Knowing a reaction last evening would not have swayed his father, Cameron slept on the news about the betrothal offer. The next morning, he lay in bed, thinking about it. He had not changed his mind—such an alliance was not for him, even though Sutherland saw it as a more valuable alliance than one with Rose. Wedding a woman he’d never seen, from a clan his had feuded with for over a hundred years seemed to make little sense.

Neither alternative fit the way he expected to continue living his life, but of the two choices, he’d prefer to stand at Mary’s side, even if that meant he became consort to the Rose laird. Still, Mary’s father’s recent marriage and the possibility of a male heir made it all too unanswerable. Unknowable. He just knew he already missed Mary, which surprised him. He’d had plenty of lovers, but none ever filled this thoughts after he left them the way Mary Rose did.

His body tightened as he recalled the way she felt, wrapped in his arms. Her warm, sweet scent, and the gentle touch of her fingers on his fevered brow. The memory made him harder, then filled him with remorse. He now regretted teasing her and trying to tempt her, standing bare and rampant in the bath before her. Other lasses had been more easily conquered, but to Mary, he was only a difficult patient, a flirt, even a comfort, but never a lover. She’d still thought of him as her wounded and ill Sutherland and resisted him easily. That memory dampened the desire coursing through him. She deserved a better man than him. She deserved to wed an older son, an heir who could give her the kind of life and the kind of position she was accustomed to. As the youngest son, he never would.

Perhaps his father was right—he should give Mariota MacKay a chance. But it didn’t feel right.

He rolled out of bed, still favoring his side. Clangs and shouts in the bailey told him some of the lads were practicing at arms. Joining them would improve his mood—and rebuild his strength.

He dressed and donned his weapons, then headed outside. Scanning the men on the practice yard, he spotted his oldest friend, Malcolm, who was intent on demolishing the clan’s arms master. “Enough,” Cameron heard the arms master say. “Go mangle someone else.”

Malcolm grinned and stepped away, then spotted Cameron. “Perfect timing. I find myself in need of a new partner.”

Cameron grasped his forearm. “Ye’ll have to go easy on me. Ye heard what happened, aye?”

“Got yerself stuck by an Irish mercenary, aye,” the arms master interjected with a clap on Cameron's shoulder. “Ye used to be faster.”

“Well, we thought he was already dead. I learned my lesson the hard way.”

The arms master grinned. “And it’s a good one to share with the lads.” He stepped away.

Malcolm hefted his blade. “Now then, what’s yer pleasure?”

“Nothing too strenuous. Ye’ll find my strength and stamina are no’ up to my usual standards.”

“Let’s see how weak ye are, then,” Malcolm replied, stepped back, and brandished his sword.

He let Cameron take the lead, for which Cameron was grateful. Malcolm matched him, thrust for thrust, but didn’t push any harder than Cameron did. When Cameron planted the point of his sword in the dirt and bent over it, Malcolm called a halt.

“That’s enough for yer first day back, aye?”

“Aye. Tomorrow, then?”

Malcolm nodded and grinned. “If ye’ll have an ale with me now.”

“There’s an idea I can get behind,” Cameron told him and straightened with a wince. Malcolm eyed his broadsword, but Cameron lifted it onto his shoulder rather than let his friend carry it for him. He wasn’t that tired, or that weak. They left the practice ground together.

Over an ale by the hearthfire, Cameron told his friend what Sutherland was considering.

“Ye lucky bastard,” Malcolm said and laughed. “I hear she’s bonnie.”

“As long as she’s no’ murderous.” Cameron swallowed a mouthful of ale. “But twill no’ be me. One of my brothers will get the honor of mending the feud."

“If her da is intent on honoring the betrothal agreement, she’d best no’ be.”

“I’m glad enough no’ to be the one.”

“Ach, left a lass behind, did ye?”

Cameron shrugged and lifted his cup in silent toast. Malcolm wouldn’t press, at least not right away.

Cameron looked around the great hall, noting the people moving through it, the tapestries and banners gracing the walls, the swords displayed over the hearth. All comfortably familiar. He was glad to be home. To see Malcolm and the rest of his old friends. And truth be told, mildly curious about the MacKay lass. Yet, something Mary had said before he left Rose had plagued him on the trip here, and bothered him still. She had predicted he’d return home and forget about her. He shook his head. Forget Mary? He knew now that he never would.

* * *

The next morning, when Mary went to fetch Seona, the guard usually outside her door was missing. Mary knocked but got no answer. She took a breath and opened the door, fearing she’d find Seona and her guardsman in her bed. But the chamber was empty.

Seona was never up and about this early. Had Mary seeing her with the guardsman led her to spend the night with her husband? Her father was in his solar when she checked there.

“Have ye seen Seona?” she asked.

“No’ this morning,” he replied.

Mary’s nerve failed her at the thought of asking if she’d spent the night in his bed. Instead, she continued her search. Finally, she spotted a guard outside the tiny Rose kirk. Surprised, she brushed past him and found Seona sitting on a bench at the back. Whether she was praying or just thinking, Mary didn’t want to disturb her and turned to leave, but her boot scraped on the stone floor.

Seona turned at the noise. “Stay with me,” she said quietly.

The request shocked Mary. Seona usually did her utmost to avoid her and her never-ending lessons. Mary never expected to be invited to keep her company.

“Of course,” Mary replied and took a seat on the bench next to her. “Does something trouble ye?” Like the affair she appeared to be having?

Seona took so long to answer, Mary feared she’d been mistaken in the invitation she thought she’d heard.

But Seona finally took a breath. “I am trapped here.”

Mary fought not to laugh. Seona had no idea what being trapped at Rose meant. “I, too. ’Tis the burden we women bear, to live where and how and with whom men decide.”

“I’m tired of it.”

“Ye have barely arrived. And ye may soon have a bairn on the way. Does the prospect of the wean no’ make ye a wee bit happy?”

Seona gazed at the cross hung on the wall at the front of the kirk. “It should. I hope it will, when it comes.”

“I do, too.” Mary didn’t know what to say to console the lass. For all any of them knew, the future of clan Rose lay within her. She should have been pleased and proud but all she felt was trapped.

Mary realized the same applied to her. As eldest and heir, at least until Seona provided a son for the clan, Mary was also the future of clan Rose, and should be pleased and proud. Still, she’d spent years feeling trapped and resenting her father. Despite Seona’s many faults, Mary could sympathize with her a little.

“I wish to make a bargain with ye,” Seona said.

Mary had an idea what was coming and didn’t like it.

“In exchange for yer silence, I’ll make ye this promise,” Seona said. “I will convince yer father to wed ye away, and soon. Yer presence here is a distraction.”

“A distraction? Ye mean a danger to ye, and to yer position as my father’s wife.”

Seona laid a hand on her belly. “As soon as I give yer father a son, even before, when I am carrying, my position will be in nay danger.”

“Even if Da finds out what ye have done?”

“What if I told ye we have done naught save what ye saw. We are two who cared for each other at Grant, but were denied the chance to be happy together. What ye saw was a moment of weakness.”

“If ye thought anyone would believe that, ye wouldna offer to see me sent away.”

“People will believe what they wish, no matter what the truth may be.”

Mary stilled, thinking back over what she’d seen. The encounter was damning, but not conclusive. She’d debated long into the night whether she should tell her father, but in the end had decided hearing this tale would do him more harm than good. “At Grant, were ye lovers?”

“Ye try my patience, Mary. I have made ye a fair offer.”

“And I must think on it. My father’s happiness is important to me. If your heart is given to another, he will be displeased.”

“What he doesna ken canna hurt him.”

Mary didn’t like the implied threat. “Aye, it can.”

“Ye say ye, too, are trapped here. I can free ye.”

“Only my father can do that.” Her father and the right man.

Mary’s heart swelled at the idea of being able to marry a man she loved. Seona’s offer should please her, but it also worried her. She liked being a distraction if she stood in the way of whatever Lady Grant wanted her daughter to accomplish, or Seona’s own goal of betraying her husband with her guardsman. There were so many possibilities. Keeping Seona off-balance might keep Mary’s father alive.

In addition, she and Cameron had developed such a rapport that Seona’s promise to convince her father to send her away soon could be disastrous. With Cameron gone to Sutherland and God only knew where else, she feared what her father might do. Yet, before he left, Cameron had not promised to return. He’d merely asked her not to forget him, and she didn’t know what he meant.

“Think on what I have said,” Seona told her.

Mary heard the warning for what it was. “I will think of little else,” Mary promised and left her to the peace of the kirk.

Seona didn’t fit in at Rose. She’d done her best not to adjust to her new home. And if Mary was right, she’d brought her lover with her from Grant and refused to give him up. Mary’s father was ill and unhappy. Mary, ever the dutiful daughter, could not imagine leaving Rose any time soon.

* * *

A soft knock woke Cameron. Trouble? He rolled from bed and pulled on a shirt, then picked up his dirk before answering. “Who is it?”

“’Tis I,” a woman’s low voice penetrated the thick oak. “I need to speak with ye. Let me in before someone sees me.”

Nan—he recognized her voice. She was one of the women who’d regularly watched him practice at arms. A distant cousin visiting Sutherland from another of his father’s holdings, she often flirted with him, but she’d also flirted with other men. He’d believed she meant nothing by it.

Cameron debated for a moment. Whatever she hoped to accomplish at his door in the middle of the night could not be good for him. At least his shirt covered him to his thighs, but if they were caught together in his chamber and she made it appear Cameron had dishonored her, they could be forced to wed and Mary would never be his.

Yet, Cameron’s curiosity burned. She might have information he needed, or there might be trouble in the clan that she, an outsider, had noticed. He opened his door a crack. “What is so urgent ye must see me in the middle of the night?” Cameron peered down the dark hallway in both directions.

“Let me in,” she demanded, hands on hips. “I willna discuss this in the hall.”

“Ye canna be in my chamber, especially no’ in the middle of the night.”

“Would ye rather I screamed?”

With a sense of doom, Cameron regretted not fully dressing nearly as much as he regretted opening the door. He stood back and let her enter, but left the door open.

She closed it. “I’ve seen ye notice me while ye practice,” she allowed, turning back to him. Her gaze lingered on his body before she added, “Ye seem kind, so I thought ye worth spending some private time together, aye?” Stepping closer, she placed a hand on his chest, studied him for a moment, then nodded, apparently having come to a decision. “My heart is given elsewhere. My father wants me to be sure before he agrees to any match I prefer.”

Cameron relaxed a trifle. She wasn’t here to trap him into marriage. That left one possibility, one he knew very well how to manage.

Cameron trained as hard as he dared during his time at Sutherland, fully expecting his father to send him on another mission soon. His side no longer bothered him, and his strength was nearly what it had been before his injury. The lasses noticed his improvements, as well. While the men’s practice always garnered a few who paused to watch when their chores brought them near, lately there were more, laughing and cheering and commenting to each other behind their hands. The lads liked the attention.

Cameron did, too, but not when it led to midnight visits. He wasn’t surprised when she added, “Yer brothers caught my eye, but yer father sent them away.” Her hands slid down his chest to his belly and paused, her gaze on his, as if asking, or even daring him, to allow her to continue lower. “They’re no’ here, and ye are.”

Cameron frowned, insulted, but also amused. “So, I’ll do?” He laid his hand over hers, then took a step back. Though tempted to play along, she wasn’t worth the trouble she could cause, especially if she pursued one—or both—of his brothers when they returned. The sooner he got her out of his chamber, the better. “Ye dinna need to do this, lass.” He didn’t want to hurt her feelings or anger her. But he must convince her to leave.

“What if I want to?”

“What will yer future husband think? The man ye say ye have already given yer heart to.”

“He and I have already…” she said and shrugged, then lowered her other hand to the hem of his shirt.

Cameron caught her fingers before she could lift it or reach beneath, and clasped her fists together in his larger hands. He could only take so much. His blood heated at the promise of her touch. What she offered, his body wanted. Only he didn’t want it from her. “There is a reason, lass, and a good one, for both of us to refrain. I find myself in a similar situation.” He released her and moved to the window. Let her think he regretted refusing her, so long as she kept her distance. He needed a moment to let his blood cool. “In truth, I have noticed ye. ’Twould be hard no’ to notice such a bonnie lass.” He held up a hand as she took a step toward him. “And I thank ye for yer honesty, but my heart is also given elsewhere.” The moment he spoke the words, Cameron felt the rightness of them. He’d avoided admitting his feelings to himself, convincing himself he wanted Mary, aye, but not that his heart ached for her. To now realize he cared for her in that way? The shock had him grasping the top of the shutter hard enough to crush the wood beneath his fingers.

“I dinna ask for yer heart.”

To his relief, her voice still came from across the room, but her words dismayed him. She was far from chaste, it seemed, and intent on seducing him, despite his attempt to give her an honorable way out. Perhaps he’d been wrong and she wasn’t simply bent on seduction.

He turned to face her. “Does yer father ken? Did he order ye to come here to catch the eye of a laird’s son?” Was she setting him up?

“Of course, no’.”

“Or to keep ye away from the man ye want?”

“Nay.” Her voice sounded tinged with ice this time.

Misgivings flooded Cameron yet again. He winced. “If ye are found here, yer hope of marrying him is gone. Ye risk ruining any accord between yer da and mine. Ye must leave my chamber.”

“No one kens I’m here.”

“Ye and I do.” He could see her growing annoyance in her stiffening posture. He had not behaved as she expected.

“Ye men are all the same, worried about alliances and wars. I am offering ye a few hours of respite, a small measure of passion for us both.”

Cameron crossed his arms. “I must be able to face my father on the morrow.” To spare her feelings, he hoped he sounded regretful rather than rueful.

“I could scream.” She took a step closer.

Apparently not. He frowned. “That threat got ye in here. But think, lass. Ye’d be forced to wed me, and ye dinna want to.” Unless her story of another love was as false as the rest of her now seemed. She could be bent on trapping him.

She threw up her hands. “Naught I say will make ye want me, will it? My God, I’ve stumbled upon an honorable man. ”

“Only just barely, lass, and ye’re straining my control. Now, ye should go. ’Tis best for all.”

Nan nodded and moved to the door. “Ye are as stubborn as I am. I’m impressed.”

Cameron followed and opened it slowly. He checked the hall. Nothing moved. The silence felt heavy, for all of being empty. He gestured for her to leave.

Nan gave him one last regretful glance that slid down his body and lingered before she stepped out.

Cameron closed the door softly behind her, torn between pure male satisfaction that a lass had tried to seduce him and anger that she had while claiming to love another. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

He needed to speak to his father first thing in the morning, then leave. If he stayed, as long as Nan bided at Sutherland, she might continue her efforts. Though he’d only touched her when he must to keep her from seducing him, she could run to his father even now with a story about him ravishing her, and he’d be wed by morning. Cameron clenched his fists. The more he considered it, the more convinced he became that she might fit in perfectly with his father’s wishes to see his sons wed.

Alas, she didn’t fit his plans—only Mary could do that.