by Carmen Caine
Now, he must ready for the hunt, but ‘twas now a hunt in more ways than one.
He would see Scotland on solid footing, and to accomplish that, the influence of one Thomas Cochrane must disappear from court. ‘Twould take some doing and likely longer than he wished, but he would see it done.
Splashing water on his face, he eyed the bed with a twinge of longing.
The night with Kate already seemed years in the past.
How long would it be before he held her close to his heart once again?
Donning his leather hunting shirt, he set about preparing for a day of sport in the wilds when his eye fell upon a rosewood box upon the table.
Ach, Albany’s letter.
He’d placed it there last night, before he had become distracted by the pleasures of Kate.
Slowly holding the parchment up to the light, he made a grim decision, and by the time he had arrived outside Albany’s private apartments, he found himself filled with a deep, abiding wrath.
Kicking the door back, he strode past Albany’s men and into the prince’s private bedchamber.
He’d not allow Albany’s hunger for power leave Scotland wide open for England to attack.
Albany glanced up from lacing his leather breeches. His face flooded with alarm. “What happened, Cameron?”
Cameron silently thrust the letter into his hand.
Albany’s eyes fixed on the red wax seal. He went pale, and his hand began to shake. “Are ye accusing me of treason?” He didn’t wait for a response. Striding to the fire, the prince threw the unread letter into the flames.
“That missive was planted in your chambers to be found by the king. If I were accusing ye, I wouldna have just let ye burn it,” Cameron said in a cutting tone, observing the man closely.
Albany snorted. Regaining his color, he pompously swaggered to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. “’Tis clearly the work of the Humes and Hepburns. The Borderlanders seek my head for their own gain. I will deal with them swiftly!”
“No.” Cameron’s lips crooked in a scathing smile. “I’ll not allow it.”
Ach, where was the honorable Albany of old? Did no shred of him exist anymore?
“No?” Albany paused, tilting his head to one side. His nostrils flared a little.
“We both know ye’ve been conspiring with Edward,” Cameron responded in a tone of authority. “Ach, but ye’ve been a short-sighted fool! By abusing your position as Warden of the Marches, ye lost all chances ye might have had for the throne. Half of the country would rise against ye now. Ye’ll never gain the support that ye need.”
“So, ye are accusing me of treason?” Albany angrily growled the question.
With deliberate slowness, Cameron walked to the man, stopping a mere inch from his face. “I’m here to warn ye, Albany,” he said in a low, threatening tone. “I’ll not allow ye, or the Borderlanders, to deliver us to England. Swear to me now that ye’ll halt this nonsense.”
Albany blinked a little, and then licked his lips. “Ach, but ye’ve misunderstood—”
“Swear it,” Cameron repeated evenly.
‘Twas far more effective than if he had shouted.
Albany paled once again, but nodded in a jerking manner. “Aye.”
“Ach!” Cameron gave a sound of disgust. “How can ye think only of your own gain? Plundering the Borderlands ye swore to protect?”
“The Humes have poisoned your mind!” Albany protested through white lips. “They have given false accounts in order to remove me and gain power, Cameron!”
“’Tis likely so,” Cameron granted, clenching his jaw. “Just as ‘tis true ye did plunder for your own gain whilst planning to wrest the throne from James. Neither ye nor the Borderlanders are innocent! I’m not a fool, Albany!”
Albany swallowed, all but confirming it.
“But it ends now.” Cameron took the goblet from Albany’s hand and poured the contents upon the floor. “And God help ye if ye break this vow, Albany, for ‘tis your blood that will spill the next time, and not wine. I’ll not allow ye to destroy Scotland.”
He spun on his heel then, leaving Albany standing there, pale and shaken.
By the time Cameron entered the courtyard, it was filled with lords bearing falcons on their arms and ladies astride fine horses with hounds at their sides. Albany was there, sitting on his silver charger, appearing subdued, as Mar impatiently trotted his horse up and down before Stirling’s great gates, plucking the string of his bow and searching the gathering crowd for signs of the missing king.
Sitting in the warm sun on the back of his favorite chestnut charger, Cameron took note of the gathered lords while mulling over the best strategies he might employ to rid the court of Thomas Cochrane and unite the bickering nobles.
His gaze fell upon the Borderlander, Lord Hume, sitting silent and sour near Albany.
The man would be his first target.
At that moment, Thomas appeared. Riding alone upon the king’s favored mare, the long-faced man was proudly clad in a fine velvet mantle and boots adorned with silver braid. Over his shoulder, he had slung a gold-inlaid hunting horn encrusted with precious stones.
Cameron suppressed a derisive snort. The horn was clearly a gift from Thomas’ supporters. The man could scarcely afford such an expensive trinket for himself.
Raising his hand, Thomas announced, “The king desires to confer with his astrologers on troubling matters this fine morning and will not join us, but he bids ye a good hunt and sends me in his stead!”
Mumbles of displeasure greeted this statement.
Angrily, Mar spurred his horse through the gates as Albany maneuvered his horse alongside Thomas, and then snatching the horn from the man’s shoulders, sounded the call for the hunt to begin. As the hounds’ ears pricked up and the riders sprang forward, Albany carelessly tossed the gaudy thing into Thomas’ lap and spurred his horse through the gates.
A murderous expression flickered over Thomas’ face, and then as if sensing eyes upon him, the man suddenly glanced Cameron’s way.
Thomas froze.
Aye, the man was clearly concerned over the letters.
With a small smile upon his lips, Cameron urged his charger forward, following the hunting party filing from the gates into the narrow streets of Stirling Town. All the while, he was keenly aware of Thomas’ burning gaze observing his every move.
Aye, he’d have the man watch him. ‘Twould keep him busy from causing other trouble.
Clattering over the bridge to the River Forth with its banks already lined with fisherman, the hunting party galloped into the surrounding woodlands.
For a brief moment, Cameron closed his eyes, recalling his last venture into the woodlands searching for herbs with Kate. A wave of longing rippled through him.
It was tempting to stay there, thinking of her soft skin while listening to the calls of the birds amongst the dew-glistened leaves as shafts of sunlight fell through the trees to the forest floor, leaving a leafy pattern of lacework shadows on the path.
But he roused himself with reluctance, suppressing a sigh.
There were matters of court to attend to before he’d hold Kate once again.
Expelling a breath, he joined the other riders who were forming into smaller groups, only to find his way suddenly blocked by Thomas Cochrane.
“Well met the day, my lord.” The man gave a flowery bow.
Cameron remained silent.
The man flushed, but there was a smirk on his face. “Why do I not see the fair Kate by your side, my lord?”
“I’ve not the time nor liking to bandy words with ye, Thomas,” Cameron replied in an aloof manner, drumming his fingers lightly upon his heavy leather saddle. “Tread carefully, for your days are numbered.”
The man laughed. It was a braying, high-pitched sound. “Ach, but I hold the king’s heart in my hand, my lord. I am untouchable!”
“Are ye now?” Cameron raised a brow at the man’s arrogance. Leaning forw
ard over the neck of his horse, he graced the man with a cynical smile. “Shall we see how long it takes to lose your supporters, ye fool?”
Thomas frowned.
Wheeling his horse around, Cameron cantered to Lord Hume’s side, calling out, “Well met the day, Lord Hume.”
The withered man drew rein, glancing over his back to eye him suspiciously, but replied readily enough, “Well met the day, my lord.”
Ignoring Thomas who was trotting to join them, Cameron immediately brought himself to the matter at hand. “Recent tidings concerning Albany’s role in the Borderlands cause me grave concern, Lord Hume. A concern I know ye share.”
The man’s craggy face tensed ever so slightly, and his gray eyes sharpened. “And the tidings ye speak of, my lord?”
Cameron settled back comfortably in his saddle and replied in a scathing tone, “Letters concerning his office as Warden of the Marches and the plundering of the Borderlands. Whilst crimes must surely be brought to justice, ‘twould be a fearful mistake to use such matters for personal gain, do ye not think?”
Thomas turned white, and Lord Hume started as if bitten.
Their guilty faces confirmed that they both sought to benefit from Albany’s foolish treachery. ‘Twas disheartening. Did no one think of Scotland as a whole?
“Aye, my lord.” Lord Hume began to stroke his chin. “A fearful mistake, indeed.”
“I’ll not stand by and see Scotland torn asunder by greed and treachery.” Cameron’s dark eyes swept him from head to toe with contempt. “I would have your word that the Borderlanders have no more dealings in such affairs, Lord Hume, and that ye stand with me as a brother to unite this land for the safety of us all.”
“The Borderlanders have no such dealings,” the man assured with feigned surprise that only made him look guiltier. His was silent a moment and then his expression turned genuine. “And I give ye my word of honor, my lord, the Borderlanders will stand with ye to keep Scotland safe.”
“’Tis well, then.” Cameron nodded once.
Pressing his lips in a thin line, Lord Hume maneuvered his horse to leave. “Good fortune on the hunt, my lord,” he murmured in a subdued tone.
Thomas stretched out his hand, grasping at the man’s sleeve, but with a sound of disgust, Lord Hume slapped him away and galloped off.
“My lord!” Thomas called after him indignantly. Then, with his face turning livid with anger, he whirled to face Cameron.
Cameron’s lip lifted in a scornful smile. “As I said, soon ye’ll be left without an eye to watch your back, Thomas.”
“Your noble house shall come to ruin!” Thomas seethed.
“Have a care, ye mason. The king will not shelter ye much longer,” Cameron warned in a biting tone before spurring his horse to gallop away.
Cameron spent the next few hours following the winding river through the rippling green grass of the tranquil glens in the company of many lords, strengthening ties and garnering vows of support, all the while keenly aware of Thomas tracing his every move.
But as the afternoon waned, the sudden barking of the scent hounds drew the hunters deeper into the woodlands, and he suddenly found himself alone with a private moment of peace.
Kate would have reached Craigmillar by now.
He closed his eyes, thinking of her sparkling brown eyes and passionate kisses.
Aye, he’d not survive long without her.
But first, he must see stability restored. Only then would he feel safe to keep her at his side.
Stretching in the saddle, he allowed himself to expel a long, deep breath of exasperation.
Ach, but the king had allowed far too much bickering and feuding to occur between the nobles. If England were to engage in war with them now, he was fair certain the nobles of Scotland could not work together long enough to raise an army to defend their own country. They were far more fractured than he had realized. He should have paid more attention himself. How had the country fallen into such a state?
His charger tossed his head, flicking its tail uneasily and Cameron absentmindedly reached down to pat its withers.
It was then that a slight movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention.
Turning slowly, he spied Mar creeping through the underbrush to disappear over a hillock.
Curiously, Cameron urged his horse forward, coming upon the prince fitting an arrow to the string and pulling it taut.
Leaning forward, Cameron followed the line of the shaft, expecting to find a stag, but instead finding Thomas Cochrane a short distance away.
Before he could respond, Mar let the shaft loose.
But at that moment, Thomas’ horse unexpectedly reared, and the arrow whistled harmlessly past the man’s ear to embed itself in the tree behind him.
Staring at the feathered shaft in shock, Thomas began to bellow, sounding his horn in a panic, and as hounds and hunters descended upon them, Cameron galloped to Mar’s side, holding out his arm.
Cursing bitterly under his breath, Mar leapt up behind him, and they pounded a safe distance away before Mar guided him to his own horse tethered nearby.
Dismounting, the prince complained bitterly, “I swore that Thomas would perish this day and that I would free James from his unholy influence.”
“We’ll free his majesty, my lord,” Cameron assured him. Ach, but he wished himself that the arrow had found its mark. “But I fear ‘tis not so easily done, and should he discover ‘twas your arrow that flew his way, ye’ll be in even more danger.”
“More? What sinister thoughts are these?” Mar raised a brow. “What danger could the third son of the royal house of Stewart be in? ‘Tis Albany, and his warmongering ways, who lies in danger! Not I, Cameron.” He laughed incredulously.
“Aye, ‘tis but instinct only, my lord,” Cameron confessed. “I would ye were safe in France until I unseat Thomas from his ill-gotten place in court and unite the nobles under one banner.”
Mar smiled. “Already my heart is lighter to hear ye aim to do so, fair cousin. Never have I seen ye fail.” He looked wistful. “’Tis not a thing I could accomplish. There are those who would claim I sought the throne. But none could accuse ye of that.”
Cameron bowed a little and then said, ‘Promise me that ye’ll not endanger yourself again, my lord. Scotland may need ye yet, for more than hunting and hawking in the royal preserves of Fife.”
“I’ll not hear those words.” Mar set his lips stubbornly. “I will ever support James and his crown.”
“Aye, my lord.” Cameron bowed in respect. Mar truly was the noblest of the three. But he was foolishly noble. He would never fight his brothers to claim the throne, even if Scotland needed him to.
In silence, they rejoined the others, but it was not long before the horns sounded that the hunt was over, and they returned to the castle high on the rocky crag, bathed in the dying red light of the setting sun.
Swinging wearily down off his horse, Cameron briefly retired to his apartments, changing into fresh attire, before making his way to Stirling’s Great Hall for an evening feast.
Bedecked with flowering branches celebrating the victorious hunt, the hall flowed with wine and gossip, with the mysterious shaft aimed at Thomas the most favored subject of all. Few, if any, spoke sympathetically of Thomas. Most speculated that Albany had done the deed. There were even those claiming they had witnessed him in the act.
Cameron had just again extricated himself from yet another telling of the tale when Princess Anabella descended upon him, accompanied by Lady Nicoletta and Lady Elsa.
Lady Elsa’s rapt expression gave him momentary pause.
He recognized the look.
Many women had hunted him over the years, wearing that precise same face. He supposed she had taken the rumors of their impending marriage too much to heart. He grimaced. He’d have to speak with the lass soon and find her a husband.
Thrusting her precious dog into Lady Nicoletta’s arms, the princess shooed the other women away a
nd drew Cameron into a private corner.
“Ye’ve been busy this day, Cameron,” she murmured in a low voice.
Cameron looked down at her, wondering how much she had managed to piece together.
With lips drawn thin, she asked, “Is Kate safe, lad?”
She only called him “lad” when concerned for his wellbeing. Curious at her sudden interest in Kate, he replied softly, “She is safe, your highness.”
The princess gave a rare smile. “The lass is a dangerously deceptive one. I admire that she outwitted Thomas this past night.”
Cameron blinked in surprise.
The princess sent him a withering look. “Dinna look so surprised, ye foolish lad. There is naught that goes on in a castle that the womenfolk dinna know.”
“I … see,” he replied, astonished.
“Though, ‘tis well enough Kate is gone for now,” she observed sourly. “I need ye to think on things other than bed-sport.”
He felt his cheeks redden, ever so slightly.
She heaved a sigh. “Many times, I have wished ye upon the throne—”
“Hush!” Cameron placed a finger upon her lips.
“James is ill-equipped to be king.” She glared at him, slapping his finger away. “He is a fool. He delights only in music and cannot govern the realm. Each year, we suffer more for it. The people grow ever more dissatisfied with their king, but neither Albany nor Mar would make a better one. I fear ‘tis only our young crown prince that will save us, lad. We must hold this land together for him at all costs.”
Cameron eyed her thoughtfully, wondering exactly how much she knew.
“I know ye share my mind, or else ye wouldna have spent the day as ye did, lad,” she said with a peppery smile. “Aye, we’ll keep Scotland strong until our crown prince can stand up to lead us.”
He couldn’t hold back the humph of laughter. Aye, the woman truly was astute. “I am grateful that I am not your enemy, your highness.” He couldn’t resist teasing.
With a sour look, she led him to the high table as Thomas Cochrane insolently strutted into the hall.