Camdyn gave a small nod. “Then I’ll leave it in yer hands, sir, and pray that Scotland has seen the last of bloodshed with the English.”
“This shall hopefully be beneficial for all of us, Mr. McKay, and I thank you for coming here tonight.” Hawley stood, and urged Camdyn to stand with him. “There is nothing like a show of unity to put salve upon the scars of a splintered country. I hope your sentiments this night shall be that salve, so we can both live well with the ladies we love.”
Camdyn managed a smile. “Aye.”
I hope the Jacobites will not hate me for speakin’ on their behalf. But I cannae put Victoria’s life in peril nay more, and I cannae run nay more. I’m done with death.
“Did you say that Lady Desiglow was still in need of aid?” Hawley asked as he ushered Camdyn toward the door. “I can send some of my men to help, for I would hate to see a fine English lady in danger.”
Camdyn winced as his shoulder jarred. “Aye, ye could send ‘em to get rid of the mercenaries, and maybe punish ‘em a bit, too. I ken they were hired by Spencer, but they still broke down the gates of an Englishwoman, and trespassed on her property.”
“I will see it done.” Hawley walked Camdyn to the front door and as the latter stepped out into the cold night air, the former called out. “I look forward to the King’s reply, and will let you know of the contents as soon as word is received.”
Aye… though it’ll nae affect ye as much as me, if he refuses.
After countless years of fighting in a war that was likely doomed from the start, his military career had finally come to an end. Not with a battle cry on his lips and a broadsword in hand, but in a quiet, companionable negotiation with his enemy. Perhaps, Victoria had a point about talking instead of fighting.
Thinking of her, his heart swelled, and he knew that she was worth swallowing his pride for this impromptu visit to Hawley. He had not been able to renounce his loyalty to the Jacobite cause, that was true, but in the end it had not mattered. After all, it served the enemy to be benevolent to those they had thwarted, as a sign that they were the more civilized party. And Camdyn did not mind allowing them to believe that, even if he did not.
“I’m comin’ home to ye, lass, and I’m never leavin’ yer side again.” He allowed himself a smile. “See, I told ye they’d nae hang me. At last, with some luck, we’re goin’ to have peace, and I’m already seein’ a loch with our names on it.”
For that hope of happiness, he would sit and speak with a thousand enemies, until he was blue in the face.
Chapter 30
Perspiring furiously, and now alone in her study after dismissing the four men who had helped Genevieve, Victoria finished sewing up the hole in her friend’s chest. She had managed to stem the blood flow by cauterizing the wound, and there was nothing more she could do once the wound was closed, other than feed Genevieve a spoonful of medicinal tonic every few hours and hope for the best.
“You will not leave me, will you?” Victoria whispered, as she cut the thread of last stitch.
Genevieve groaned in her fevered stupor.
“I cannot continue without you, Genevieve. I would not know where to begin.” Victoria set down her tools and clutched Genevieve’s hand. “You have been with me for most of my life. I cannot have a life if you are not in it. It would be much too strange and awful.”
Genevieve’s eyes flickered behind her lids, but she did not speak. She could not. Not yet. After losing so much blood, the older woman was dangerously weak.
“Hold onto life, my friend. I know I have not always been obedient or easy to contend with, but… I love you, Genevieve.” Victoria brushed away a tear that broke away from her eye. “You have been more of a mother to me than the woman who brought me into this world. Please… stay.”
Victoria hunched over Genevieve’s body, and unleashed all of the misery, and anxiety, and terror that she had been holding onto since William first came to this house. Guttural sobs pierced the otherwise still air, shaking her shoulders and wrenching at her chest, until she thought her lungs might burst.
Lord, please save her life. I have done all I can in the physical sense, but you are the only one who can decide if she may stay beside me. I beg of you, do not take her.
“How is she?” Camdyn’s voice drifted toward her, as though in a dream.
Victoria did not dare to turn around, or even sit up, lest she found that her overwrought imagination had gotten the better of her. None of this night seemed real. The townspeople had already dispersed, aside from Murdock’s group, who continued to stand guard over the mercenaries. But, inside the house, it was as though nothing had happened. Well, aside from Genevieve’s state.
“Lass?” She flinched as she felt arms wrap around her, urging her to her feet.
Finally, she turned around, and there he was, holding her. “Where did you go?” she murmured, halfheartedly pounding a fist against his chest. “Murdock could not find you. I was out of my mind with worry!”
“I’m sorry, lass.” He caught her hand in his and stilled it. “There were somethin’ I had to do first, so ye’d not fret anymore.”
Victoria’s bottom lip wobbled. “What did you have to do?”
“I went to someone who could help us, and I told him to ask the King for peace. He’s sent word to the King for a pardon, so we’ll hopefully nae be chased nay more.” He smiled, his eyes shining. “We can be free, lass. As soon as the pardon comes, we can go wherever ye please. I asked him to make a request for yer title and all that to be given back to ye, an’ all, after what Spencer did.”
“No!” she gasped. “Why would you do that without saying a word? You could have been killed, or arrested, or tortured, and I would not have known!”
Camdyn lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Ye’d have tried to stop me if I’d warned ye beforehand, but I decided it were the only way to stop all this, and I dinnae regret it.” He kissed her palm again. “Do ye ken what happens to soldiers that dinnae ken when they’ve been beat?”
“No, I do not,” she replied tentatively.
“They forget to live, and I am nae goin’ to give up me chance to live with ye, for the sake of a war that’s already been won,” he told her. “Otherwise, I might as well have died on Culloden.”
Victoria leaned forward and nuzzled into his neck. “But what of your countrymen, and the soldiers you fought beside? What if they do not feel as you do?”
“I think they’ll be secretly glad it’s all over, though they’ll whine about it for a while. See, our leader showed he were a coward when he fled and left Scotland, and Scots dinnae follow a coward. Our cause is finished, even if we still carry the spirit of it with us.” He stroked her hair, and dipped his head low to plant a kiss upon her shoulder.
Victoria inhaled the musky scent of him. “But what if the King refuses?”
“He will nae be able to,” Camdyn replied. “He wants his territories united, so he’ll nae risk denyin’ the request and sparkin’ anger among the Scots. He probably kens that’s a sure way to start another uprisin’ and that is nae what anyone wants.”
Victoria pulled away slightly. “Are you certain about this, my love?”
“I had two choices, lass—run away and leave ye, or do this and stay with ye. So, in the end, there were only the one choice.” He smiled wider and tilted his head downward so he could catch her mouth in his.
She had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be kissed by him. His touch, his love, his very presence could cure so much, and chase away so many fears. Melting into his embrace, she let all the hardships of the night slough away, and let her mind empty of everything but him.
Her lips pressed against his with a fervent desperation, her hands pulling at his neck so she could have more of him. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, sliding against the warmth of his in a familiar, passionate dance.
“Ah!” he hissed through his teeth, his face contorting in a grimace.
Victoria jolted back. “What is the
matter, my love? Did I hurt you?”
He smiled through his visible pain. “It is nae ye, lass. It’s me shoulder. That’ll happen when a shot tears right through ye.”
“My goodness, I had almost forgotten!” She slapped her hand against her forehead. “You are injured, too. Come, sit over here and let me tend to you.”
She would not hear his protestations as she pushed him forcefully toward the armchair in the corner, where he had always sat and watched her at her work, her constant guardian.
“Och, I wish men would fight with sword and shield instead of them pistols,” he muttered, leaning back in the armchair. “Brutal things, they are.”
She stared at the exposed line of his throat, leading down to the open collar of his shirt, and the broad, muscled chest beneath. A sheen of sweat glistened, making his tanned skin all the more enticing. But there was no time for such inappropriate thoughts, at present. They could return when he was mended.
Leaving him in the chair, she went to retrieve her medicines and her tools. Coming back to his side, she knelt between his widespread thighs, and reached forward to grasp his shirt.
“Arms as high as you can manage,” she instructed, with a half-smile. Undressing this man had become one of her favorite pastimes, though usually under more pleasant circumstances.
Camdyn did as he was told. “Are ye sure this is nae torture, lass?” He clenched his jaw as he raised his injured arm. “It feels like it.”
“Healing you is going to hurt a lot more, my love. I apologize profusely, though I shall try to be as gentle as I can.” She lifted his shirt up over his head, feeling a stab of guilt as the fabric got stuck to the wound and had to be yanked away. After all, he had been shot because of her.
Casting the shirt aside, she braced one hand against his thigh as she tilted forward to clean the wound. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grinning, for when she was in this position, it usually ended much more pleasantly for him, too.
“You may stop smiling at me like that, my love. There shall be no endeavors of that ilk until you are fully recovered,” she chided playfully. “And certainly not with Genevieve in the room.”
Camdyn laughed softly. “Ye never ken, it might wake her up.”
“I would do anything if she would just open her eyes again.” Victoria sank back on her haunches, all of her humor gone. Camdyn was young and strong and in the peak of good health, but Genevieve was older, and frailer, and heading into the winter of her life.
Camdyn bent forward and cupped Victoria’s face. “There’s nay way that Death would be brave enough to take Genevieve from ye, lass. She’ll make it through, I ken she will, even if she has to slap away all the reapers what come for her.”
“I hope so, Camdyn.”
Taking her cloth, she continued with her work, cleaning out the wound and using her pincers to make sure no speck of the ball remained. With that done, she brought over a candle and heated a rod of metal with a flat sort of stamp at the end, until it glowed orange.
“This is going to be painful, my love,” she warned.
He nodded. “It is nae me first burnin’, lass. I swear I’ll nae cry out, so long as ye kiss it better afterward.”
“I promise.” Smoothing her hands up his chest and tautening the skin around the injury, she pressed the glowing stamp to the hole and grimaced as it singed. Camdyn clenched his fist and squeezed his eyes shut as the hot metal seared the hole closed, the air filling with the unsettling scent of roasting flesh.
With that done, she put the metal stamp back into the flame. “I need to sear the one upon your back, and then we will be done.”
“I’m goin’ to need more than a kiss for that,” he replied, his eyes watering.
She smiled. “When you are well enough, you may have whatever you please to forget this terrible memory.”
“I can think of a few things.” He twisted in the chair so she could gain access to the back of his shoulder, and gripped the armrest as she pushed the stamp against the smaller entry wound. The leather squeaked as his nails dug into it, but before he knew it, it was over.
“I shall have to clean both of those every day,” she told him, as she readied bandages to strap across him.
He grinned. “Then, I’ll have to think of ways ye can comfort me, for each bit of pain.”
“I have a few thoughts in that regard, myself.” She smiled back at him as she leaned into his body and began to wrap the bandages around him. He rested his head on her shoulder as she brought the bandages behind his back, and she could not resist turning her head to kiss his temple. But he was quicker. Her lips were about to touch his skin, when his head whipped around, and his mouth found hers.
Still trying to get the bandages in place as he distracted her with his kiss, she chuckled against his mouth. “Desist, my love, or I shall never get this done!”
“Aye, I’ll behave.” He kissed her once more, and returned to resting his forehead against her shoulder.
Soon enough, he was bandaged up and ready to take his rest, so he could restore his diminished reserves. Indeed, as she came back to the armchair, after gathering up her things and putting them back in the crate, she found that he had already fallen asleep.
“Dream of splendid things,” she whispered, stooping to kiss his brow.
“M-M’Lady…” a hushed rasp susurrated through the study, making Victoria whip around.
Racing back across the room to the chaise-lounge, she knelt down at Genevieve’s side, and clutched the older woman’s hand tightly. “Genevieve, can you hear me? How do you feel? Have you been slapping Death in the face?”
Genevieve’s eyes flickered open. “No, but I… shall slap… Mr. McKay if I hear… him say… lewd things to you… again.”
“You were awake?” Victoria gasped, not knowing whether to be relieved or mortified.
“I have… decided to pretend… it was part of… a bad dream,” Genevieve wheezed in reply. “Don’t… correct me.”
Victoria squeezed Genevieve’s hand. “You had me so very worried, Genevieve. I thought you would die.”
“There’s… time for that… yet, but I don’t… plan on… leaving this world… until I… decide to.” Genevieve mustered the faintest chuckle. “Tell me… you… killed that Spencer… devil?”
Victoria nodded. “Camdyn killed him, and all is going to be well, so you had best continue fighting off Death.” She told her friend what Camdyn had told her, about requesting peace and a general pardon from the King. “That means we will be safe again, Genevieve.”
“Glad the… boy finally… found some decency,” she replied. “If he’d done… that in the first… place, he might’ve saved us… a lot of trouble.”
“You are fond of him, do not try to lie,” Victoria teased, hearing the subtle gladness in her friend’s tone.
Genevieve cracked a smile. “He has grown… on me.”
“He has a way of doing that.” Victoria smiled wide as she brushed the sweat-dampened strands of hair out of Genevieve’s face.
It was only as she was observing some renewed color in Genevieve’s cheeks that she realized there was more light in the room than there had been before. Puzzled, she turned her gaze toward the window, and saw the dawn spreading across the sky, shooing away the night and welcoming the day.
Dawn is rising, and I have not lost either of the people I love most in this world.
A silent, grateful tear rolled down her cheek, for if that was not divine intervention, then she did not know what was. And, as she watched the light brighten and the sun creep up from the horizon, it did not just feel like the beginning of a new day, but the beginning of a whole new life.
Epilogue
Victoria sat upon a stone bench, overlooking the sunset-bronzed waters of the loch. Behind her, across an expanse of silken lawns, stood Castle McLean—a beautiful, modest-sized structure with four neat turrets, and built of that same gray stone that reminded her of Desiglow Manor.
She could he
ar the jaunty tune of fiddles and bodhráns, lilting away from the castle and out over the glorious countryside she now called home. Her heart gladdened at the sound, for she knew the people within the dining hall were having a raucous time, in celebration of her nuptials.
“Everyone’ll think me bride’s run off without me, after a few hours of bein’ wed.” Camdyn’s voice made her turn, her joy blooming in her breast as she set eyes upon her husband.
She raised the cup of spiced mead that she had brought out with her. “I was having my own, private celebration. It was much too hot in there, and I thought it best to appreciate this wondrously fresh air.”
Highlander's Fallen Angel : A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 26