When it became apparent Elise had no intention of breaking the strained silence, Cam took a deep breath and attempted to wipe the glare from his face. Why did he always glare when he saw Elise? He couldn’t seem to help himself.

“My lady.” It sounded like an accusation. He gripped his boots tighter. Why hadn’t he put them on before leaving the chamber? He felt strangely vulnerable without them on his feet.

As if to reinforce his thought, he watched Elise glance at his boots. Her lips compressed, as though she found the sight disagreeable. Then she stiffened her already rigid spine and looked back at him.

Why could he not have awakened in her bed this morning? It didn’t matter how much he despised himself for the thought. He knew the truth.

If it had been Elise leaning over him, trailing her golden hair across his jaw, the last thing he would have done was leave.

But if it had been Elise, no amount of ale would have deadened his senses to the point where he’d been unable to make her his.

He shifted his boots so they hid his groin. He could only imagine the look of disgust on her face if she witnessed the extent of his arousal through the thickness of his plaid.

“Cameron MacNeil.” There was a distinct chill in her voice as she inclined her head in a regal manner. “I did not expect to see you in this part of the palace.”

Belatedly he realized she’d seen him leave the mysterious noblewoman’s room. It was obvious what she thought had occurred.

He had the insane urge to tell her nothing had happened. He clamped his jaw shut before he could make a fool of himself. Why would Elise care if anything had happened or not? The only conclusion she’d draw was he was less than a man for being unable to pleasure a woman.

And that was something he most certainly didn’t want her assuming.

His head throbbed. Why was nothing simple when it came to Elise? Why did he care what she thought? It was glaringly obvious what she thought of him. Nothing he said or did would ever change her opinion.

“I was returning to camp.”

“Of course.” But she didn’t sweep by him. She remained staring at him and he couldn’t fathom the look on her face at all. It was a strange combination of disdain—which he expected—and despair, which he couldn’t understand at all.

Probably because it was merely a figment of his ale-drenched senses. Why would Elise look at him with despair?

He cleared his throat. In his haste to leave the noblewoman’s bedchamber he’d neglected to ask her which direction led to the nearest exit. “Could you direct me to the great hall?”

She didn’t answer right away. He had the strongest impression she was battling the urge to tell him to go to hell—or whatever place of eternal suffering she believed in. But then she offered him a stilted smile that managed to wipe every other thought from his head.

“Certainly. I’d be happy to show you the way myself.”

Despite her agreeable words, hostility radiated from her. But if it meant a few more minutes in her company then even her hostility was welcome.

He turned and fell into step beside her, as it appeared he had been going the wrong way. The bodyguard who shadowed Elise was unnerving, but at least she was protected. Where had he been the previous day, when the princess had been alone by the pagan stones?

He chanced a sideways glance at her. He racked his aching brains for a pretty compliment or turn of phrase. Something that would make her look his way with admiration at his wit.

But he’d never been known for his entertaining wit. Yet he was compelled in a way he never had before to have this woman look at him with favor, instead of disdain.

“Your gown is most becoming.” He growled the words at her and they fell into the space between them, as graceful as rocks. She shot him a startled look and then her eyes narrowed as though she imagined he mocked her.

“Thank you.” She didn’t sound as if she meant it.

He exhaled a tortured breath and tried again. “It’s nothing like the gowns the noblewomen of Dal Riada wear.”

Back in the spring, when he’d first entered Pictland, he’d been taken aback by the quality of the Picts clothing. All his life he’d been taught they were little more than savages, and since the only time he had faced them was in battle, he had no reason to doubt it.

But the gowns of the nobility and those of royal blood were astonishing. They utilized every color of the rainbow and many more besides. Today Elise wore a gown of peacock blue, the shade enhancing her eyes, and her matching veil was a flimsy wisp that caressed her hair in a way that had never before occurred to him.

“Indeed.” The touch of frost was back in her voice. Clearly, she’d taken his remark as a criticism. “I’ve never seen a Dal Riadan noblewoman so cannot offer my opinion on this matter.”

Thank God he was prevented from answering by the fact they had reached the staircase. Elise preceded him, lifting her gown as she began to descend, and he caught a bewitching glimpse of shapely calf. He dragged his lecherous gaze away and followed her down the curved stairway, her bodyguard looming over him.

How he had navigated the stairs last night he couldn’t imagine.

Elise waited until he reached her side. “The hall is yonder.” She indicated the direction with a wave of her delicate hand. “I bid you farewell, Cameron MacNeil.”

But instead of leaving she remained where she was and watched him pull on his boots. It was most disconcerting.

Finally he was done. There was nothing to keep him from returning to camp. But the prospect of leaving Elise filled him with a strange hollowness.

Had he been blessed with a silken tongue, he could charm her into agreeing to meet with him later for an innocent stroll in the secluded copse.

Except when it came to this princess, his thoughts were far from innocent.

He gritted his jaw. This madness had to end. He stepped back from her so he was no longer ensnared by her evocative scent and gave an awkward bow.

“Farewell.” With that, he turned and marched away.

***

Elise forcibly relaxed her tense muscles as Cameron MacNeil strolled toward the hall. It didn’t matter that he had spent the night with Kila. What man would refuse what Kila offered? And she had certainly utilized all her charms to capture Cameron last night.

Except Elise did care. And she couldn’t fathom why the thought of Cameron in bed with Kila bothered her so. When she’d seen him emerge from Kila’s chamber, she had been dumbfounded. And had battled the irrational desire to smack his face.

As though he had somehow betrayed her.

How foolish she’d been to wear one of her finest gowns merely in the hope of seeing him. Well, she’d got her wish. She had seen him. He had even bizarrely complimented her although she couldn’t imagine why he’d bothered. The glower on his face as he’d delivered the words gave the impression he meant the opposite.

And clearly, she had been quite wrong in her impression of him. He might still despise all Picts, but his principles weren’t nearly as immovable as she’d thought. Perhaps the prospect of an indefinite stay in the Highlands had been enough for him to overcome his prejudice long enough to bed a Pictish noblewoman.

She took a deep breath. Every sense she possessed urged her to avoid the Scot. It wouldn’t be easy, but scarcely impossible. And if not for Droston that was exactly what she would do.

But she couldn’t. Because Cameron was the warrior who was destined to reveal Droston’s fate to her.

It was bitterly unfair that the one man her goddess commanded she should use in such a manner was the one man who affected her so profoundly. But it wasn’t her place to question Bride in such matters. For Droston, she would swallow her pride and seek out Cameron later.

And this time she wouldn’t forget her sole purpose of doing so.

***

The copse, situated beyond the village and some distance from the bronze smith’s forge, offered a degree of peace and tranquility. But it took Elise longer than she liked before her blood cooled and mood calmed sufficiently for her to consider returning to the palace.

It was outrageous that one man, that a foreigner, could upset the balance of her life so thoroughly. She hardly even knew him. From this moment on, she would command her senses to treat him as any other warrior of her acquaintance.

With amused detachment.

She allowed her bodyguard to assist her up the grassy slope that led to the standing stones, even though she didn’t need any help. She didn’t need a bodyguard, but to her irritation, she couldn’t quite forget Cameron’s blunt comments of the previous day when he’d warned her of abductions.

Ludicrous. The closest Vikings were over a day’s march from here, on the northernmost border of Ce’s neighbor, Fidach. She was perfectly safe. She was—

Her thoughts collided as she saw Kila emerge from the nearby monastery.

For a moment she froze. Perhaps she could retreat to the copse before Kila caught sight of her. But before she could put her plan into action, the other woman turned, saw her, and lifted her hand in a wave.

Elise flexed her fingers and ignored the way her stomach pitched. It was merely because she had yet to break her fast. It had nothing to do with the knowledge that she was to be subjected to a graphic account of Kila’s nighttime exploits.

Kila waited until Elise reached her side and then slipped her arm through Elise’s.

“You are about early this morn.” Elise was relieved her voice gave nothing away of her foolishly wounded feelings. She would listen and laugh at whatever the other woman confided about her new lover. Not by the slightest gesture would she allow Kila to guess how much the thought of Cameron bedding another woman made her feel ill.

So much for commanding her senses to behave.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Kila said. “I thought to confess my sins while they were still fresh in my mind.”

Elise smiled. Her face hurt with the effort. “I could never confide my sins to any of the monks. I don’t understand the concept at all.”

Kila laughed. Elise shot her a sour look. Clearly her friend had been very thoroughly satisfied during the night.

“Unlike you, I enjoy scandalizing with my confessionals. I truly think the monks vie to be the one who unburdens the sins from my soul.”

Elise tried not to scowl but wasn’t sure she succeeded. She compromised by shaking her head so that her veil draped farther over her face, hiding her expression.

Like many of their people, Kila embraced the new religion without it affecting her devotion for the old. Elise’s own cousin Aila had once been dedicated to the new God, but Elise had never wavered from the one true path of her goddess, Bride.

“It’s a pity the Scots don’t take advantage of our monastery. I’ve yet to see any of them confess to their transgressions.” Surely now Kila would gush about her night. Elise wasn’t sure why she was goading her friend to spill her secret, except that by doing so, Kila would never guess just how much the fact had shaken Elise.

And it was of paramount importance nobody guessed that. For if even a whisper of it reached Cameron’s ears, Elise would never be able to face him again.

“I fear our monks would perish if they were forced to endure hearing the Scots’ confessions.”

In spite of herself, Elise smiled at the notion. “Some of it would make fine entertainment, I’m sure.”

“Yes. I’m quite sure MacGregor would singe the monks’ hair should he confess his bedchamber exploits.” Kila leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “Are you sure you did not sample his charms, my lady? Many of the ladies swoon over his technique. I’m sorely tempted to try him out tonight.”

Elise frowned. Kila might enjoy illicit liaisons but she had never before sampled two different men on consecutive nights. Had Cameron made it clear he didn’t wish to share her bed again? Or was it Kila herself who had made that decision?

She desperately wanted to ask her friend, but couldn’t find the words. After all, Kila hadn’t yet even admitted she’d spent the night with MacNeil.

“Don’t expect me to wager on that outcome.” She raised her eyebrows at Kila in a knowing manner. Hopefully her comment would jog the other woman’s memory. “Unlike Cameron MacNeil, Stuart MacGregor is only too eager to please every noblewoman in the palace.”

Kila laughed, but there was an odd undercurrent, as though she forced the gaiety. “I’m inclined to believe MacNeil possesses ice in his veins. A more passionless man I have yet to encounter. All that succulent flesh—wasted.” She made a sound of disgust, and Elise stumbled on the uneven ground. Familiar pain shot through her damaged leg, but she scarcely noticed.

Had nothing happened in Kila’s bedchamber last night? How was that even possible? To be sure, Cameron didn’t flirt and make hot promises with his eyes, but he was far from passionless. Every time he looked at her, she saw suppressed lust seething beneath his surly façade.

“He is nothing like his compatriots, that much is certain.” For one thing, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She’d never had that problem with a man before, whether he had been Pict or Scot. It was most confusing. “If I didn’t know better I would imagine him to be a frigid Northumbrian.”

Kila sniffed in mutual disgust of the barbaric Northumbrians, who frequently attempted to expand their boundaries by encroaching the borders of Pictland. The bloodied alliance between Pict and Scot had been forged not only to combine forces against the Vikings in the north, but also the Northumbrians in the south.

“It’s a pity the Scots have been banished to a camp.” Kila bit off her words and glanced at Elise, as though she suddenly recalled Elise’s close blood kin with the queen. “Although I understand the reasons, of course. It’s enough they’ve been allowed to attend the nighttime feasts again. Our queen could surely not be expected to accommodate them as she did before.”

Elise dragged her errant thoughts back to the present. She had just been given the perfect opening to share the queen’s edict with Kila. She drew her close and whispered in her ear.

“I have a confidential decree for you…”

***

That night, as the feast drew to an end, Elise attempted to subdue the nervous flutters that plagued her stomach. She hadn’t seen Cameron all day, but had hardly been able to take her eyes off him all night. She could only hope no one had noticed. She was certain he had not. Not once had she caught him glancing in her direction.

She had it all planned in her mind. Once the tables had been pushed back to the walls and the musicians began, she would draw him aside and be pleasant and amenable, no matter what he said or how he acted. And while a section of her mind couldn’t imagine Cameron sharing any information with her, no matter what she did, if that was the case why would Bride have chosen him?

As the queen rose to leave the hall, she beckoned Elise to her side. “What progress have you made with MacIntosh?”

Elise had forgotten the queen had instructed her to all but seduce Ross MacIntosh.

“Bride led me to another, madam. I intend to question him tonight.”

The queen’s eyes widened. “Bride has come to you?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Why did you not inform me of this, Elise? What did the goddess tell you?”

Elise risked a surreptitious glance over the queen’s shoulder, where the hall was being readied for the entertainment. Cameron was not in sight.

“My goddess only bade me to make the acquaintance of Cameron MacNeil. She gave me no other insights.”

“Cameron MacNeil?” Her grandmother raised her eyebrows in obvious surprise. “He is the last Scot I imagined would be of any assistance to us.”

The queen gripped Elise’s hand. “If Bride has singled out this warrior, then there is no mistake. He is the one who will help us. If all else fails, you know your duty Elise.”