With her father’s illness worsening, Mary knew more of her time would be spent caring for him. There was someone she needed to find. She dreaded the conversation, but now she’d seen Cameron’s devotion to her fractious father, she realized how much he did care for her. And for Rose. He didn’t deserve to have Dougal MacBean underfoot. It was time to tell Dougal she would never accept him. He needed to leave.

She found him out in the bailey, seated on a hay bale, watching some of the lads and lasses practicing archery. When he saw her coming, he smiled and stood, then reached for her hand.

“Mary, I heard about yer da. I’m sorry. Ye have been so busy, I despaired of seeing ye today.”

“I’m sorry, too, but ’tis my lot in life, I fear. I need to speak with ye. Will ye walk with me?”

“Of course.”

She led him around the keep, away from the noise of the practice yard while she tried to decide how to deliver her rejection. “Ye have been patient with me,” she began, her gaze on the ground as they walked, “and I appreciate it.”

“I promised ye I would do better this time.”

“Aye, ye did. And ye have.” She stopped and faced him. “But I must ask ye to honor yer other promise. I have made my decision, and ’tis time for ye to leave.”

Dougal frowned. “Ye have decided in Sutherland’s favor.”

Mary nodded. “I have.”

He spread his hands, beseeching her. “What we had was real, Mary. We can have that again.”

She shook her head. “If we could, we would ken it by now.”

“I do.”

“I’m sorry, Dougal, but I no longer feel for ye what I once did. We’ve both grown and changed.”

“And yer taste in men has changed as well.”

“Perhaps it has. Still, I’ve spent more time with Cameron than I ever did with ye, and we’ve talked a great deal. I ken more about him than ye. And I see what kind of man he is more clearly the longer he is here.”

“Because he helped yer with yer da? Aye, I heard about that, too. I couldha done the same, had ye called for me.”

“But ye didna. It never occurred to ye to offer, did it? Ye have simply bided yer time, waiting for me to be available to ye. Cameron saw a need and did what he could to help. Without being asked. Perhaps that’s the difference between the two of ye. Perhaps no’. But ’tis the difference ye have shown me.”

Dougal reached for her arm. “Tell me what I can do to change yer mind, Mary.”

Not Mary-my-love. Mary shook her head as she stepped back. “Ye canna. ’Tis time for ye to go. I wish ye a safe journey home, and hope ye will find another lass to love, one who loves ye more than I can.”

This time, he did grab her arm. “I canna just walk away, Mary.”

He moved closer, and she stepped back. But he kept coming and before she knew it, he’d backed her into the keep’s wall. “Ye’ve never let me kiss ye. I’ll wager he has. I think ye’ll like mine better.” He swooped in before Mary realized what he was about to do and pressed his mouth to hers. Mary tried to turn her head away, but he held it in place and forced his tongue between her lips while he ground his hips against her belly, his erection becoming more evident the longer he plundered her mouth. Mary struggled, but could not force him off. In the one moment he shifted enough for her to get a sip of air, she shouted, “Nay! Stop this!”

He ignored her protest, tunneled his fingers into her hair and grabbed her neck. He forced her head closer and sealed his mouth more tightly to hers.

This couldn’t be happening! Never would she have imagined Dougal capable of this assault. Furious, she pummeled his shoulders, but he ignored her fists. With his other hand, he reached down and grasped her arse, squeezing and rubbing it, and pulling her tightly against his erection while he continued to bruise her mouth with his and to nip at her lips with his teeth. She couldn’t get enough distance from him to hit his groin with her knee, but she kept trying, squeezing her eyes shut to concentrate. But that only made her feel Dougal’s body more acutely.

Then suddenly, he was gone, ripped from her, the fingers he’d tangled in her hair pulling painfully. Mary opened her eyes in time to see Cameron’s fist strike Dougal’s face. The blow knocked Dougal onto his arse, but he rolled to his feet and came at Cameron with fists swinging. Cameron neatly sidestepped and knocked Dougal down again. “Is that how MacBeans woo a lass?” Cameron taunted. “Mauling her while she tries to fight ye off. Does that make ye feel like the better man?”

Dougal growled and got up again, his dirk in his hand.

Mary gasped.

“I wouldna, if I were ye,” Cameron warned him. “Ye are nay match for me.”

“I have this,” he said, gesturing with his blade, “and ye dinna. I will have no difficulty killing ye,” Dougal snarled. “Mary was mine. She will be again.”

“Ye mean I was yers until ye abandoned me,” Mary scolded. “I told ye I dinna want ye. If ye think this is the way to win me, ye are wrong. Accept yer loss and go home, Dougal. I’ve asked ye nicely twice now. If ye dinna leave, and I have to ask ye again, I will have Rose warriors escort ye off of Rose land. Is that what ye want?” No matter what, she’d never allow herself to be alone with him again.

Cameron’s gaze remained on Dougal, but Mary knew he could see her from the corner of his eye. He might be spoiling for a fight, but he would never hurt her. She approached him and put a hand on his arm. “Let him leave, Cameron. Please.”

Dougal snarled, sheathed his dirk, and stomped off.

“He’ll collect his things and go,” Mary said, watching Dougal march away and hoping what she said was true.

Cameron took her gently by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Are ye well, lass? Did he hurt ye?”

She shook her head. “He didna. He just surprised me. I never expected him to become so aggressive. ’Tis no’ at all like the lad I once kenned. He’s been so patient since he arrived. I thought he’d changed…”

“It seems his patience came to an abrupt end, then, aye?”

Mary pressed her lips together, then winced at the unexpected soreness. Cameron must have seen. He touched her cheek and gently ran his thumb over her mouth.

“Ye may be bruised.”

“It will pass. And if anyone asks, I’ll tell them who did it. The clan likes ye. I’ll no’ let Dougal spoil their opinion. I dinna want anyone to think ye capable of such brutality.”

“Ach, lass, but I am.”

She straightened and raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Cameron nodded. “And worse. If he’d done more to harm ye, if ye hadna asked me to let him leave, I could have killed him. Ye ken that, aye? I was ready to beat him to death. I willna allow anyone to hurt ye.”

“Ye canna always protect me…”

“I can and I will. And someday, after ye heal,” he said, lightly caressing her cheek, “I’ll remind ye how a proper kiss is done.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Mary told him and smiled, then winced again at the pull on her sore mouth.

“I may have to kill him anyway,” Cameron muttered at Mary’s wince, then stared in the direction Dougal had gone.

* * *

Mary entered the buttery to check the number of empty ale casks stored there, determined to have nothing on her mind but putting the alewife to work replenishing their supply as soon as the grain harvest was in. Her father’s illness, Dougal’s assault—she wanted to forget all of it by concentrating on something she knew how to do. She could count casks, and in this state of mind, she didn’t even care about the dust she’d stir up.

Instead of the alewife, she found Seona and her Grant guardsman as close together as two people could be while still clothed, whispering to each other while they drank from cups they placed next to an open cask of ale.

“What are ye doing?” she demanded, tired of this cat-and-mouse game they were playing with her, and most important of all, with her father.

“’Tis none of yer business,” Seona answered, stepping away from her companion.

“Aye, it is,” Mary assured her, reaching for something to say rather than throttle the lass. “Ye are spoiling that cask of ale. And ye are married to my father, no’ this man.”

“Worse luck,” Seona took a gulp and spat it out. “Grant ale is better. And if no’ for yer invalid father falling in with my mother’s schemes, we’d be married right now.” She smiled at her companion.

The bile in Mary’s stomach shifted upward and she swallowed hard to keep from spewing on Seona’s slippers. “Ye make me ill,” she announced. “Both of ye. If I could, I’d send him back to Grant…”

“But ye canna. I am Lady Rose, no’ ye. And if ye say anything to yer father, I will tell him all about us. And assure him the babe is no’ his. What do ye think such news will do to his fragile health?”

“Ye think he would be the only one harmed?” Mary tensed, furious that Seona would threaten her father in any way. “Do ye think he would refrain from throwing yer lover into the dungeon? That is, if he didn’t kill him outright.”

“He’s no’ capable.”

“But he has men who are,” Mary reminded her and was gratified to see Seona blanch. She would give much to slap Seona—or worse—this very moment.

Her guardsman noticed the change in Mary’s posture and stepped forward. “Ye’d best go now,” he said.

His voice sounded deceptively mild, belying the violence Mary knew he was capable of doing if she pushed Seona much farther. He could kill her before her screams could bring help. Yet he hadn’t threatened her. She took a breath and stepped back, then halted when he held up a hand.

“There is naught ye can do by telling yer father except make things worse for all of us,” he said, looking at Seona. “I do love her. I have kenned she was mine since we were bairns together. How is it fair that I must now watch over her with another man? And someday, watch another man raise my bairn?”

His bairn? Mary’s heart broke to hear Seona’s betrayal confirmed, but also at the grief in this man’s voice. “Ye couldha stayed at Grant,” she told him, though she knew how unkind it sounded.

“Nay, I couldna.” His fists clenched, then opened. “I’ve kept Seona safe my whole life. She is my whole life. And now she carries my bairn. Why would I ever stop?”

Seona turned into his shoulder.

“Perhaps because she belongs to someone else?” Mary hated to be so cruel, but it was the truth.

The guardsman glared at her for a moment, then dropped his gaze.

“The bairn truly is no’ my father’s?” Mary choked out, tears of rage or sorrow, she wasn’t certain which, finally pricking at her eyes.

Seona glanced at her, then looked away.

Mary spun around and marched from the buttery, broken-hearted and furious, yet wondering if Seona was angry or relieved that her paramour had revealed so much. And wondering what she would do about it.

Mary didn’t know what to do with their confession. Seona had been right when she said the news could further damage her father’s fragile health. Yet how could Mary keep this from him? He deserved to know.

* * *

After the evening meal, Mary made her excuses and fled to her chamber, exhausted and sick at heart. She’d put a brave face on during the meal, trying to reassure everyone that Clan Rose was still in good hands.

The healer was at a loss for what to do for the laird. She claimed to have seen something similar before, and knew of no cure save trying to get the person afflicted to move. Or he’d die. That thought brought fresh tears to Mary’s eyes. She collapsed onto her bed, wishing her sisters were here to hold her as she’d held them while they cried so many times over the years since their maman’s death. Instead, she’d have to send a ghillie to Brodie in the morning to let them know what had happened. She wished she knew whether to tell them to come and bid their father goodbye while he yet lived, or to tell them not to worry, he’d be fine soon enough.

A soft knock at her door startled her into sitting up. Who would seek her out now? It could be anyone in the clan with a problem they needed her help to solve. Mary dried her tears on her sleeve and called out, “Come in.”

Cameron stepped into her chamber, and closed the door behind him. “How are ye, Mary?” He stayed by the door, his back against the solid oak as if he depended on its strength to support him. She knew he didn’t. He was well, and nearly as strong as he’d been before being stabbed by a gallowglass mercenary.

“Honestly, I’m no’ certain,” she said as she walked toward him. “If only we kenned how this would go…if Da will recover.”

“Ye didna ken how my injury would go, or my fevers. Yet ye stayed strong, and helped me to regain my strength. Ye can do the same for yer da.”

“Ye were nay my father. I hardly kenned ye at first, and tended ye because of a promise to my youngest sister. Seeing Da like he is now—’tis difficult. Worse, the new Lady Rose has no’ bothered to put in an appearance anywhere. With Da. At supper. Naught.”

“Did anyone ask for her?”

“Of course. I refused to cover for her, and simply said I didna ken Lady Rose’s whereabouts. But her guardsman also missed the meal.” Mary assumed her young stepmother was with him. Except for one brief appearance when they first moved Da to his chamber, Seona had avoided spending time with her husband. “If she feels any wifely concern for her husband’s health, and after her threat in the buttery, I doubt she ever will, she hides it well.”

“Threat? What threat?”

Mary sighed. She needed to tell someone, and if she could not tell her father, Cameron would understand. She repeated the confrontation she, Seona and the guardsman had that afternoon. “Da is so weak, I fear what such news will do to him.”

“Ye must tell him, lass. Ye canna treat him like a wean. He is still laird, and the bairn isna his. He may choose to claim it, but he deserves to make that decision for himself.”

“Ye are right. I wonder what he’ll do to that guardsman.”

“Have him marched out of Rose’s gates?” Cameron offered.

“Throw him in the dungeon?” Mary thought that likely.

“Or hang him from the battlement?”

“Nay!” She would keep her father from doing that. “Ye shouldha seen the lad when he told me his side of it. He does love her, and always has. ’Tis no’ his fault her mother made a devil’s bargain with her future—and sent him along to witness it. ’Tis awful. For all of us.”

Cameron wrapped her in his arms and held her close. “I shouldna be here, but I willna let ye suffer alone, Mary.”

She let herself melt against him, needing his care. “If my sisters were here…”

“They’d be in this chamber with ye, and I wouldna dare set foot inside.” He grinned at her. “I shouldha told ye this already, but Catherine is with child. Annie, too.”

Despite his wonderful news, Mary couldn’t find the strength to return his smile. Besides, her mouth still hurt from Dougal’s rough treatment. “Ye never said why ye arrived with four Bodies. In truth, with all that has happened, I forgot about them.”

“A storm came up, forcing a stop at Brodie. I saw them on the way to ye.” He grinned.

“Catherine likes ye. I’m certain Annie did, too. Especially since Catherine surely told her all about the trip from St. Andrews and how ye kept her safe.”

“Kenneth did most of that.”

“Well, then, ye helped keep them both safe. Ye canna deny it. Catherine told me so. Of course, she also told me how ye flirted with her before ye left St. Andrews. She thought ye’d flirt with any lass.”

He brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m no’ flirting with ye, lass. I’m in earnest. All of me. And all of me wants to make ye feel better.”

He bent his head and took her mouth so gently, the touch of his lips felt exquisite, not painful. Mary’s despair lifted. She loved the taste of him, and the feel of his soft lips caressing hers. Her easy acceptance of his kiss always surprised her. She should not allow it, but she could not deny him. She wanted his kisses, and so much more.

He started gently, considerately, but his passion rose with hers and his kiss became more demanding, though still careful of her bruises. She slid her hands up his broad chest and wrapped them behind his neck, using one to pull his head down even more firmly to her. With her other hand, she stroked his neck and throat, then brushed her fingertips down his face.

Cameron groaned, picked her up and carried her to her bed, kissing her the entire way across her chamber.

When he stopped, she slid down his body until her toes touched the floor, surprising her. She suddenly felt so full of energy, she thought she’d float above it, anchored only by where she held onto Cameron, her arms still wrapped around his neck, and where his hands spanned her waist. One of Cameron’s hands roved over her back and up to tangle in her hair.

“I want ye, lass. I dinna ken how much control I have left.” Then he loosened his hold and stepped back, but didn’t let go. “But I came here to comfort ye, no’ to ravish ye.”

A rush of warmth filled her. “Ye have comforted me.” She stilled her caresses on his massive shoulders.

“What do ye need, Mary?”

Being in Cameron’s arms made her bold. “Truly? Ye. But this is no’ the time.” She stepped out of his arms and clasped her hands together to keep from reaching for him. “I…”

He stroked her hair as he told her, “Ye are exhausted, lass, and hurt. Ye should sleep.”

“I dinna ken if I can.”

“Will it help if I sit with ye?”

As she had spent hours sitting with him while he was ill. “Only sit?”

Cameron pulled the chamber’s simple wooden chair next to the bed. “Here. I’ll be right in this chair. I’ll hold yer hand, or talk, or recite poetry, whatever will soothe ye.” He grinned. “But I willna sing ye a lullaby. I fear my voice would keep ye awake the night through.”

Mary couldn’t help it. Despite her exhaustion, fear, and grief for her father, she laughed. Then winced and lifted a hand to her mouth. “Ye must demonstrate—some other time, aye.” She turned to the bed, then back again. “I must undress. Will ye turn away?”

Cameron gave her a wicked grin “I’d rather no’,” he teased.

Mary answered his grin with a tired smile, throwing caution to the wind. “Then help me.” She turned around. “And undo my laces, please?”

Cameron’s voice behind her sounded low and sexy. “With pleasure.” He gripped her shoulders, then ran his hands down her arms and slipped them onto her waist.

She fought the urge to lean back into his chest, knowing where that would lead. He made quick work of her laces, and she slipped off her dress, leaving her in her shift. Then she sat and offered him her boot. “Please?”

He gripped it and pulled it and her stocking from her foot, then did the same with the other. But instead of releasing that foot, he stroked it with both hands, then rubbed circles on her sole and across the pad under her toes.

Mary arched back and sighed with pleasure. “Where did ye learn to do that?”

“Ye dinna wish to ken, love,” he told her. “Just enjoy it. Lie back and let me help ye go to sleep.”

Mary knew she should tell him to stop, tell him to leave her chamber, that it was not proper for him to put her to bed. Her father would be livid. All those objections ran through her mind, then stilled under Cameron’s deft touch. Instead, she obeyed him, sliding back and stretching out on her bed, laying her head on a pillow. Cameron covered her with a sheet and woolen throw, then folded the covers above her ankles and returned to her other foot. He alternated from one foot to the other several times. But when his hands slipped up her calf, even under the covers, she knew it was time to deny him, or they’d never stop. “Cameron,” she warned.

“I thought for a moment I’d succeeded in making ye drift off to sleep.”

“Ye willna,” she told him. “What ye are doing feels so good, I dinna want to miss any of it.”

“I can make ye feel even better.”

“No’ tonight, Cameron. Please.”

“Aye, I hear ye.” He stood and pulled the covers down over her toes. “I’ll leave ye be, as ye wish. Get some rest, Mary, my love.” He bent and kissed her forehead.

Mary wondered then if sending him away was a mistake, but nay. Sick Cameron was one thing. Healthy Cameron in full control of his faculties and his body, wanting her, was quite another.