How a Scot Surrenders to a Lady

by Julie Johnstone

  The wrongness of it struck him to the core. The pain, which had been piercing at first, then faded to a dull ache as the day had worn into night, became sharp once more, stabbing his belly as if he had swallowed knives. The need to obtain justice for Katherine throbbed within him, and the shame of his failure roiled in his gut.

  As they drew closer to the castle, the distinct sound of many voices raised in a song for the injured floated to him. He tensed, knowing the refrain had to be for Rory Mac. His gaze slid to the mysterious lass in Alex’s arms. She slept as if she were dead, yet she lived. He knew it to be so because he had made Alex check repeatedly on the journey.

  “The king will be waiting,” Cameron said, solemnly.

  “Aye,” Alex agreed.

  “He’ll want blood,” Cameron continued. “And it dunnae need to be yers as well as mine.”

  Alex opened his mouth as if to argue, but Cameron held up a staying hand. He’d thought about what to say to persuade Alex to break away from him and let him face the king alone, and he believed he knew what words to use. “Please. The king will be unreasonable. We both ken this. Grief and rage may drive him to have the lass in yer arms immediately killed before we even ken if she is our enemy. Will ye help me prevent it?”

  “Ye’re too swift of mind for yer own good,” Alex grumbled. “Ye thought of exactly what to say to get me to do yer bidding without argument, did ye nae?”

  “I did,” Cameron replied, relief that Alex would aid him gliding over him. But it did not linger under the dark sureness of the dire situation he faced and the knowledge of those gone and injured because of his mistakes. “Since we are agreed, go on and be quick about it. Take the seagate stairs up to the castle and seek out Marion to tend to the lass. If I manage to keep my head, I’ll come to ye as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll see ye soon,” Alex replied before turning his horse to leave.

  Cameron watched Alex depart until he disappeared into the darkness, then he rode forth toward the growing light and noise. The voices, he realized, as he neared the front of the castle, were coming from within. A call went up, announcing he had been spotted, and the castle doors immediately opened. Out streamed King David, his cloak billowing behind him. On the king’s heels were two of his guards and behind them were Iain, Lachlan, Broch, Ragnar MacLeod—one of their fiercest warriors, and Father Murdock, who was the MacLeod priest. His brother Graham would have been among the group, Cameron well knew, if Graham had still lived at Dunvegan, but he did not. He was at his new home with his new wife, and Cameron was glad of that. It was bad enough to drag Iain and Lachlan into this mess. At least one brother was well away and safe from the king’s anger.

  The castle door slammed shut with an ominous thud. Cameron studied the approaching group, very aware that his brothers had surrounded themselves with two of the fiercest MacLeod warriors. Not only that but they all had their weapons. Cameron’s gut twisted with the realization that his brothers meant to defy the king if David ordered his death. Gratitude tightened his throat and shame burned his chest at the show of fealty from his brothers, both in blood and not. He did not deserve it, and he could not allow a war to commence over his mistake. His mind raced with what to say to maintain the peace and keep his life as he pulled his destrier to a halt at the first glowing torches. He carefully dismounted and released the binds that secured Katherine to his horse and drew her limp body into his arms. As her head lolled back, an anguished cry came from the king, who broke away from the men behind him and hurried forward, not stopping until he stood in front of Cameron.

  “Give her to me,” King David commanded, his face a twisted mask of pain and his voice gruff and laden with sorrow. He gesticulated rapidly at Cameron as he held out his hands.

  Cameron passed Katherine to the king as gently as he could, then stepped back as the rest of the party approached. Immediately, his brothers and the MacLeod warriors came to flank him and face the king and his men.

  King David walked away from the group, Father Murdock trailing behind him. As the king reentered the castle and the door closed once again, Iain motioned Cameron, Lachlan, and the other MacLeods away from the king’s men. Once they were standing in a circle with their backs to David’s guards, Iain said, “Dunnae speak when David returns. Let me talk for ye.”

  “Nay,” Cameron replied.

  Iain’s dark brows drew together, and his eyes narrowed. “Nay? Do ye forget I’m yer laird as well as yer brother?”

  A tic started in Cameron’s jaw. “I did nae forget either, but ye will nae shield me this night. Nor ye,” he quickly added, spearing Lachlan with a warning look. “Ye have both kept me safe from harm my whole life. This is my error, and I alone will carry the blame for it.”

  “We ken it was nae yer fault, Cameron. The men told us how Katherine disobeyed ye,” Lachlan growled.

  Cameron shook his head. “I was the leader, so it is my fault.”

  “We dunnae have time to argue fault now,” Iain bit out. He turned his steely blue eyes on Cameron. “Dunnae say a word.”

  “I kinnae obey ye in this,” Cameron said.

  A murderous look crossed Iain’s face, followed swiftly by what looked to be fear and frustration. He clutched Cameron by the arm. “If ye kinnae keep yer mouth shut, then beg for yer life.”

  “Nay!” Cameron shrugged out of Iain’s hold. “Why is it that ye would instruct me to beg when ye ken well ye would nae ever do so?”

  “Ye are the youngest,” Iain flung out as he jerked a hand through his hair and motioned between himself and Lachlan. “Ye are in need of our help!”

  Cameron flinched, feeling his brother’s words like hard hits to his gut. If they had faith in him, truly, they’d not think he needed help.

  “Ye could lose yer life if the king becomes unreasonable,” Lachlan said, staring hard at Cameron. “Ye kinnae ask us to stand by and do nothing.”

  “Think of yer wives and bairns,” Cameron replied, knowing he was striking where both men were vulnerable. They loved their wives above all else. Cameron didn’t claim to understand it, as he had never loved a woman in such a way, but he accepted it, and now he used it. “Would ye risk their lives for mine?”

  Before either brother could answer, the castle door banged open once more, and David stormed outside. In his hands, he now held a sword that shone in the moonlight and the flames of the torches. “Kneel!” he thundered as he made his way toward them.

  Cameron had no doubt the king was talking straight to him. He took a purposeful step away from his brothers and dropped to his knees.

  “Seize his weapon,” the king ordered his guards.

  Cameron saw both his brothers’ and the MacLeod guards’ hands go to the hilt of their weapons, so he gave a subtle shake of his head, hoping to dissuade any action. The king brought the point of his sword to Cameron’s throat. The tip dug into the flesh, and a stinging pain came directly before warm blood trickled down his neck.

  “Tell me,” the king demanded, his voice vibrating with fierce anger, “why should I nae take yer head right now for failing me so grievously?”

  Cameron looked up to meet the king’s glare. “I kinnae say ye should nae,” he replied, his voice calm but his pulse racing.

  “Cameron!” Iain rebuked, but Cameron ignored his brother.

  “I was responsible for Katherine’s life; therefore, her death is my responsibility.”

  “Aye,” David agreed in a menacing tone. “It is. Shall we move forward with yer death, then?”

  “Ye may choose that, Sire,” he said slowly, considering how he would feel and what he would want to happen if he were the king. Revenge would be utmost in his mind if the woman he loved had been killed. “But I vow to ye, if ye allow me to live, there is nae a man alive who will be as relentless as I in hunting down Lady Mortimer’s killers and exacting revenge. I pledge it to ye.”

  The king moved his sword and pointed it toward the ground before leaning close to Cameron. “It is fortunate for ye that I b
elieve ye.” The rage simmering inside him was unmistakable in his brittle tone. “And it’s only because of this belief that I will spare yer life…for now.”

  Cameron did not allow himself the exhale of relief he felt. He was glad he didn’t, as he realized the king was carefully watching him.

  The king took a long, slow breath and spoke again. “I will have a head for this crime, and if ye dunnae give me one, it will be yers. Ye have until the leaves turn to bring me those who conspired to kill my Katherine.”

  Cameron nodded. That gave him the rest of the summer, which was not long but was more time than he could have hoped for. “I’ll find them.”

  “Ye best,” the king replied, his voice thrashing in intensity. “But,” he added, drawing the word out, as his eyes flashed bright, “I require something more.”

  Cameron gritted his teeth. Of course there was more. King David had not managed to keep his throne for the twelve years he was in prison and then come out such a strong, ruthless leader merely by chance. The man was as calculating as he was clever.

  “What more do ye wish, Sire?”

  “I want ye to learn the names of every lord conspiring to overthrow me—and bring me proof of their treason—so I may quash them like the bugs they are. I’ve nary a doubt that killing Katherine was a blow by the lords who wish to show me they still have the power to control me.”

  God only knew how long it would take to discover each name and gather the proof, but if he wanted to keep his head…

  Cameron nodded. “Ye have my pledge.”

  “Excellent.” The king bared his teeth in some semblance of a smile. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”

  As he had no intention of relaying the tale on his knees, he got to his feet and told the king of the attack and the man with the scar and two different colored eyes. Then he paused as the weight of what—or rather whom—he had yet to mention pressed down upon him.

  He flinched with the realization that his first instinct was to keep the lass’s presence a secret. Eolande’s words of betraying the king rang in his ears. The king seemed more reasonable now, so Cameron felt safer revealing her. “There was a lass with the men who attacked, and we have her,” he said.

  The king’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Ye captured her?”

  “Nae exactly,” Cameron admitted. “Alex and I came across her when we were riding to collect Katherine.”

  “Where is the lass?” the king bellowed. “Why did ye nae bring her to me immediately?”

  “Because she’s nae awake. She was felled from her horse by a branch across the forehead, and though we attempted to awaken her, she still sleeps as if she’s dead.”

  “She will be shortly,” the king snarled. “Where is she?”

  The instinct to lie to the king and say the lass was not an enemy, even though Cameron had no notion whether that was true or not, was so strong that it astounded him. “I asked Alex to take her to Marion to see if she could awaken her.”

  When the king turned away and started for the castle door, Cameron bolted after him, as did the king’s guards. A sense of urgency gripped him as he bypassed David’s guards and fell into step beside the king. “Sire, the lass may well be able to tell us who led the attack. I dunnae believe killing her is the best course of action.”

  “I will be the one who decides that,” King David growled before stalking into the castle.

  Servants and MacLeods alike scurried away when faced with the sight of their king’s livid face. But Cameron could still hear Iain’s, Lachlan’s, and the other warriors’ heavy steps behind him. He met the king’s rapid pace step for step, and it didn’t take long to reach the healing room. When they arrived, the king didn’t pause to knock on the closed door. Instead, he threw it open, causing Marion and Cameron’s sister, Lena, to gasp.

  Alex’s sword was already drawn as he shoved both women behind him. A murderous look flitted across his face, but as his gaze skittered first over the king, then Cameron, and then everyone behind him, Alex’s gaze widened, and he slowly lowered his sword.

  “Sire,” he said, waving a hand toward the cot where the lass was lying. As the king brushed past Alex and the women to get to her, Marion darted toward the king. Cameron grasped her arm as she started by him and pulled her back, yet even as he did, Iain was by his side, taking his wife by the arm and giving her a warning look.

  Marion was a kindhearted lass, which was miraculous since she was half-English and half-Scottish and had been born and raised in England by a man with no honor or love for his daughter. Yet, somehow she had become a woman who never wavered in risking her life for others. And by the determined look upon her face now, that included the mysterious, sleeping lass.

  David looked down at the lass and then back at Marion. “Has she woken?”

  “No,” Marion answered in her perfect English accent, which never failed to make the king frown. She gave her husband a pleading look, and Iain reluctantly let go of her. He had been overprotective of her since the very moment he met her, after King David had asked—or rather subtly demanded—Iain marry her almost three years prior.

  Still, as Marion moved to the king’s side, Iain and Cameron went with her and Lachlan came up behind her. “She’s taken a terrible injury to the head,” Marion explained. “It could be days before she awakens. If she ever awakens…”

  The king turned to face them all, a vicious smile twisting his lips. “Even in sleep I can see she is a rare beauty.”

  Disquiet stirred within Cameron. The king had a mind to use people to suit his needs, and it sounded like he had decided upon a use for the lass. Cameron had the pressing need to look at her, but he forced himself to remain still with his gaze locked on the king, who was spearing him with dark, unmerciful eyes.

  “If she awakens and proves to be embroiled with those who killed my Katherine, I have just the man to sell the lass to. If she also proves to be unmarried and of worthy stock, of course, he will be the perfect match for her.” The unease within Cameron increased as the king’s smile twisted further. “And she will wish every day that I had ordered her death.”

  Cameron could feel himself frowning. He struggled to straighten his features, but the king’s words battered at him. Married? He’d not once considered that the lass could be married, given Eolande’s foretelling, yet the seer had not mentioned it.

  Aware that David was staring at him expectantly, Cameron nodded. “As ye wish, Sire.” Even as he gave his promise, unwillingness swirled within him.

  The king pointed at him. “Until the leaves turn. Dunnae forget it,” he warned. “And keep me informed.”

  “Ye’ve my word, Sire,” he said, doing all he could to infuse his voice with fervor.

  “I’ve had that before, and it did nae prove worth having,” David snapped.

  Cameron flinched as the king brushed past him. He rested his gaze briefly on his brothers and Alex who had drawn together and were speaking low.

  The king paused at the door. “Iain. Alex. I wish a moment in private.”

  Both men quickly followed the king out the door. The moment it closed behind Alex, the king, and his guards, Cameron’s gaze swept past his sister Lena, who stood near the cot the lass was on. Lena scowled down at the lass and then at him, but his attention had been drawn from his sister to the lass. He burned to ask questions about her, but first…

  “How is Rory Mac faring?” Cameron asked as concern flooded him.

  Marion nibbled on her lip. “Fever has set in already, but Alanna and I bathed him, and made him as comfortable as possible in his own bed. I was able to clean his wound satisfactorily, so I have hope that he will bear it and live to be as stubborn as ever.”

  Relief moved through Cameron. It seemed that Marion and Rory Mac’s wife had done well; only time would heal him now. Cameron focused on the still unmoving lass. “Have ye ever tended to a body who did nae awaken from such an injury?”

  “Aye,” Marion replied. “But only one. The others awoke, some d
isoriented and some actually not recalling the day or other such memories. One even forgot his name for a bit.”

  He disliked the sudden lump of dread that settled in his belly. He wanted to believe the dismay was simply because he needed to question the lass, but as his gaze landed on her delicately sculpted face, then moved lower to her long neck, and lower still to her slender, creamy shoulders, shock stole his next breath. Her gown had been tugged down over the curve of her shoulders to the top of her arms, and there, on her right shoulder, was an unmistakable heart-shaped mark.

  There could be no denying Eolande’s words regarding the lass now.

  He moved toward her, aware of the door opening, Iain entering the room alone, several pairs of eyes drilling into his back and his sister’s gaze searching his from the front, yet he did not meet her questioning eyes or turn to meet those of his brother’s and Marion. He reached down and traced his fingers over the mark. It was smooth, her skin silky and warm.

  “Cameron?” Iain asked.

  He heard his brother, but he could not seem to answer or turn from the lass. His breathing and heartbeat became ragged as her eyelids began to flutter. It felt as if she had raised a hand and slipped it around the back of his neck to pull him closer. He leaned toward her until her body heat touched him, her smell surrounded him, the whisper of her breath sent jolts through him.

  “She’s waking,” he murmured, unable and unwilling to say more.

  “Move back, ye clot-heid,” Lachlan growled. “Ye’ll scare the lass.”

  Cameron nodded, yet he stayed where he was. He couldn’t have moved even if he wanted to, for in truth, he had never felt so drawn, so compelled to be close to someone in his life.

  Her dark lashes fluttered slightly, and a soft moan came from between her rosy lips. Behind him, his family pressed nearer, too near for his liking. He wanted to be alone with her, yet that was likely dangerous. No matter what, he had to remember Eolande’s words and not allow any connection to the lass to form. With that in mind, he dug within himself to find the determination to pull back and put physical distance between them, just as her eyelashes fluttered once more and her lids opened.