Cameron knew the stable lad had cared for his horse after he’d rescued Mary, but once he’d reassured himself she was well, and left her sleeping, he went to the stable. He enjoyed brushing down his mount after a brisk ride. The back stall was out of the way and quiet, the silence broken only by the rasp of the brush over the stallion’s coat and the soft shuffling noises of the other horses in the stable.

Being here, doing this mundane but necessary task, seemed like a respite from the illness, shock over today’s events, and the general sadness permeating the Rose keep. The laird’s condition and his wife’s betrayal had everyone on edge. The searchers had not found the person who’d shot at Mary. Not knowing whether the arrow was a stray or deliberate, and not knowing who let it fly, kept his nerves on edge.

Horses were simple creatures. Treat them well, and they returned the favor. Be calm around them and they remained calm. He used their quiet presence and his task to further calm his own anxieties.

When voices intruded into his solitude, he tensed and stilled.

“…failed…take care…soon.”

The voices were coming from outside the stable walls. He didn’t recognize the speakers, and strained to hear more.

“…too difficult.”

“…change our plan…”

Cameron edged closer to the outside wall, but could only pick out a few words. He never heard a gender mentioned, or what the two were planning, but he heard enough to put him on guard. Something hadn’t worked and they were plotting something new. Were they talking about James Rose or Mary? Were they getting desperate? If so, they might be sloppy enough to give themselves away.

He moved to the stable entrance, intending to identify and confront them. If they were responsible for the attack on Mary, he’d take them before Laird Rose immediately. But they’d moved away and blended in with the other people in the bailey. He had no answer, only an ambiguous bit of overheard conversation. With only that, he couldn’t prove a thing.

* * *

“Fire!” Two lads rushed into the great hall, disturbing the evening meal.

Panicked shouts filled the hall as everyone leapt to their feet. Before Mary had a chance to speak, Cameron demanded, “Where?”

“The blacksmith’s shed, but the wind is blowing cinders toward the stable,” one of the lads reported.

The men ran for the door, while the women went to fetch buckets and pots—anything that would hold water.

Cameron wasted no time. “We’ve got to put out the fire before it panics the horses.”

His longer legs gave him the advantage and forced Mary to follow him outside. She gasped when she saw smoke billowing from the blacksmith’s shed. Sparks flew upwards from it, then skidded sideways as the wind caught them above the reach of the outer walls.

Cameron quickly organized the clan. “Ye lads get the horses out of the stable and move them to the other side of the keep, upwind of the fire. They’ll calm if they canna smell it so strongly.”

Three lads ran to do his bidding while Cameron got men and women lined up and passing containers of water along the line from the well. Then he ran to the head of the line. Mary stayed with him, on his heels. She handed him the next full bucket that came up the line and he tossed water on the flames.

“We risk cracking the forge,” she shouted over the roar of the flames.

“I ken it, but we must get this fire under control.” Cameron and others tossed more water, dropping each bucket for a lad to carry back to the end of the line to be refilled. When the fire was out and the blacksmith’s anvil sat steaming, Mary called for the blacksmith.

“He’s gone to visit his daughter until tomorrow,” someone shouted.

“Then who is responsible for this?” Cameron demanded.

Mary spotted the blacksmith’s apprentice in the back of the crowd. “There he is.” She marched over to the lad, Cameron following her. “Where were ye when this fire started?”

The lad shook his head. “I only stepped away for a few minutes. I was on my way back, but the fire…”

“Ye could have burned out the keep and all the people and animals within it,” Mary scolded. The lad glared at her and Mary didn’t like the glint in his eye. Did the prospect of such suffering excite him? Annie had tangled with this lad about his treatment of the stable cats and mongrel dogs before she left Rose to marry Iain. Mary had hoped he’d grown out of such cruelty by now. Perhaps he had. Not out of it, but beyond it, to a larger scale.

Cameron spoke up then. “Ye’ll get this cleaned up and repair anything that needs it before the smith returns tomorrow.”

“And when he does return,” Mary added, “ye will apologize to him before the entire clan for the damage. Right now, ye can apologize to the stable master for terrorizing the horses and to everyone who had to fight this fire for the fear and dismay ye have caused tonight.”

The lad looked ready to argue. Mary raised a hand. “Ye will do as we bid ye,” Mary said, silencing any objection the lad meant to make.

He lowered his head and muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“Now go,” she ordered. “Ye have much to do, even if ye have to work all night and all day tomorrow. Perhaps then ye will take more care with yer responsibilities.”

The lad glared at Cameron, but he turned away and started pulling down the burned sections of the blacksmith’s shed.

Mary caught Cameron’s gaze and nodded. The punishment fit the crime.

Cameron took her arm. They went down the line, thanking everyone for their quick action and praising each person individually. As Mary spoke to them, she kept some of her attention on Cameron. For someone who professed no desire to be a laird, he certainly had the skills of a good one. Did he realize how well suited he was to lead the clan with her?

* * *

Mary didn’t know who told her father about Cameron spending the night with her, but he’d found out and was understandably furious.

“As soon as I can again wield a sword, I’ll kill him,” her father threatened.

“Ye will do no’ such thing,” Mary responded archly. “We are handfasted.”

“Handfasted? Ye went behind my back, like yer sisters?”

“And for the same reason, Da. Ye willna kill my husband, a son of the powerful Sutherland clan. Ye may be ill, but ye are no’ tetched. Ye should be glad to have Sutherland allied with Rose.”

“I am tetched,” her father snarled. “After raising ye three daughters, ’twill be a miracle if I have the wherewithal left in me to raise my son.”

“If ye have a son,” Mary muttered under her breath. “Nonetheless,” she continued, loud enough for her father to hear her, “Cameron Sutherland is now part of the family for at least a year and a day. And if I get with child, forever. Besides, ye wouldha been proud of the way Cameron got the clan together to fight the fire in the blacksmith’s shed. The wind blew sparks toward the stable. Thanks to him, all the horses were saved, and most of the blacksmith’s tools, as well. Ye did ken about the fire, aye?”

“I did.” He grimaced. “No’ that I could do anything about it.”

“The apprentice left the forge unattended. Cameron and I set him to cleaning up the mess he’d made before the blacksmith returns. The lad will no’ soon shirk his duties again.”

Her father nodded. “That was well done.”

“Da, a wife’s place is with her husband, and a husband’s with his wife.”

Mary fought the temptation to tell him about the attempt on her life—if that was truly what had happened. It could have been an accident. She hoped it was. The archer had never been found, and the arrows he left behind told them nothing about who made them. She didn’t want to make her father’s condition any worse by giving him something else to worry over. “I am happy with Cameron, but ye ken I willna leave ye yet.”

Her father nodded and seemed resigned. At least he made no more objections. Mary would have to be satisfied with that.

Someone knocked on the door. A messenger entered without waiting for permission. “I bring news from yer daughter Catherine at Brodie,” the man announced.

Mary’s heart beat faster. If it was good news, it could be only one thing, but if bad, well, she could only hold her breath until her father gave the man his attention.

Once Laird Rose nodded, the man cleared his throat. “Yer daughter Mary Catherine bids ye ken she and Kenneth Brodie will wed in a fortnight in the Brodie Kirk,” the man continued. “She requests the honor of her father’s presence and the presence of her eldest sister, Mary Elizabeth, and Cameron Sutherland, a friend of both the bride and groom, among others of Clan Rose, to witness the nuptials. She advises that Mary Anne Brodie will stand in for Laird Rose if he is unable to…”

“Nay!”

Mary jumped at her father’s outburst. “Nay? What do ye mean, nay?”

“Just what I said. Nay.” He turned his scowl on the messenger. “Get ye back to Brodie and tell them we willna attend. I dinna give my permission for this marriage to take place.”

“Da! Catherine is with child. She no longer needs yer approval.”

“Wheesht, lass. I have spoken.”

Mary abandoned one argument in favor of another that might be more successful. “Ye may no’ be up to the trip, but surely Cameron and I can go to represent ye.”

“Surely ye may no’. I dinna approve the wedding.”

Mary lifted her chin and signaled with a glance for the messenger to leave the room. “I’ll speak to ye in a moment,” she mouthed. Then she turned to her father. “This is too much, Da. Catherine and Kenneth love each other and now they have a child on the way. They will marry in the Brodie kirk whether ye are there or nay. Whether ye approve or nay. But Da,” she added, softening her tone, “she wants ye there. Dinna ye wish for yer youngest child to be happy?”

“No’ my youngest child. A lad is on the way.” He fell to muttering to himself.

Mary shook her head. He was hopeless when faced with a situation he didn’t like and couldn’t control. His illness had only worsened that tendency. She stood and quit the room, heartsick over her father’s mental state. The messenger waited in the hallway. “I’m sorry for my father’s rudeness,” she said, drawing the man away from the door to the laird’s solar and leading him into the great hall. “Please tell Catherine our father will no’ attend. Cameron and I hope to, perhaps with others, as well. I just have to convince my stubborn father.”

The man bowed. “I will carry the word to Lady Catherine.”

“Thank ye. Do rest and have something to eat before ye go.”

“I’d appreciate that,” the man said, so Mary signaled for a serving lass to take care of him.

She turned, hands on hips, and frowned back down the hall toward the laird’s solar. Should she confront her father again? Nay, she’d be wasting her breath. A better course would be to tell Cameron. He’d help her.