Cameron heard a commotion out in the bailey and made his way to his window. Mary! He counted James Rose and eight Rose warriors in the bailey with her, and two stable lads who took charge of Mary’s and her father’s horses. Rose looked angry, but then he often did. Mary looked weary.

Cameron considered going down to the great hall to greet her and find out what had happened. He was stronger now than when she’d left nearly a week ago and had spent some of the time she’d been away wandering the keep. He enjoyed seeing areas he’d missed up to now, imagining her in them. He’d walked every day and even done some light exercise in his chamber. The healer had kept a close eye on him, happy that no more fevers had wracked him. Mary would be surprised, and he hoped, pleased.

Conscious of Mary’s concern that he stay out of her father’s sight as much as possible, he remained at the window, knowing she would come to him soon enough. He watched the bailey clearing of men and horses until he heard a soft knock at his door. “Come,” he called.

The door opened as he turned, and Mary slipped inside. “I’m back!” she announced toward the bed, then spotted him and gasped. “Ye are up and dressed.” She made her way to him and gently touched his face. “How do ye feel?”

He wrapped her in his arms and inhaled the sweet, alluring scent that was all Mary, even after a long ride. “I’m better now ye are here, Mary, my love. How are ye? What happened at Grant?”

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair by the hearth, “and I’ll tell ye.” She took his place by the window as he settled into the chair, her arms crossed over her chest, tension in every line of her body.

She’d failed to react to his endearment. Cameron wanted to hold her, to ease whatever bothered her. But for the moment, he knew he could best help her by listening.

“My father has lost his mind,” Mary began.

Cameron quirked an eyebrow. This was interesting. “Truly? What has he done now?”

Mary shook her head and started pacing. “He betrothed himself to Mhairi Grant’s daughter, a lass Catherine’s age.”

Cameron fought back a chuckle that would incense Mary and nodded. The reason was obvious. “So he has decided to try for a male heir.”

“So it appears. He and her mother were thick as thieves. I believed he planned to offer for Lady Grant. But nay. She is regent for her son. I suppose she could no’ abandon that responsibility, no’ if she meant to keep Grant power in her husband’s line, and her son looks to be only about twelve. Once I realized that, I expected to meet a cousin of hers, or a sister, but nay. They made the announcement just before we left. Poor Seona was shaking like a leaf.” Mary quirked a corner of her mouth into an ironic semblance of a smile. “I dinna think the lass is eager for the match.”

“Or the marriage bed, I’ll wager,” Cameron muttered. When Mary’s hand flew to her mouth, he added, “Sorry. I didna mean to make ye think of that.”

“Ye jest.” She clenched a fist over her belly. “’Tis nearly all I’ve been thinking about. I’ve barely eaten a thing since the announcement. The idea turns my stomach.”

“Yer da is no’ so old.”

“He’s too old for her.”

“Apparently no’, or her mother wouldna agree to give her daughter to him.”

“Her mother is up to something. ’Tis no’ the first time—or the last—that a daughter has been used as a pawn for her laird’s purposes. I dinna yet ken what she has in mind, but I suspect we will find out eventually.”

“Is that all that has ye fashed?”

“All? Is that no’ enough?” She sighed and moved away from the window. She paced for a moment, then perched on the edge of his bed.

Seeing her there, Cameron sucked in a breath as images of what he would like to do with her flooded his mind. He clenched his fists, then forced them open. Now was not the time for such thoughts.

“Da was insufferable on the way home,” Mary continued, her gaze on the window and apparently unaware of his reaction. “Full of himself and of ideas for things I must do to ready Rose for the wedding.”

“He means to hold the wedding here?”

She dropped her head in her hands. “In less than a fortnight. I have little more than a week to arrange everything.”

Cameron leaned forward, wanting to reach out and stroke her silky golden hair. “What can I do?”

She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Do? Nay, Cameron. Ye are a guest here, as much as the Grants will be and ye have been ill. I will no’ put ye to work…”

Cameron stood and took her hand. Then he pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in his arms. “I can do this much, aye? To comfort ye when ye need it, as ye have cared for and comforted me. I owe ye that much and more.”

She tilted her head back and studied his face while he traced lazy circles on her back with one hand. He could feel the tension leaving her body, and knew she capitulated when her arms went around his waist and she lay her head on his shoulder.

“Then ye’ll be busy all the time,” she told him.

“I canna imagine a worse fate,” he teased and chuckled, resting his chin on the top of her head. When she didn’t respond, he tilted his head to study her face. Her eyes were closed, her lashes damp. “Ach, lass, all will be well.”

She gave her head a little shake against his shoulder, but kept her eyes closed. “’Twill no’. I must train my new step-mother in her duties—to take over my duties as chatelaine. If she’s truly as lamb-headed as she seemed to be at Grant, I’ll never be free.”

“Lamb-headed?” His incredulous tone earned a chuckle, making Cameron’s heart lift a bit, despite her obvious distress.

Mary met his gaze. “She barely speaks. She’s timid, and her mother can direct her to do her bidding with a look. She stumbles around, looking lost and confused one moment, imperious the next. She can be rude and arrogant. I dinna see what made Da choose a lass like that.”

“I do. He wants a son, and wants as little disruption to the rest of his life as possible. If she’s no’ assertive, she’ll no’ be demanding things like his daughters have always done, nor trying to change Rose—or him.”

“Ye may have the right of it. But how can she run a keep such as this?” she asked, stepping out of his arms and waving a hand.

Cameron let his hands drop to his side and managed not to clench his fists.

“If the servants willna obey her, Da will chew her up and spit her out.” Mary paced to the door, then back again. “I fear she will make him very unhappy. If she ever manages to give him an heir, ’twill be a miracle.”

He settled a hip against the wall next to the window while she walked out her worries. “Then let’s hope for a miracle, aye? One that includes yer freedom.” He hated the idea of Mary being trapped here for years more, raising her father’s son and doing the work his wife should be doing. He wanted more for Mary than that.

“Ach, Cameron, dinna make me wish for so much. I dare no’ think that far ahead. I must get through the next fortnight—and whatever comes after—before I can hope for anything like a life of my own. On my own terms.” She turned back toward the door. “A male heir, ready to take control of the clan, will be years in the making.”

“I ken that.” Somehow, he’d managed not to growl those words.

“So, ye must focus on getting yer strength back, no’ on me.”

“I can do both, ye ken.”

Mary paused with her gaze averted. “Nay, ye canna. All too soon, ye will be gone, back to Sutherland.”

He sighed, hating the misery in her voice. This discussion was straying into the dangerous territory of promises expected that he was not free to make. He needed to find a way to help her, but first, to distract her. “Ye ken Domnhall will seek to expand his influence on Ross, and likely beyond. If something happens to yer da any time soon, Rose will be vulnerable to Grant or any other clan with designs on yer territory for Albany or their own purposes.” Such as using it as a stronghold to begin taking over other clans’ territories along the south shore of the Moray Firth. Such boldness would fit with information Cameron had learned in St. Andrews about Albany’s plans for Ross. “Perhaps yer da would be wise to name Kenneth Brodie as his heir, rather than ye.”

Mary’s gaze snapped up. “What? Ye ken he’ll no’ do that. He’s too angry about Catherine right now. And it gains him nothing, since he already has an alliance with Brodie.”

Cameron stood. “But if ye were no’ his heir, would ye no’ feel less confined? Less obligated to solve every problem in clan Rose?”

“I dinna!” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Cameron expected her to start tapping her foot at any moment. At least she no longer looked so world-weary. Her anger was an improvement over the defeated slump of her shoulders. “I’ve spent a lot of time staring out the window,” Cameron told her, nodding toward it, determined to keep pushing her. “I’ve seen ye again and again, directing the servants, resolving disputes, even rushing toward the stable to help with a foaling in the middle of the night. Yer da takes great liberties with a lass he’s determined to unseat as heir.”

“I do those things on my own. He doesna tell me to.”

“He doesna have to. Ye have a strong responsible streak in ye, for a lass.”

“For a lass! Cameron Sutherland, I didna come in here to be insulted.”

“Then think, Mary, and dinna give up on yer future before ye even have a chance to claim it.”

* * *

Mary couldn’t believe Cameron would sooner see Kenneth and Catherine in charge at Rose than her. Instead, she hoped he’d irritated her on purpose, no doubt trying to give her an outlet for her anger and dismay at her father.

Or to distract her from how he cared for her.

She studied him, surprised by how much better he looked after she’d spent a week away from him. He looked different. Stronger, with more color in his skin and more fire in his eyes.

Cameron would make a her good husband. Her father should be thrilled to ally with Sutherland, one of the most powerful clans in the Highlands. But to him, Cameron was only a wounded and ill man in her charge.

They were friends—and perhaps more—but he was not her betrothed, even though having his arms around her made her blood heat and her insides melt. What would his nearness do to her when he was fully healed and well? “’Tis no’ my place to claim my future, as ye say. ’Tis my father’s to decide it.”

“Ye dinna believe that.”

“I do.” She pursed her lips.

“Dinna lie to me, lass, no’ after all ye have told me. If ye believed that, yer sisters wouldna be wed and happy. ’Tis yer turn. Ye must help herself now.”

Mary shook her head. Cameron was right, as much as she hated to admit it. To him, or to herself. “I dinna ken how,” she murmured. “They had help.”

“From ye, aye.”

“And who is left to help me? I canna simply leave. Da would be within his rights to send men after me and haul me back. And where would I go? A woman alone?”

“Ye could do as Catherine did and go to family.”

“Da kens that trick now. If he didna discover me missing in time to send men after me and find me on the road, they’d search in Inverness and St. Andrews and anywhere else a Rose might live across the breadth of Scotland. And all the while, he would think he did it to protect me. To save me from some horrible fate—death, or life as a fallen woman.”

“Does he no’ ken ye better than that? Ye would be prepared.”

“Aye, I would. But what does it matter? As capable as ye are, look at what happened to ye. Do ye think I would have survived something similar?”

Cameron had the grace to look dismayed. “Ye are right, lass. Ye must plan and bide yer time. But I ken ye better than ye think. Ye will find a way to control yer own fate. I dinna doubt it.”

If only her father believed in her as much as this man did. She couldn’t help but hope some part of Cameron wanted her as much as he seemed to respect her. She could be happy with a man who treated her as he did. Still, for her father ever to see him as more than an invalid, Cameron needed to regain his strength. And as soon as he did, duty would call him away, and she might never see him again.

* * *

Hours later, when Mary returned to Cameron’s chamber after dinner, she found him seated by the hearth, reading by firelight. A tray with the remains of his supper sat on the nearby table.

He set the book aside when she came in.

“Ye ate, then,” she commented, smiling. “Are ye well?”

“Well enough. Ye must be tired. Ye got home only a few hours ago.”

“I am tired, but I couldna go to my bed without checking on ye.”

Cameron stood and folded her in his arms. “Ach, Mary, my love. I spent my days and nights the last week looking forward to seeing ye, and to doing this.” He pulled her closer.

Mary didn’t know what to say to that, but she liked hearing it, and the way she felt wrapped in his powerful arms, safe and protected. “Tomorrow, we’ll walk outside.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Cameron lifted her chin with one finger and met her gaze. “Ye are well?”

Mary’s gaze settled on his mouth. His lips were so close. Would he kiss her? “Aye, I’m fine. Da had another headache at dinner and didna stay long, much to everyone’s relief, I think. He’s tossing out orders right and left, confusing everyone when he contradicts himself.” She bit her tongue to stop the nervous flow of words.

“Anxious bridegroom?” The corner of Cameron’s mouth tilted up.

Mary wanted to lick it. “Perhaps. Or just Da being Da. Though tonight he was worse than usual. I hope he’ll be better tomorrow.” She took a breath and lifted her gaze to his cheek, his hair, anywhere but his mouth or his eyes.

“Aye. Ye dinna need two of us to look after.”

“I’d leave him to the healer, never doubt it,” she replied with a desperate chuckle.

Cameron’s regard and hands lingered on her longer than they should. But so did hers on him. She couldn’t help thinking about leaving Rose with him, especially now her father planned to marry the Grant lass.

But the clan would fail without her.

She stepped out of his arms and went to the door before either one of them could say or do more. She might want him, and knew he wanted her, but she needed more. She needed a future with him, and so far, he’d said nothing to give her hope he had considered a future with her. She said, “Good night, Cameron,” more to the door than to him, then slipped out without looking back and went to the healer’s chamber.

The woman answered on her first knock. “Ach, Mary. Is aught amiss?”

Mary pursed her lips. “I’m sorry to bother ye, but Da complained of a headache at dinner. I think he’s probably tired from the trip, but I’ll feel better if ye have a look at him.”

“I’ll go now,” the healer agreed.

Mary nodded and headed for her chamber, though her feet wanted to carry her back to Cameron’s.