After such a long time away, visiting Brodie, Mary was of two minds about returning to Rose, though she had talked Cameron out of going directly to Sutherland first. On the one hand, she missed the people and her father, but on the other, she needed to see all was well there, or as well as could be, given there were Grants in the dungeon. Seona’s pregnancy would be further advanced by now. Somehow, Mary was certain, the girl would use it to wheedle privileges from her husband that she didn’t deserve.

They’d heard nothing from her father, but that didn’t surprise her. He had to be unhappy with the way she and Cameron had simply left. But Mary had written to him, a letter each week, telling him their news. The last advised him when to expect them home.

Home. Mary pursed her lips. Rose wasn’t really her home any longer. She belonged with Cameron, wherever he chose to take them. At least with him, she had a say in those decisions.

They were greeted at the door to the keep by Seona, now much more visibly pregnant than when they’d left. What had happened to her confinement?

“I wonder that ye dare show yer face here,” Seona challenged. “Leaving yer poor, ill da the way ye did and running off with a man.” She wore an expression Mary had seen on Lady Grant. Seona had not only grown in girth, she’d grown in arrogance while they were gone.

“A man? Ah, ye mean my husband. Ye have met, I believe, though ye mostly ignored him before we left. This is Cameron Sutherland. Ye do ken the Sutherlands, aye?”

Her gaze dropped. “I do.”

“So, we are on our way to our chamber, then I will see my father.”

For a moment, Mary thought she would actually attempt to deny her access to the keep, but as Mary mounted the last step, Seona backed away and turned aside so they could enter.

The serving girls, when they saw Mary, brightened, but turned sullen and returned to their work as quickly as they noticed Seona pacing behind Cameron’s broad form.

“Let’s go up,” Cameron murmured, also frowning.

He must know the sooner he got her away from Seona, the better.

“Aye,” Mary agreed and headed for the stairs. Their chamber smelled of must and old dust. She doubted the window or door had been opened the entire time they were gone. Once they were safely behind a closed door, she rounded on Cameron. “What is she doing out of her chamber? Did ye see the way the lasses acted in the hall? Once they spotted her behind ye? She’s been horrible to them, I can tell. How can I ever leave?” Tears pricked her eyes. Even married to Cameron, she could not escape wanting to take care of Rose.

Cameron gripped her arms, and his gaze bored into hers. “All that is secondary. Ye must see to yer father. Find out why he’s allowing his wife the freedom of the keep. And also whether he’s freed the Grant guardsmen.”

“Perhaps she’s been ill with the bairn.” Mary kicked herself for making excuses for the lazy chit.

“Did she look ill to ye?”

She shook her head. “Nay. She looked like her mother—arrogant and irritated with the world. I’m sure she’s eager for the bairn to come, to cement her place in the clan, but she has nay grounds and nay excuse for her arrogance.”

“Except ye say her mother is the same. No doubt she learned it there.”

“No doubt.”

Mary found the healer, who said her father’s condition was slowly improving, but he still had some paralysis on one side. And he had, indeed, released Seona from her confinement, but not the guards. “He took pity on her pleas and gave her the run of the keep. She spends little time with him, though I’ve asked her many times to help him move about. Instead, she spends her time visiting the dungeon.”

“Yet she hasna dared release the man.”

“Nay. Yer da’s master of arms keeps the keys. He will only take orders from the laird.”

“I fear…”

“I ken what ye fear, as do I. She will never be good for yer da, be the bairn a lad or a lass.”

Mary grimaced. “I must go speak to him. Though I wrote to him while we were away, he never answered. He must learn I’ve returned—with my husband, Cameron Sutherland. We did marry in the kirk at Brodie.”

“Ach, lass, what wonderful news!”

“If Da read my letters, he already kens it. But if no’…”

“I’ll go with ye. If he didna read yer letters, this could come as another shock.”

“Thank ye. I’ll be glad of yer presence if he needs help.”

The healer nodded.

“Ye will have mine, too.” Cameron’s deep voice at her shoulder startled her, then sent a frisson of pleasure coursing through her.

Mary whirled. “Ye really have to stop that.”

Cameron grinned and nodded to the healer. “I’ll no’ send ye to face yer father without me,” he told her. “Let’s go.”

The Rose was at his desk in his solar. When they entered, he glanced up, then pushed slowly to his feet. “So, ye have returned at last.”

“Good day, Laird Rose,” Cameron greeted him, speaking before Mary had a chance to.

“Is it?” Rose challenged.

“How are ye, Da?” Bees buzzed in Mary’s belly, but she held her ground.

“I imagine ye already ken, since ye have her with ye,” he replied, pointing with his good hand at the healer. “I am well enough for her to torture me every day.”

“She’s trying to make ye better,” Mary reminded him.

“Well, it isna working.” He collapsed back into his chair. “I havena improved since ye took my daughter away,” he said, directing the comment to Cameron.

Mary hoped that was his way of saying he missed Cameron, or at least the help Cameron had been giving him. “Perhaps some happy news will make ye feel better,” Mary tried. “I presume ye failed to read any of the letters I sent ye, aye?”

He looked away and a muscle in his jaw jumped.

“As I expected. Well, here it is, then. Cameron and I wed at the same ceremony as Catherine and Kenneth in the kirk at Brodie. I hope ye can be happy for us.”

Rose surged to his feet again, face red with fury. “’Twas bad enough ye went to Brodie against my orders—without my permission. And ye think this is good news?” He pounded a fist on the desk top and glared at Cameron. “Take yer wife and return to Sutherland. She is nay longer any daughter of mine. I have a wife and a son on the way. Perhaps my new family will provide me with greater satisfaction than three ungrateful daughters have done.”

Mary quailed, hurt more than she expected by his ill-tempered reaction.

“That is no’ fair and well ye ken it,” Cameron objected.

Rose sank back into his seat. “Do as I say!” he barked.

His gaze stayed on his desk for so long, Mary feared he’d suddenly forgotten they were there. She took a step toward him.

Without warning, one of the serving lasses ran into the room. “Lady Rose is…healer, she needs ye. I think the bairn is coming!”

“Where is she?” Mary’s stomach sank. She needed to clear the air with her father, not deal with Seona.

“In her chamber.”

“Good,” the healer replied. “Mary, can ye attend with me?”

“Of course. Give me a moment.”

Rose looked up and frowned. “’Tis too early. Even with…’tis too early.”

The healer narrowed her eyes at him. “Aye, ’tis. Perhaps ye’ll need to mend yer ways with the three daughters ye already have.”

With that rebuke, she left the room. Cameron gave Mary’s hand a squeeze, then followed the healer out as well. Mary turned to her father, who remained at his desk, his gaze on his hands.

“Why, Da? Why have ye been so against the three of us marrying a man we love and being happy?”

Her father kept his gaze lowered. “I told ye why. Because each time I lose one of ye, ’tis like losing yer mother all over again.” He looked up and met her gaze, his expression grim. “Ye all look so much like her. She was a great beauty, fair of spirit as well as face. She gave me the three of ye, the greatest gifts a man can ever receive. And now…” He’s soft voice choked off.

Mary wanted to feel sorry for him, but the pain he had caused was too great. “Now it appears ye will lose another—even if ’tis no’ yers.” She covered her mouth with her hand—she had not intended to say those last words, but the thought was there in her mind, and they slipped out.

“Ye ken I would claim it if ’twere a lad.”

“Da, I am so sorry.”

His shoulders dropped and he looked away. “I have done my best to turn a blind eye, but it may all be for naught.”

Mary went to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Da. I didna mean to make ye face something so painful…”

“Go on with ye and help the healer,” he interrupted. “If there’s anything to be done, I ken between the two of ye, it will be.”

“We’ll do what we can,” Mary promised. “I love ye, Da. Ye ken I do, aye? So do Annie and Cat. They miss ye.”

“And I miss them. I am sorry I missed yer wedding. Now go.”

Her throat choked with unshed tears, Mary nodded and left the room. She couldn’t bear to look back and see her father appear so defeated. It wasn’t like him. But she’d never imagined him in this position, either. Not just married again, but burdened with an unfaithful wife. Instead, she held his final words in her heart and went to try to help save the child he would claim as his.

* * *

Cameron spent the first hours in the great hall while Mary and the healer attended Seona’s confinement. He hoped James Rose would at least leave his solar to ask about his wife’s condition, but he never did. Cameron wanted to speak to him somewhere other than in the formal environs of the laird’s solar. He hoped to build a better relationship with the man who was now his father-in-law. He’d made progress helping with Rose’s physical ailment before he took Mary away—and wed her. Now, over an ale by the fire seemed a hospitable way to go about mending whatever rift that had caused. But it appeared he would not be given the chance. Finally, he set aside his ale and went to beard the man in his own den.

“What do ye want?” Rose challenged when Cameron entered.

Not the best beginning, Cameron supposed. Nonetheless, he forged ahead. “Now that the bairn is coming, I want to speak to ye about taking Mary to Sutherland permanently.”

Rose shook his head. “Nay. She’s needed here.”

“She’s my wife now. Ye canna keep her…”

“I can keep ye in my dungeon,” Rose threatened, pounding his good fist on the desktop

“Even if she’s in danger here?”

“Danger? Mary’s in nay danger in her own keep.”

“Then no one told ye about the horse that nearly ran her down, or the arrows that barely missed her in the woods?” He chose not to mention the fragments of conversation he’d overheard from the stable.

Rose gaped at him and shook his head. “I’ve heard nothing of this. What do ye mean?”

Cameron crossed his arms, trying to put into words his suspicions. “Both could have been accidents, but appeared to be aimed squarely at Mary. Someone may have stabbed one of the horses in its flank a few weeks ago with a sliver of wood from a stall, sending it bolting straight for Mary as she crossed the bailey. Only by her quick thinking did she avoid being trampled. Days later, someone shot at her when she and some of the lasses went to the woods to gather herbs.”

Rose pushed to his feet, trembling. “Who did these things? And why has no one told me?”

Cameron leaned forward, ready to aid the man if he started to fall. His condition had improved, but not enough for Cameron to believe he could remain steady on his feet, especially after hearing this. Mary would be angry if he was hurt reacting to Cameron’s news. “It all happened before we went to Brodie. ’Twas one reason I wanted to get her away for a while. As for who, we dinna ken. We never found the archer. And Mary wasna certain she was the target or merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. She didna wish to worry ye.”

“I’ll skelp that lass, I will.” Rose sighed and sank back into his chair. “Have there been any other attacks?”

Cameron lifted his shoulders and shook his head. “None she has admitted to me. None that anyone else has mentioned. Ye can ask her. Perhaps she’ll say more if she’s aware ye ken.”

Rose let out a sardonic chuckle and sank into his chair. “How well do ye think ye ken the lass? Nay, she’ll have little more to say, except to complain that ye and I are inventing a danger she has dismissed. And she may be right. So perhaps only a panicked mount, stray arrows, and naught more. Coincidence.”

“It’s possible, but…”

“So ye tell me this to convince me to allow ye to take her away for her own safety, is that it?”

“Do these things no’ worry ye?”

“Accidents happen. Hunters dinna always take the time to be certain of their target before they shoot. Horses injure themselves all the time. Since there have been nay other incidents, I choose to believe they were accidents, naught more.”

“And if ye are wrong?”

“I am no’ wrong.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Now go on with ye.”

Cameron left the solar and returned to his ale by the fire. He didn’t usually give up so easily, but he had no proof. Just a bad feeling in his gut, and that was not enough to convince Rose. Hell, it wasn’t enough to convince himself. Rose was right about one thing—he’d tried to use the incidents as an excuse to get Mary away from Rose again. This time with her father’s cooperation, he’d hoped. It hadn’t worked.

When Mary finally appeared, she looked exhausted, and blood spattered her dress. Cameron stood. “How did it go?”

Mary shook her head. “I have a new half-sister, at least in name…but the healer thinks no’ for long. She came too early. She’s tiny and frail. She also has black hair, much like Seona’s guardsman, and, I’d wager, his nose. My poor da. I must go tell him he’ll no’ get his wish of a lad, no’ even one to claim. Even when they are no’ his, he’s cursed with daughters.” Her mouth quirked up in a brave hint of a smile, then she shrugged.

Cameron thought he was sad until she uttered those last words. Then his heart sank even farther. How much misery could one man cause? And to those who loved him the most? “No’ cursed, Mary. Never that. Ye and yer sisters are the greatest blessing the man has. I believe he kens that, even if he canna admit it.”

“He did admit it,” Mary said, her voice choked. “To me, after ye and the healer left the solar. He said we were his greatest gifts.”

Cameron took her in his arms and held her until her breathing told him she had regained some calm. He went with her to deliver the news. Mary spoke softly, then turned and left the room.

Cameron wanted to be angry at the man for the grief he caused Mary and his other daughters, but at the moment, he looked so miserable, Cameron couldn’t find any ire within him. The birth of this small, weak lass would soon turn from a much anticipated event to a tragedy, and even James Rose appeared affected by the impending loss.

“Do ye want to visit the bairn and yer wife?” Cameron asked once Mary was gone. “I will help ye, if ye wish it.”

Rose shook his head. “I dinna need to see another daughter. Certainly no’ one that will soon be gone. My hopes for a son are doomed. I’ve taken a useless woman to wife.”

Cameron left the solar. As his sympathy for the man faded and his anger resurfaced, he clenched his fists. He could feel sorry for Rose except for the way he treated his grown daughters. And it seemed Seona would fare no better. If her clan didn’t represent such a threat to Mary, he might pity her, too.

But now, he needed to find his own wife. Mary would need him, and he meant to help her every way he could.

* * *

The next day, the new bairn breathed her last. Seona seemed numb, surprising Mary by neither crying out, nor shedding tears when it happened. She simply nodded and turned away. Mary watched in disbelief as she walked from the small chamber they’d used as a nursery.

“Let me get this wee one away from here,” the healer said, scowling at the doorway Seona had disappeared beyond. “I’ll prepare her for burial. Are ye certain yer da doesna wish to see her?”

“I’ll ask him again and send him to ye if he has changed his mind, but he was quite clear with Cameron yesterday. He had nay interest in another daughter, especially one who would no’ be here for long.” Mary touched the tiny cheek with the tip of her finger. “How sad. She was so little wanted, she doesna even have a name.”

“Say yer goodbyes, lass, and I’ll take her away.”

Mary bent and lightly kissed the tiny forehead, then left before her own tears could return. She found her father where she expected, in his solar. “She’s gone, Da. The wee one. Do ye want to see her before the healer prepares her for…”

“Nay. I told yer husband nay yesterday, and I tell ye again now. I dinna.”

“Can ye at least give her a name?”

“Why?” In a voice gruffer than usual, he added, “She was barely here and is best soon forgotten.”

Mary finally saw a sheen of tears in his eyes and realized he hid his grief behind gruffness. She rushed to his side. “I’m so sorry, Da,” she told him, bending down to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “I wish it could have gone as ye hoped.”

He straightened and shrugged her off, but she noticed he wiped one eye with the back of his hand. “It doesna matter. We’ll try again.”

Saddened even more by the hope he revealed, Mary left him to grieve. If he wanted to be certain any child of Seona’s bore his blood, he’d best send the Grant guardsmen away. Though, even that might not matter. The healer had told her early on she feared he’d lost his ability to sire children due to the paralysis still affecting him. If that were true, he would never have the son he craved. Why had he waited so long to remarry?

That evening, he called her and Cameron into his solar. Seona was already there, wrapped in a warm robe, eyes downcast, expression grim. Mary went to her. “Ye shouldna be out of bed.”

Seona shook her head and looked at Mary’s father. He looked wan, but strangely determined.

“Sit,” Rose ordered and gestured with his good hand at the round table. Mary glanced at Cameron, who nodded and pulled out a chair for her.

“Aye, Da? What do ye need?”

“An heir. An official heir. And since my wife has failed in her duty to provide me a son…”

“Da! How can ye say such a thing? Especially so soon…”

“Silence, daughter. Since I have nay son to inherit from me, it falls to ye, as my eldest, and yer husband.” He frowned at Cameron. “If ye were no’ a Sutherland, I would be left to choose that Brodie husband of Catherine’s instead, but an alliance with Sutherland will be to Rose’s best advantage in years to come.”

“And Grant?” Seona’s voice, though pitched low, penetrated.

Rose waved a hand. “As long as ye are here, Grant will no’ interfere.”

He turned back to Cameron, effectively silencing his wife, and picked up the document before him on the desk. “So, I am naming ye two as my heir,” he announced with a glance at Mary before his gaze settled on Cameron. “As long as ye remain here and Mary continues to instruct my wife in her duties. She is more interested in jewels and fancy dresses than caring for the clan, solving disputes among the servants—or giving her laird a son.” He frowned at Seona, who dropped her gaze to her hands. “She is a long way from providing the kind of care clan Rose is accustomed to from Mary.”

Mary started counting how many years she’d been acting as chatelaine without ever hearing from her father a single compliment on the hard work she did every day—until now. Seona had no idea what she’d married into. Even when Da was well, much less now that he was ill and angry, he rarely praised anyone.

“And if something happens to ye? What are yer wishes concerning yer wife?” Cameron asked.

Rose snorted. “She can return to Grant. She’ll be of nay use to ye here.”

“And if something happens to Mary?” Cameron glanced at her, then locked his gaze on Rose.

Grant would take over, Mary thought, seeing a sudden gleam in Seona’s eyes. Cameron, Iain and Kenneth had been correct in their suppositions—Grant was up to no good.

Then she realized what Cameron’s words implied. So he’d told her father about what he believed were attempts on her life. Mary hoped her father had given some thought to Cameron’s revelations. An accident was one thing, but they could've been deliberate and her father needed to consider that.

“Then that foolish girl Catherine and her Brodie can take over.”

Cameron turned to Mary. “I must take Mary to Sutherland to meet my family.”

She nodded. Her father had as much as told Seona she had no chance of controlling Rose unless she produced a male heir, so he would be safe. Cameron turned back to her father and added, “I trust ye can honor yer alliance with Sutherland by doing without her for a few weeks.”

“A fortnight at most.” Her father turned to her and frowned. “If ye stay away longer, I’ll give Rose to Mary’s youngest sister.”

“A fortnight, then.” Cameron stood and bowed to Rose, then reached for Mary’s hand. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

“The burial…” Mary reminded them.

“Will take place at dawn,” her father agreed stiffly. “Without ceremony.” Seona frowned and Rose amended, “A simple prayer, then ye two may go on yer way.”