If she were to agree to marry, it would be to someone like—she blocked the thought before it could fully form. Of its own volition, her gaze sought out Cameron’s. His was a face she thought she knew well, until just two days ago when she had noticed the flecks of gold in his gray eyes. When she realized she was staring, she averted her gaze. She lifted her goblet to her lips and drank deeply until she became aware she was not the only one who had been staring. David’s appraising gaze moved over her, as though assessing who and what she was. Had he heard the rumors as well?
“A quiet meal in the country must not be very stimulating for a woman such as yourself,” David said to Mariam. “I heard you spent some time at King James’s court not long ago? Tell me, what was it like?”
She had spent three days at Falkland Palace after she left her father’s house in North Berwick and before she’d traveled to Ravenscraig as Cameron’s ward. The queen had been responsible for her coming under Cameron’s protection after the king brought her father into the witch trials as his pricker. In those three days at Falkland, she’d never left her chamber. Not once. But that was not what the man wanted to hear.
“Laird Sinclair has had much more experience at court than I. I must admit, I prefer the solitude of the countryside to the pageantry of court.”
“That is a shame.” The words rang with disappointment. “I long to leave the country and my estate behind me for a more jovial life. I am exceedingly clever with numbers. Over the years, my estate has flourished and my accounts have grown exponentially. I have written several times to His Grace, offering my services for his benefit, with not a single reply.”
“I doubt King James had received any of your messages. His secretary handles his correspondence,” Cameron explained. “I am heading to Falkland on the morrow. If you wish to write another missive, I will hand it to him personally and vouch for your proficiency to the man himself.”
He was leaving? Mariam let out her breath slowly, afraid that if she spoke, or moved, or even closed her eyes she would shatter. Cameron had promised her he would take her to the Isle of May. She only had five more days to determine what the note in her shell had meant. In a haze of disbelief, she watched the men before her.
David startled, and pink tinged his otherwise pasty cheeks. “You would do that for me?”
“If that’s where your heart lies, then it would be my pleasure,” Cameron replied without looking at his ward. “I’ll have Hobbins bring you parchment and ink after we are finished here.”
David stood, the legs of his chair scraping on the flagstone floor. “I’m finished, and I’m eager to get started on that letter, if I might.”
Cameron signaled across the chamber to Hobbins, who came quickly to his laird’s side. “Hobbins, please escort Laird Sibbald to his chamber then bring him writing supplies.”
Hobbins nodded and escorted their guest away. When only the three of them remained at the table, Peter drained his goblet, then set it down before he also stood and excused himself. “Thank you for a memorable evening, Lady Mariam, Laird Cameron. I will see myself back to my chamber.”
Seeing that their guests had departed, the others in the chamber made their way out, until only she and Cameron remained sitting at the table. When they were alone, Cameron finally returned his gaze to hers. “I have no choice but to leave, Mariam.” He reached over and tugged on one end of the bow about her neck, letting the ribbon slide from her flesh. “My men told me what had happened. Are you truly unharmed as they reported?”
Mariam nodded, unable to push a single word past the dryness in her throat.
“I cannot hold your father prisoner here forever, as much as I’d like to do that and more to the man.” Cameron smoothed a finger over the abused flesh at her neck. “I promised you no one would hurt you. I cannot risk your father coming near you again. It is better to rid ourselves of him.”
She stiffened in her chair. “You wouldn’t kill him?”
“Nay.” His tone was low, but savage. “Destiny will wreak its own havoc on your father in time. I will not be like him and pass judgment on his flesh.”
Mariam let out a breath in a long, defeated sigh. “You’ll return in two days?”
He nodded. “I wanted to tell you earlier, once I’d made the decisions, but then our guests arrived.”
“Your guests.”
He chuckled. “All right, my guests, who will also depart in the morning. I’m leaving Ian and a full company of men here at the castle with orders to watch over you. They won’t let anything happen to you.” He leaned forward in his seat, so his hand could touch her cheek. “Alexander should return any day now with Vivian and Quinn Douglas. I sent for Vivian, another woman who was accused of being possessed of certain skills, to come and advise you.”
He still could not acknowledge her skills for what they were. “You mean she is magical?”
After a pause, he finally nodded. “If that is what you choose to call yourself, then so be it. Being alike as you are, I hope Vivian will bring you comfort.” He reached for her hand, curling his fingers around hers.
“Why?”
“Why bring Vivian here?”
She shook her head as a strange sensation burned at the backs of her eyes. “Why go to the trouble . . . for me? I have not always been as good as I should have been—to you, and so many others.”
“That’s in the past. Today is what matters. And today I see a woman before me who is strong, and brave, and resilient.”
Tendrils of warmth reached out to her, binding her to the man before her as she’d never been to another before. Offering her something she never allowed herself to want before. Acceptance for who she was. Tears burned behind her eyes. A single drop slid down her face and burrowed in the corner of her mouth. Another followed the first. The salty taste lingered on her tongue, reminding her of another time she had cried.
She’d been five years old on the night her mother had disappeared. Mariam flinched. Even now she could feel the switch her father had taken to her backside as the loss of her mother tore through her. At first, she’d cried for her mother, then for herself, and finally for what her life would now become. Without her mother to intercede, her father would—
“Mariam?” Cameron’s voice jarred her back to the present.
She batted at the tears with the back of her free hand. Her father had beat the tears out of her that day. She’d never cried again, until now.
“It’s all right to cry, and to be afraid.” He stood and pulled her up, gathered her into his arms.
She leaned forward, letting her forehead rest in the crook of his shoulder. She shivered and he pulled her that much closer. Warmth seeped from his body to hers as her tears continued to fall. She should be ashamed that she’d allowed herself to show such weakness, but she wasn’t. She didn’t feel foolish at all. In fact, in Cameron’s arms she felt safe, and protected. Something she hadn’t felt in years.
Cameron said nothing, simply held her and rocked her ever so slightly back and forth in the cradle of his arms. The scent of damp muslin mixed with the taste of salty tears filled her senses as her tears slowed, then stopped.
After a time, she pulled back and looked into Cameron’s face. At the sight of his gray eyes so filled with warmth and acceptance, a new sensation unfurled inside her. It was something she’d never felt before. It wasn’t a pleasant or gentle emotion. It twisted her insides a heartbeat before the sensation faded into tenderness. She let the moment pass as she took another look at the man who held her so close.
There were smudges of darkness beneath his eyes. Evidence of what the last few days had cost him. She brought their entwined hands up to press against his cheek. “You look weary. Promise me you’ll rest tonight so you’ll be ready for anything as you travel with my father in your presence.”
“I will.” He leaned into her touch. “And you must promise me you will stay inside the castle while I am gone. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you while I was away.�
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He watched her with concern on his face and tenderness in his eyes, and she felt a sudden rush. The feeling was completely new. She’d never felt like this before. “I promise,” she whispered as she found herself staring at him, captivated by the man before her. Another question came to her, then died on her lips as his gaze turned warm and sensual.
He released her hand to graze her cheek with the backs of his fingers, smoothing backward into her hair before he gently cupped her head. A tiny thrill fluttered in her stomach and a heated shiver ran up her spine. As his head dipped closer, Mariam’s breath caught. He was going to kiss her.
Her heart thumped in her chest so loudly she thought he must hear it. He bent farther and instead of kissing her lips, he pressed his lips to her forehead, as though suddenly unsure. He drew a deep breath and pulled back while still holding her tightly, but not so tight she couldn’t pull away if she wanted to.
But she didn’t want to.
He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted it until their gazes met. “I know I shouldn’t do this, but I suddenly find I cannot help myself.” His voice was so deep it made her shake.
In fact, the whole room felt as though it trembled as he brought his lips to hers. Mariam sighed at the sweet offering of his mouth. His tongue traced a hot line between her lips, coaxing them, urging them to part, and then insisting. She didn’t resist. She let him in, surrendering mindlessly to the splendor of his kiss. Her hands shifted over his heavily muscled shoulders and forearms as her lips moved against his with increasing abandon.
The kiss went on as Mariam’s body continued to shudder. In fact, she realized, pulling back slightly without breaking the kiss, the ground rumbled beneath their feet. A loud crack splintered the cocoon they had created.
Her desire turned to ice. They broke apart and turned toward the sound as the room undulated around them, then stopped.
Whatever it was had ended.
Mariam’s gaze dropped to her feet, to the finger’s width line that zigzagged through the flagstone floor. Sweet heavens! Her gaze shot to Cameron’s.
“That was not you.” The sound of Cameron’s voice echoed in her head before the words registered.
“How do you know?” she asked, drawing a deep shuddering breath. “How can you think it was anything else?” Once again, she’d let her emotions get the better of her.
He stood, inspecting the line that traversed the entire length of the great hall. “I’ve felt tremors like this in the earth before. My grandfather used to say such trembling was caused by the tension between earth and water.”
He turned back to her, and there was certainty in his eyes that lessened her fear. “When this happened before, did the shaking come again?” she asked.
“I was only a boy at the time, but nothing else ever came of the event.”
She frowned, not quite convinced. “You’re certain?”
“Positive. The same will be true again,” he said with conviction.
He chose to believe it wasn’t her. At the feel of his hand wrapped protectively around hers, Mariam’s rapid heartbeat subsided, and her fear melted away.
“Come,” he said. “Let’s look at the world outside. I’ll prove to you that everything is as ordinary as it should be.”
She nodded and followed him out of the castle and into the courtyard. A soft night breeze whistled through the trees on the hillside in the distance, carrying with it the tangy scent of heather. Overhead, moonlight broke through the thin, charcoal-hued clouds. Between the clouds, the stars glittered just as they did most nights. Nothing was different. Relief rushed through her.
Cameron smiled. “Now do you believe me?” His voice mingled with the sounds of the night. “You had nothing to do with the earthquake. There are many things in this world that cannot be explained. We can either make ourselves mad, trying to figure them out, or just accept what happened and move on.”
Mariam closed her eyes and let the words pour over her. “You’re right.” She released a ragged sigh into the night, letting Cameron’s certainty dispel her fears. How could she cause the world to shake? She might have an unusual gift that she didn’t fully understand, but to think she was capable of such a thing was almost absurd. Even so, their other troubles remained. She opened her eyes and sought Cameron out. The question she’d wanted to ask earlier came back to her. “What will you do with my father at Falkland Palace?” She shouldn’t care about what happened to him. He’d done nothing to deserve her concern. Though suddenly, she had to know what fate would await her father.
“It is my intention to turn him over to the king. It is not up to me to pass judgment.” Cameron released a heavy sigh. “And, if I am to be truly honest with you, I want him as far from you as possible. I’ll not have him inciting others to see you as he does. For you are no witch, no matter what he claims.”
But what am I? Mariam thought with a growing sense of despair. What if whatever was happening to her was only just the beginning of something much bigger, and more powerful? She might not have been the cause of the earthquake but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be the cause of something else.
Chapter Ten
Mariam came awake with a start. Nothingness curled around her, black and thick and oppressive. Tension vibrated in the air of her bedchamber. She lay there on her bed, ramrod stiff, listening. Yet no sounds came to her.
Her heart sped up as she glanced around, searching for some source of light. She’d extinguished the candle when she’d lain down, and the fire in the brazier had long since died out. That there was no light filtering in from behind the shutters told her it was still night.
Everyone in the castle had gone to bed hours ago. And yet she couldn’t shake the sensation of peculiar oppression. Mariam brought her fingers to her brow, smoothing a sudden ache at her temple. Had she been dreaming?
Her eyes stared into the darkness as she tried to remember. Then recall came to her. Illness was coming to the castle. Mariam bolted upright in bed. It had been a fleeting dream—only images of the sick lying in makeshift beds in the great hall. Of her standing over them, not knowing what to do. The danger was real, and judging from her dream, it would affect many of those within Ravenscraig’s walls; she just didn’t know when.
Mariam lay back down, forcing herself to be calm. She focused on her breathing, pulling a soft breath in and releasing it in a gentle, regular rhythm.
A floorboard creaked.
Her heart gave a leap and then started to pound wildly. She sat up, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. There was a presence she hadn’t noted before. She stood and, with her hand, searched wildly on her bedside table for the candlestick. “Who’s there?”
A low laugh came from the corner of the room.
Her stomach twisted into a cold, hard knot as she recognized the source. The darkness, and the knowledge that her father was in her room suddenly made it hard to speak. “How are you here?” How had her father escaped his chamber upstairs and made it past the two guards at his door?
“It was necessary to have a little help. You have a traitor inside this very castle. Does that distress you, Daughter?”
Suddenly she remembered Thea’s odd behavior. The way she wouldn’t look Mariam in the eyes, and she knew. “Thea helped you.”
“Very good. Despite her hatred of me, she couldn’t resist the bag of coins I offered.”
Mariam shuddered at the thought of what he’d done to Orrin and Kyle. “Are the guards dead?” She tried to keep the quaver from her voice.
A shuffle sounded as her father crept closer. “Drugged—perhaps poisoned. I’m not certain what she gave them in their food. Either way, it rendered them unconscious long enough for her to release me.”
With shaking fingers, Mariam struggled to light the candle with her flint and steel. After three tries, she created a spark. The wick caught, and as the flame grew, a yellow light spread across the chamber. She startled to see her father not two feet from her.
/> “You and I have unfinished business.”
She stepped back. “You’ve come to kill me this time?”
“Nay. That would be far too quick an end for someone like you.” He moved quickly, seizing her arms and pinching her cruelly. “If you raise your voice at all, I will not hesitate to render you unconscious.”
“You’re abducting me?” She tugged her arms. He grabbed her wrists. With a lightning-quick motion, he slipped a loop of rope over her hands, and drew the loop taut. Panic rose as he tightened the loop further, rendering her arms useless. “Release me!” Her voice rose louder than she’d intended.
“Are you trying to warn the others?” His hand cracked against her cheek with such force that she fell to the ground. “The louder you are, the more violent I will become.”
Mariam shook her head, trying to clear it of fear as well as the ringing pain of her father’s blow.
“Will you go with me quietly?” He raised his hand to strike once more.
She scooted as far away as the rope’s lead allowed, the room whirling around her. Memories of her childhood clawed their way to the surface of her mind. She saw herself as a young girl, bound at both hands and feet and forced into the confines of a dark cupboard. Nay, Father, not the darkness. Not again. But he didn’t listen to her then. He wouldn’t listen to her now.
“I will go, quietly.”
He smiled a soulless smile as he came to her and pulled her to her feet. “Very good. I would hate to inflict too much damage before we even had a chance for you to provide me with a confession that will send you to the stake.”
He wanted her fear. She could see it in his expression. She forced herself not to react as he jerked her toward the door. Wearing only a shift and in her bare feet she moved forward. At the doorway, he reached past her and opened it up, making sure the corridor was empty before forcing her ahead of him.
It didn’t take long for her eyes to readjust to the darkness. Tensely, she moved down the staircase, making not a sound as she went. At the landing, she started toward the door when a shape detached itself from the darkness. Mariam stopped just as an object hurled toward her father. An iron kettle hit his head with a sickening thud. She turned to see her father’s mouth gape open before he slumped to the ground. Next to him was Mistress MacInnes with her iron weapon clutched in her hands.
A Laird and a Gentleman Page 11