Mary waited until her father had a chance to rest, then went to his solar and closed the door behind her. “Da? Can we talk?”

“Of course, daughter.” He set aside the document he was reading and regarded her across his desk. A cheerful fire danced in the hearth behind him.

He looked tired, but despite his physical challenges, he seemed more content than she’d seen him appear in months. Mary couldn’t help but think the time he’d spent with Cameron today had done him a lot of good. She hoped Cameron’s patience would last long enough for her father to make real progress.

Assuming the errand that brought her here didn’t make him worse.

She sank into one of the chairs nearest his desk and clasped her hands. “I dinna ken where to start.”

“The beginning is usually best,” he offered.

“In this case, I must go straight to the conclusion.” She took a breath, reluctant, yet determined to accord her father the dignity of the truth. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell ye this, but Seona has admitted to me that she and one of her guardsmen are lovers. The child she carries is probably his, no’ yers.”

Her father nodded and grimaced. “I ken it.”

“Already? How?”

“I saw yer maman through three of ye, and two more we lost before ye came along. I ken what a breeding woman looks like. Seona was too far along, too quickly. And too friendly with one of the men Mhairi Grant left behind. I confronted her weeks ago.”

“Da! I’m so sorry.” Mary’s throat closed as she fought tears. How had her father borne this secret on his own, all this time, and while faced with his illness? Cameron was right. She’d been treating him like a wean, and he never deserved that.

Her father leaned forward, reclaiming her attention. “Besides ye, who else kens this?”

Mary shook her head. “I fear ’tis common knowledge, or commonly rumored. Cameron kens, but he’ll keep it to himself. I asked a few trusted servants and friends. The worst of it is that some are starting to feel between yer illness and Seona’s lack of discretion, ye have lost control of the clan to her.”

He pursed his lips, then flattened his good hand on the desk top. “I’m sorry this day has come. If the clan doubts me, then I must act.”

“What will ye do?” Her father was capable of many things, but the fact that he’d accepted Seona’s betrayal for the sake of the coming bairn made her think the penalty he contemplated would not be too severe.

“I’ll throw the Grants into the dungeon for now.”

“Da, ye canna mean to put Seona there, too.”

“Nay, I’ll confine her to her chamber, with a Rose guard on her door, and have the healer check on her every day. ’Tis no’ unusual for a woman to spend her confinement in that way. Once the bairn comes, I’ll decide what else is required.”

Mary’s heart lifted at the sudden strength in his tone.

He bent his head, then looked up again. “If ye’d do me the kindness of sending my arms master to me, I’ll see this done before the rumors spread any further. And dinna fash, lass. I am still laird here.”

* * *

After a fortnight of working with James Rose and watching his condition slowly improve, Cameron’s respect for the man had grown. He’d acted decisively to confine the Grants, separating his bride from her lover and pulling the teeth of any Grant guard who might be inclined to cause trouble. There was nothing they could do from the dungeon. He’d withstood Seona’s curses and tears until she finally quieted down and settled into her confinement. Mary said she finally had the solitude she treasured, so she should be happy for now.

Rose had regained some of the use of his limbs, and when not consulting with Laird Sutherland’s representative, as he called his time walking with Cameron, he had resumed spending most of the day at the desk in his solar. He wasn’t yet able to ride out to inspect his territory. Cameron presumed he kept watch over the clan via the ledgers he kept on the clan’s expenditures and earnings, and via any correspondence that reached him. Mary and Cameron had agreed his mind was still as sharp as a blade and his temperament as prickly as a thistle. His illness had done little to affect who he was, only what he could physically do.

With Rose firmly in control, despite his physical afflictions, Cameron deemed the time was right to approach the man again about the betrothal—and marriage—he hoped for. Cameron waited until after a meal, hoping a full belly would make Rose mellow and more amenable to listening.

Rose greeted him civilly enough after he knocked on the solar’s door. “What brings ye, Sutherland?”

Cameron bowed his head, then met the laird’s gaze. “I am glad to see ye so much improved,” he began. His tension eased a bit when Rose nodded.

“I am, and I owe much of my improvement to yer efforts.”

“I have done only what anyone else would have done if called upon to help ye.”

“Nonetheless, I am grateful.”

“I hope ye are well enough, then, to discuss Sutherland’s betrothal offer.” Cameron wouldn’t presume on Rose’s gratitude when it came to this subject. But he was ready to discuss the offer on its own merits.

Rose’s mouth thinned, making Cameron’s pulse spike and his muscles tense again. Still, Rose hadn’t stopped him or yet said nay, so he kept going. “I love yer daughter, Mary, and I wish to wed her. Laird Sutherland has approved the match and looks forward to a lengthy alliance with clan Rose.”

“He does, does he?” Rose leaned back in his chair, his gaze on the far wall.

The desk was too cluttered for Cameron to spot the betrothal agreement he’d given Rose over a fortnight ago. It must be buried under other documents. Cameron hoped Rose had at least read it and not simply let it disappear under a pile of other parchments. Or worse. Cameron glanced at the small fire dancing in the hearth behind Rose. His stomach sank as he noticed the remnants of several burned documents, still blackening and succumbing to the flames. Rose burning the betrothal agreement would be much more damning than Rose simply losing it on his chaotic desk. Cameron couldn’t help wondering which was more likely.

“And what’s in it for Sutherland?” Rose asked. “I am no’ in any way capable of defending Sutherland right now, should yer laird call upon me to do so. After our losses at Harlaw in July, and with Grants in my dungeon, I havena the men to divert from protecting Rose from the usual troublemakers, much less the remnants of Domnhall’s army.”

“Ah, but in the future, ye will be stronger, and in the meantime, Sutherland can offer ye protection from…anyone…whose intentions toward Rose ye dinna approve.” He’d almost mentioned Grant, but bit back the word before it escaped his lips. If James Rose didn’t know what Mhairi Grant was up to, he was a fool. And it wouldn’t help Cameron’s suit to point that out to him. Besides, Cameron didn’t think he was a fool at all. So he made his comment as generic as he could and hoped the Rose laird would not take offense. Grant didn’t pose the only danger Rose might face, but was certainly the one of greatest proximity. And Grant guardsmen remained in the dungeon until Rose decided to send them back to Grant.

Rose regarded Cameron. “I heard the MacBean lad was hanging around hoping to offer for her, too. I held him off once. I’ve a mind to do it again, but I’ve yet to see him.”

Cameron liked the sound of that, even if it didn’t matter, since Mary had tossed Dougal out weeks ago.

“So tell me,” Rose continued, “in this bright future ye hope for, ye see yerself as Mary’s husband and consort to Rose’s future laird.”

Cameron heard it as more of a statement than a question and shook his head. “Honestly, I’d rather no’. Both of us would be pleased to see a son born to Rose—several of them, in fact. Being laird, or consort of a laird, is naught I’ve ever aspired to. I have older brothers to spare me from that. But for Mary, should she be called upon to become laird, I will gladly take on whatever responsibility she chooses to give me.”

Rose inclined his head. “Words are easy. Deeds another matter entirely.”

“I pay my debts,” Cameron replied, rising to the challenge in Rose’s words and tone, “and I take seriously what I owe Rose.”

“So yer devotion to my daughter is simply a means to pay yer debt?”

“Nay.” Cameron shook his head. “I didna mean that at all. I love her and would be pleased to take her to Sutherland and live there in peace. But I will remain at Rose with her if that is what she must do. We ask for yer approval.”

“I must think more on this. Both her sisters were squandered to Brodie over my objections. I must make the best possible match with Mary.”

“Sutherland is…”

“Powerful and all that, aye. I ken it. I must consider further.”

Cameron’s temper nearly got the best of him, but he held it in check, nodded and left.

* * *

Cameron stormed into the great hall, his expression fierce. He looked ready to spit fire, and coming as he had from the laird’s solar, Mary could guess why, or at least who had put him in such a foul mood. “What’s amiss?” she asked when she reached him.

He took her hand and pulled her into an empty chamber without saying a word, then closed the door.

Her heart beat faster, wondering what he had in mind.

“This is getting us nowhere,” he told her. “Yer da may be no more serious about ever letting ye wed than he was about Dougal.”

“I ken it. Wondering what he intends to do keeps me awake at night.”

“Would ye no’ rather I kept ye awake?” Cameron’s voice turned from irritated to husky and low. “If we handfast, ’twill unite us in a way we already ken yer father will have to accept.”

“Even if he hates the idea.”

“Do ye no’ want to give Sutherland a stake in protecting Rose from whatever Lady Grant has planned?”

Mary nodded.

“So then, about our handfasting?”

“Cameron, are ye certain ’tis what ye want?”

He took her face in his hands. “Now is nay time for doubts. Ye ken what I want. Ye. Ye are what I want.”

“But no’ as consort to the laird.”

“I never looked for the responsibility that comes with being a laird—or even married to one—but if ye become Laird Rose, I will stand by ye.”

“Neither of us wants that to come to pass.” But if it did, with Cameron at her side, she could handle it.

“Nay, we dinna.”

“If we wait for Da’s approval, we could be waiting forever.” Mary knew that was likely. She also knew Cameron was not like Dougal MacBean, whose first thought was always for himself. “We must do this on our own.”

“Verra well, then.” Cameron stripped the Sutherland plaid from over his shoulder.

When he reached for her hand, Mary realized he meant to do this right now. “Should we have someone do this for us? Or be a witness?”

“Who would ye trust, lass?”

Mary considered. “The healer. Only her. Others might mean well, but they will talk.”

“Then fetch her. Meet me in the wee kirk.”

Mary’s heart lifted, nearly making her float across the floor. As usual, Cameron had said just the right thing.

Mary didn't tell the healer why she wanted her company, but merely led her to the kirk. If Cameron wasn't there when they arrived, or failed to show up soon after, Mary could tell her she was worried about her father and wished for the woman to pray with her. If Cameron let her down after suggesting this, likely she’d fall to her knees before the altar anyway. So, it made sense. But, her heart told her he would not fail her.

Cameron was there, waiting, when they entered.

“Ye found her,” he greeted Mary and kissed her cheek.

“What’s going on?” the healer demanded.

“We are going to handfast,” Mary told her, excitement bubbling along her veins now that they were here. “In secret for now. I dinna wish to make Da’s condition worse…”

“And we need a witness,” Cameron added.

The healer smiled. “I’m honored ye chose me. But I willna witness for ye.”

Mary’s heart sank. “Ye willna?”

“Nay. Well, I will, but ye need someone to conduct the handfasting, aye? I will do it.”

“We can do it ourselves,” Cameron objected.

“I dinna want ye in trouble with Da,” Mary added.

The healer snorted. “He’ll do nothing to me, no’ if he wants to keep what fragile health he has left. Now, have ye what’s required?”

Cameron pulled the length of Sutherland plaid from his shoulder and offered it to her.

“Excellent. Give me yer hand, if ye please.”

Cameron let her tie the plaid around his wrist, then the healer reached for Mary’s.

Mary’s heart beat faster.

“This is as sacred as marriage by a priest, especially when done here in the Rose kirk. Ye are bound to each other.”

She paused and looked from Cameron to Mary, meeting their gazes with a proud certainty that made Mary want to weep, or laugh. The emotions were so strong in her eyes, Mary couldn’t contain her own.

“The custom says for a year and a day, but I’ve watched the two of ye for months. This is for the rest of yer lives.”

Mary felt Cameron’s gaze on her. Was he still worried she might refuse? She smiled at him and nodded.

“May yer lives be long and happy, with love, and bairns, and always, with each other.” The healer concluded by wrapping both their wrists together with the rest of the plaid.

“Thank ye,” Cameron told her, then cleared his throat.

Mary could see a sheen of wetness in his eyes. So her strong warrior could be brought to tears as well.

“Do ye have anything ye wish to say?”

Cameron nodded and turned his gaze to Mary, then placed his hand over their joined ones. “I love ye, Mary Elizabeth Rose. I will be true to ye all the days of my life. And nights.” He grinned. “Ye saved my life…with help,” he added with a nod to the healer, “and became the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with. Ye mean the world to me, lass.”

Mary thought her heart would burst, it had swelled so with the emotions coursing through her. “I love ye, too, Cameron Sutherland. I will be true to ye. As much as I saved ye, ye have saved me. I’m proud to be yer bride. Even if we canna tell anyone yet.”

“Kiss her lad, before I start crying,” the healer sniffled, “and canna see ye do it.”

Cameron’s gaze never left Mary’s face. He leaned in until his breath warmed her cheek, and the anticipation of his lips touching hers nearly had her dancing. His molten amber eyes stayed focused on hers, as if he tried to see inside her, to her soul.

“Aye, Mary, my love, this is real. With this kiss, ye are mine, and I am yers. For a year and a day, and I hope for the rest of our lives.”

She could only nod, mesmerized. Then his lips brushed hers, lightly at first, then more firmly as she rose to meet them. When her cheeks dampened with happy tears, Cameron kissed them away. He captured her glad cry in his mouth and gave back a moan that reached Mary’s toes and made them curl. Too soon, they broke apart, panting. “We did this!” Mary exclaimed.

“And about time,” the healer said, fanning herself. “Ye two wouldna lasted another day, or I miss my guess.”

Suddenly, everything changed. Mary was no longer her father’s dutiful daughter. She was Cameron Sutherland’s handfasted wife. Even if only for a year and a day, she was free of all the things that had bound her to Rose, all except duty. But she could bear that for a while longer if at the end, she got Cameron.