begged, for her goddess to intervene so she would be free of Ferelei. Bride had put Cameron MacNeil in her path, the one man who wanted Ferelei dead even more than she did herself.

Her stomach heaved. Ferelei had been the one who had raped Isla and caused her death. From a thousand miles away, she heard her ladies flutter behind her, asking her what was wrong. She picked up her skirts and ran across the rutted ground, not knowing where she headed. Not caring.

What did it matter where she ran? She could never escape the sordid truth that polluted her heart.

She had fallen in love with the one man in the world who could never love her in return.

Had he truly planned this from the start? He had sought her out the day after Ferelei had died. Only now did she recall the fresh wound on his face and how relieved she had been that it looked clean.

The wound he must have received before killing his worst enemy.

She pulled up short by the side of the forge, sagged against the stone wall and lost the contents of her stomach. Eyes squeezed shut, sweat trickling along her neck, she ignored the anxious murmuring of her ladies who had followed her. She couldn’t face them. She couldn’t face anyone. She had been the instrument of Cameron MacNeil’s vengeance. And she couldn’t even truly blame him for it.

“God damn it, Elise. What ails you?” The voice of Cam, the only man she had ever wanted, smashed through her head and she flinched closer to the wall. “Princess Aila sent a messenger and said you were unwell.”

No, she was not unwell. All that ailed her was that her heart had broken beyond repair.

With a muffled curse, he grasped her shoulders and turned her about. She buried her face in her hands. He might despise her, but she still didn’t want him to witness the aftermath of her sickness. The evidence on the ground was humiliating enough.

Before she realized his intention, he swept her into his arms. For one weak moment, she longed to curl into his strong embrace and press her hot face against his muscled chest. His familiar scent weaved a false cocoon of comfort around her, an illusion of safety and protection she had fallen for so easily. But it was all a shallow masquerade.

With a sense of dread, she realized he was marching toward Dunadd. Panic twisted through her. Dunadd was the last place she wanted to be.

“Put me down.” Her voice was muffled through her fingers and Cam ignored her. She stiffened and glanced wildly around. People stared, clearly enthralled at the spectacle of one of their Scots warriors manhandling a Pictish princess, even if she was his wife.

His wife. The words were a hollow mockery that seared her heart.

Mortified she looked down at her lap. She would not make a scene. But she couldn’t go back into the stifling hill fort.

“I need air.”

He hesitated and then swung around and marched away from the hill fort until they reached a small copse. With seeming reluctance, he lowered her to the ground and then held onto her arms as though concerned she might fall.

She edged away from his embrace. She couldn’t bear to have his hands on her when she knew how he must disdain her.

The ferocious frown was back on his face and she looked away from him. She had to speak. But she had no words. And she was terribly afraid if she tried to ask him for the truth her fragile façade would crumble to dust.

He snatched the gold circlet from her head and before she had time to react, he pulled her veil from her head. Frozen by such indignity she glared at him as humiliating visions pounded through her mind.

Would he take her here, now, simply to prove he had the right? But she didn’t believe he would ever do such a thing. It wasn’t in Cam’s nature. But how did she know of his nature? Perhaps everything she thought she knew of him had been nothing more than a cruel disguise.

He screwed her delicate veil into a wad, pulled his water bag from his belt and wet the material. “Here.” He thrust the crumpled veil back at her. “To refresh yourself.”

She stared at the sodden veil and felt blood heat her cheeks. While she had been thinking odious thoughts of her husband, he had merely been trying to ease her discomfort.

Without a word, she took the material and wiped her face. Why was he being kind to her? But she already knew the answer. It was because he didn’t realize she knew the truth.

But Cam had never treated her with disrespect. He didn’t flatter but he had never given her any reason to doubt his motives. An insubstantial thread of hope flickered to life.

The warriors had been wrong. Ferelei had died as they had been informed—in a drunken accident due to the foul weather.

He was not the despicable Pict Cam had told her about.

She took a deep breath. She would ask him. He would allay her fears. All would be well.

“Cam.” Her voice was husky but she couldn’t help it. He still glowered at her but it wasn’t a fierce glare. It was filled with concern. She swallowed. Perhaps she could pretend she hadn’t overheard that conversation. Simply continue her life with Cam, and the babe they had created.

But she knew in her heart, the suspicion would never truly die. The last thing she wanted was for it to fester and corrupt what they might build together. It didn’t matter whether Aila believed Cam capable of such duplicity. Elise should never for a second have imagined the worst of him.

There was a simple explanation and he would share it with her.

“Aye?” His voice was guarded and the way he’d folded his arms across his chest, her circlet hanging from one wrist, didn’t inspire her with confidence. But she wouldn’t take the coward’s way out.

“I have heard vicious rumors.” She licked her lips but Cam’s expression didn’t alter. “That Ferelei mac Uurguist,” her voice faltered. Goddess, she couldn’t say the words. They were too foul. But they had to be said. “That he was the Pict who attacked Dunmar nine years ago.”

She held her breath as she waited for Cam’s vehement denial. The silence screamed in her ears. And the way Cam’s expression turned granite hard and unforgiving told her so much more than an overheard conversation.

“Cam?” Her voice was sharper than she intended. Trepidation fluttered through her breast, making it hard to breathe. “It’s not true, is it?”

She didn’t think he was going to answer. Then his eyes narrowed. “It’s true.”

What? No, he hadn’t just confirmed it. He must have misunderstood her question. “But…” she floundered before brutally reeling in her scattered thoughts. “No, that cannot be. Ferelei surely was not the Pict you told me who—who so cruelly treated your sister.”

Except she could believe it. Goddess help her.

“It was Ferelei mac Uurguist.” His voice sounded oddly remote, as though only a small section of his mind was focused on this moment.

She let out a jagged breath. “Did you kill him?”

“I was responsible for his death.” The words were curt and reeked of bitterness.

Of course he was. He had spent more than a third of his life plotting such a fitting retribution. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His lips curled in an unmistakable gesture of contempt. Her heart shriveled. Finally she was seeing what he truly thought of her, and it was so much worse than she had feared.

“Why would I tell you that, my lady?” The contempt she saw in his face dripped with deadly intent from every word. “Even I know that is not conversation fit for the ears of a princess.”

A princess. My princess. The words he had whispered to her so often in the past came back to haunt her. He might not embrace his own royal heritage but he had always appeared fascinated by hers.

My princess. Far from being a tender endearment as she had so foolishly imagined, had he called her that with deliberate intent?

Had he really planned to make her his, right from the very start? To secure another princess of Pictland through marriage in order to strengthen MacAlpin’s claim on her beloved land?

She clutched her veil in her hands and watched water drip onto the ground. It reminded her of her blood that had splashed onto the floor of the monastery.

The gods gave nothing without great sacrifice. Her foolish dreams of a love-filled future with Cameron MacNeil was the sacrifice Bride demanded.

“Why did you marry me?” Her voice was low but somehow she kept the tremble from it.

“I had no choice.”

His words couldn’t have hurt more if he had plunged his dagger into her chest with every heartless syllable. She tensed her muscles and straightened her spine. She would not crumple at his feet. She was a princess of Pictland with a thousand year heritage and she would not disgrace her foremothers by showing any weakness.

“By MacAlpin’s order.” Contempt wove through her accusation.

His jaw clenched. “Aye.” It was little more than a ferocious growl.

She had been wrong. He hadn’t intended to make her his bride. He had been forced into it by his king.

How noble she had once thought Cam because he didn’t flatter her with pretty words or shower her with extravagant compliments. Naively she’d believed it was because he was different to other men.

Other men would say anything to get a woman to lift her skirts. She had never fallen for any of their silken tongues.

But how fatally she had fallen for Cam. He had never attempted to impress her because he had never wanted to impress her. He had pursued her only because his king had commanded it. How blithely she had told him that a man could say anything, but all that counted were his actions.

Today she saw the result of Cameron MacNeil’s actions, and they were devastating.

She offered him a brittle smile. “Did you ever have any intention of delivering me to Fib?” Just because Fib had never been her real destination didn’t matter. All that mattered was Cam’s reply.

She saw his fists clench although his arms remained folded across his chest. “If you left the kingdom of Ce you were to be taken to Fortriu.”

Dal Riada had never been the Scots intended destination. Cam had known before they left Ce that they were traveling to Fortriu and he had never told her.

“I see.” Her voice was chilled, in stark contrast to the turmoil tearing her heart to shreds. “It appears there is nothing further to be said. When my cousin leaves Dunadd I shall return to the kingdom of Ce with her.”

Finally the rigid mask cracked and Cam loomed over her, a dark shadow pulsing malevolence. He gripped her arms and glared into her face.

“You will remain here by my side, where you belong.”

She laughed, a scornful sound that scraped along her nerves. “I don’t belong by your side, Cameron MacNeil. I belong in Pictland among my own people whom I can trust.”

His face twisted. Anyone would think her words wounded him. But she was past believing anything she might say could touch him. He despised her, had always despised her, and while she understood why he could never love her, it didn’t make her pain any less.

“You’re my wife.” His dark eyes raked over her face as though he was committing every feature to memory. “I’ll never set you free, Elise, do you understand? I’ll never let you be with your dear Droston.” He spat the last words at her as though they were a curse.

“Unhand me.” It was an icy whisper and when he didn’t immediately comply, she pulled back. She knew her strength was nothing compared to his, but for some reason he chose to release her and then stood glaring at her, the way he’d glared at her back in the spring whenever their paths had crossed.

Great goddess, this price was too high to bear. She had been married to a man she hated and feared and thought nothing could be worse. But now she was married to a man she loved more than anyone or anything in the world. A man she had thought admired and respected her, even if he hadn’t loved her in the way she secretly craved.

But a life with Cameron MacNeil would destroy her. She would die slowly from the inside, until her heart and soul were nothing but empty husks.

She wouldn’t do that to her child. Not even for her goddess.