Mary had enjoyed the week she and Cameron spent at Sutherland. The keep was even greater than Cameron had alluded to at supper—only weeks ago? So much had happened since then, it seemed forever.

Dunrobin was magnificent. She’d yet to see all of it, and wasn’t sure how much more she could in the days left to her during this visit. Mary wished they hadn’t agreed to her father’s demand that they keep their visit to a fortnight. Cameron’s brothers had yet to return and she hoped to meet them.

Tonight, Cameron and his father spent supper in the great hall planning the trip back to Rose. Yesterday, Sutherland’s ghillie had arrived to tell them Albany’s men were still in Aberdeen, not on the way to oust Domnhall from Ross lands. They could make the trip home without fear of crossing paths with either army.

A disturbance at the door caught her eye and her stomach sank when she realized the Sutherland seneschal led a Rose ghillie through the crowded great hall toward the high table where they sat. “This canna be anything good,” she told Cameron as they stood to greet the man.

“Lady Mary, I’m sorry to bring ye such news. Laird Rose died suddenly early this morn.”

Mary’s vision hazed over and the platform tilted beneath her feet. She covered a sob with her hand while she fought for control.

Cameron put an arm around her and pulled her tight against his side. “Did his wife, Lady Rose, send ye?”

“Nay, the healer did. She said to tell ye it was the same illness that beset him before, only worse this time. He didna linger. She said Mary would wish to ken right away and to return quickly.”

Cameron traded a glance with his father.

They had discussed every possibility around the succession, but despite Rose’s illness, Mary had not expected to lose him so soon.

Cameron’s father signaled to the seneschal. “See that this man gets food and drink and a warm place to sleep. He’s traveled fast to get here so quickly.”

“Cameron, I’m now laird,” Mary gasped. “We are…”

“And we are outside the keep’s gate with a potential enemy on the inside. I ken this is a shock to ye, but we must get ye home to Rose. We must leave at once.”

“Ye canna go tonight,” his father said. “In the morning will be soon enough. Gather yer things tonight and leave at first light. Take a birlinn and some men. Ye’ll get back in a few hours over the firth. Even if the wind and tide are against ye, the men can row.”

“Surely…” Mary started to speak but Sutherland cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“We have discussed this,” Cameron interjected. “Ye must return and take charge of Rose as heir, or Grant will claim it through yer father’s young widow.”

“For the sake of yer people, ye dinna want that to happen,” Sutherland added, then met Cameron’s gaze. “They’ll be under Albany’s thumb by spring.”

Mary shook her head, her body numb, her mind whirling with all she must do.

“Thank ye, Father,” Cameron said, never taking his gaze from her.

“We'll do as ye suggest,” Mary added, nodding.

“Come on, Mary, my love.” Cameron took her upstairs and set her to gathering their things while tears streamed down her face. “I dinna expect packing our belongings to do much to distract ye, but it might help,” he told her, his expression full of sympathy, his voice quiet.

“I canna believe he’s gone,” Mary said as she stuffed a leine in a bag, then a kirtle, punching them down to make room for more.

“Easy, lass. Yer maid will be cross with ye if ye ruin all yer garments.”

Mary straightened and wiped her eyes. “If I’d known when we left I’d never see him again, I might have said something…”

“He kenned ye loved him and his people, lass,” Cameron said. “Ye showed him yer devotion every day by the way ye cared for him and for them, for his keep and his lands.”

“I didna tell him, or even say goodbye,” Mary cried, clenching a shift in her hands and twisting it. “I was angry with him when we left.”

Cameron took her tear-streaked face in his hands and gazed into her eyes. “Then promise me ye’ll never leave me without saying goodbye and telling me how much ye love me and how ye canna live without me.” He cocked an eyebrow.

She pursed her lips. “Ye are trying to cheer me up.”

“Aye.” He pursed his lips.

She studied him for a moment, then ran a fingertip down his cheek. His skin was damp, too. “Ye can do better than that.”

Cameron pushed his fingers into her hair, framing her face. “I can, and I shall. Have ye finished packing?”

“All save what we’ll need in the morning.”

“Then,” he said and leaned in to kiss her, “’tis time for me to do as I promised—and do much, much better.”

Her arms went around his neck as Cameron deepened the kiss, then shifted to kiss the salt of her tears from her cheeks. “Ye ken I love ye, lass.”

“Aye,” she sniffed, then laid her head on his shoulder.

He stroked her hair, then picked her up, carried her to a chair and sat with her in his lap. “I could kiss ye for the rest of the night, but ye need to rest. So cry lass, if ye still need to. I’m no’ going anywhere and I willna melt. Do yer worst.”

Mary’s response was part laugh, part sob, then she let go, and the tears flowed. Cameron held her close. She knew then she need never doubt how much she meant to him.

* * *

Though her heart broke that her father would no longer be there, Mary was glad to see the walls of the Rose keep standing high and proud on its bluff over the Moray firth. People in the bailey hailed them as they rode through the gates. Several came up to embrace Mary and offer their condolences. Cameron’s frown told her he could see she’d gotten teary. “Let’s go in and get settled,” he suggested. “Ye can talk to the healer and find out what happened.”

Mary nodded and let him escort her inside the keep. “I should speak to Seona right away,” she said when they reached the great hall. But Seona was nowhere in sight. The healer came out and patted Mary’s hand. “’Twas fast,” she told her. “I dinna think yer da ever kenned.”

Mary took a breath, willing herself to calmness. “Tell me.”

The healer shook her head. “That…wife…of his. He finally confronted her, though I dinna ken what started the argument. The entire keep rang with the shouting. Finally she stormed off, back to her chamber, I’d guess. Several people had gathered outside the door to ensure no one got hurt. I was told yer da stood by his desk for a few moments, then collapsed. They rushed in to him and called for me. By the time I got there, he was gone. As I said, it was over before he kenned what happened. I’m certain of that.”

“Thank ye,” Mary told her. “Ye did everything ye could to help him. Where is Seona?”

“In the laird’s chamber, most likely, with her lover. She had all four Grants released as soon as she heard she was widowed, and moved in there. And lass, ye need to ken she sent two of the men back to Grant with the news. Her favorite doesna willingly leave her side and has stayed with her since yer da collapsed.”

Outraged, Mary objected. “My da is hardly cold yet.”

“Aye. They snuck around before yer da had the last attack that was so hard on him. Since then, they’ve made no pretense of no’ being lovers. I ken her poor bairn was his, no’ yer da’s. She was dark like the Grant, no’ blonde like a Rose.”

“I thought so as well,” Mary agreed. “Though I didna want to say so at the time.”

“Do ye want to confront her now?” Cameron asked.

“Aye, I do.” She wanted that woman out of Rose.

“Then ye’ll do it with me. We still dinna ken who spooked that horse or shot those arrows, or why. If they had anything to do with it, ye’ll no be safe facing the two of them alone.”

Mary nodded. “Ye speak sense.”

Cameron grinned. “As ye well ken, I always do.”

The healer snorted. “Except when out of yer head with fever, ye mean?”

Cameron rolled his eyes at her. “Ye would bring that up.”

“Someone must keep ye humble,” the healer taunted, then softened her remark with a pensive smile. “Take good care of our lass.”

“Always.” He took Mary’s arm and led her to the stairs. “Are ye sure ye want to do this right away, Mary, my love?”

“I am. The sooner she goes back to Grant, the better for Rose.”

“Then let’s be about it.”

Cameron rapped on the laird’s door, then opened it, not waiting to be bid to enter. He went in first, Mary on his heels.

Seona, dressed only in her shift and a robe, sat by the hearth.

Her guardsman, shirtless, muscles bulging, stood behind her, his hands in her hair. He quickly removed them and stepped back as Seona gasped. “How dare ye!” he barked.

“I did no’ invite ye in,” Seona added. “So ye are rude as well as a disobedient daughter?”

“And ye,” Mary answered, her gaze on Seona, “have dishonored yer marriage vows more times than I ken. For my father’s sake, I turned a blind eye. And for the clan, so did he.”

Seona gasped.

“Aye,” Mary snapped. “I’m told ye argued before he collapsed, so I imagine ye ken he was aware of yer betrayal. Did he tell ye he wouldha claimed the bairn anyway, had it lived?”

“If it was male, aye.” Seona sniffed.

“But ye werena satisfied. Ye had to flaunt yer affair, and eventually ye killed him.” She turned her gaze to the guardsman for a moment.

Seona shrugged, and Mary saw her mother’s arrogance reflected in her posture.

“Did yer mother put ye up to this once she learned ye were breeding?”

Seona shook her head. “She didna ken.”

“I dinna believe ye.”

At least the guardsman had the decency to look grieved at the mention of the his bairn. His daughter. Mary regretted he never got to see her before the healer prepared her for burial. She could sympathize with him—a little. He’d been trapped by his feelings for a lass he’d known since childhood.

Seona might have been a lovely child, once, long ago, but how could he continue to pine for her once she grew into the spoiled, arrogant brat she’d been since she arrived at Rose? Seona made Mary’s blood boil. “Ye will pack yer things tonight and leave for Grant at first light,” Mary commanded. “Ye dinna belong here any longer.”

“Ye canna order me about,” Seona objected, chin up. “I am Lady Rose.”

“Ye lied in order to wed my father. Ye were no’ untouched, and worse, ye already carried another man’s bairn. I will have yer marriage to my father annulled,” Mary snarled, “no matter how long it takes. And if ye dinna leave on yer own in the morn, my warriors will remove ye.”

“Yer warriors?” Seona sniffed. She narrowed her eyes at Cameron.

Mary wanted to slap the smirk from the lass’s face.

“She is heir,” Cameron reminded Seona. “Ye heard her father declare Lady Mary and me heirs to Rose before we left for Sutherland. I have the document he signed.” He fingered the pommel of his broadsword, a gesture likely not lost on either of the Grants. “Is that why ye tried to kill her? Why ye had someone shoot at her in the woods? So there could be nay challenge to ye and yer lover? Ye must have been furious when yer husband signed Rose’s future over to Mary—and to Catherine after her.”

Seona gasped. “How dare ye accuse me!”

“Ye’d already failed twice before he did that. Afterward, and after ye lost the bairn, I thought ye understood nothing ye did would keep ye here if yer husband died.” Cameron’s gaze shifted the guardsman. “’Twas no’ ye. Ye were in the dungeon. So who?”

The guardsman froze, his gaze on Seona.

That was as good as a confession they’d conspired to kill her, as far as Mary was concerned, but Cameron wasn’t done.

“Ye may as well tell us,” Cameron cajoled. “Ye are leaving with her in the morning.”

“Ye can marry her when ye return to Grant,” Mary added. “’Tis a better outcome than ye deserve.”

The guardsman’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, then back to Cameron. “Lady Grant willna allow her daughter to marry a lowly guard.”

The pain on his face saddened Mary, but she couldn’t help him.

Seona sniffed and turned away from him to stare into the hearthfire.

How could she dismiss her lover’s grief so easily? Mary pressed her hands over her middle, determined to remain strong.

“Anyway, it wasna him,” Seona confirmed. “’Twas the blacksmith’s helper did it all.”

Mary recalled the injured horse that had nearly run her down. The lad had a history of harming smaller animals. She doubted he had any skill with a bow and arrow—perhaps that was why his arrows missed her. “The apprentice set the fire, too?” Mary hadn’t believed he’d destroy the place where he worked, but since it was the one place where he had easy access to a hot fire, and a plausible excuse for the blaze, it made horrible sense.

“He had help,” the guardsman agreed.

“We’ll deal with them,” Cameron said. “As for ye, as Lady Mary said, ye have nay place here. Ye never did. Ye are an adulteress in the eyes of the law and the kirk. And nearly a murderess.”

“Dinna insult my lady!” the guardsman warned.

“Nothing worked,” Seona fumed. “The damned bairn was a lass, and she died. If only I’d borne a healthy lad, my place with yer father wouldha been secure. At least he had the decency to die,” she spat at Mary. “If ye were dead, if ye both were,” she added with a glance at Cameron, “all would be well.” She narrowed her eyes. “Ye must no’ leave this room alive.” She lifted an imperious chin at the guardsman.

He stared at Seona, disbelief written in his open-mouthed frown as he hesitated, then he pulled his dirk.

“Aye, kill them,” Seona growled and stood, pointing at Mary.

Cameron was fast. His dirk was in his hand before Mary could blink.

Mary moved quickly, too. Seona’s lover lunged at her, but she ducked out of the way.

Cameron blocked the guardsman’s thrust, grabbed the man’s forearm and twisted, turning out of the way of his blade as he moved.

The guardsman jerked his arm free and swung again, this time at Cameron.

Mary gasped as Cameron blocked him again, then attacked, forcing the fight away from the women.

Seona crept from behind her chair, her gaze on Cameron’s back. Mary noticed her movement out of the corner of her eye, then the sghian dubh in her hand. Too honorable to use it when his opponent wielded only a dirk, he hadn’t pulled his broadsword from his back, but it offered little protection if Seona charged at him with her blade.

Mary dared not distract Cameron by calling out a warning. Instead, she rushed Seona and grabbed her around her knees, knocking her down. The wee blade skittered across the floor, out of reach. Mary sat on her, silently thanking her sisters for the hours of play fighting they’d done as children, trying to be more like the lads.

Seona tried to push her off, pummeling her back and grabbing at her hair.

“Wheesht,” Mary commanded and slapped her. “I’ve had enough of ye to last me a lifetime.”

Seona gasped in shock and quieted just as the guardsman rushed Cameron again, blade poised for a downward strike.

Cameron dodged and thrust his dirk into the guard’s chest. The man fell to his knees, eyes widened in shock as his gaze turned to Seona. Then he lifted his hand to reach for her. With a shudder, he collapsed forward, onto Cameron’s blade.

Seona screamed and thrashed, finally shoving Mary off of her.

Mary rolled to her feet and rushed toward Cameron.

Seona crawled to her bleeding lover, then cradled his head. “Ye killed him! Ach, nay, ye have killed him.”

“He would have killed Mary,” Cameron spat. “I willna let anyone harm her, least of all ye.” He hugged Mary to him, then released her. “Lass, go out in the hall and call for help. Someone must remove the body, and I willna leave ye alone with her.”

Mary nodded and went to the doorway. While she called for Rose guards, Cameron approached the man’s body carefully, reminding her of how he was wounded months before. He’d learned caution that day.

Seona lay over the body, sobbing.

Mary kept her gaze on him and Seona. If Seona picked up the guardsman’s blade, she could stab Cameron while his attention was on the body.

Instead, Cameron retrieved it, then pulled his from beneath the body, jostling Seona and making her wail even louder. He sighed and straightened, then his gaze met Mary’s and he shook his head. Unlike the gallowglass man, the guardsman was indeed dead.

She nodded. She might feel sorry for Seona, except for all the misery the lass had caused. The sooner all Grants were gone from Rose, the better.

Hours later, the body had been removed, the blood cleaned up, and Seona had been given a sleeping draught and put in another chamber under guard. At Cameron’s direction, the blacksmith’s apprentice and his helper Seona had bribed had been consigned to a cell in the dungeon. Mary and Cameron finally retired to their chamber.

“Rose needs a new beginning,” Mary told him as they readied for bed. “We’ll start by burying my father in the morning.” She pressed her hand to her mouth, her throat tight, yet surprised when tears failed to come. Cameron’s gaze was on her, and she sighed, then told him, “I canna find the strength to cry right now.”

He nodded. “When ye do, I’ll be here to hold ye, Mary, my love.”

She went to him and gave him a grateful kiss, then climbed into bed. “The next thing we must do,” she continued, “is ask yer father for more men to help keep us safe from retaliation by Grant.”

“A wise decision, Laird Rose,” Cameron told her as he joined her. He pulled her to him and wrapped an arm around her.

Mary snuggled against him. She laid her head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent and melting into his warmth. “I will also have everything removed from Seona’s chamber and my father’s,” she promised. “We will furnish the laird’s chamber anew ’ere we move in there. And use hers for storage, I suppose. If I learned one thing from Lady Grant, it’s that appearances make an impression. I want this clan to be able to see all trace of Seona’s betrayal removed.”

“That suits me.”

The next morning after seeing her father laid to rest in the kirkyard, Mary bid Seona and her remaining Grant guard goodbye. “Do tell yer mother to forget about Rose,” Mary bade her. “Unless she wishes to go to war with the clans of the Moray firth, backed up by Munro, Erik Ross, and, aye, Sutherland, she’ll turn her territorial ambitions in another direction. Rose is in good hands and will remain so.”

* * *

Cameron watched the two Grants ride out of Rose’s gates with his heart in his throat. The people of clan Rose filled the bailey, and the din of their cheering echoed from the walls of the keep to the fortress walls around it, and back again. Suddenly, everything about his new situation hit him. In the gut. In the head. But mostly, in the heart. Mary was now Laird Rose. And his wife. He was consort, tied to this place, this clan, and these people for the rest of his life. He felt wonderful. And terrified. Despite the chill, sweat rolled down his spine.

Mary, standing beside him, watched the Grants go. Once they were out of sight, she turned to face her clan—her clan—and spoke.

“Clan Rose is once again in Rose hands. My father named me laird before he died, along with my husband, Cameron Sutherland, whom ye ken.”

Cheers broke out afresh, and Cameron took heart that Mary’s words—and his position in the clan—were well received. He raised her hand over her head, a sign of victory, and of gratitude the clan stood with her.

Mary smiled up at him, then leaned close. But instead of whispering something to him, she kissed him. In front of everyone.

“Well, Mary, my love,” he told her when they broke apart to more cheers and good-natured catcalls, “if anyone had any doubts, ye just removed them.”

“Good. I need ye, Cameron Sutherland,” she continued, speaking softly, just to him. “Without ye by my side, I canna do this. I feel terrible about Seona’s lover, even after all the trouble he caused on her behalf. And sorry for her, despite what a liar and schemer she turned out to be. Though not too sorry. If she’d had a son, she would have married her lover and ruled Rose for Grant. I’m certain that was what Lady Grant intended, to have Seona in charge until her brother attained an age to take over Grant and us. Yet ye ruined it all by keeping me safe and bringing Sutherland into what she saw as Grant business.”

“Nay, lass, ye needna feel guilty. They earned what they got.”

“As did that lout in the dungeon. Annie said he was trouble years ago. She was right. I shouldha paid more attention. We must banish him and his helper.”

“Ye could hang him for what he’s done, perhaps both.”

“Nay, I dinna want us to begin that way. The clan will be watching—and judging—us.”

“Dinna fash, ye can do this. Ye have done so for years now. I will be with ye, whatever comes.”

She bit her lip. “I ken ye never wanted to be laird, and how difficult a choice this was for ye to make. I’m sorry.”

“Ye are wrong lass,” he told her, cupping her cheek. “Ye ken fine, I never wanted it, but I did want ye. And I will do what I must to be with ye and to support ye.”

“Will ye be my war chief?”

Cameron’s heart stuttered. “I will.”

“And my consort.”

“Aye.”

“My protector.”

“Always, Mary, my love.”

“And the clan’s.”

Cameron nodded, sensing how seriously Mary meant the question, even though she asked it lightly. “Ye can count on me, lass. I’ll never abandon ye.”

She took his hand from her face and raised it over his head, as far as she could reach. The cheers got louder, so Cameron pulled her arm down and wrapped his around her, then kissed her soundly for everyone to see.