How a Scot Surrenders to a Lady

by Julie Johnstone

  He ground his teeth in an effort to stamp out his rising temper. He knew his sister meant well, even if she was showing it poorly. “She did nae,” he said firmly.

  “Ye dunnae ken that for certain,” Lena snapped. “What if when she recalls exactly who she is and realizes she is our enemy, she tries to kill ye or, at the verra least, warns whoever she plotted with that ye are after them?”

  “She will nae,” he insisted.

  “Are ye sure?” Lena whispered ferociously. “Would ye risk my life on it? The king’s? Alex’s? The safety of the MacLeod clan? It could be—” Lena scrambled over to him and clutched him “—that her family was involved in the plot to kill Katherine. It could be that her family is one of the ones rebelling against the king. Use yer brain, Cameron,” Lena urged, her voice rising.

  He opened his mouth to argue, but his sister’s words had sent doubt slithering through his mind. Furious with himself for allowing any uncertainty in, he growled, “I would gladly risk my life on her nae hurting me or any of ye.”

  Lena’s eyes narrowed further. “And mine? Yer family’s? Dunnae ye see that Eolande’s prophecy is coming true? Ye are forsaking yer family and yer king for this woman!”

  He set a hand to his sister’s arm. “Have faith in me, Lena. I will nae ever forsake ye or our brothers. Ye are my family.”

  “We shall see,” Lena muttered and went back to her place, lay down, and turned her back to him.

  Grunting with frustration, he lay down, too, knowing he needed sleep, but when he rolled onto his side, he froze.

  Sorcha stared back at him, tears streaming down her face. His gut twisted with her pain, and fury at his sister heated his blood. “Sorcha,” he murmured, reaching for her, but she shook her head while swiping at her tears.

  “I’ll nae be the thing that separates ye from yer family,” she said vehemently. With that promise, she turned away from him. He brushed his fingertips against her shoulder, but she shifted farther away from him, placing her almost against Broch. Left with no choice but to cease trying to grasp her or see her practically lying on top of Broch, he pulled back and settled for staring at her.

  He could not say how long he watched her, waiting to see her breathing deepen and know she had succumbed to sleep, but eventually her back rose and fell in long breaths, her tense posture relaxed, and she rolled onto her back, her face tilting toward him.

  Moonlight streamed over Sorcha’s face, highlighting her beauty while tightening Cameron’s chest and quickening his breath. The need to touch her strummed through him, keeping sleep out of his reach. How ironic that he’d never before ached to hold a woman with the intent of nothing more than tenderness or cared to sleep the night with a woman by his side, and now he could not sleep because the desire to do both those things with Sorcha was battering him. When he decided it was safe to attempt to touch her once more, he moved toward her and slipped his arm across her waist. With her eyelids still closed in heavy sleep, she released a contented sigh that made him smile. She turned on her side again, but this time, instead of trying to put distance between them, she wiggled her backside against his groin.

  The overwhelming need to protect and shelter her flowed through him. He tugged her as close as he could get her, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the simple exquisiteness of her heat against his skin, the soft exhalations of her breath, and the lush womanly curves nestled trustingly in his arms. He turned his focus to the weeks ahead, his stomach tightening at the thought of all that was at stake—his family, his honor, his life, and most certainly his heart. Before he could think much upon it, sleep finally, mercifully, claimed him.

  Sixteen

  Sorcha may have awoken in Cameron’s arms, but she had done her best not to touch him all day, and it was about to kill her. She had also tried not to ride at the front of the caravan by his side, but he’d flat out refused her request to allow her to ride in the back of the line with the rest of the warriors. As determined as she was not to come between Cameron and his family, he was just as determined to keep her next to him, which literally put her between him and his sister for the day-long journey.

  Sorcha suspected he had done it on purpose to prove a point to his sister. As much as she hated to be that point he was trying to prove, she could not deny that his desire to be with her and his commitment to what he wanted inspired awe and an equivalent desire to stick by his side. But worry was there, too. Lena stayed next to them the entire day, as if she needed to protect Cameron from Sorcha, and when they turned onto the long, narrow bridge that led to Brigid Castle and Cameron rode forward to speak with the guards, Lena grasped Sorcha by the arm as the entire party drew to a stop.

  “I will be keeping a watch on ye,” Lena hissed. “Ye have fooled my brother, but ye have nae fooled me. I dunnae believe ye kinnae remember who ye are.”

  “I kinnae,” Sorcha replied, forcing herself to keep a civil tone.

  Lena snorted. “Seems a verra convenient memory loss to me, given ye were seen with the party of men who killed the king’s mistress.”

  “Lena,” Alex growled from the other side of her, “Cameron is a grown man.”

  “One blinded by lust,” Lena snapped, glaring at Sorcha. “As ye have blinded my brother, I will be his eyes so that he will nae destroy himself.”

  Lena’s words struck too near Sorcha’s fears of hurting Cameron. She jerked her arm out of the woman’s hold, and just as she did so, Cameron came thundering toward them, a man and a woman riding beside him. He pulled to a stop in front of Sorcha, giving Lena a reproachful look as the man and woman also came to a stop.

  The man swept his golden-brown gaze over Sorcha. She thought she noted a gleam of interest and caution there, but when his gaze settled on Lena, it turned friendly and filled with obvious love. “Sister,” he said, “it’s verra good to see ye well.”

  “Aye,” the pretty brown-haired woman by his side said as she urged her horse forward toward Lena’s. “I have so longed for ye to come for a visit, Lena. I’m so glad ye are here!” The woman turned to Sorcha next and smiled. “Ye must be Sorcha,” she said. “Cameron tells us that ye are here with him by the king’s edict.”

  “Aye,” Sorcha replied, wondering if Cameron had told them anything else yet.

  “I’ll explain all shortly,” Cameron interrupted, giving her a reassuring look.

  She started to smile at him when Lena said, “Perchance ye should explain now, Brother, that ye bring trouble to their door.”

  “Lena,” Cameron growled, even as his brother’s eyebrows quirked upward.

  “Is there something of importance we should ken?” Graham demanded.

  Cameron nodded. “I’ll tell ye when we are alone.”

  “That can be now,” Graham said, turning his horse and starting back toward the castle. He glanced behind him with an expectant look at Cameron.

  “Sorcha—” Cameron said, a question in his voice.

  “Of course,” she insisted. “Speak with yer brother. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m here,” Alex assured Cameron, moving his horse to Sorcha’s side, which garnered and almost murderous look from Lena.

  As soon as Cameron rode off, Lena said, “Come, Isobel. Let us see what has come to pass with each other as we ride to the castle.”

  The woman, Isobel, nodded to Lena, then looked to Sorcha. “Would ye care to ride with us?” she asked.

  Sorcha shook her head. Even if she had wanted to, she feared it would only worsen matters with Lena, who clearly did not want her around. “I’m sure there is much the two of ye wish to speak of in private.”

  “Nonsense,” Isobel replied, clearly unaware of Lena’s hostility toward Sorcha.

  “Actually,” Lena said, “I do have some private matters to discuss. Shall we?” She turned her horse away from Sorcha as Isobel gave her an apologetic look.

  As the women rode away, Sorcha felt suddenly more alone than she had since she had awoken that first day at Dunvegan. Lena’s accusations were false,
but her worry was well placed. Sorcha could well lead Cameron to his ruin and not mean to do so at all.

  “It’s nae ye she hates,” Alex said. His words mirrored the ones Marion had told her before, yet the agony in Alex’s voice made Sorcha’s breath catch. She glanced at him. He looked as pained as he sounded, his gaze firmly on Lena’s back as she rode away.

  “It certainly seems that she hates me,” Sorcha replied, not even sure Alex would hear her, but he turned his gaze upon her.

  “She hates herself. Iain told me she had conquered the feelings when Isobel helped her face her past, but I was with her a short time when we had to travel together and she did things that made me suspect she had simply learned to suppress her anger. And since I’ve been at Dunvegan for a spell, I see that my instinct was right. She still harbors great anger, and I believe she is searching for a way to gain the control over her life that was taken from her.”

  “How does turning her anger upon me help her gain control?” Sorcha asked.

  “Let us ride to the castle and I’ll tell ye my thoughts.”

  She nodded, and as they started to move, all the men a distance behind them did so, too. She realized then, rather embarrassed, that they had been waiting on them to ride. “Were they waiting on ye?” she asked.

  Alex chuckled. “Nay, they waited for ye. Cameron made each of them pledge to guard ye with his life.”

  Her lips parted in shock as she looked toward the castle that Cameron was likely now inside.

  Alex took a deep breath. “She could nae prevent what happened to her, but she feels she can prevent anything terrible from happening to Cameron. Therefore, her purpose is to be his protector at a time when she otherwise feels she has none. What she came home to is nae at all what she remembered. Be patient, if ye can. She has a good heart.”

  Sorcha nodded. She believed Alex’s words, as she had Marion’s, but that did not change the fact that right now Lena hated her, and it was fueling Sorcha’s own doubts about herself and her past. “What if she’s correct about me? What if Cameron indeed needs to be protected from me?”

  Alex stared at her for a long moment before answering. “I’d be more concerned if ye had nae ever voiced that worry. Besides,” he added with a sudden faraway look, “ye dunnae strike me as a lass who is hiding demons.”

  “And do ye truly believe ye’d be able to tell?” she asked, her worry churning in her belly.

  “Oh, aye.”

  “How?” she demanded.

  “I’ve hidden my own demons long enough that it dunnae take but a breath to recognize another attempting to do the same. And ye,” he said, spearing her with a keen look, “are nae hiding anything, at least nae purposely.”

  Alex moved away without looking back as Isobel greeted them, and a flurry of activity to get the guests situated began.

  Sorcha awoke the next morning to a knock on the door and Isobel’s voice. Disappointment filled her instantly that the night had come and gone and she had not seen Cameron. He, Graham, Alex, Broch, and Grant had been absent from supper last night, and all Sorcha knew was what Isobel had told her, and that was that the men were in the laird’s solar devising a plot for the attack upon March’s castle. Sorcha had not wanted to question her, as Isobel’s face had a distinctly wary look upon it, making Sorcha think Lena had painted her in an unflattering light.

  “Enter,” Sorcha called after she had hurried to dress.

  Isobel poked her head into the room. “I wish to beg forgiveness,” she said, looking chagrined.

  Sorcha frowned. “Whatever for?”

  “Well,” Isobel said on a breath, “I started to judge ye based on things I heard, and my husband told me again in bed last night that I was once judged so, and I did nae find it to my liking. I’m here to see if we can start anew.”

  Sorcha nodded, though her thoughts were on why Cameron had not come to see her if talks had broken up last night.

  Isobel smiled gently. “Cameron apparently had his men training most the night. He’s relentless that way.”

  Sorcha tried not to sigh out her relief. “I suppose he and his men are sleeping now?”

  Isobel shook her head. “Oh nay. They got a few hours of sleep, and then they were all up at dawn to ready the castle for any attacks that may come. Cameron is overseeing the chains.”

  “The chains?” Sorcha asked.

  “Aye, my grandmother devised them. She’s quite brilliant. Ye will meet her today if she’s feeling well. She’s been sickly this last week and in her bed. Anyway, since our castle stands between land and the Minch, the only safe passage to the Isles is to travel by water in front of Brigid. We simply keep chains raised to stop enemy ships from going by, but we like to test them every once in a while by having one of our own ships try to go through.”

  “Is that nae dangerous?”

  “Aye,” Isobel replied. “But it would be more dangerous to presume they still work properly. The men will be at it all day, and I thought I could show ye around the castle grounds.”

  “I’d like that,” Sorcha replied with a smile.

  “Perfect. Lena is waiting for us in the great hall,” Isobel added, turning to go out the door.

  Sorcha’s stomach twisted. “Does Lena ken ye were asking me to come with ye, as well?”

  Isobel slowly faced Sorcha once more. “She dunnae.”

  “I dunnae believe she will wish me to be there,” Sorcha said flatly as she stopped to gather her bow and arrows, and secure them.

  Isobel chuckled. “Ye dunnae need yer weapon. I’ll keep ye safe from Lena.” She teased.

  Sorcha eyed the dainty woman and thought her no match for the stubborn, angry Lena, though Lena was not really her concern. The weapon was simply to make her feel safe. “I dunnae fear Lena but who may hunt me.”

  Isobel frowned. “Graham told me a bit about that, but ye’re perfectly safe here.”

  “I’ll keep my bow with me, if ye dunnae mind.”

  “I dunnae,” Isobel assured her.

  Not long later, Sorcha’s doubt that Isobel could handle Lena was erased rather quickly. She’d not have believed it if she hadn’t seen it, but after Isobel led them to the hall and hauled Lena off by the arm to speak with her privately, as Isobel had put it, Isobel came back into the room with Lena trailing behind her. They quickly had a bite to eat, with Isobel doing all the talking, and then the three of them set off with Isobel to see the bakehouse and the brewhouse.

  They spent the morning in the bakehouse learning to bake bread and eating their fill of it. At one point, Lena actually smiled, recalling a sudden memory of learning to bake bread with her mother. “She was a terrible baker, mind ye,” she said with a laugh, finishing a story about their father getting ill after eating some bread their mother had baked. “She had no desire for feminine accomplishments as far as I can recall. What I remember most about her,” Lena continued in a soft, musing voice, “is that she was fierce, and I wanted to be strong like she was to make her proud.”

  Her smile faded, and she turned away from all the women in the bakehouse who had been raptly listening to her story. “I thank the Lord she is nae alive to see how far short I fell from her glory,” Lena mumbled under her breath.

  Sorcha glanced at Isobel to see if she would say something comforting to Lena, but Isobel was talking to a guard who had just entered the bakehouse. The other women had already gone back to their work, for they had to have bread ready for supper tonight, which left only Sorcha to ease Lena.

  Taking a deep breath, Sorcha moved to Lena’s side. She started kneading the dough alongside Cameron’s sister, and after a few moments, she finally said, “I think ye are verra braw, Lena, if ye dunnae mind me saying.”

  Lena stilled, her hands suspended in air, but she did not look at Sorcha. “Ye dunnae ken me,” she said in a forceful yet soft voice. “Ye dunnae ken if I’m braw or nae.”

  “Well,” Sorcha said slowly, “I ken that ye were seized as a young girl and that ye faced many horrors and
lived through them with yer mind intact. Some women may have lost their wits in similar circumstances or taken their lives.”

  Lena looked at her, her eyes burning bright. “What makes ye think my wits are intact?”

  The question startled Sorcha, but she could see Lena’s fingers working the dough nervously, and she suspected the woman was putting up a barrier to keep Sorcha at a distance. Lena may have purposely done the same with most people because she feared letting them close.

  Wanting to try to build some sort of friendship or at least peace between them, Sorcha decided to be honest, even if it irritated Lena. “Because it takes a woman with a keen mind to decide her brother needs protecting and then make a persuasive argument to the woman she wishes to drive off.”

  Lena’s mouth fell open. “Did I—” She paused, took her hands from the dough, and wiped them on her skirts, leaving a trail of white flour. “Have ye decided that ye should leave Cameron be?”

  “Ye made me question myself, certainly. I truly kinnae recall most of my past, and that makes me fear greatly that I will hurt Cameron or lead him to destruction, as ye said.”

  Lena bit her lip and gazed silently at Sorcha for a long moment. “Isobel reminded me that I almost drove her off from Graham when she first came to Dunvegan. It seems I have a habit of negatively judging women my brothers may love.”

  Sorcha gasped. “Cameron dunnae love me.”

  Lena gave Sorcha an indulgent smile. “I believe he does, Sorcha, and I believe ye may well love him, too, but neither of ye are quite ready to admit it. I have no words to excuse myself; I am simply jealous and feel adrift.”

  Lena’s words about love swirled in Sorcha’s head. She wanted to focus on them and examine them, but she needed to set her wants aside for the moment and be as selfless as Cameron was. Her heart squeezed just thinking about him. “I feel adrift, as well,” she divulged. “I’d verra much like to be friends with ye, and if I truly am the enemy or related to the enemy, I vow I will tell Cameron and nae lead him to harm.”