Walking across the great hall with Mary, Cameron clenched his jaw, frustrated and angry with himself for letting Mary’s father delay yet again. He should have known how a meeting with James Rose would go. True to form, Rose wouldn’t commit, wouldn’t accept his offer outright.

Cameron had another concern, as well. He’d been angry to learn Dougal MacBean was here trying to win Mary back. She had accepted him, not MacBean, so the man must leave before he got a chance to see her unpredictable father. He could have no part in Mary’s life, yet Rose might agree to give her to him—eventually.

Cameron knew what else to expect. Rose wouldn’t let Mary leave until his new bride was competent to take over Mary’s duties. Until then, the betrothal agreement would sit on Rose’s desk, gathering dust.

For now, he couldn’t let Mary see how her father upset him. He stayed a pace behind her across the great hall and up the stairs. He hoped any who saw them would think she led him to a guest chamber. But he doubted anyone would be so obtuse. Both of their faces would reveal too much of Mary’s nervousness and his eagerness to get her alone. The smiles they got from the people in the great hall confirmed his suspicion. A few even had the gall to wink at Mary. Two older lads elbowed each other and grinned, but the serving lasses were more circumspect, smiling and curtseying as they passed. At least no one seemed upset about his return to Rose, or to see him in Mary’s company, despite MacBean’s presence. How long had the man been here? Mary hadn’t said. which gave him a moment’s pause. Then he thought about how he’d been welcomed. The members of clan Rose approved of him with Mary, even though her father dragged his feet, or disapproved. Cameron had returned for her, and he had no intention of leaving Rose without her.

When they reached her chamber, Mary turned and met his gaze, then opened the door and stayed a pace ahead of him, backing up all the way inside. Her gaze never left his. He hoped she could see his desire for her in his eyes. She slid her hand along the heavy oaken barrier as if she thought she could duck behind it. He followed her to the stone wall at its end, into the shadows. A shaft of light leaked in from the high windows on the opposite wall and painted the outermost edge of her hem and the floor in front of her feet. Cameron stepped through the brightness and framed her face with his hands.

“Cameron, I’ve never…”

“I never thought ye have, lass. But ye will. With me. When I was sick, ye cared for me and ye learnt every inch of my body. I want the same. I want to learn every inch of yers. I burn to love ye, lass, as ye deserve to be loved. As yer da has kept ye from being loved for far too long.” He grinned. “Though I suppose I’ll have to thank the man for saving ye for me.”

Mary blushed prettily, a temptation Cameron saw no reason to resist. He leaned in and brushed his lips across her cheek, the bridge of her nose, then took her lips. He did it gently. She was clearly unsure whether to permit such liberties, so he took his time, easing her into the idea of loving him. Her lips were as plump and delectable to touch as they’d been to imagine these past weeks. He nibbled and sucked, urging her to explore his in return. When she moaned and her arms slipped around him, he delved deeper. Her mouth was a hot, sweet well his tongue reveled in exploring. He was certain his groan of satisfaction reverberated through the entire keep. He didn’t care. He could kiss her forever.

She arched against him with a little cry, and Cameron’s thoughts turned to much more than kissing.

“I want ye, Mary, my love. I have returned for ye. I mean to have ye. I mean to marry ye, no matter what yer da says, and to make ye mine forever.”

She pulled back and studied his face, then met his gaze. “Right now?”

“What do ye think I’ve been talking about these last minutes?”

“I thought ye wanted to bed me.”

He grinned, his gaze going hot and feral. “Oh, I do, Mary, my love, I do.” He glanced away and took a breath, fighting for control, for composure. “But I’ll do it right, too. I’ll handfast with ye if it’s the only way we can get ye away from yer father. Handfasting seems to be a tradition among ye Rose daughters.”

Mary smiled, but didn’t nod her agreement.

Cameron persisted. “There’s a kirk in our future, lass. Ye will be my bride. Never doubt it.”

* * *

At Cameron’s declaration, Mary’s knees went weak. How could he promise to marry her in the kirk, knowing her father as they did? And her obligations. Cameron was right. She had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. She needed to turn it off somehow if she ever wanted a future with this man.

How should she respond? Her mind was befuddled by his kisses. She wanted more of those sending fire down her limbs, making her ache with a need she didn’t know how to satisfy. She wanted to shout her aye loud enough for the entire clan to hear it, and promise to love him the rest of her days, but that response would not be seemly.

Cameron’s expression was utterly serious. He had her at a disadvantage, away from other members of the clan, pressed between his powerful body and the wall at her back. He watched her face, giving her time to think while waiting for her reaction, but his hands still caressed her, and his gaze fell again and again to her mouth.

“I would like that, Cameron. When the time is right…”

“What about now, Mary, my love?”

She sucked in a breath and shook her head. This was happening too fast. She’d waited longer than her sisters for the right man to come along, yet now he was here, she felt frozen with indecision. She wanted him. He wanted her. But he’d just returned after weeks away. “Nay, Cameron. Ye have been gone so long. Let’s take some time to be sure…”

He pulled his head back. “What are ye afraid of, Mary, my love? Me? Ye already ken all there is to ken about me. I would never hurt ye. And I willna leave ye again, no’ if I have any say in the matter.”

He tempted her. With his body, his beauty, and his spirit. And she knew she tempted him. She could feel the evidence pressed into her lower belly, long and thick and growing more insistent. “I dinna fear ye, Cameron. Ye ken that. I fear for ye. Ye canna promise ye willna leave. There’s nay a man alive who can.”

“Nor can a lass,” Cameron chided. “Nothing is promised to us in this life. I want us to be together as man and wife, to live our lives together. I want ye to belong to nay other man, only to me.”

Exultation and delight warred in her belly with dismay over having to deal with Dougal. Being desired by a handsome and powerful man like Cameron thrilled her. She would be daft to feel anything but happy to have Cameron Sutherland as her husband.

“Dougal has had a week to soften my anger toward him. Yet, all I could think about was ye.”

Cameron shook his head and stepped back, his hands dropping to his side. “Has he also asked yer father for yer hand?”

“I havena given him the chance. Da has been ill, and doesna ken Dougal is here. I’ve told Dougal seeing him might make Da’s condition worse.”

Cameron barked a laugh. “Of all the—”

Mary held up a hand to silence him. “Da feels guilty over having ruined my one chance for happiness with Dougal—or so he says. I do fear seeing Dougal would upset him, or worse, cause him to betroth us out of hand. I didna want that. I hoped for ye to return. And there’s more.” She told him about the bargain Seona had offered. “If she pushed Da, he might have done as she asked. Ye might have returned to find me betrothed or married. How can I make ye see I wanted ye. I waited for ye?”

Cameron hung his head. “I deserve at least some of yer condemnation. I left confused in my own mind about ye, lass.”

Mary could sense he told the absolute truth, and it scared her. “What convinced ye?”

“Being away from ye. Missing ye, day and night.”

“Ye are daft.”

“I am no daft, lass, except about ye.”

She turned away from him, fighting sudden tears she didn’t want him to see. “When ye left, I felt the same pain as when Dougal abandoned me. I grieved for ye.” She gazed up at the windows, fighting the urge to turn back to Cameron. She couldn’t look at him while she said the words that might send him back to Sutherland. “Now ye show up suddenly and rush to my father to demand we wed. Do ye no’ see how ye might have confused me, too, just a wee?”

“I’m sorry, Mary. I didna mean to hurt ye.”

Not Mary, my love. She pressed her lips together against the pain. “Please, Cameron, I need to think.”

“I’ll go to my chamber, then. Take the time ye need, and find me when ye are ready to talk.”

She was tempted to look over her shoulder. But the chamber door closed, and she felt a sense of emptiness that told her no one else was in the room. Cameron had gone away.

* * *

Cameron paced by the hearth in the great hall. He felt terrible about the way they’d left things last night. He’d thought Mary would come to him during the night, after she sorted through the choices she had and the emotions plaguing her. Instead, he found her at first light, working in the garden. She promised to break her fast with him after she finished, so he headed to the stable, where his Brodie escort was preparing to return home. By the time they rode out of the gate, she’d left the garden and he expected to find her in the hall, but she wasn’t there.

Hungry, he resolved if she didn't arrive in the next ten minutes, he would fetch her. He wanted to be with her. Their argument last evening still stung; not because they’d fought, but because he knew it was his fault. He’d botched his reunion with Mary, assuming her need for him matched his own. But much had happened at Rose while he’d been away. He should have taken more time with her before demanding they wed.

He stood, tired of waiting, intending to find her, when a man he didn’t recognize descended the stairs and joined him. “Ye must be Sutherland. Are ye waiting for Mary?”

This must be MacBean. “Ye are?”

“Dougal MacBean, an auld…friend…of Mary’s.”

Cameron introduced himself while he sized the man up. MacBean was shorter and slighter, but the hard glint in his eye told Cameron he might be a challenging opponent. “I am waiting for her, aye,” Cameron answered. “Though ’tis none of yer business. ”

“Everything about Mary is my business,” MacBean asserted. “We would have married, if no’ for her stubborn father.”

Cameron pursed his lips. “Perhaps James Rose is wiser than I realized.”

“I saw ye arrive. Ye may think ye have her heart and the clan’s acclaim, Sutherland, but I have a prior claim. She’ll choose me when she has had time to come to her senses.”

“Ye think so?” Clearly, Mary had yet to tell this man to leave.

“Wait and see, Sutherland. Wait and see.” With that, MacBean stalked away and left the hall.

MacBean’s confidence made Cameron uncomfortable. He rubbed his jaw. The man could cause trouble when he found out Mary didn’t want him.

Annoyed that he’d let MacBean get under his skin, he decided to skip the meal, go to the practice field, and push himself harder. The first day he’d joined the other men on the field, before his trip to Sutherland, he’d meant to take it easy, but finally gave in to the urge to go at it. He’d felt a sharp pain as something gave way in his side and for the next day or two, he’d been in more pain. Mary had feared more damage but the healer advised waiting. Then it stopped and he realized his reach had improved and his ability to turn and swing a blade more easily surprised him. The Rose healer told him he’d probably broken loose some scar tissue. She led him to believe that was good. It certainly felt good to be able to swing a blade, and after seeing MacBean, it was just what he needed.

Something must have happened to delay Mary. If she wanted him, she’d know where to find him.

MacBean approached him on the field as soon as he got there.

“Care to see who’s the better man?” he asked with a smirk.

Cameron considered taking him on, but if MacBean chose to make a real fight out of their sparring, Cameron would have to stop him—wounding or killing him—and Mary would be outraged. The lad Edan showed up at the edge of the field then, and Cameron saw his opportunity to avoid trouble. He waved Edan over, and before the lad reached them, Cameron told MacBean, “I promised this lad a lesson. Perhaps another time.”

He spent thirty minutes with Edan, who impressed him with his willingness to try unfamiliar moves. Another of Rose’s men came over as they finished, wanting to learn the same techniques, so he took more time with him. Had Mary seen him and gone about her day? He hoped so. She knew he needed this time on the field.

“Ye’ll be back to yerself in nay time,” the man told him. “Ye almost had me during the last few minutes.”

Hearing the man’s assessment, Cameron laughed, more glad than he expected to be. “I’ll have ye on the ground in a day or two,” he boasted, then winced, hoping he was right. If not, he’d spend a lot of time on the ground instead.

The man clapped him on the back and turned to a different partner. Cameron took a breath and surveyed the men in the practice ground. He wanted to do more, but recalled the healer’s warning not to do too much to quickly. And MacBean still eyed him from the sidelines. He might be better served to return to the hall and break his fast. Mary might be there by now. The idea of seeing her decided him.

Inside, the hall was silent. People sat, many unmoving, some talking quietly. A few came in or left, but they moved as if through deep, rushing water, slowly and with great effort.

“What happened?” Cameron asked the first person who came near him, a lass he’d never met.

“The laird is ill. They say he can barely move.”

“Lady Mary?”

“With him. And the healer.”

“Where?”

“The laird’s solar, last I kenned.”

Cameron nodded and let the lass go on about her business. Mary must be devastated. She’d told him her father hadn’t been well. If what the lass said was at all accurate, he’d taken a turn for the worse.

The door to the solar was open. Cameron slipped inside. Mary and the healer were standing over Mary’s father and conferring in low voices. James Rose, slumped in the chair behind his desk, looked unconscious. Or dead.

Nay, he could not be dead, or Mary and the healer would not be conferring quietly. They’d have called the clan elders, or done something else to begin preparing the Rose laird’s body for burial, and to notify the rest of the clan.

Mary glanced up then and saw him. “Cameron, thank goodness ye are here. We were just discussing how to move Da to his chamber. He needs to rest.”

“What can I do?”

“Fetch some of the men to carry him upstairs, if ye would. He’s too much a burden even for the three of us.”

With help, they got Rose upstairs to his chamber and settled in his bed. Mary also sent for Rose’s young wife, who took her time appearing, took one look in the room and retreated.

“That lass’ll be nay help,” the healer muttered, frowning at the empty doorway before turning back to her patient.

“She’s young,” Mary defended her. “Mayhap she’s never dealt with illness.”

“Then she’d best learn,” the healer grumped. “She wed a man more than twice her age. What else can she expect?”

“What caused this?” Cameron had wondered since getting the news, but this was his first chance to ask.

The healer shrugged and looked worried, her brow crinkled and her eyes sad.

Mary’s mouth pinched and her gaze dropped. “I dinna ken if this has anything to do with his collapse, but Da just received word one of the men he thought dead at Red Harlaw is alive and with the Earl of Mar’s forces.”

“A prisoner?”

“Nay, a captain in his guard. He…”

“Is a traitor. Is that what ye are saying?” Cameron tensed.

“Aye, Da got angrier than I’ve ever seen him, red in the face then suddenly…fell forward. When he came to sometime later, he couldna move the right side of his body. Look at his face.”

Cameron had already noted one side of Rose’s face had lost all expression and looked slack and loose, more akin to partially melted candle wax than how a man should look, even in sleep.

He shook his head, then turned to the healer. “What’s to be done now?”

She shrugged. “There’s naught I can do. He’ll either heal and regain the full use of his body, or he willna. It may be well that his new wife is already with child. I dinna ken whether he’ll retain the ability…”

Mary colored and her hand flew to cover her mouth.

“Sorry lass,” the healer told her. “But ye may as well face facts. Yer da may never again be the man he was—in any capacity.”

Cameron moved to Mary and put his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. “Whatever happens, we will handle it,” he told her. “I’ll be here to help ye.”

She nodded, but he could feel her tears dampen his chest through the fabric of shirt. “I dinna ken what to do.”

“Ye’ll do as ye always have, and be a help to him,” Cameron assured her.