"Ye have called Sir Payton handsome, gallant, sweet, honorable, brave, clever, and a mon all the lasses slobber o'er. Are ye telling me he is also monkish in his habits? That he hasnae used all these wondrous gifts to pull the lasses into his bed?” Cameron could see that his sarcasm enraged her, and he almost smiled. He would certainly be getting that argument he wanted now.
"He doesnae have to pull any lass into his bed,” Avery snapped. “Nay, he often has to kick them out."
If Sir Payton was not oozing vanity from every pore, it certainly was not because his sister kept him humble, Cameron thought wryly. “He fair trips o'er lasses tumbling at his feet, does he?"
Cameron's sarcasm made Avery ache to hit him. “Nearly so. Ye will see."
"All I wish to see of your brother is his back as he kneels afore a priest to wed my sister and restore the honor he has stolen from her."
"And I keep telling you that my brother would ne'er steal anything from a lass, has ne'er had to. And, if he had bedded your sister, he would ne'er deny it. Why, he e'en once faced a Douglas mon squarely and told him that he had bedded down with the mon's betrothed. Of course, Payton was warning the mon about the evil of the woman, and the Douglas mon didnae really want her because he thought she had already murdered three of his kinsmen—which she had, but that doesnae matter. The tale shows that my brother is a verra honest mon."
Not knowing the whole tale, Cameron felt it could also show that Payton Murray was a reckless fool. One just did not go about confessing to bedding the betrothed of a Douglas man. Douglas men didnae take such insults well. There was clearly a great deal more to the tale, but he would drag it out of her later. Right now he had work to do. He had to get her so furious with him that she would neither look at nor speak to him but would try to stay as far away from him as her captivity would allow.
"Does it? I think it shows that he doesnae have much care for the boundaries other men observe. If ye mean to make him sound the saint ye claim he is, telling me he bedded another mon's woman isnae the way to do it."
He had a point there, Avery mused, but she knew she would rather pull out all of her fingernails than tell him so. “I keep telling ye that Payton is no saint, but he does stay away from virgins. I doubt your kinsmen made it a secret that they were seeking a husband for your sister, and Payton always takes care to avoid such maidens."
"'Tis clear he has no wish for a wife."
Since Cameron was stripping down to his loincloth, Avery suddenly found it a little difficult to talk. She also found it very difficult to hide her appreciation of his lean, dark body. It was not easy, but she forced her suddenly wanton thoughts back to the matter at hand: Cameron's insults to Payton.
"Of course he wishes a wife—somewhen. He has no objection to marriage, unless ‘tis shoved down his throat and to a lass he doesnae want."
"If he didnae want my sister for a wife, he shouldnae have bedded her."
When he bound their wrists together and then sprawled on his back at her side, Avery fought the temptation to pummel him senseless. She kept telling herself it was good for him to have such faith in his sister, to want to aid and protect her. That faith was sadly misplaced, but she doubted she could get him to believe that.
For a moment she wondered why she even tried. He would not believe any wrong of his sister, just as she would not believe any wrong of Payton. Arguing with him about this problem was akin to banging her head against a stone wall, but she would continue to refute his accusations against her brother. If nothing else, she wanted her defense of Payton, all of her arguments in her brother's favor, to be planted firmly in Cameron's mind. She hoped to plant some doubt there, to raise a few questions in his mind, before they confronted his sister. It might help him finally see that the girl was lying.
"When was the last time ye saw your sister?” she abruptly asked.
Cameron frowned. “Just before I came here, o'er two years ago."
"Ah. Weel, I saw Payton but months ago."
"And?"
"It seems to me that I ken my brother, am closer to him, then ye ken your sister."
"No lass would claim such a loss of honor unless ‘tis true,” he snapped, angered by the fact that there was some good sense behind her claim. He could not honestly say that he knew his sister well at all.
Avery made a sharp, scornful noise. “She will if she thinks it will get her something she wants."
That was an opinion that matched his own far too closely to argue with. “And your sainted brother is such a wondrous prize, is he?"
"He is young, strong, too handsome for any lass's peace of mind, heir to some fine lands, and plump of purse."
Exactly what many a lass and her family would eagerly seek, he thought crossly. His plan was not working out as he had hoped. Avery had turned reasonable in her arguments and he was the one getting annoyed. Still troubled by guilt over the fact that he was not discarding his plans even though she had saved his and his people's lives, the very last thing he wished her to be was reasonable. That only stirred up his guilt to a highly uncomfortable level.
"Then he will make a fine husband for my sister even it he is a debauchee,” he drawled.
Avery cursed. “Thick-headed oaf."
"'Tis nay wise to insult your captor, lass."
"I dinnae suppose ye considered ending this game in gratitude for my saving your wee life."
"For a moment. Then I just decided to change my plan a wee bit instead. I willnae use whate'er happens between us to shame ye."
"Ye intended to blacken my name?” she asked, nearly breathless with outrage.
"I thought on it. Your brother has blackened my sister's name. But now I will keep this all verra private."
"I am humbled by your generosity."
Avery turned her back on him. She had not really thought too deeply on exactly how he intended to use her, beyond taking her chastity in exchange for his sister's and using her to bring Payton to heel. It hurt to learn he had thought to make her shame widely known, but she told herself not to be such a fool. He thought his sister had been shamed, and he might well have been told that her loss of innocence was no secret. Naturally he would feel that Payton ought to suffer the pain of a humiliated sister, too. For a brief moment, she was almost sorry he had changed his plan, for she would have liked to know if he would have been able to follow it through. She told herself not to be such an idiot. It was undoubtedly one of those things it was best not to know. Since he thought he was fighting to restore his sister's honor, it was a corner she had best never have to back him into.
There was one thing to consider, however. He was not going to use what might happen between them to hurt her family now, except, perhaps, in the most private of ways. It would now be a great deal easier to dull the sharp edge of that sword. Now, her telling her family that her innocence had not been stolen, but had been freely, if foolishly, given away, would be heeded. Now all she had to do was decide if she was willing to risk all to try and win Cameron's heart.
"Sleep weel, Avery,” Cameron murmured.
"Have nightmares, Cameron,” she grumbled, inwardly sighing when he just laughed.
She closed her eyes and reached out for sleep's calming touch. Her future was uncertain, but losing sleep over that would accomplish nothing. There was a hard decision to be made, and she wanted to be well rested, with her wits clear and sharp, when she made it.
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Chapter Seven
Her blood was on fire. The inferno raging inside of her was being stoked by warm lips and big, stroking hands. A shudder of fierce desire rippled through Avery, dragging her into full wakefulness. She clutched the man sprawled on top of her, gasping with delight as he wanned her breasts with his hands. Aching and hungry she rubbed her body against his and heard him groan.
That deep, hoarse sound of desire broke through the haze of passion clouding Avery's mind. Cameron was seducing her and she was avidly participating. Avery large part of her wished
to continue to participate, but she struggled to grasp at some strand of sanity. Allowing oneself to be mindlessly swept away by passion was not the way to make a decision that could all too easily leave her with a shattered heart. She grabbed Cameron by the wrists, feeling both pleased and frustrated when he immediately ceased caressing her.
"Ye are a sneaky, lecherous rogue, Cameron MacAlpin,” she said, her voice husky and unsteady as she struggled to rein in the passion still throbbing in her veins.
"Are ye telling me to stop?” he asked.
"Aye."
"Why? ‘Tis clear that ye want me.” He brushed his thumbs over the hard tips of her breasts and watched her tremble.
Avery felt his touch straight to the marrow of her bones “Arrogant oaf. Get off."
Cameron hesitated a moment, then cursed and rolled off her. He quickly undid the bonds tying their wrists together and got out of bed. He knew that if he did not put some distance between them, and quickly, his aching need could drive him to ignore her nay. Seducing her while she was still asleep was underhanded enough; he did not want to sink any lower to get what he craved. Cameron made note, however, of how swiftly and fiercely she had responded and how slow she had been to say that nay. It might be underhanded, but he knew he would try it again.
It did not help Avery to cool the heat in her blood to see Cameron standing so close and wearing so little. She breathed a hearty, if silent, sigh of relief when he began to get dressed. Subtly taking deep, slow breaths, she fought to calm herself, to rid herself of all signs that could tell him how badly she wanted him. The ache twisting her insides would undoubtedly take a lot longer to quell. When long minutes passed and he said nothing, mutely preparing to leave the tent, she frowned at him.
"Sulking, are ye?” she goaded him.
"Nay,” he replied, looking at her. “I am trying to get out ere I forget that I should heed a lass's nay and return to that bed."
She slowly sat up. The look in his dark eyes told her that remaining sprawled on her back was more invitation than she wished to give him at the moment. Seeing how he desired her was also more temptation than she had the will to resist right now. His plan to put some distance between them—quickly—was a very good one, but his arrogance demanded some response.
"That nay would still be said."
"Would it? Oh, aye, I suspicion your mouth could still form the word, but the rest of ye would be loudly crying aye. Just as it was but moments ago."
"'Twas naught but the mindless response of a body to a skilled touch. A response ye got only because I was asleep.” She realized that goading him was not a particularly wise thing to do when he suddenly strode over, yanked her into his arms, and gave her a kiss that curled her toes.
Cameron was breathing hard when he set her back on her feet. His only consolation was that she was, too. It had been foolish to let her goad him. He had just begun to get his lusts under control and now they were raging mindlessly again. Yet he did not want her passion to be born of no more than a skilled touch. He wanted it to be for him, the man, and for him alone. Vanity, he told himself. It was just vanity. That claim rang hollow, but he clung to it
"Ye want me, lass,” he said as he buckled on his sword.” ‘Twill nay be long now ere ye decide that denying yourself the pleasure we can share isnae worth the ache ye are left with."
Avery took a deep breath to reply, but he was already leaving. There was a brief moment of amusing confusion as he tangled with young Donald, who was just arriving to help him dress. Once Cameron was gone, Avery let out a long, slow sigh of relief. The man could certainly heat up a tent.
As Avery washed up and dressed in her old, muchmended gown, she tried to decide what her next step should be. She did not need Cameron arrogantly telling her that she wanted him, ached for him. It was a truth she had lived with since setting eyes on the rogue. She was also more than ready to surrender to that, to gamble that his desire was born of more than lust. As Elspeth had shown her, there were some men who needed to be given everything a woman had to give before any of those deeper, softer emotions were yanked free.
She would probably be memorable, Avery mused, if she left Cameron with the worst case of unfed lust any man had ever suffered. Unfortunately, that was a memory that could easily be banished by a rousing night or two in the arms of a skilled courtesan. She needed to fill his mind and body with sweeter, more heated memories. If he still sent her away, she wanted him to be unable to forget how fierce their passion had been, how good she had felt in his arms, even how she smelled and tasted. She wanted him so soaked in the memory of her that no other woman could fully banish her from his mind. If he was going to ache after she was gone, it would not be for what he had never had, but for what he had lost and could find nowhere else.
The only problem was in how to give Cameron what he wanted, yet not give him a complete victory. Seducing him for a change was one possibility. It would certainly shock and surprise Cameron if she became the aggressor instead of simply responding to, then retreating from, his advances. That alone made the plan an attractive one. It would also make it clear from the beginning that she was giving him what they both craved, willingly, freely; he was not taking or conquering anything. He would probably still think of it as winning, but she could not worry herself over the many vagaries in a man's mind.
Once outside, Avery saw Gillyanne with the women preparing a meal for themselves and the men, and she hurried over to join her. Soon she was caught up in a round of chores, including the nursing of the wounded men. She found it mildly amusing that three of the women, Joan, Marie, and Therese, all looked remarkably alike, being short, plump, brown-haired, and brown-eyed. Only Anne, the wife of Ranald, one of Cameron's oldest soldiers, stood out—and in more ways than one. Anne was tall, dark, buxom, outspoken, and just a little commanding. The other three women needed a firm hand, however, being sweet but obviously not chosen for their sharp wits. As she and Anne tended to a rapidly healing Peter, Avery heard the three other women arguing in a bewildering mixture of French, Gaelic, and heavily accented English over who made the best oatcakes. She looked across Peter and shared a grin with Anne, grins that widened when she heard Gillyanne trying to sort it all out and calm the women down.
"I wonder how they can understand each other,” Avery said, shaking her head.
Anne's steel grey eyes softened with amusement as she replied, “'Tis only when they get agitated that they sound like a flock of noisy geese. The French lasses are learning the English verra quickly. Wee Therese can e'en say a wee bit in the Gaelic. When ‘tis something they need to ken to survive or improve their lot, those two French lasses can show a surprisingly keen wit. They will make a firm place for themselves at Cairnmoor."
Seeing that Peter had fallen asleep, Avery studied Anne for a moment, then bluntly asked, “Do ye ken Cameron's sister?"
"Ah, nay weel, I fear. I am but the wife of a lowly mon-at-arms."
"Oh. Like that, is she?"
"I shouldnae speak ill of the laird's sister.” Anne sighed and shook her head, “Yet we owe ye and wee Gilly our verra lives. Since our laird doesnae seem inclined to reward that with your freedom, weel, mayhap ‘tis only fair that ye ken exactly what ye are to face at Cairnmoor.” She stood up and pulled Avery to her feet. “We will fetch ourselves some wine and sit in the shade, then have ourselves a wee talk."
Avery did not wait long once they were settled beneath a large tree to ask, “Is there something I need to ken about Cameron's sister? I cannae see how learning about her will change my situation much."
"It probably willnae change it much at all,” Anne agreed. “It may help to explain a few things, however, and ‘tis only right that ye ken something about the lass whose words have dragged ye into this trouble."
"Her lies."
Anne grimaced. “One cannae really go about calling her laird's own sister a liar. There are many among us, howbeit, who believe she may be, or, mistaken in her accusations.” She smiled faintly when Avery rol
led her eyes. “The lass has ne'er had a mother. The woman died verra soon after the lass was born. The old laird died whilst she was still a bairn. There is the aunt, but, if ye think those three squabbling women are light of wit, ye just must meet dear Aunt Agnes. A sweet, good-hearted woman, but she couldnae tell a lie or a deceit if it fell on her. Sir Iain, the laird's cousin, is a good mon, but he kens naught about raising a wee lass. Our laird did his best, but he was nay much more than a lad himself."
"So, Cameron was father and brother to the lass and nay doubt feels guilty, thinking that he didnae do either job verra weel."
"Nay doubt. Katherine is verra spoiled. She is a bonny lass, or was when we left. Barely sixteen and already had many a laddie playing the fool for her. When she wanted something, she got it. Her aunt and the laird didnae seem able to deny her anything."
"And now she wants my brother.” Avery frowned and took a sip of wine. “Being spoiled requires coin. I thought, weel, since Cameron has been selling his sword—"
"He was poor? Nay. He wished to leave Scotland for a while. Had a disappointment of the heart, ‘tis said. ‘Tis why he took a vow of celibacy."
Avery blinked in surprise then suddenly recalled something she had heard on the day of her capture. “Just when did he take this vow?"
"Near to three years ago. Far as I can tell, he has stood by it."
Dismay pushed its way through Avery's shock. Was that why Cameron desired her so much, simply because he had not bedded a woman for so long? Instinct told her no, but her confidence, weak as it was, was badly shaken. She started in surprise when Anne patted her hand.
"'Tisnae why our laird fair pants after ye, lass."
"Are ye sure?"
"Aye. He has stayed cold to all the lasses ere now, and some have chased him hard indeed. He took one look at you and all that fine willpower disappeared in a blinking. Oh, being a mon, he probably tells himself ‘tis naught but a long celibacy which makes him hunger so, but I doubt e'en he fully believes that. Nay, no matter what the fool lad tells himself, he lusts after ye simply because ye are ye. I dinnae think he will change his mind about trading ye for your brother, though, nay unless he discovers Katherine is lying ere the deed is done."
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