The Bedeviled Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series)

by Carmen Caine

  But first, he was done with Albany’s lewd behavior. Facing him, he fixed the man with a contemptuous eye and warned him in a dangerous tone, “Have a care, my lord. There are things that will never be yours.”

  With his dark brows drawn into a line, Albany retorted heatedly, “Have ye forgotten who I am? There is not a woman that walks that I cannot have, ye fool!”

  Cameron eyed him with rising anger. The man had changed, indeed. The Albany of old would never have uttered those words.

  “And why do I come upon this unseemly brawl?” Princess Anabella’s cold words snaked through the chamber before he could respond.

  They stepped back as she slowly entered the room, her cold eyes swept Albany first and then himself, from head to toe, before settling on Kate curtseying behind them.

  “Ach, the folly of youth!” Princess Anabella all but growled.

  “Your highness.” Kate’s voice trembled.

  “She came at my bidding, your highness,” Cameron stated coolly, moving to stand protectively at her side. She was so tiny. He tended to forget how truly delicate and small she was.

  “If ye are too weak to keep your vow for less than a day, Cameron, then I’ll lend ye my strength!” Princess Anabella’s eyes turned furious as her lips twisted in a thin line.

  But Cameron was scarcely listening to the woman. Ach, he had already led Kate down the path of fate. He would do better to hold her close, and protect her now with his entire soul. One look into her eyes, one touch of her skin would provide him with whatever strength he needed. For her, he would change the tides of fate himself.

  Slowly, he began to smile.

  There was an answering light in her eyes.

  “Nay, your highness. Mayhap I have found my strength at last,” he said in a strangely light tone, his gaze still locked with Kate’s. “I shall take steps to remedy this situation immediately.”

  Aye, he’d make Kate his for all to see. Julian was right. She would make a stunning countess.

  Princess Anabella’s eyes narrowed, but further conversation proved impossible as King James chose that moment to arrive. Clad in heavy royal robes trimmed with ermine, he stumbled into the chamber, tripping over the hem and promptly losing his footing.

  He would have fallen had not Cameron stepped forward to catch his arm.

  The king frowned, weaving unsteadily a moment, before lifting his eyes to meet Cameron’s in a sluggish response that revealed that he was quite drunk.

  “Your majesty.” Cameron bowed his head in respect.

  Attempting to focus his gaze, but with little success, King James finally slurred, “Well met the day, fair cousin!”

  Princess Anabella expelled her breath in disgust as Mar and Thomas arrived at the door, pausing to watch.

  But the king was not looking at them. Raising his hand, he waved it in greeting an inch from Cameron’s nose in an almost childlike gesture and with a friendly smile, hiccupped. “’Tis ever a pleasure to speak with ye, Cameron! I would that ye had been born my brother. Never have ye forgotten that there is but one anointed ruler in the land!”

  The wine on his breath was overwhelming, and his neglect to use the royal “we” indicated he was exceptionally drunk, hardly in a state to speak of such weighty matters as prophecies. Guiding him to the nearest chair, Cameron suggested, “Perhaps we should reconvene on the morrow, your majesty?”

  The king nodded gamely in agreement.

  “’Tis a bad omen!” Thomas intercepted quickly, anger clearly written upon his long face. “Aye, a bad omen if we must delay this a moment longer, your majesty! ‘Tis in the stars to gain clarity this night, and we must not lose the chance. The black arts canna be trifled with!”

  The king frowned, but then nodded in agreement, his head wobbling.

  “Ach, ye are but a puppet!” Albany exploded, watching his older brother in outright astonishment. Turning to Mar still standing at the door, he asked incredulously, “Can ye not see, Mar? He’s but a fool! Surely, ye can see it now?”

  Mar folded his arms, eyed both of his brothers grimly, and sighed. “I would we were once again wee lads hawking on the moors, when we knew only of loyalty and honor as kinsmen. I only came this night to ask ye both to join me at dawn, to hunt as we once did, and to reclaim what we’ve so clearly lost. Aye, and ye too, Cameron.”

  Albany impatiently rolled his eyes.

  “Mar!” The king began to weep, holding his hand out to his youngest brother. “I’ve never doubted ye, lad. Your heart has always been true!” Tears coursed unchecked down his cheeks. “Aye, I’ll ride! I’ll ride on the morrow with ye, ‘tis a good plan, lad.”

  “I fail to see why I must listen to this drunken dithering,” Princess Anabella snapped sourly. “If ye’ll excuse me—”

  “Forgive me, your highness!” Thomas stepped quickly to block her way and bowed low, almost sweeping the floor with his chin. “But the most esteemed astrologer William Hathaway of England has arrived to shed further light on Andrews’ prophecy. I pray ye would give him but a moment of your time.”

  William Hathaway was a short, wiry man dressed entirely in black. He stood hesitantly behind Mar, clutching a large leather-bound manuscript to his chest.

  Cameron raised his voice to challenge Thomas. “Is this truly the time? The king is in need of rest.” Thomas was clearly up to something unholy.

  “I’ll allow it,” Princess Anabella inserted brusquely. “But for a moment only. Be quick.”

  Albany growled in frustration.

  Gingerly, the astrologer entered the chamber, bowing profusely in all directions until Thomas impatiently grasped him by the arm and pulled him to the desk.

  “I’ll need parchment,” the astrologer whispered timidly as Thomas pushed him down onto the chair.

  As the man was settled, Cameron reached down and captured Kate’s hand in his, lightly tracing his thumb over her delicate fingers. Ach, but she was fashioned for pleasure. Already, his thoughts had taken a lusty turn when Princess Anabella’s harsh tone once again interrupted them.

  “Kate, return to my chambers immediately!” the princess ordered abruptly.

  As Kate moved to obey, Cameron laid a restraining hand upon her slender shoulders and murmured, “Aye, ‘tis not a vow I will keep, your highness, and ‘twas a foolish one to begin with. ‘Tis too late. I have already slapped the face of destiny and my only path now is to see it done.”

  “And what riddle is this?” The princess frowned, greatly displeased.

  Before he could reply, Thomas startled them all.

  “God’s Wounds!” the man swore, all but yanking the drawer from Albany’s desk.

  Albany looked over in annoyance. “Are ye blind as well, fool? Can ye not see the drawer filled to the brim with parchment? Be quick, I’ve had my fill of this madness!”

  The king gave a long, loud yawn and held out his hand to Mar. “I would hear the poet once more, the one from Pisa. His verse extolling my virtues is a work beyond comparison. Send for him at once, Mar! I would hear his dulcet tones sooth my tortured heart.”

  But Mar ignored his besotted brother. He still stood at the chamber’s entrance, arms folded and feet planted widely apart with his eyes riveted upon Thomas Cochrane.

  Thomas slapped the flat of his hand on the desk. His face clouded darkly and then he straightened. With deliberate slowness, he turned to Kate, understanding dawning in his eyes.

  Under his touch, Cameron felt Kate tense at once. Ach, but the lass began to tremble, though she gave little outward sign of it, and then he understood.

  Kate had taken whatever it was that Thomas was so clearly seeking desperately.

  There was no other reason for her to have been in the chamber.

  Slowly, Thomas approached to bow before her. “’Tis good to see ye standing by your earl where ye belong, lass,” he said with a thin, wavering laugh. “I hope to see ye remain there from this moment on.”

  It was clearly a veiled threat. “Aye, she will, Thomas
,” Cameron replied in a deadly, silken tone. “And those who seek to tear us apart will not live long to regret their folly.”

  “I’m finished with this!” Albany shouted, shoving the astrologer’s chair with his boot. “Be gone, ye minion, afore ye become overly familiar with Stirling’s dungeons!”

  “Come, Kate.” Cameron pulled her away, ignoring Princess Anabella’s objections and Albany’s jealous glares. No, he would take Kate away from Thomas and right quickly. The lass had clearly made a bitter enemy, and ‘twas she, now, who was in great danger.

  Bowing his farewell to the half-unconscious king, he slid his arm about Kate’s waist and guided her from the chamber.

  “Cameron!” she hissed as he pulled her down the corridor to his apartments. “I-I mean, my lord! There is a matter most urgent—”

  “Not now, Kate,” he murmured under his breath. “Wait but a moment, my sweeting.”

  Shortly thereafter, she stood in his chambers, but the moment they were alone in the dim light of the flickering fire, he could do nothing but look down upon her with acute longing. Aye, he knew she could see the desire burning in his eyes, but there was no need to hide his long-buried emotions now.

  Aye, they were already on the accursed path, but he found himself oddly freed to feel, filling with hope. He’d walk through the Fires of Hell itself to protect her. He’d break this curse once and for all. He could not lose her. He would not.

  With a guttural sound deep in his throat, he pulled her hard against his chest.

  Placing her hands on his chest, she looked up into his eyes, struggling to hide her distress. “’Tis said that ye’ll wed Lady Elsa—”

  “Never,” he interrupted, laying a finger upon her lips. “I’ll never have any other but ye, Kate. And I’ll never let ye go, I swear it.”

  She stirred in his arms. “But ye are an earl, not a thief!”

  “Kate, I am neither.” He laughed softly, tracing his finger along the line of her jaw. “Think of me as Cameron, a man who loves ye and never another.”

  She blinked, holding still under his touch, and then he could no longer restrain himself from capturing her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss.

  Her lips, soft and gentle, trembled against his at first, but then she wound her arms around his neck and fully kissed him back, making tiny sounds of intense pleasure. Gripping his hair with both of her hands, she moaned as his lips traveled down her neck in feather-light kisses, and flooded with the fires of passion, his hands slid over her bodice when his fingers unexpectedly brushed against parchment.

  Frowning, he tore his lips from hers and glanced down, breathing hard.

  With her face flushed, Kate fumbled with her bodice a moment to draw out two letters. “I overheard Thomas ordering Maura to put these in Albany’s desk. He swore the prince and ye would be undone when they were found, and—”

  Half tempted to fling the letters into the fire so he that he might return to the delightful pleasures of her skin, Cameron graced them with only a cursory glance. He had almost tossed them over his shoulder when the belated realization struck him that the wax seal was strikingly similar to that of Edward IV, the king of England.

  He froze.

  All lustful thoughts disappeared in an instant.

  Holding the letters up against the dim, red firelight for a better view, his eyes locked on the wax seal.

  There was no doubt.

  Both letters, one addressed to Albany and the other to himself, bore King Edward IV’s signature red wax seal.

  He stared at them, stunned, as the enormity of the risk she had taken slowly sank in.

  “Kate!” He choked. “Swear to me that ye’ll never place yourself in such danger again! If ye had been caught—” He shuddered, unable to let himself dwell on it further.

  “But if the letters had been found, then ye would have suffered!” She shook her head fiercely, her dark eyes flaring passionately. “I canna bear it if something were to happen to ye, Cameron!”

  Pulling her after him to the chairs before the fire, he took a deep breath and broke the seal on the letter addressed to himself.

  Edward IV, by the grace of God King of England and Defender of the Faith, to the most Illustrious Cameron Stewart, Earl of Lennox, greetings.

  We are in receipt of your great proof of friendship and loyalty as demonstrated by your promise of men and arms for your support in the matter of delivering the throne of Scotland to its rightful Sovereign, Alexander Stewart, Duke of Albany.

  We will rely on the armed men to be sent to at the time and place we specify and for this we also entreat you, with your cousin Alexander Stewart, by the nearness of blood which is between you, to proceed with moderation until the appointed time.

  We shall not fail in our endeavor to free Scotland from the perfidious reign of James III and when that time of victory has come upon us we will grant you titles and lands in Wales and also Kent as confirmed by the affixing of our seal.

  Dated by the hand of Edward IV at London, 4th of May in the 18th year of our reign

  “Sweet Mary!” Cameron swore, staring at the missive with horror.

  What unholy plan had Thomas concocted? It was far more serious than he had thought if he had resorted to forging such letters.

  Aye, there was no doubt that the wee lass had saved his life.

  Clearly, Thomas had wanted these letters found this night and if they had been, with the king’s current suspicious state of mind, cousin or no, Cameron could well have lost his head on the spot.

  With a sense of dread, he kicked life into the dying fire and kneeling close for a better view, tore open the letter addressed to Albany.

  Edward IV, by the grace of God King of England and Defender of the Faith, to the most Serene and Mighty Alexander Stewart, Duke of Albany, soon by the grace of God King of Scotland, greetings.

  We do not doubt that the recent tidings of your slaughters and plundering expeditions of late in the Borders are subject of rumor only. Such dark suspicions will not stand in the way of the alliance between us to place you upon your rightful throne.

  Have patience in our good judgment that we will heed your demands to claim your right to be solemnly crowned King of Scotland but at a time most opportune to insure victory. The continued ambition of those in James’ court have plunged Scotland into a treacherous state, full of private war and feudal disorder that is most advantageous to our cause at this time and we will begin this endeavor soon to the lasting prospect of peace between our kingdoms when you take the throne that is your right.

  May your Lord Julian Gray feel that he has offended not only us, but also you, by daring to impede our messengers whom we sent to you in the month past. Fortunately, the missive was destroyed before he could lay eyes upon it, but heed our counsel that the frequent interchange of messengers must need halt for a time, or your esteemed venture will be cast into great peril should the discovery of it reach the ears of your brother.

  Dated by the hand of Edward IV at London, 4th of May in the 18th year of our reign

  Cameron read the letter twice, knowing in his heart that this one was no forgery. It held the ring of truth. Lifting his voice, he called for his man, Sir Arval.

  The grizzled Frenchman appeared at once.

  “Bid Lord Gray come without delay!” Cameron ordered grimly.

  The man bowed and left but not before sending Kate a warm smile.

  She sat opposite him, perched on the edge of her chair, a worried expression upon her face. “What is it?” she asked in a fearful tone. “Are ye safe?”

  Moving to kneel before her, he gently placed the letters on her lap and took her hands in his. “I owe ye my life, Kate,” he whispered, kissing her fingertips. “Read them and ye’ll see. I’ll hide naught from ye again.”

  An expression of bashful humor entered her eyes. “Ach, Cameron, ye should know I canna read! Not many can, ye lout!”

  It wasn’t until she called him a lout that he became aware just exactly how much he
had ached for her to do so. With his lips curving into a smile, he replied, “Then ‘tis time ye learned, my sweeting.” Aye, as his countess, she would find it a necessary skill.

  She eyed him skeptically, but patiently allowed him to point to the words and read aloud but as the meaning became clear, she gasped, “Ach, Cameron! Ye must run! ‘Tis too dangerous for ye here!”

  He suppressed a sigh. If only he could run, he would. “I cannot do that, Kate. I must stay and see this through, for the sake of Scotland.” Aye, ‘twas his duty.

  Sliding from the chair to his side before the fire, she cupped his cheek in her hand. “I always thought the nobles only collected coin to spend their days reveling in luxury without a care in the world,” she confessed.

  He gave a little laugh. “Most do, my sweeting.”

  She was so close, and the sweet smell of her skin made his blood boil. His feelings for the lass only intensified each day. With a tender look, he pulled her closer and let his lips brush the top of her head in a soft caress before dropping his lips to kiss her cheek gently.

  Her expression was serious, and he was ready to ask the cause of her concern when she suddenly hugged him and buried her face against his shoulder.

  “Do ye think of … bairns, Cameron?” Her voice sounded muffled against his chest, and she began to pluck the cloth of his shirt almost nervously.

  He frowned at the unexpected question, but answered truthfully, “I’ve thought little of the wee lassies in my keeping, but I have seen them well cared for. I swear they are the king’s, Kate, and not mine! I would never deceive ye.” He titled her chin up with his finger.

  With her brows drawn in a line, she appeared worried, and he wondered if she thought him a liar. He sighed. Ach, he should not have let the misunderstanding that he was a thief continue for so long. “I swear ye can trust me, Kate. I’ll never hide anything from ye for the rest of our lives, I swear it.”