The next morning, Cameron turned his face into the freshening breeze, enjoying being back at sea on a Sutherland birlinn despite the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. The ship had sailed smoothly this far, but now it bit through the increasing waves, its sails bowed like full bellies, ready to burst. He didn’t care if the deck tossed beneath his feet. He was on his way to Mary, finally, and if the storm-driven wind got him there faster, he’d ride it out and thank the saints for it.

He would make a life with her, whether Laird Rose approved or not.

He thought back over his father’s praise of his intelligence and sense. High praise, indeed, from Laird Sutherland. And a balm to Cameron’s damaged ego. It made him proud. After their discussion, he found himself even more determined to do anything necessary to stand at Mary’s side and be an asset to her. He thought about how he would approach James Rose and ask for Mary’s hand. He had only himself to offer her, weakened, yet determined—and Sutherland, powerful and strong. He hoped that would be enough for her father and her.

Would Mary accept him? Would she welcome him back to Rose? After his conversation with his father, after he declared his love for Mary, he could not return to Sutherland without her.

He would stay as long as it took to win her. What happened after they wed would depend on her. He would remain at Rose with her if she remained the Rose heir. Or, if she wished it, though the consequence of abandoning Rose seemed dire, he would return with her to Sutherland as soon as he could get her away from her father, his seemingly lamb-headed wife, and any bairn they might produce. If she became laird, his answer would be the same—he would remain by her side.

If Mary had missed him half as much as he missed her, all would be well. If not, he would convince her. A vision of her filled his mind, blonde, laughing, eyes snapping at some clever remark one of them had made, then coming toward him, gaze locked on his, until his lips met hers and he lost himself in her kiss. Just thinking about her made him hard and hungry for her.

“Ho, Cameron, a moment of yer time,” Malcolm called, interrupting his thoughts.

“Aye?” Cameron glanced around, surprised at how dark it had gotten while he woolgathered.

“Storm’s coming on fast,” Malcolm said, pointing. “Help me take down the sail.”

Cameron leapt to the ropes. He and Malcolm made fast work of securing the sheets. The pull and tug bothered Cameron’s injury only a little today, so he took one of the rowing stations and helped steer the birlinn closer to shore.

“Have we reached Rose territory yet?” Malcolm, sitting opposite him, asked over the rising wind.

“Nay. Brodie, I think.” He studied the storm clouds. “’Tis time to put ashore and seek shelter with them.”

“Do ye ken them?”

“Aye. They’re friends.”

“Any port in a storm,” Malcolm quipped as the rain suddenly pelted down.

They beached safely and made their way up the bluff to the Brodie keep. Cameron’s name got them inside the gates without delay and into the hall where a newly rounded Catherine Rose rushed to meet them.

“Cameron Sutherland! I never thought to see ye here.”

He held her away from him, studying her and smiling. “I’m returning to Rose for Mary,” he told her, “but the storm forced us ashore. Ye look well…and happy.”

“I am!” She laid a hand on her belly. “But ye are wet and ye must be cold. Let’s get ye warm and dry, aye?” She glanced aside as her husband entered the hall. “Kenneth, see who has turned up.”

Kenneth Brodie joined his wife and offered his hand. “Sutherland.” He glanced Malcolm’s way. “And ye are?”

“Another Sutherland. Malcolm,” Cameron said, introducing his friend.

“Welcome to Brodie,” Kenneth told them. Catherine signaled for food and drink and led them to the hearth, where the fire quickly took the chill from them and dried their clothes.

“Once the weather clears, if ye’d loan me a horse so I can continue to Rose. Malcolm can sail back to Sutherland.”

“Of course,” Catherine answered.

Kenneth’s eyebrow went up. “Have ye yet returned the three we borrowed from yer friend on the coast near Aberdeen?”

Cameron laughed. “No’ as yet. He’ll no’ fash over them. He owed me.”

“Rather a lot,” Kenneth agreed.

“We have visitors? Why did no one send for me?” Another woman’s voice rang out in the hall. Cameron turned to see a lovely honey-haired and also pregnant woman headed their way.

Catherine jumped to her feet. “Annie, ye willna believe who is here.” She made the introductions in time for Annie’s husband, Iain, to join them.

“Laird Brodie,” Cameron said, “’tis a pleasure to see ye again.”

“And ye.” Iain gestured. “Ye have met my wife, then?”

“Indeed.”

“What brings ye in out of the storm?”

Cameron told them about his trip to Sutherland and that he had his father’s approval to offer for Mary Rose.

Annie smiled. Catherine squealed and threw her arms around his neck. “That’s wonderful news!” Then she sobered. “Ach, wait. Ye have no’ yet spoken to Da about this, have ye?”

Everyone laughed, although the prospect of the interview with Laird Rose did not make Cameron feel the least bit jovial. “Nay, no’ yet.”

“He’ll be difficult,” Catherine warned.

“I understand. But he has a bride of his own now. ’Tis time for him to let Mary live her life as she sees fit.”

“Aye, aye,” Annie proclaimed, slapping her hand on the tabletop for emphasis. “’Tis past time.”

“As long as ye ken what ye are up against,” Catherine allowed.

“I learned from ye.”

“Ye ken our da well, then,” Annie added.

“I do. And if we must, we’ll do as ye two did to get around him.”

That elicited more laughter. They talked until the meal was served, then they bedded down in a chamber Annie had the servants prepare for them. The next morning, the sky was clear of cloud, as if the storm had never happened. Malcolm took his leave to return to Sutherland. With a Brodie escort, Cameron headed toward Rose on horseback, full of stories and good wishes from Mary’s sisters and their husbands. And even more determined, after getting their enthusiastic approval, to make Mary his bride.

* * *

Mary sneezed as she stepped out of the buttery into the bailey. The kegs tended to trap dust on their surfaces, so she spent as little time in there as she could, or brought a lad with her to fetch what she needed. The lad had already carried the cask she selected to the kitchen and Mary turned her thoughts to her next task. She hadn’t gone far when she crossed paths with Dougal.

“Is something amiss, Mary? Can I help ye?”

His question made her realize her skin must still be blotchy and her eyes red. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just stirred up a lot of dust. It makes me sneeze.”

“In that case, rather than return to the keep, perhaps some fresh air would do ye good. Will ye walk with me?”

She wanted to tell him no, but she’d agreed to let him court her and she’d spent very little time with him since he’d arrived. So she nodded. He led her into the garden, all the while chatting about nothing in particular. Mary found him easy to ignore and wondered what she had ever seen in him. Opportunity, perhaps, to get out from under her father’s thumb. Now, Dougal did nothing but remind her he wasn’t Cameron. He wasn’t as big or as strong or as forceful or as tempting or…she pursed her lips. She had to stop torturing herself, recalling a man she might never see again. She’d already been through that kind of pain once—with Dougal.

His voice, and the rising intonation of a question, finally pulled her attention back to him. “I’m sorry, what did you ask me?”

“Nothing of importance, it seems. Only which is yer favorite rose. Or if ye favor another flower.” He took her hand. “I’d give ye a cartload of whatever ye like if I could.”

“That would be sweet of ye, but isna necessary.” She stopped and faced him. “I am fond of ye, Dougal, but…”

“But no’ as fond as ye were before I abandoned ye. Ye are still angry and hurt. I understand. And I hope to make my past mistake up to ye.”

“Yer past mistake?” Did he see how he’d betrayed her as a mere mistake? Mary pulled her hand out of his and crossed her arms. She tried not to dislike Dougal, and she felt sorry for his loss, but his comment didn’t help his suit.

He cleared his throat. “I didna mean…” He held up a hand.

Mary told herself he’d had a difficult time since she’d seen him last. But so had she. And despite her father’s marriage, she still wasn’t free to look for a man to wed. “’Tis ironic,” she told him, “that before, I wanted to go to ye, but my father wouldn’t let me and ye got tired of waiting. Now I need to stay. I am still responsible for Rose. And ye must wait—if ye can.” More so now than when she’d known Dougal all those years ago.

He dropped his head, but kept his gaze on her. “I have learned my lesson, Mary. I will wait for ye this time.”

He sounded sincere, but something in his eyes made her wonder. “Ye promised me if I asked ye to leave, ye would go without argument.” Suddenly, she was heartily tired of his company. Was there anything he could ever do or say—or be—to endear himself to her as much as Cameron?

“Ach, Mary, dinna ask me that. Give me more time with ye.”

He reached for her, but she stepped away. His expression was so anxious, so remorseful, she took pity on him. “Very well, I willna. But ye must excuse me now. I must check on my father.”

“When will I be able to speak with him?”

Mary shrugged. “When he is strong enough for visitors, only then.”

Dougal ran a hand through his hair. “When will that be?”

“I dinna ken.” But she did suspect his ability to be patient was less than he claimed.

“If I were a suspicious man, I would think ye are keeping me from him.”

“Nay, Dougal.” She sighed and shook her head. “He truly is ill. I dinna want anything to upset him.”

“Speaking to me would upset him?”

“He feels guilty for ruining our betrothal. So aye, it would. And an offer for me at this time, when he is not at his best, could harm the progress he has made toward regaining his health. He canna foresee the day I leave Rose as anything but a problem for him. He must grow stronger before such a decision has to be made.”

“Will his wife never accept her role and free ye from it?”

Mary sighed. “There are days when I despair of it ever happening.”

* * *

With her father remaining out of sight of the rest of the clan for the past week, Mary knew all was most definitely not well. Seona and her guardsman spent more and more time together as the days went by, more brazen—or less careful—about being seen. Rumors were starting to rumble among the clan, making Mary feel even worse for her father than his infirmity had. Assuming Seona was truly with child, would she present him with his hoped-for Rose heir, or the guardsman’s bairn? Mary dared not speak her suspicions aloud, not even to the healer.

Too restless to sit with the other ladies and do needlework where she’d first gone to hide from Dougal and his fawning attention, she dressed for riding and crossed the bailey, intent on saddling a horse and getting some distance from her thoughts and fears. Then she heard a familiar voice hail the gate guard.

She froze, then spun toward the guard tower. Could it be?

The guard called out a welcome.

Mary broke into a run toward the gate as it swung open and Cameron rode in with four Brodies.

He reined to a halt, swung off his mount, and caught her in his arms.

“I canna believe ye are here!” she told him as she flung her arms around his neck, her blood singing in her veins. Dimly, she became aware of cheers and clapping all around them. Embarrassed, she pushed at his chest, but he kept her pressed against him for another moment. Finally he loosened his hold and she opened her eyes, only to drown in his dark amber gaze. “Have ye missed me, then?” she asked after she had a moment to catch her breath.

He laughed, picked her up and twirled her around to the sound of laughter filling the bailey. “Every moment of every day and twice as often at night,” he replied, then set her on her feet. “We’d best go in. I think we’re attracting an audience.”

They had indeed attracted an audience, but thankfully most were smiling. Then Dougal stepped forward from the back of the crowd, a scowl drawing down his brow, his eyes glittering with anger. Mary’s breath froze in her chest, fearing what he might do. But Dougal’s approach was blocked by the crowd. While Cameron responded to calls of welcome and the people who surrounded him and clapped him on the back, Mary glanced toward where she’d last seen Dougal. He had disappeared.

Once she’d made sure the Brodie guards would be taken care of, and people started to move away, Mary asked, “Why are ye here, Cameron?” She tugged on his arm, eager to get him inside, away from any trouble Dougal might cause.

“To see ye, of course,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and turning her toward the entrance to the keep. “And to ask yer da for yer hand.”

Mary’s heart thundered in her chest, and she couldn’t seem to make her feet move. Had she heard him correctly? His tone had been too mild for such momentous words. “Ask my da…” She turned and faced him.

“To let us marry, aye.” He took her hands in his. “Ye heard me right. I love ye, lass. I missed ye more than…” He waved a hand. “More than the air I breathe. I missed ye more than I ever thought possible to miss anyone. But ye must tell me. Do ye want me, too? Is being my wife something ye wish for? Or should I leave without seeing Laird Rose?”

Dear God, had Dougal heard Cameron’s declaration? Mary needed to look, but couldn’t tear her gaze away from Cameron’s earnest one.

“Nay!” Mary fought for breath.

Cameron studied her, paling slightly.

She held up a hand. “Nay, dinna leave. Let’s go inside.” On trembling legs, Mary led Cameron into the keep.

Cameron stopped her just inside the door. “Ye didna answer me, lass,” he told her, his voice low and intimate. “Will ye marry me?”

Mary swallowed, conscious of the people in the hall, watching them. “I would like nothing better than to become yer wife, Cameron Sutherland. Today, if possible. But first I must explain…” God, she was babbling! As much as Cameron’s return thrilled her, she worried about how she would explain this to Dougal. And explain his presence to Cameron.

Cameron laughed, then wrapped her in his arms. “Ye scared me when ye said nay. I couldna bear it if ye didna want me, too. I’m glad I mistook yer meaning. Let’s find yer da. I have an offer from the Sutherland that should please him.”

“We need to talk first,” she told him.

Cameron seemed to finally catch on to her mood and sobered. “Is aught amiss?”

Mary nodded. She led him to a bench by the hearth and sat across from him. She needed to see his face when she delivered this news. A few people approached them, but she waved them away. “Do ye recall when I told ye about Dougal MacBean?”

“The man who didna wait for ye and married another.” Cameron nodded.

“He is here. Widowed and seeking to renew what we had years ago.”

“He’s here now?” Cameron’s gaze swept the hall, his brow tense.

Mary shook her head. “He’s no’ in the hall, but he’s at Rose. I have…been taking time to get to know him again.” She clasped her hands. “I didna ken if ye meant to return, and I thought he might be my only chance…”

“Ach, Mary, my love, I…I couldna promise, when I didna ken what my father would require.” He reached out and laid his big hand over hers. “But I’m here now. Being away from Rose made me see how much I need ye.” He took a breath as he tightened his hold on her hands. “What will ye do?”

Mary tilted her head, studying him, then smiled. Here was the man she had waited for. The one who loved her enough to respect her wishes. “I will send Dougal away and marry ye, if ye still want me.”

Cameron leapt to his feet.

“And if Da will agree,” she added.

Cameron smiled and took her hand. “Then take me to yer father, Mary, my love.”

Mary stood, warmed by Cameron’s pet name for her, one she now suspected he’d meant, all along. She put her free hand on his arm, slowing him as they approached the solar. “I must warn ye, Da hasna been well.” The door was open, so she peeked in. Her father sat at his desk, staring off into space, piles of documents on the surface before him. “Da, we have a visitor.” When he didn’t move, Mary feared something was wrong. “Da?”

Finally, he turned his face toward her. “Mary. Come in.”

He hadn’t heard her. She took a breath in relief and did as he bade, Cameron following on her heels. “Cameron Sutherland has returned, Da.”

“I can see that.”

“And wishes to speak with ye.”

“I’ve just arrived, Laird Rose, but what I have to say willna wait.” He pulled a parchment from within his shirt, stepped forward and proffered it. “I’ve come a long way to give this to ye. ’Tis an offer of marriage from Earl Sutherland to Rose, between Lady Mary and myself. Since ye have corresponded so frequently in the past,” Cameron said, fighting to keep from frowning at Rose’s efforts to get him away from Mary, “Laird Sutherland sends his greetings and his hope that ye will find the offer of a formal alliance with him to yer liking.”

Rose reached for the document. “He does, does he?” Dropping it on the desk, he used the same hand to wave toward the door. “Leave me to read it in peace, if ye would.” He glanced at Mary. “Both of ye.”

“Of course,” Cameron replied and turned to Mary, his expression puzzled.

She clasped her hands in front of her waist, frozen with indecision. Should she be glad her da had taken the news so calmly, or angry that he appeared once again to be paying little attention to something so important to one of his daughters? Frowning, she nodded to Cameron and tilted her head toward the door.

Cameron put his hand over hers, worked his fingers inside her fists and lifted hers to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles, then led her from the solar without another word.

Mary pulled one hand free long enough to close the solar’s door behind them. “Ach, Cameron, what will he do? I canna bear the thought of hearing him deny us. I’ve seen what his stubbornness did to my sisters. Now? To go through it myself?”

“Let’s forget him for now. Take me somewhere private, lass. I’ve yet to greet ye properly—or as thoroughly as I need to.” He caressed her cheek.

Mary’s sense of doom eased at Cameron’s teasing. Of course he’d find a way to make her feel better. And suddenly, with the prospect of time alone with him ahead of her, she did. No matter where it led. Cameron was back, asking for her hand. He was hers, and she would be his. “My chamber, then.”