She was careful not to pull her legs above her head, knowing that would give him a look at things she didn’t want him to see. But by leaning forward and lifting her legs out at a ninety-degree angle, she was able to use her shoulders as a fulcrum and balance point, ensuring her weight was distributed evenly and—
Ye willnae impress him with geometry and physics, lass.
She didn’t need to, judging by the impressed way he whistled.
When she finally put her feet back on the ground, her arms were aching, and she had dirt ground into her palms; but he was grinning, and the way she wanted to grin in return made it worth it.
Didn’t it?
“Ye are remarkable, Rosa,” he said in a low voice, stepping forward. “I’ve kenned all sorts of people—all sorts of women—and none had that sort of strength.”
“No’ even—” She’d been about to say Courtney, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to reveal her friend’s secrets. Instead she corrected herself, “No’ even among the Red Hand? Surely ye had plenty of— Oh.”
It was the way he was looking at her, the shock—and was that a hint of fear?—in his eyes, which made her bite off her words. She understood then.
At no point in the last two days had she told him she knew his history as well as his name.
“Aye, Cameron,” she sighed. “I ken ye were the leader of the Red Hand for many years.”
His gray eyes flicked between hers, as if searching for the truth. The suspicion was still there in his gaze, as he folded his arms across his chest.
“One day I hope ye’ll tell me how a woman from the palace kens so much. Ye are brilliant, I’ll confess, but to ken so much about me?”
Could she?
She held his gaze, not sure if she should admit the truth and tell him she could never tell him how she knew so much about him.
Apparently, her silence was enough.
With a muttered curse, he dropped his arms and turned to stalk back toward the horses.
Which is why, when the attack came, he was already facing the right direction.
Mayhap it wasn’t an actual attack. The footpads had obviously been hiding among the boulders and had seen their opportunity to take the unattended horses.
Hollering, the four of them—riding two per horse—rode toward Cameron, seeing him as the threat. And the stupid man just ripped his sword from his scabbard, standing there in harm’s way.
Simone!
Rosa whirled, her gaze seeking out the lassie, who’d stopped near some wildflowers and now rose to peer back at them, as if wondering at the excitement.
She would be safe there, at least.
By the time Rosa turned back to the threat, Cameron was swiping at one set of footpads, but they easily side-stepped the attack, the horse’s eyes wild as it followed the new commands. And then they were past Cameron, and almost past Rosa.
Her fingers had already pulled one of her spikes from her arm sheath, and as time slowed, she tracked the horse’s movements. As it passed her, the dirty man clinging to the rider in the rear leered down.
She wouldn’t be able to reclaim the horses, but she could certainly make the thieves pay.
Time sped back up again as she loosed her spike.
The throw took the man between the shoulder blades, the steel burying deep. With a grunt, he slumped forward against his companion, and she watched, hoping he might fall off so she could retrieve her weapon.
And when he didn’t—when the four of them disappeared down the road with their horses, supplies, and her spike—her shoulders slumped.
“Shite.”
Cameron was breathing heavily when he arrived beside her, and she wondered how much of the battle she’d missed while she’d been searching for Simone.
“Are ye aright?” he snapped, his gaze tripping over her features, as if looking for any visible wounds.
“Aye,” she muttered, staring after the horses. “But I’ll no’ be able to replace my weapon until I reach the armory, and then they’ll want to ken why I left it in some whoreson’s back.”
His grunt sounded surprised. When she glanced at him, he was busy sliding his sword back into its scabbard.
Then he looked up and met her eyes. “When ye get around to telling me how ye ken so much about me, I’d also like to ken why ye and the Royal Armorer are on speaking terms.”
It was such a ridiculous statement—and so completely summed up her life—Rosa felt her lips curl upward. “A lady has to have her secrets, milord.”
At that, he burst out laughing. And despite the fact they were stranded now, and their journey would take them many more days, Rosa’s heart lifted at the sound of his joy.
* * *
The woman hadn’t said a damn word of complaint about the horses. Rosa had simply called Simone to her, explained they would be walking to Scone, then had headed for the road.
And now they were walking. To Scone. Clear on the other side of the kingdom.
She hadn’t even said a word blaming him for their current predicament, but she didn’t have to. He blamed himself well enough.
How could he be so stupid to have left the horses unattended?
There’d been a part of his brain—the part which had been a bandit leader for years—which had recognized the boulders as a good ambush spot as he’d led the horses there.
But had he listened?
Nay.
He’d been too intent on getting back to Rosa’s side. To bask in her smiles, her clever insights. Her scathing retorts.
God’s Teeth, he was even enamored of the woman’s insults!
And thanks to his randy cock—or mayhap his heart—he had left the horses there by the stream, where they had become easy pickings.
Ye should’ve kenned better, ye clot-heid.
Aye, he should’ve, and he vowed it wouldn’t happen again.
Unfortunately, as the afternoon wore on—walking!—he found himself distracted by her more than once. The way she tilted her head back to catch the sun while she pondered her way through a problem. The easy way she carried herself as they strode along the road.
He remembered the strength she’d displayed while she’d been stretching just moments before the horses had been stolen, and cursed himself.
Because it was harder to walk with a cockstand than he wanted to admit.
“I’m tired,” Simone whined, when the sun was low in the west.
Her complaint jerked him out of his self-blame, and he realized he hadn’t heard the lassie’s chatter for a while. The poor thing was plain worn out, judging from the slump of her shoulders and her dejected expression.
Rosa was also peering at her, but hadn’t slowed their pace. “I ken, Simone,” she said softly. “But Blair Atholl cannae be more than a few hours or so.”
“A few hours?” The little girl’s eyes filled with tears.
Cam moved up beside her. “I am a sorry uncle for no’ noticing how brave ye were being, lassie. Want to ride on my back?”
She needed no more urging, and when he stopped, she scrambled up atop his back, her bony legs wrapped around his waist, and his hands locked under her arse as a sort of seat.
As he began walking again, he met Rosa’s gaze. She was eyeing his shoulders, and although he saw the appreciative gleam there, he also saw exhaustion.
“Mayhap ‘twould be safer to no’ stay in town?” he offered gently. Not just safer, but less exhausting, if they didn’t have to press on another few hours.
Mayhap she saw the unspoken reasons in his eyes, because she sighed and nodded. “Aye. Mayhap ye are right.”
And when it came time to actually stop for the evening—long before Blair Atholl, but when it was too dark to walk any farther—they did little more than retreat to a thick copse of trees not far from the road.
They had no food, other than the bannock he carried in his pouch, so there was no need for a fire someone could see.
Simone curled up on her side, her head on his thigh, her uneaten cak
e clenched in her hand.
Rosa settled cross-legged next to her, just far enough away Cam couldn’t reach for her, and did something he hadn’t expected. Of course, when it came to this woman, he was coming to realize he should expect the unexpected.
From her scapular, she pulled out a book. There was just enough moonlight filtering through the pines to see what she held, but there couldn’t be enough light for her to actually read by.
Still, she opened the book, and her fingers began running lovingly over each page, as if reading by feel. When she reached a particular spot, she inhaled, and he wondered if she was smelling the page.
Did books have a scent?
But instead of reading it, she lowered the book into her lap, tilted her head back, and began to speak.
“Her body was slim, long-waisted, tall,
Her neck was whiter than fresh snow-fall.
Grey were her eyes, white her face,
Lovely her mouth, nose in the right place,
Brown eyebrows, forehead smooth and fair,
Bright blond, crisply curling hair—
The radiant light of pure gold thread
Fades by the brightness of her head.
Deep purple-red silk is her cloak,
Which she's draped in folds all around;
On her fist she bears a hawk,
And behind her runs a greyhound.
In the whole town, great men and small,
Old men and babies, one and all
Came running just to watch this show.”
It took him a few lines to realize she was quoting the book. She wasn’t reading it—she had it memorized. Of course, if the book was important enough to carry around inside her scapular, mayhap that explained why she had it memorized.
It was long after Simone had fallen asleep—and he’d saved her oat cake for her breakfast the following morning—when Rosa stopped speaking. Night had settled completely, and the silence spread out from their little group.
Finally, Cam spoke. “ ’Tis been many years since I’ve heard Lanval spoken so sweetly.”
He couldn’t see her surprise, but heard it when she said, “Ye recognize it? Nay, donae answer; ‘tis obvious ye do. I didnae expect—”
“A thief to ken literature? Why no’? Ars longa, vita brevis.”
There was no bitterness in his question. He knew who he was, but also what he liked.
“Nay, Cameron,” she said softly. “Ye are more than that.”
He didn’t know how to respond to her faith, so he didn’t. Instead, he moved Simone from his leg and stood. “We have a long walk tomorrow, unless ye’d object to riding stolen horses.”
Her reply took a moment. “I object to Simone kenning her uncle doesnae object to stealing horses.”
It was a convoluted answer, but thoughtful. And because he wasn’t surprised by it, Cam found himself chuckling as he made his way into the trees. She hadn’t exactly given him permission to steal animals for them, but she hadn’t said nay either.
“She makes one hell of a nun,” he muttered to himself, as he pissed against the last tree, hoping the scent of humans would be enough to keep predators at bay. Just to be certain, he would sleep with his sword by his side.
Because the day had proven the predators in the area were two-legged as well as four.
Of course, there was one less now. Rosa had thrown her weapon this afternoon, and her aim was dead-on with one of the bandits.
Cam found himself grinning wryly as he made his way back to the two females who had so completely consumed his attention, but his current thoughts remained locked on Rosa.
She was intriguing.
And alluring.
And damned arousing.
And dressed as a nun, laddie.
Still, that didn’t stop him from crouching down beside her as he returned to find her asleep with one arm around Simone. Neither of them had blankets, but she was sharing her voluminous habit with the lassie.
The least he could do was help.
Drawing his sword, he laid it on the ground. He intended to sleep back-to-back with Rosa tonight to protect them both, while still offering her some of his heat.
But in the middle of the night, he woke to find her in his arms, her small arse tucked snuggly up against his unruly member.
If he’d been a stronger man, a more noble man, he might’ve released her. Might’ve held tight to his principles.
As he pulled her snug against him, then reached around her to cup Simone’s shoulder, ensuring she was safe too, Cam felt himself smile.
‘Tis a good thing I’m no’ a noble man.
Chapter 7
Deus in caelo, but her feet hurt.
It wasn’t the first time she’d had to walk this far, nay, but it was the first time in these flimsy nun’s slippers. And come to think of it, the first time in a few years.
I’m no’ as young as I once was.
The thought that, at two-and-twenty, she could be considered old, made the corners of her lips tug upward.
“Well, ‘tis glad I am to see someone smiling.”
She glanced at her companion. Cameron was once again carrying Simone, but she obviously wasn’t so tired she couldn’t chatter on and point out every interesting sight. His words came during one of the lassie’s rare quiet moments, and Rosa completely forgot what she was going to say when she saw the twinkle in his gray eyes.
“Hmm?” was all she could manage.
That’s when he grinned, just a little one; just enough to make her draw in a breath and force her eyes away from his handsome mien.
“I said, ‘twas nice to see ye smiling, Rosa. Care to tell us what ye were thinking of?”
“Aye, Rosa! Tell us!” Simone chimed in.
Rosa wracked her brain for something to tell them and found salvation in a far-off sight. “I was merely noticing that small loch.” She pointed. “I thought ‘twould make a good resting place.”
When Simone squealed and demanded to be put down, insisting she had her strength back, Cameron complied. Then he fell into step behind Rosa as they watched the lassie run ahead.
“Ye’re sure ye want to stop?” he murmured.
With a sigh, she admitted the truth. “Ye might be braw, Cameron, but Simone and I cannae keep up the pace for long. I suspect I need a break as much as she does.”
“Cam,” he said suddenly.
She tilted her head his way, one brow raised, and he flushed—actually flushed—then looked away.
“I just meant, call me Cam. I havenae been Cameron for many years.”
“Ye were Cam when ye were with the Red Hand.” It wasn’t a question. She knew it to be true.
But he nodded. “I was. And I also learned no’ to push my men.” He raised a brow right back at her.
So she grinned. “I’m no’ yer man. But I’ll no’ argue either.”
“Will ye let me acquire some horses for us?”
Turning her attention back to the loch—where Simone was even now stripping out of her carefully arranged plaid—Rosa shrugged nonchalantly. “The more my feet hurt, the more I’m considering compromising my ethics. Or rather, deciding Simone’s ethical education isnae up to me.”
His laughter followed her to the water.
It was a while later that the two of them found themselves sitting beside the loch, a little bit away from where Simone was still frolicking happily in the clear water. Rosa had removed her shoes and was resting her feet in the water as she relaxed against a boulder, and Cam sat perched beside her, a hastily constructed fishing line and pole in hand.
“Ye think ye can catch us a meal?” she asked drowsily, dropping her head back against the rock, glad for the cushion of her wimple and veil.
“I ken it, aye.”
Her lips twitched at the arrogance of his claim. “Yer mother often speaks of yer prowess with a fishing pole.”
“My niece tells me Mother oft compares Simone to me when it comes to fishing.”
Rosa hummed. �
��Are ye watching her?”
She would, but it felt so nice to rest here with her eyes closed…
“Nae need,” he murmured. “She swims almost as well as one of these fish.”
And wouldn’t Mellie be interested to hear that, after the storm she and the lassie had battled a few weeks back?
To hear Mellie tell it, their wee rowboat had almost been lost on the loch which bordered An Torr, and the “poor, wee bairn would have drown from her inability to swim at all” had Mellie not been there to save the lass.
“How about ye, Rosa?”
She hummed again, in question this time.
“Do ye swim?” he clarified. “Did yer family teach ye?”
Family…
With a faint smile, she lifted her head from the rock and opened her eyes. “Nay,” she confessed. “My parents likely never learned themselves; they were far too interested in their studies. I learned from— I learned after I arrived at court.”
Courtney had been the one to teach her to swim on one of their very first missions together. The older woman had thrown Rosa in a pond and yelled instructions, until Rosa managed to keep from drowning.
The memory made her heart feel a little lighter.
They were interrupted when Cam pulled in his first fish, then rebaited the line with a bug he’d found—“Simone’s suggestion,” he told her—but once they were settled, he pushed for details.
“So yer parents are as studious as ye?”
“More so.” Just thinking of them made her heart ache to see them again. “I’m a Forbes. My father is our laird’s younger brother, and thankfully, my uncle is hale and hearty, because Da would make a terrible clan leader. He’s much happier in his library.”
Cam grunted, twitching the line this way and that. “And yer mother?”
She pulled her legs up, digging her toes into the wet sand at the edge of the water, and smiled slightly. “My mother is…remarkable. Her father was a wealthy merchant from North Africa, a place called Jazaʾir Banī Mazghanna. He met my grandmother on his travels and settled in Aberdeen near her father, who was Laird Hay. They still travel extensively, but his library was likely what attracted my father to my mother.”
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