by Caroline Lee
After the noon meal, she lifted her arms for him to pick her up into his lap again. Once comfortable, she curled up and was soon snoring softly against his chest.
The two horses rode in blessed silence for what seemed like an eternity before Rosa glanced at him. “She trusts ye.”
It was a simple statement, but Cam saw it as an opening.
She was willing to talk to him!
He found himself smiling down at the pale head in his lap. “I am glad of it. But she’ll be up all night if I let her sleep too long.”
The corners of Rosa’s lips were drawn downwards when he looked back up, and he noticed the flash of her dark eyes under lowered lashes.
Why?
Was she confused by his words?
Or their intent?
Finally, she shook her head. “She didnae sleep well last night; ‘twas too cold and the ground too hard, she'd said. She tossed and turned all night, so I believe her in need of a nap.”
His smile grew, knowing Simone was cozy and comfortable right now.
Rosa must’ve noticed because she made a noise like a faint snort. “Ye can cuddle with her tonight then.”
Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, and although he recognized the sign of nervousness, he had a hard time controlling his visceral reaction to such a suggestive, yet innocent, gesture.
“Ye are good with her, Cameron.”
God’s Teeth, but he liked the sound of his name on her lips!
He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus on her words. “I-I’ve always liked bairns. I’ve—” He shook his head, wanting to hide his past from her as long as possible. “I’ve taught a fair number of little ones. I only want what’s best for them.”
“Ye mean in the—in the years ye’ve been gone?”
Her hesitation raised his suspicions.
She couldn’t know about his past in the Red Hand, could she?
And why in damnation did it matter to him if this woman knew of his sins?
Why did he want to impress her?
He decided it was easier to talk about the future, so he ignored her question. “I’ve always wanted a few bairns of my own. To love and raise properly, ye ken?”
She hummed. “Do ye have any? Children, I mean?”
The question startled him so much, he yanked on the reins, and the horse gave a little side-step before he got it—and his breathing—back in line.
Such a bold and direct question to come from a woman!
She was obviously worldly; not a nun, …but not a whore either.
“None that I ken of,” he finally answered. “I’ve always been careful to—” Realizing what he was about to say—something he never thought he’d find himself speaking of to a lady—he weakly finished with, “I’ve always been careful to no’ have children.”
“By spilling outside yer lover’s body?”
This time, he nearly choked on his gasp. When he swung his shocked gaze toward her, Cam found she was staring straight ahead, but he also saw a suspicious dark flush work its way up past her wimple.
She knew how sex worked.
She’d met him in that alley, had listened to his crudeness, had met his kiss with a passion and courage he hadn’t often encountered. And now, he had just sat here and listened to her talk about him spilling.
Dear God, she aroused him. Which wasn’t ideal, not with a six-year-old in his lap.
“Aye,” he managed to choke.
She shrugged, still staring determinably ahead. “I only ask because I’ve heard that doesnae always work.”
“Ye—ye’ve heard?”
“My friend Charlotte just had her first bairn. I did as much research as I could when she told us she was pregnant.” As she spoke of her research, the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax, and her words came easier. “I read what I could, but I gained much more information by meeting with midwives and grandmothers.” When she finally glanced at him, there was a sparkle of…something in her eyes. “To nae one’s surprise, there arenae many treatises written on the topic. The Moors have more to say on women’s health, but my grandfather’s library was strangely lacking such topics.”
God’s Teeth, but the teasing tone of her voice made him smile. He was on horseback, his niece on his lap, speaking of childbirth with a woman dressed as a nun.
A woman he’d very much like to kiss.
And do more with.
Did she want bairns?
Startled at the thought, Cam jerked again. To cover his blunder—and the alarm coursing through him at the realization he was imagining a future with a woman he knew nothing about!—he cleared his throat.
“So ye’re interested in childbirth?”
Mayhap she wanted to be a midwife and was just going about it oddly.
She blew out a breath; half-sigh, half-laugh. “I’m interested in everything. Some people think I’m odd, but I like learning. I have to learn, or I feel wasted.”
When he didn’t immediately answer, as he was too busy marveling at the honesty in her words, she glanced at him. “Now ye think I’m odd.”
Slowly, he confessed the truth. “Nay, I donae. I’m just…comparing ye to the women I ken.”
“Oh, aye?” her chin went up. “Nuns and whores?”
“Nay— Well, aye,” her admitted with a wry grin. “But my mother, for one.”
“She’s a sweet lady, but no’ at all interested in my research, ye are correct.”
Would Rosa never cease to amaze him?
“Ye ken my mother?”
When she looked over at him and noticed his confusion, her lips softened into a smile.
“She’s no’ at An Toor, Cameron,” Rosa offered softly. “She returned to Scone a fortnight before Lachlan, with her—well, with an advisor named Gillepatric.” The name seemed to carry sour connotations, judging by the way she shook her head with a sigh. “I’ve sat with yer mother many mornings, and she’s kind to me. But she’s been confused lately. She speaks of…”
When she trailed off, he nudged his horse closer. “Speaks of what?”
“Of ye,” she confessed, without looking at him. But then she sighed. “Afore a sennight ago, when Lachlan returned, yer mother enjoyed speaking of yer childhood and how wonderful ye were. Now she speaks of ye as if ye are in the palace with her. It began the day Lachlan was hurt, and I believe her mind was affected as well.”
“Ye think she’s crazed?”
“I…donae ken,” Rosa admitted. “But she is confused. I’ve heard her call ye by several names in the course of one visit. But she deserves my respect.”
Cam’s gaze had dropped to the lassie in his arms.
“Why?” he murmured.
His parents had lost his respect just before he’d left their home.
“Because our elders can teach us much.”
Disagreeing with her, but not wanting to irritate her, Cam merely grunted. Within a few steps, his horse had edged away from hers, and the gap between them grew physically, as well as metaphorically.
‘Tis for the best.
She was a lady—that much was clear. Not only did she speak and carry herself like a member of the nobility, but she spoke of life in the Scone Palace as if it were commonplace. As if there weren’t people—people like him—who would kill to gain access to it.
He could use Rosa to get into the palace.
Court was in Scone Palace, and she needed to be the woman he was focused on now.
Not the nun beside him, who kissed like a whore.
He clenched his jaw, reminding himself he did not need that kind of memory distracting him.
Why in damnation did ye kiss her then?
“Why did ye kiss me?”
The question from her was so unexpected, and echoed his thoughts so closely, he answered without thinking. “Because I wanted ye. I still want ye.”
It wasn’t until she breathed a shocked little, “Oh!” that he realized he’d said the words out loud.
With a groan,
he scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Nay, I didnae mean…” Blowing out a breath, he tried to figure out how to explain it to her. “That morn, I helped a lassie, only a few years aulder than Simone here.” His arm tightened protectively around his sleeping niece. “She was trying to steal my purse, and I gave her some…suggestions. “
Rosa’s chin turned his way, while her eyes remained on the road ahead. “Suggestions? Like…tips on how to steal yer purse?” Before he could answer, a smile bloomed on her lips. “Just when I think ye’re noble!”
He was utterly distracted by the sight of that gorgeous smile on those sexy lips. “I am no’ noble.”
But when the words were said, he winced.
Ye did no’ want her to ken ye’re a thief, did ye?
Nay, he didn’t. But she also didn’t seem too surprised to learn that little revelation about his past.
Just how much did she know about Cameron Fraser?
“What does the lassie—who, presumably now, is a better thief, thanks to ye—have to do with kissing me?”
Oh, aye, the original question. He rolled his neck as he tried to find the words to explain. “She needed help. I was in the helping mindset, I suppose. Then I saw ye and made an assumption. Why else would ye be in that alley, approaching me, if not because ye were a whore?”
Why was she there?
“Mayhap I needed help. Or mayhap I'd simply wanted to speak with a handsome man.”
She thought him handsome?
“Did ye need help?”
She snorted softly, derisively. “No’ the kind ye were offering.”
He’d attempted to teach her how to entice a man, which he realized now was an offensive assumption. But he lost all thought of apologizing when her eyes cut his way and a flush darkened her cheeks.
“But I didnae mind,” she whispered.
“What?”
Her shoulders straightened, and she shifted in the saddle to meet his eyes. “I said, I didnae need the kind of help ye were offering, Cameron Fraser, but I didnae mind it either.”
Dear God, she was saying she liked his kiss, his touch!
He scrubbed his hand down his face once more with a low groan, trying desperately to get his desire under control.
“Why were ye there, Rosa?”
Her reply was too long in coming; long enough for him to move Simone into a more comfortable position, long enough for him to wonder if she was considering lying to him.
He finally found the bravery to meet Rosa’s eyes, and saw she was staring at him with her head cocked to one side, as if deliberating.
Trying to decide what to say?
Finally, she shrugged slightly and turned ahead in the saddle once more. “I was looking for ye, Cameron. Lachlan had been wounded, so Mellie and—well, we thought ‘twould be best to find ye.”
“And did ye tell anyone ye found me?” he asked quietly.
And more importantly, had she told anyone about their kiss?
“Nay,” she whispered, with a wince.
Why the wince?
Because she hadn’t wanted to admit the truth?
Or she regretted not telling anyone she’d found him?
Or another reason entirely?
He felt compelled to softly offer, “Ye’re safe with me, Rosa.”
“Am I?” Her head swung back around to face him; one side of her lips pulled up wryly.
“Aye. Do ye no’ feel safe?” He nodded down to the sleeping lassie in his arms. “Simone obviously trusts me; obviously feels safe with me.”
Rosa shrugged. “I feel…” Slowly, her gaze switched from him to the sky as she tilted her head back slightly and pursed her lips. “I feel safe from outside threats, aye.”
He realized he was seeing her brilliant mind at work. She was peering up at the sky, but she wasn’t seeing it. Nay. She was assessing, considering her feelings.
“I feel safe from most threats a traveling woman might face, because ye carry a sword big enough to detract all but the most desperate of men. And while I also ken I can protect myself, I donae believe ye would harm me, although I reserve the right to change my mind later.”
His denial was quick, certain. “I would never harm ye, lass.”
She didn’t appear to be listening, but debating out loud with herself. “There are many things I donae ken about ye, ‘tis true. But I suspect there is a noble side of ye, and ye will no’ harm me.”
Cam exhaled, more pleased than he wanted to admit when he heard she trusted him.
But then she turned sorrowful eyes back to him, and he had to swallow down the urge to reach for her, to comfort her.
“What is it, lass?” he whispered.
“I feel safe from ye, Cameron Fraser, but myself?” She shook her head. “I donae feel safe from myself. No’ when I’m around ye.”
And he swore his heart stuttered.
Her words, her confession—said so sadly—filled him with an odd, fierce sort of elation.
She didn’t trust herself around him?
‘Twas as good as saying she wanted to kiss him—to touch him—again!
And Cam had three days traveling to Scone left to make sure it happened.
Of course, he’d forgotten the wee lassie in his lap, who chose that very moment to stir.
“Good morn, Uncle Cam!” She giggled sleepily. “I ken ‘tis no’ really morn, but I say that to my nurse when she wakes up from her nap. I don’t like napping, but she does. Did I nap? What’d I miss?”
Chapter 6
Nay, she didn’t trust herself around him, which is why Rosa did her best to distance herself from Cameron for the rest of the day.
But it was hard.
Not just because they were traveling together—that was the physical distance. Although they were both on separate horses, he was still nearby. And eventually, she found it easier to accept his help climbing in and out of the saddle, which meant she had to endure his touch.
Endure wasn’t exactly the right word, was it?
It was more—
Ye’re getting off topic again.
Ah, yes. Her brain had a tendency to do that.
Where was she?
Physical distance…?
Oh yes, emotional distance. Metaphysical distance, she supposed.
He’s just so damn likable.
And she already liked Cameron far too much.
So that was why she limited her contact—physical and emotional—for the rest of the day. She was pleased to let him bond with Simone, because the two of them really were adorable together, while she pondered over the things she’d learned about him.
He wanted children, and didn’t that just make her insides go all gooey?
She’d never considered the possibility of her own children—she was perfectly happy at court using her mind for the betterment of the kingdom, thank-ye-verra-much.
But soon, her place in the Angels would be called into question, and where would that leave her?
Mayhap she should start making other plans for her future.
But nae bairns with Cameron Fraser!
Right.
Right.
Et non vis eum.
She’d been right about Simone, at least; after they’d supped on the dried meats and apples Rosa had packed into the saddle bags at An Torr, the lassie fell asleep quickly with her head pillowed in Cameron’s lap.
Rosa refused to acknowledge the burn of jealousy she felt at the sight.
The next morning, she knew she was being cold to him, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he and Simone had some sort of bargain it seemed, to try to make her laugh. And it worked a few times.
But the way he looked at her when she laughed…well, it made her feel as if she’d swallowed moths.
She’d been around Mellie long enough to be able to name this feeling—the way her knees went all tingly, and she felt an itchy sort of warmth between her thighs. It was desire. Something she had no business feeling when it came to Cameron Fraser.
But no matter how capable her mind was, she couldn’t seem to remember that.
Or didn’t want to.
With a wince, she pinched the bridge of her nose and admitted she was completely and utterly confused, which didn’t happen often.
“Are ye aright, lass?” he asked from atop his horse, behind and to the left of her.
“I am fine,” she snapped. Then, to remind herself, she dropped her hand, straightened her shoulders and stared ahead, as she repeated, “I am fine.”
I am an Angel, and I have a mission.
That resolve took her until their noon meal, when they stopped to allow Simone the chance to stretch her legs. Cameron led their horses to a babbling little brook near some boulders, while Rosa walked back and forth with the six-year-old.
“Wanna see me run, Rosa? I can run really fast in this kilt. Do ye think Da will let me dress like this all the time? I like it.”
Rosa’s lips twitched upward. “I can imagine. I have a friend who prefers to wear men’s trewes for exactly that reason—the freedom they offer.”
“And her da lets her?”
Considering Court’s past—and the fact the man who was currently walking back toward them was likely the closest thing the woman had to family—Rosa considered her response carefully. “I don’ think her da had much to say about it one way or the other.”
“Can she run as fast as I can?”
“I donae ken. Why don’ ye run to the road and back a few times, and I’ll see.”
The lassie was off like an arrow. “Aye!” she called back over her shoulder.
Rosa watched her for a moment, calling out encouragement—thinking it possible she was faster than Court—before allowing herself to stretch.
She’d just bent over, wrapping her arms around her knees and pressing her nose against her legs, when she heard Cameron chuckle.
“Well, I’ve never seen this position before.”
Perturbed—both at him and the flush she knew was traveling up her checks, even though he couldn’t see it—she grumbled, “I’m stretching my back.”
“I can see that. Ye’re quite…limber.”
She heard the innuendo in his voice, as well as his teasing. And suddenly, she wanted to show him. Show him she wasn’t like all the women he expected her to be.