“He was my first love and he gave up on me,” Mary complained to her maid as they carried baskets of bedding across the bailey to the laundress to be washed. She had started the conversation explaining the bruises on her face, determined that Cameron not be blamed for Dougal’s actions. “He went off and married someone else. If he’d really loved me, he would have fought for me then, instead of trying to force himself on me now. Thank goodness, Cameron saved me from him.” She could count on her maid to spread the word.

She just hoped Cameron was the kind of man who, when he found true love, would never give up on it. Or her.

“He was a fool, milady,” the maid answered as they entered the laundry. “He’s gone and ye must forget him. Cameron Sutherland is a different sort of man.”

Dougal and his men had ridden out this morning, without a word to her or, as far as she knew, to anyone else. She was glad to see them gone so easily. Dougal could have made more trouble while he remained. She didn’t know if Cameron’s threats or her words had convinced him to go. She didn’t care. He was gone.

After she had a chance to sleep on her decision to make Cameron leave her chamber, Mary regretted not asking him to stay. She couldn’t imagine Dougal in Cameron’s place last night, rubbing her feet, treating her so kindly, being solicitous of her welfare, and leaving without argument when she asked. She knew it would never have happened. Dougal lacked Cameron’s innate concern for the welfare of others—even people he claimed he cared about. If he had an ounce of compassion in him all those years ago, he would have told her he’d tired of waiting for her, rather than letting her find out from others that he’d gotten betrothed, just not with her.

“A different sort of man?” She was eager to know how others in the clan regarded Cameron Sutherland.

“He came back. He did his duty by his clan and went home, and now he’s back. For ye. Do ye fear the clan is waiting for him to leave ye again?”

How did she feel, knowing the clan was watching her relationship with Cameron develop? “When Dougal MacBean was here, who were they rooting for?” She meant it as a jest, but the maid answered seriously.

“Sutherland, of course.”

Mary didn’t know how to respond. Even after Cameron left, and Dougal was here, the clan had seen which was the better man? How has she been so blind? Cameron was different, and the maid was right. He had returned when he didn’t have to. “I’m a fool.”

“Nay, Lady Mary,” the lass objected. “No’ a fool. Just someone who has been hurt before. Ye have a right to wonder.”

“Since when did ye become so wise?”

“Since I spent most of my life watching ye and yer sisters try to find yer happiness. Since I found my own. ’Tis never easy, but ’tis worth the struggle and all the doubts in the end. Ye will see. I wish I could say the same for yer poor father.”

“What do ye mean?”

“’Tis plain as the nose on yer face. That lass he married is carrying on with one of her guards. Everyone kens it.”

“Everyone but Da, I fear.”

“Aye, well, ’tis no’ my place to say, but I’m thinking he’d want to ken.”

Mary pressed her lips together and winced.

The maid nodded in sympathy. She followed Mary out of the building and patted her shoulder. “Now go on with ye. Find that handsome Sutherland of yers.” Then she turned back into the laundry.

Mary nodded and started back across the bailey. Out of nowhere, a horse charged right at her. Its hooves thundered on the straw-covered ground, kicking up tufts of dirt and grass. Mary froze for a second, then spun away and ran for the laundry door. Were the stables on fire? Were more horses coming?

It took her a second to realize she heard screaming. The horse had charged through the bailey and been stopped at the closed gates, rearing and screaming in distress.

Men ran toward it and fought to get it under control.

Mary’s maid bumped into her as she rushed out the door, attracted by the noise. “What’s happening?”

“I dinna ken. That horse nearly ran me down.” She pointed to the commotion by the wall.

“My lady! Are ye well?”

“I’m fine,” Mary replied. “Just a bit shaken up.” She realized silence had descended in the bailey. “At least the men have calmed the beast.” Mary left her and walked toward it.

One of the men pulled a sliver of wood the size of a small blade from the horse’s flank. Blood trickled down its hind leg. “From the stall?” the man asked the others with him. The horse shifted and rolled its eyes in distress. One of the stable lads took its head in both hands and talked to it softly, calming it.

“My lady,” one of the men said as he noticed her approach. “Are ye well? This beast nearly trampled ye.”

“It’s injured?”

“Aye. This was stuck in its flank.” He held up the triangular sliver of wood. Blood stained both sides of it. “I canna believe he did this to himself. This lad is usually as calm as can be in his stall.”

Mary took the piece of wood from him. “Could someone have stabbed him with it?” She turned it over in her hand, then hefted it. Thick enough not to break, it had a point sharp enough for that purpose.

“I suppose so, but why? Who would do such a thing to an animal?”

“Why, indeed,” Mary replied and tossed the offending piece of wood aside. “See that the horse gets good care. I dinna want his wound to fester.”

“Aye, milady.”

The stable lad led the animal away.

Mary watched it go as the others dispersed and her maid joined her.

“Are ye sure ye are well? Ye are pale as milk.”

“Aye, I’m well, but puzzled. Who would deliberately harm that horse, and why?”

* * *

One of the maids told Cameron Mary had gone to the laundry not long before he came downstairs. He decided to find her and interrupt her chores. In a most innocent way, he’d cared for her last night, then spent the rest of the night hard and aching, remembering the feel of her soft skin in his hands and the allure of her moans of pleasure. He wanted more. And he wanted it now.

On his way through the great hall, he heard the healer’s voice echo angrily out of the laird’s solar. “Ye canna wallow in yer grief, Jamie.”

Cameron didn’t like the sound of that. He changed direction and headed for the solar. In all the time the healer had cared for him, she’d never raised her voice

“Ye must walk, and move, if ye hope to regain what ye once had,” she snapped.

Cameron could not mistake the anguished frustration in her voice. He paused at the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt. Rose sat slumped at his desk, head resting on his good hand, elbow on the flat surface. “’Twill no’ help,” he grumbled. “’Tis just yer way of torturing me, now ye have an excuse to.”

Cameron stepped into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I overheard what the healer said she wants ye to do. She is right. I have seen it work at Sutherland.” He lied, but the grateful smile the healer gave him made the lie worth the stain on his soul. Besides, if it helped James Rose, it would only be a small stain.

“See?” she challenged. “I’m trying to help ye.”

“Ye canna.”

“I will.” The words were out before Cameron realized he’d said them. James Rose needed someone to push him, someone who could help him—physically as well as emotionally. He’d leave the man’s emotions to the healer and his daughters. “I will walk with ye and help ye strengthen yer weak side,” he offered. “I understand ye dinna wish to involve those of yer clan. I’m an outsider. I’m strong enough for ye to lean on when ye must. And I owe Rose my life for what the healer and Mary did for me. I would appreciate if ye would let me do this, to help pay my debt to ye.”

The healer nodded. In a moment, so did Rose. “Very well. I’ll take ye up on yer offer and we will see whether what she demands will make any difference.” He gestured toward the healer.

“It will,” Cameron promised. “Ye will get tired of my company, but it will.” He glanced at the healer, who nodded again. “Most of the clan are at their chores, and there’s nay a soul in the great hall. Come with me now and we’ll walk around it. When ye are stronger, we’ll walk outside. ’Twill appear as though we are deep in conversation about weighty matters of great importance to Sutherland and Rose.”

With her lips pressed together, the healer gave him a grateful, wide-eyed smile, then turned to her laird. “Walk until ye tire,” she said, “then use the weak arm to shove some chairs around. Cameron will make sure ye dinna fall. And none of the clan will be any the wiser.”

“Hmmmph,” Rose snorted, but he got to his feet with a lurching motion that hurt Cameron to see. “Very well. Let’s go.”

“On his weak side,” the healer directed as Cameron approached him. “Only steady him if he needs it. He must do the work.”

Cameron nodded and went with Rose toward the hall. Their pace was painfully slow and Cameron knew he’d regret his offer from sheer boredom, but his aggravation would be worth it if he managed to make inroads with the Rose laird. If he found out more about the reason Rose allied with Grant, the information would explain much for Sutherland, but mostly, he hoped to discover something that might help Mary. Such as whether her father knew his bride was unfaithful, and carrying another man’s child. It was not his place to tell Rose. Mary would want to break that news. In the meantime, Cameron would support the man the best way he could, and thereby support Mary. He might suffer Rose’s ire, but perhaps gain his trust and respect. Mary would approve. He hoped James Rose would soften toward him and the idea of him as a suitable husband for Mary.

* * *

Mary stood at the top of the stairs as Cameron kept pace with her father’s halting steps away from her. The empty hall told her everything. He’d accepted Cameron’s help, rather than from someone in the clan, because he didn’t want anyone to see the condition he was in. Something twisted in her chest. Pity for her father? Or even more affection for Cameron. He did not have to do this. Yet there he was, offering a steadying arm when her father wobbled, but leaving him to make his own way as much as he could. Her heart swelled and her eyes moistened with proud tears. She couldn’t deny how she felt about Cameron any longer. She wanted him. And by his devotion to her and her father, he showed he wanted her, as well. To prove it, he was willing to do whatever she needed. Unlike Dougal, who still thought poetry and flowers and reminders of what she’d once felt for him were enough.

They weren’t. Not even close. Not when she could see the effort Cameron Sutherland made to help her difficult father get better.

“Damn it!” Her father’s sudden oath as he tilted toward the side almost made her laugh aloud and she covered her mouth to keep from uttering a sound.

Despite his poor balance, he sounded more energetic uttering those two words than he’d managed in weeks. Whether the walking helped, or having Cameron beside him in silent support, she didn’t know, but something was bringing out some of his old fire. She was thrilled to see it. She only hoped it would continue. As they made the turn onto the far wall, Mary stepped back out of sight. If her father knew he was being observed, it would undo all the good Cameron was trying to do for him. Mary would talk to Cameron later and find out how the rest of their walk had gone. And thank him.

The one person who should be helping Mary’s father had kept her distance since he fell ill. Even though she now knew why, Seona’s actions made Mary’s blood boil. Her father had loved Mary’s maman so much, he’d stayed faithful to her and avoided remarrying all these years. It broke Mary’s heart that the lass he’d finally taken to wife cared so little for him or his clan. Cameron was right. She must stop treating her father like a child and tell him the truth about his lady wife. Then he could deal with her however he saw fit.