A Laird and a Gentleman

by Gerri Russell

  “Aye, but you are capable of protecting yourself. You could stand up to them. Show them who you truly are.”

  “And be burned at the stake.”

  “There is more to you than your magic.”

  Mariam looked up as heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ve spent my whole life hiding who and what I am. I’m not certain I can change that. People make assumptions about me before they ever come to know me simply because I am a Swinton.”

  Nessie lifted a brow. “But you are also a Llyr.”

  The thought stopped Mariam. She had never considered such a thing before. “But is that enough?”

  “Aye,” Nessie said with a bittersweet smile. “You are always enough. You simply haven’t realized it yet.”

  Mariam frowned. “What I am or am not doesn’t matter right now. The villagers are coming and I have a feeling all this won’t end well for any of us.”

  “Then what are you going to do about it?” Nessie challenged.

  “Who said I would do anything?” An air of defensiveness charged Mariam’s movements as she headed for the chamber door. “I will watch and wait from the tower. Perhaps I was mistaken and the villagers really do want to talk to Cameron.”

  “You are running away,” Nessie murmured as they walked up the stairs, heading for the tower.

  “For now.” Mariam set a brisk pace up the stairs. To her surprise, Nessie stayed beside her, though her breathing was ragged by the time they reached the doorway at the top. Feeling slightly remorseful, Mariam held the door for the older woman then they both stepped into the open and moved toward the crenellated wall. Peering through an opening, Mariam gazed down on the advancing mob as Cameron and only five of his men rode on horseback to greet them.

  “Is this as you dreamed?” Nessie asked from beside Mariam.

  “Not entirely.” But even as she spoke the words, one of the village men dropped his torch to the ground. A jewel-bright glow of red slithered across the dry grass. The fire jumped and spread as it feasted on the nearby bushes, and soon the fresh-born flames headed toward the castle and spread, licking upward as they consumed everything in their path.

  The villagers stopped as sudden cries of distress now filled the air. Cameron and his men did not stop; instead they continued to advance, despite the frightened neighing of the horses. She could not hear what he said from this distance, but she could see Cameron signaled the villagers to follow him away from the flames, and toward the castle’s entrance. She could imagine he was encouraging them to seek refuge inside the solid stone walls, where the flames could not reach them.

  Mariam continued to watch as Cameron and his men guided the villagers to safety. A reddish aura rose from the growing core of heat and flame that spread across the landscape while a heavy rolling mass of choking gray smoke billowed above it. The last villagers and two of Cameron’s men crossed the drawbridge just as the flames reached the wood.

  Would the flames stop once the drawbridge was consumed? And once gone, how would any of them leave this place until the wooden structure was replaced?

  Mariam tensed. They would all be trapped together.

  From within the outer bailey walls, Cameron looked up to the tower. Despite the distance, she could imagine the look on his face was that like she had witnessed in her dream—pleading with her to do something to help put out the flames.

  But what could she do that would not cast suspicion? She turned her gaze to the sky, seeking an answer. It was then she saw a small white cloud, drifting peacefully across the afternoon sky as though totally unaware of the destruction below. At the sight, an idea formed. Mariam moved behind one of the crenellations to hide herself from those below. She gazed up at the sky once more. Could she do it? Could she make that one little cloud rain down on the flames below and extinguish them?

  No one would think twice about a sudden rainstorm in Scotland. They happened with great frequency, even on the nicest of summer days. Stretching her arms up in supplication, she drew a deep breath and called upon the forces inside her, forces she hoped would respond.

  Above her, the cloud swirled and darkened. It spread across the sky, becoming a bank of clouds. A crack of lightning sounded, then drops of rain fell to the earth below. The drops fell softly at first, then built in intensity, until a downpour was upon them all.

  Water brushed Mariam’s cheeks as the smell of sulfur filled the air and the fire dwindled, then vanished. The rain lessened as all her strength left her and she dropped to the wet wooden floor. She remained there, trying to regain her breath and her equilibrium as Mistress MacInnes bent down to her.

  “You did it, Mariam. Praise the heavens! Everyone is safe because of you.”

  “And that secret shall remain between you and me—understood?” Mariam said as she clambered to her feet.

  “Of course, my dear. I am ever so proud of you.”

  Mariam didn’t really know how to respond. No one had ever praised her in such a way since her mother died. “Thank you,” she mumbled as she staggered to the wall, leaning heavily on the stone, not trusting her legs to support her unaided. Once there, she wiped her rain-soaked hair back from her face with her hand. She had succeeded in putting out the fire, even though she still did not understand how she had truly done such a thing. But what she had accomplished here had been good. Helpful. Necessary.

  Nessie took the black stole from her shoulders and slipped it around Mariam’s, then slipped her arm through Mariam’s, pulling her against her side and allowing her to lean on Nessie’s good side. “Come, my dear, let us get you out of this rain.”

  Mariam was too drained of energy to even nod. There was no way she could make it inside on her own as she was. The two of them had made it slowly down four stairs before Cameron appeared.

  “Let me help.” He stepped in and scooped Mariam into his arms. “Will you be all right on your own?” he asked Mistress MacInnes.

  “Aye, lad. Take her to her chamber. I shall meet you there with a warm tonic.”

  Cameron moved so swiftly down the stairs Mariam had to shut her eyes to fight a sense of disorientation. When she felt him set her on the bed, she opened her eyes once more. She watched as he moved away to set more logs on the fire before he returned to her side. Despite the increasing heat, she shivered.

  “You’ll need to get out of your clothing before you fall ill.”

  She felt heavy and weighed down still as she tried to move. “I can’t even lift my arms.”

  He was wet himself, but he grabbed a bathing sheet and set about drying the moisture from her hair. “Mistress MacInnes will return soon.”

  “I want her to care for herself before she takes care of me. She is older, more fragile. I don’t want her to suffer any more of a chill than she already has by giving me her stole. Call for Estella or Petunia.”

  “The entire staff is busy helping settle the villagers.” He sat down beside Mariam and scooped her into his arms and leaned back against the head of the bed, cradling her. “Let me try to warm you then while we wait for Mistress MacInnes.”

  “Thank you for believing in me,” she said, nestling her cheek deeper into the hollow of his shoulder. “I didn’t think I could do it until I remembered how you looked at me in my dream.”

  “How did I look at you?” Cameron began to stroke her hair.

  “With complete trust.”

  “I do trust you.” His arms tightened around her.

  “I think you trust everyone, which is why you let the villagers into your castle despite my warning.” She paused. “They are here for me, you know.”

  “I can and will protect you.” His voice was smooth.

  “Because it is your duty?” she asked in a dry, brittle voice.

  “Nay. Because I want to, Mariam.” The last m of her name rolled off his tongue to shiver down her spine. She was suddenly aware of the heat of his body even through their wet clothing, aware of the way her breasts pressed into him. He smelled of rainwater and sunshine and musk. The mixture
was strangely familiar and reassuring. Her heart fluttered as the slow, warm brush of his breath caressed her cheek.

  She pulled back and looked up into his face. She stared at him, trying to think of something to say. He was so strong, so in control, and so unlike herself. “I don’t want to keep you if you have other responsibilities to tend to.”

  “I want to be here . . . with you.”

  Her heart thudded against her chest and crept into her throat. “You’re so . . .” The words caught in her throat. She wanted to say handsome, but instead settled on the next thing that came into her mind: “Kind.”

  A smile pulled up the corners of his lips as his eyes held hers. “Kind is not how most men wish to be remembered.” Slowly, carefully, he angled his head and lowered his mouth until she felt his breath on her lips. Her eyelids closed at the touch of his lips to hers.

  As soft as the morning mist, his mouth molded over hers, moved with breath-stealing sweetness. He reached up and bracketed her head with his hands as he deepened the kiss.

  Unsteadily, she laid her hand against his chest and felt his heart beating thickly against her palm. His mouth opened over hers and he stole between her lips. She could feel his warmth and tasted a hint of honey mixed with apple. He gently coaxed her lips farther apart, and as he did, her legs trembled. All her thoughts fled as everything inside her focused on the intoxication of his kiss.

  A sound rose from her throat as she leaned into him, wanting more. Her arms stole around his shoulders, pulling her body tight against his chest.

  A sudden knock registered in her brain moments before the door opened.

  Cameron released her and sat back, leaving Mariam dazed and disoriented as she registered another presence in the chamber.

  “I came as quickly as I could—” Mistress MacInnes froze at the sight of them on the bed, so close together. “Forgive me. I thought you were alone, Mistress.”

  Cameron moved off the bed, his dark eyes shuttered. “I was doing my part to keep Mariam warm until you arrived, my good woman.” He bent and offered the chatelaine a bow. “I will leave you now so that you may help Mariam into drier clothing.” He turned back to Mariam and said, “Meet me belowstairs when you are changed.”

  “But—”

  “You have nothing to fear,” he said to Mariam as he turned back to the door.

  Mariam brought her fingers up to press against her tingling lips as she stared after him. Cameron was so certain he could protect her, but she wasn’t convinced. Since the villagers had entered the castle, she could feel a dark energy that had entered as well—one that fed off cruelty and violence. It was the same energy her father gave off whenever she was around him. She shuddered, attempting to shake off the notion of her father’s presence.

  Mistress MacInnes closed the door behind Cameron. “Shall we get you out of those wet clothes?” She turned toward the bed. Her eyes flared wide. For a moment she hesitated before she continued forward. “What is it, Mariam? What has you so upset?”

  “I’m not upset.” Mariam struggled to regain her composure even as an uneasy feeling prickled the back of her neck. “This day has had far too many ups and downs for my liking. If it were up to me, I would want nothing more than a bath and an early night in bed.”

  Nessie came to sit beside her on the bed. “There is nothing to fear and no reason to hide. I’ve seen the villagers for myself. They left their weapons in the outer courtyard and are currently dining in the great hall. They do not seem vengeful or even contentious anymore. I think m’laird’s hospitality surprised them, deflating their anger.”

  “Then why can I still feel malevolence coming from below?”

  Nessie’s eyes narrowed and a frown creased her brow. “I cannot be certain, but m’laird has yet to hear their grievances. Perhaps when he does, that feeling will change.”

  “Perhaps,” Mariam replied, knowing she could no longer delay doing what Cameron had demanded of her. She stood beside the bed and allowed Nessie to remove her wet jacket. As the older woman loosened the laces at the back of her riding habit, Mariam could still feel the lingering effects of Cameron’s kiss upon her lips. How was it possible to experience both despair and joy at the same moment?

  With a sigh, she resigned herself to do what must be done. She would go belowstairs and confront whatever awaited.

  Chapter Seven

  A quarter of an hour later, Mariam descended the stairs and entered the great hall. Upon seeing her, Cameron waved her forward and invited her to sit on the dais in a chair next to him. His steward stood beside him with parchment, an inkpot, and a quill in hand.

  Mariam took a seat at Cameron’s side. Without taking his gaze from those before him, he settled his hand over hers. So little a thing, so harmless and yet the feel of his skin against hers made her heart flutter in her chest.

  Trying to distract herself, she looked to the crowd before her, and yet it was one particular pair of eyes that caught her attention. Thea stood off to the side from the line that had formed in front of Cameron. Resentment darkened Thea’s complexion as she stared back at Mariam for a long moment before turning to address the young man standing next to her. The two of them looked as though they were a pair with similar dark eyes and dark hair. A brother perhaps?

  With a stab of remorse, Mariam realized she never knew Thea had family in the village. That information was never offered, and Mariam had failed to ask. She and Thea still had not yet talked about the events earlier that morning. When they did, Mariam intended to ask more questions about Thea’s family and their situation. It might not be too late to rectify the anger and resentment she’d seen in both of their eyes.

  She glanced about the chamber once more, noting several men and women who had come up from the village to talk to their laird. None of them looked particularly threatening as her dream had led her to believe. But something still didn’t feel right.

  Someone else was there in the chamber, someone who chose not to reveal themselves. Refusing to let her mind form ideas about who it might be, she focused her attention on the men and women who came forward, laying before the laird how they felt they had been wronged by the court of justice, the local commission set up by the privy council, and her own father.

  The man Mariam suspected was Thea’s brother approached the dais. Thea was no longer by his side. He stood tall and straight, not offering Cameron any sort of acknowledgment of his status. The man’s features were inexpressive—even the faint smile he wore did not reach his dark eyes. “My name’s Kendric Burns. My sister Thea works as a lady’s maid to your ward.” The man’s dark eyes narrowed on Mariam.

  Mariam shifted forward, hoping there was something she could learn that might give her a way to help Thea in the future.

  “What have you to tell me about your situation?” Cameron prompted when the man failed to continue as the others had upon reaching the front of the line.

  “Despite her innocence, this woman’s father sent my ma tae the flames.” His face flushed as he pointed at Mariam. “My ma was a good woman, never hurtin’ anyone. She delivered the babes in the village until they took her away to Haddington.”

  Cameron did not react to the angry outburst. “I am sorry for your loss,” he said calmly. Sympathy echoed in his every word. “What did they charge your mother with?”

  “The Widow Banncock accused her of puttin’ a spell on her pregnant daughter and her grandchildren. The children fell ill, but recovered after a time. Her daughter did so as well, but the baby was born too early and died in her mother’s arms.” The rumble of conversation from those gathered increased.

  Cameron raised his hand to silence them. “’Twas a blessing so many of those who had fallen ill recovered.”

  “They came for my mother the next night.”

  “What happened to the Widow Banncock?” Cameron asked.

  Kendric’s stubbled face darkened. “They took her away as well. The old hag was interrogated by John Swinton, who found a witch’s mark upon h
er and sent her to the noose.”

  “And your mother was sent to the flames?”

  Kendric nodded with a jerk of his head. “’Twas bad enough they took her from us, but before the next moon cycle had completed, my father and I were sent a full account of the expenses for her imprisonment and trial. They charged us for watching her in the gaol, her pricking, food and drink for the guards, sackcloth for her to wear before she was taken to the stake, for two trees used to make the stake and pyre, the workmen’s expenses and food.”

  The young man’s voice rose as he continued. “For the horse and wagon used to bring her from the gaol to the stake, the tar used to burn her, and for the expenses of the officials at her trial. They presented a bill for ninety shillings. Funds we did not have to spare.” His face was a mottled red as he turned and raised a hand to encompass all those in the line behind him. “They charged all of us for our loved ones’ imprisonment, trial, and murder.”

  “I can understand your frustration and your pain. The loss of your mother was significant. You did not need any further burden placed upon you.” Cameron’s brows creased in thought as he addressed Kendric and the others. “I would like to make restitution to each of you in the amount of five pounds sterling each.”

  A gasp of amazement came from the crowd, followed by the rumble of excited conversation.

  Cameron waited until the chatter died down before continuing. “That sum should allow you to pay what you have been billed and have enough left to help you build a new life. I still wish to hear each of your petitions individually so that I might know how you and your loved ones have suffered.”

  There was only gentleness in his voice. How odd that a warrior who filled his days with strife and conflict could also be so kind. True, he had an obligation to his people, but what he did here went well beyond what even they expected.

  Mariam watched for the next hour as Cameron listened to each and every petition with interest and concern. Hobbins wrote each name in a ledger and sent them to the back of the chamber where four of Cameron’s men waited to pay each what the laird had promised.