As Elise turned from him and walked away, Cam battled the savage urge to swing her around, pull her into his arms and make good his threat to never let her go.

But it was no threat. He would never let her go. She was his wife. His. She was his reason for rising in the morning, the reason he’d made plans to improve his estates, the reason why he no longer saw shadows lurking in every corner of Dunmar.

When she reached her ladies, who had been waiting for her, they surrounded her like a rainbow cloud. He clenched his fist around her circlet and the gold bit into his hand.

He should have found the time last night to tell her the truth. Now the rumors had poisoned her mind against him and he couldn’t blame her. Every question she had asked him had carved through his chest. And every time he answered, the pain in her eyes had struck another fatal blow to his unprotected heart.

With a violent curse, he marched in the opposite direction of Dunadd. He was in no fit state to meet anyone, least of all his wife. Rage boiled his reason and despair knotted his guts. Only a good fight would ease the torment firing his blood.

But hours later, drenched in sweat and body aching from fighting four warriors in a merciless training session, he was no closer to seeing clearly. Doubled over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, he ignored the friendly punches on his shoulders from those who had watched his marathon workout.

All he could see in his mind’s eye was the look of contempt on Elise’s face when she had told him she belonged in Pictland among those she could trust.

He caught sight of her circlet, fastened to his belt. The inkling of a plan slithered through his mind. He would go to MacAlpin and request permission to leave Dunadd this day. The king after all owed him a boon. Once they were back in Dunmar, away from all outside influence, he’d work day and night to earn back Elise’s trust.

He would find a way to grant anything her heart desired.

Anything but her freedom.

In time, she would forgive him. She had to. The thought of never seeing her smile his way again, or hear her carefree laugh echo through the hall of Dunmar chilled his blood.

She wasn’t a captive bride as his mother had been. Elise had made a choice, and she had chosen him.

But she no longer wanted him. Would he keep her at Dunmar against her will? Suppose she never forgave him for killing mac Uurguist, deceiving her about their journey to Fortriu and the way MacAlpin had forced his hand into taking her as his bride in order to protect her?

What then?

He straightened and speared his fingers through his matted hair. He wasn’t his fucking father. He hadn’t abducted and raped Elise and coerced her into marriage. But what of the future? What if she never wanted him to touch her again? Could he bear to live with her, share her bed, and never again know the searing bliss of her welcoming body?

The prospect caused his gut to clench in denial. To live in such a way would be hell. To watch her light slowly diminish would kill him.

But to let her go would destroy him.

***

Elise and her ladies had not long returned to her chamber in Dunadd when Aila arrived. Her ladies discreetly left them alone and Elise went to her cousin’s comforting embrace.

She squeezed her eyes shut and a bone deep shudder racked her body. “I have made a terrible mistake,” she whispered against Aila’s shoulder. “I can’t stay here, Aila. I have to return to Pictland.”

Aila didn’t say anything for a few moments, simply held her close and rubbed her back. Finally she stepped back and held onto Elise’s hands. Sorrow filled her eyes.

“I’m so grieved for you, my love,” she said. “I was delighted we were wrong when I saw how happy you were. But if you’ve discovered the truth…” Her voice trailed away but Elise knew what she meant.

She had finally seen the truth that everyone else had seen from the start, except she had been too enchanted by Cameron MacNeil’s manner to look for hidden motives.

“It’s partly my own fault.” She shook her head when Aila frowned in clear disagreement. “No, it’s true. I begged Bride to keep Ferelei far from me, and although I never prayed to her for his death, she knew what was in my heart. And this… this is the price I must pay.”

“Don’t say that.” Aila sounded uncharacteristically fierce. “Bride is not cruel or vindictive, Elise. There’s always a reason for what she does. Do not think this is merely a punishment for wishing to be free of an evil man. Remember she has blessed you with a child.”

Of course she remembered that. The thought of her child was the single flicker of light in the bleakness of her future. But what was her cousin suggesting? “You would have me stay?” Elise stared at Aila in disbelief.

“Of course not. I had a plan in place to rescue you and return you to Ce with me before we ever entered Dunadd. It was the sole reason I insisted we all meet here.”

So that was what Aila had meant by under the pretext that I had to see you.

She only half listened as her cousin explained the details of her plan. It involved giving Cam a draught that would make him listless and sick and, apparently, susceptible to manipulation. Elise would insist they take him to her Pictish healers thereby raising no alarm that she was, in reality, escaping.

The thought of deliberately making him sick brought her no pleasure at all. Was this truly the only way she could be free of him? Why was it that, even now, a part of her wanted nothing more than to stay with him for the rest of their lives?

“It cannot be done until tomorrow,” she interrupted Aila, who appeared convinced they should put her plan into action instantly. “I have an audience with MacAlpin this afternoon to negotiate a ransom for the release of Droston.”

She may have failed in her marriage, but she would not fail Droston.

Aila stared at her blankly. It appeared Elise’s remark had rendered her speechless.

“Droston?” she said at last.

“Yes. He saved my life and I will not leave him here to rot.” Perhaps, aside from her babe, this was the only reason Bride had secured her marriage to Cam. To ensure Elise would reach Dunadd and finally procure Droston’s release.

***

Elise forced herself to remain still on the stool as her ladies continued to fuss over her hair and veil. It was lucky she had brought two circlets with her to Dunadd, as Cam had kept the one he’d snatched off her head earlier that day.

But she couldn’t think of Cam. Not now when she was preparing to meet with MacAlpin.

Aila sat on the bed. Elise knew her cousin wasn’t happy about the upcoming meeting but she had long since stopped trying to convince Elise against it. Elise knew it was only because she had evoked Bride’s name that Aila had finally fallen silent on the subject. It certainly wasn’t because she agreed that Elise owed Droston for that long ago debt.

There was a knock on the door and when Connor MacKenzie entered, Aila leaped to her feet and went to him. “Is something wrong?”

He wrapped his arm around her. “No, nothing is wrong.” But the way he then glanced at Elise belied his words. He looked back at his wife. “I need you and Princess Elise to return with me to our chamber, Aila. Alone.”

Elise swallowed her impatience. “Could this wait, Connor?” To be sure, there was an hour before she was due to meet with MacAlpin, but the last thing she felt like doing was socializing.

“Forgive me.” Connor bowed her way as best he could, seeing as he was still holding Aila. “But it cannot wait, my lady.”

She took a deep breath and stood up. “Very well.” She motioned her ladies to remain behind and followed Connor and Aila to their chamber.

Connor opened the door to their antechamber and against protocol indicated Elise should precede Aila. Frowning, Elise entered the chamber. And stopped dead as Droston turned toward her.

“My lady.” His familiar grin pierced her heart and with a choked sob, she ran to him and flung herself in his arms. He held her tight, patting her back and eventually she pulled free so she could look into his blue eyes, so similar to her own.

“You are well?” Her voice was husky. From the corner of her eyes, she was aware of Aila’s anxious glances toward her husband but she ignored her cousin. She didn’t care what Aila or Connor thought.

“Well enough.” He squeezed her hand. “And apparently I’m also free to return to Circinn.”

“MacAlpin has freed you? But why—has a ransom been paid for you?” His mother and her husband were nobles, to be sure, but they were far from wealthy. The news that they had managed to raise a ransom enough to entice MacAlpin staggered her.

Connor cleared his throat. “My lady.” There was an oddly reluctant note in his voice that managed to drag her attention from Droston. “MacAlpin released this Pict at the request of your husband, Cameron MacNeil.”

“Cam?” She stared at Connor, hearing his words but they made no sense. “Why would he ask MacAlpin such a thing?” Cam didn’t even know Droston, except for the fact that he had once saved her life.

But the last time they’d spoken, he had spat Droston’s name at her, as though he hated the very sound of it. Now she thought about it, that hadn’t made any sense either.

“MacNeil has entrusted your safety to me, my lady. I’m to ensure you and your friend Droston are safely delivered back into Pictland.”

Cam had asked Connor to take her and Droston back to Pictland? But why? Only hours ago he stood in front of her and snarled how he would never let her go. That she belonged to him.

I will never let you be with your dear Droston.

A shiver chased over her arms as she recalled the savage look in his eyes as he’d thrown those words at her.

No. Surely not. Surely Cam didn’t believe she was in love with Droston.

“Goddess.” Aila pressed her hand to her breast and looked between Elise and Droston. It was glaringly obvious what she was thinking. “Cameron MacNeil has set you both free.”

“Droston saved my life.” She pressed her lips together before she spilled the secret that could never be revealed. But if Aila, her own cousin, believed she was in love with Droston then why was it so difficult to believe Cam had drawn the same conclusion?

Heat washed through her as she remembered the times she had mentioned Droston’s name to him. She had desperately tried to convey she loved Droston as a brother, but it seemed she’d failed.

But why would he care who she loved, if the only reason he wanted her in his life was because of her royal Pictish blood? If he chose to, there was nothing to stop him from keeping her captive in Dunmar, just as his father had kept his mother.

But Cam would never do that. Despite everything he had done, at his core he was still the honorable, noble man she had always believed.

“MacNeil said he will ensure all the treasure you brought into Dal Riada is returned to you.” Connor was scowling at a point above her head, as though this conversation deeply offended him. It probably did. Cam was a fellow Scots warrior who had snared another Pictish princess. Of course Connor wouldn’t be pleased to see her slip through MacAlpin’s grasping fingers.

But even as the thought formed, she knew it wasn’t true. Connor would think no such thing and as for Cam…

Her thoughts shifted and fragments of their conversations haunted the corners of her mind.

The day she had waited for him by the sacred stones, when she had no longer needed to coerce Cam into helping her free Droston, he had warned her of coming danger.

It might be wise if you remain in Ce, where you are safe.

Why would he say that to her, if his sole objective was delivering her to his king? If his only motive was snaring a Pictish princess of his own?

I will do everything within my power to protect you.

Perhaps he had never intended to make her his bride, but what if marrying her was the only way he knew how to protect her from the machinations of his king?

Yes, he had deceived her and deliberately kept the truth from her. But why had he? Was it because, as he’d told her earlier today, he’d had no choice?

“Where is he?”

Connor finally refocused on her. “I don’t think that’s—”

“I need to know where he is.” Her voice was regal and booked no argument. Connor looked at Aila who shrugged in clear confusion.

“He was on his way to the docks.”

“The docks?” That was the last place she had imagined and unease flickered through her breast. She would march through the mud of the training fields to confront him but the thought of getting so close to the vast expanse of gray sea was another matter entirely. “Why would he go there?”

Connor gave her a calculating look. “I believe he intends to sail to the Isle of Iona.”

Disbelief speared through her. Cam couldn’t go to Iona. The Vikings were forever attempting to gain a foothold on that isle and she knew the Scots kept a contingent of warriors there as a deterrent. But if the Vikings attacked unexpectedly, what chance did a small band of warriors stand against the brutal onslaught of barbarians?

“I must speak with him. I need to go to the docks now.”

“Elise,” Aila stepped toward her. “The docks are no place for you. Let Connor send a messenger. It will reach Cameron MacNeil faster than if you—”

“No. I must see him.” It wasn’t up for negotiation. “Although I would be greatly obliged, Connor, if you could arrange a small contingent of warriors to accompany me.”

“I’ll go with you.” Droston squeezed her fingers. “I want to meet this husband of yours, my lady, and thank him for my freedom.”

***

The docks were a noisy, bustling place, with ramshackle buildings overflowing with the stink of ale and poverty and sex for sale. Droston helped her dismount and Connor, who had insisted on accompanying her along with three of his most trusted compatriots, marched up to her.

“Wait here, my lady. I’ll be back as soon as I discover where Cam is.”

As Connor disappeared into the crowd, Droston pulled her back from the other three warriors. “I saw your father several times, Elise. He is well and misses you greatly.”

How good it was to hear Droston call her by her name. He always did when they were alone, a shared reminder of the carefree times they had enjoyed while children.

“I am glad. I miss him, too.” But her priority had always been Droston. “I pray MacAlpin will soon release all his hostages.” Even as she said it, she knew it was a hollow wish. Pictland would never bow to the upstart king and therefore he would always keep some royal blood as security.

Droston glanced around as though ensuring they had privacy. “We got to know each other during those times. A few days ago he told me who my real father is.”

Elise stared at him as his words thundered through her mind. “He told you?” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. She had kept the secret for so long even now she couldn’t say the words.

Droston shrugged one shoulder and squinted into the crowd. “He said he had always wanted to acknowledge me but events proved that to be impossible.” He looked back at her and gave her a wry smile. “He also said you’ve known for many years and he grieved for the burden you were forced to bear because of it.”

“Oh.” Elise flapped her hand at him and forced back the irrational tears that threatened. “I’ve always loved you as my brother, Droston. When I discovered you truly were, it was a bittersweet revelation knowing I could never openly claim you.”

Droston’s gaze slid over her shoulder. “The Scot returns.” He looked down at Elise. “Alone.”

Elise swung on her heel and watched Connor approach. Where was Cam? A terrible thought assailed her. Had Connor found her husband enmeshed in one of the countless brothels?

Other unsavory thoughts hit her. Was Cam drunk in a side alley? Embroiled in a street fight?

Connor stopped before her. “I’ve discovered his whereabouts.” He turned and Elise followed his gaze. To the massive ship moored a frightening distance from shore.