“Put the gun down, lass,” Cam said quietly. “It’s over.”
She looked at him with wild eyes then back down to Innes. “Is he…is he…?”
“Aye. He is.”
Slowly, she lowered the gun. He rose and strode to her, gently leading her to the edge of the bed. She was as pale as the parchment she wrote upon, and shivering so hard her teeth chattered. He uncurled her fingers from the gun and set it aside.
He covered her with a plaid, murmuring soothing words to her. He moved a thick lock of dark hair aside, pulling it gently from the blood that was sticking it to her skin, and studied the laceration on the side of her forehead.
“What happened?”
“He…hit me. I think he was wearing a ring.”
Cam glanced over at Innes’s prone form, glad he couldn’t see the man’s eyes from this angle. He could, however, see that his left hand bore a thick gold ring.
He drew out his dirk. “I need to cut off your sleeve to see your shoulder better.”
She nodded, her eyes glassy, and he sliced the fabric of dress down her arm, peeling it away from her shoulder to reveal the wound.
He hissed out a breath. “It’s still bleeding but it’s just a nick.” Thank God. Either Esme’s blow with the candlestick or Cam’s tackle had thrown off Innes’s aim.
“I can’t feel it at all,” she whispered through chattering teeth. “I’m just cold. I need…”
She stopped, but the way she was looking at him, he knew just what she needed. Him. His body and his comfort and his heat. He’d give her anything right now. He wished he could give her even more, but that was what she wanted and needed. So, after wrapping her arm quickly with a piece of linen torn from his sheet, he moved Innes’s body out of his room. Then Cam stripped off his coat and got into bed, drawing her beside him and holding her tight in his arms.
They remained that way until hours later, when the major and Stirling arrived home and found them.
Chapter 28
Esme fidgeted while watching her nephews play, hardly noticing their shrieks of laughter as they rolled wooden balls at carved figurines, attempting to knock them over. Lukas would set up another scene, give a ball to Theo, and they’d knock the figures down all over again, screeching with the fun of it, their cheeks pink and their eyes bright. Sarah sat silently beside Esme, a calming presence, but Esme’s heart still raced. She couldn’t stop looking at the mantel clock. It was two minutes to four o’clock.
Cam would be here in two minutes. Or…he might be late. He might not come.
Nonsense. Of course he’d come. He’d sent her a note early in the day saying he wished to talk to her and asking if he could call at four. She’d responded in the affirmative. If he’d changed his mind, he would have canceled, wouldn’t he?
Her shoulder spiked with pain. She’d been twisting her hands hard enough to make her gunshot wound, which now sported a thick scab, complain about the motion.
She flexed her fingers and relaxed them, glancing at the clock again. One minute to four. Why did time move so slowly sometimes?
There was a knock at the door that sent her bolting out of her chair. A footman entered and said, “Mr. McLeod has arrived, my lady.”
“Thank you. Please show him in.”
The man bowed and retreated. Sarah rose from her chair, her hand on her stomach as if she were worried it might pop open any second. She was absolutely enormous.
“I will take this as our cue to go,” she told Esme, smiling. “Good luck, Esme. I hope everything turns out just the way you want it.” She kissed Esme on the cheek, gathered her boys clumsily, and exited the room. A moment later, Cam walked in, handsome in his blue-and-green tartan, jacket, and cravat, with his dark hair and shocking blue eyes. He’d dressed up for the occasion, though that was hardly necessary. She’d find him handsome in rags…even more handsome in nothing.
He closed the door behind himself, then stepped deeper into the room, staring at her.
“Esme.” His voice was gruff. “How are your injuries?”
“Fine.” She touched the scab at her hairline. “They’re nearly healed.”
“Good.” He took a step closer to her. “I missed you.”
They’d been torn away from each other on the night he’d killed Innes. Her brothers had come for her, and she hadn’t seen Cam since. She’d tried to bide her time waiting for him, but as each day passed, she’d grown more anxious.
It had only been a few days, but they had been the longest days of her life. Sam had told her that the Knights had been busy handling the repercussions of Innes’s death and all that he’d done, and to give Cam time. She’d tried, but she felt like she couldn’t do anything, couldn’t move forward at all, until she confronted him.
She swallowed hard and told him the truth. “I missed you, too.”
He smiled, stepping closer to her. “You came back to London for me.”
She shook her head. “No. I came back to London to tell you about Innes. To hopefully prevent him from taking more lives. From taking your life.” She looked into his eyes. “I stayed for you, though. I hoped…”
Her voice dwindled, and she bit her lower lip, looking away. She straightened her shoulders, wondering exactly what she hoped. The anger and disappointment at his actions still simmered within her. Would it ever go away? He had made it clear over and over that he wanted her, but it had been on his terms. If her relationship with him didn’t happen on her terms, then she might as well roll over and simply submit to everyone’s whims.
But she was done with that.
“You manipulated me, Cam.” She sank into her chair. “Again.”
His expression sobered. “I ken,” he said softly. Sighing, he pulled a chair near hers and sat, pushing a rough hand through his hair. Clutching a handful of dark hair at his nape, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry for it.” He licked his lips and looked down, dropping his arm. “Sorrier than you’ll ever know.”
“Why couldn’t you just trust that things would work out as they were meant to?”
“I’ve never been a patient man, Esme.”
Her lips twisted. “Do I not deserve your patience?”
“Aye, you do,” he admitted. “But it was frustrating, knowing how much I wanted you and that you wanted me equally as much. I couldna see why it was necessary to wait.”
“So you thought you’d expedite matters—”
“Aye,” he agreed.
“—by having my brother walk in on us in bed together. By forcing the issue and causing my family terrible consternation and me untold amounts of embarrassment?”
Cam’s lips went tight. “Aye,” he agreed softly. “ ’Twas wrong of me.”
“Oh Cam.” She shook her head in frustration. “Do you see the problem? You’ve taken my life into your hands and manipulated it to your pleasure more than once, without thinking of me and what I wanted.”
“That’s not true,” he said darkly. “I was thinking of what I wanted, but I was thinking equally of you. You must believe that, Esme. I kent Whitworth wasn’t worth a second glance from you, that you’d never have been happy with him. I kent you wanted to marry me, but you were having doubts, thanks again to Whitworth. I would never have done anything to hurt you.
“Aye, there was scandal when your engagement ended, and aye, the duke was none too happy with me for overstepping my bounds with you, but both those are temporary things. Marriage…that is forever.”
He was right, but he was missing the most important facet of this. “But what about me? About how both of your decisions completely disregarded what I wished for at the time? You started by reading my story without my consent. And it’s true that Henry wasn’t right for me, and deep inside, I did wish to marry you the very first time you asked.” She flushed at her words but forged ahead. “But I needed to discover those things on my own time, in my own way. You forced the issue, and that showed a great amount of disrespect for me and my ability to learn things for myself.”
>
Cam nodded slowly. “Aye. You’re right.” He closed his eyes. “The last thing I want to do is disrespect you, Esme. I respect you more than anyone I’ve ever known, man or woman.”
“Your actions haven’t shown that.” Her voice was a near whisper.
He nodded. “There’s no excuse for it…except the feelings I was having for you. Both times, they were so strong, and I was desperate, panicked. I usually dinna wait for people to cut my path for me. I do it myself, hacking and pushing my way through. ’Tis the way I’ve always approached life.”
She knew that; his sister had told her something similar.
“Before now—before the Knights—and besides my siblings, the people who formed my world were self-serving, arrogant idiots. Those were the first traits I learned as a boy. And being self-serving and arrogant served me well for a long while.”
“Those traits still serve you rather well, methinks.”
“But not with you.”
“Even with me,” she admitted, thinking of his arrogant aggressiveness when they’d first met—how it had made her breathless and insatiably curious about him, “to some extent. But not when you make my decisions for me. Not when you take control of my life away from me.”
“I understand.” He swallowed hard and reached over to her, taking her hand from her knee and holding it firmly between both of his. “I vow I’ll never do it again.”
“Do you?” She tilted her head at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. She knew he wasn’t a man to take a vow lightly.
“I do,” he said gravely. “From now on, your life is yours to control.”
“I need that. Perhaps I need it more than most…”
“Aye. Those who dinna know you like I do may think differently, but you took control of your life when you decided to become a writer, knowing how the choice would be looked down upon, but choosing to do it anyhow, and becoming successful at it.”
She nodded.
“I saw that and I admired it in you. But then I took it away.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I vow I will do everything in my power to always show you the respect I should have shown you from the beginning.”
Suddenly, his eyes grew intensely vulnerable, with a sheen over them she’d never seen before.
“And I take it a step further,” he said, his voice so low and tremulous she could hardly recognize it as his. “I’ll give you all the power, right here, right now. I will do as you wish. If you tell me to leave you alone and in peace once and for all, I will go. I will leave you with the knowledge that I failed you in the worst way—and I failed myself.
“Or if you tell me to stay, I will stay and do my damnedest to make you the happiest authoress in the world. Tell me what to do, Esme. I am offering you control not only of your own destiny, but mine as well.”
She stared at him, suddenly overwhelmed. To be offered this much control by a man who never relinquished it to anyone seemed like too much.
“The stupid things I’ve done were because my feelings for you were so damn strong I didna ken how to manage them. I was certain I was an ass and that I’d hurt you, and I feared being with you because I didna want to hurt you like my da hurt my mum.”
Esme gasped. “Cam, you’d never hurt me in that way—”
“I might not have done what he did, but I still hurt you. I kent I was doing it, too, and it convinced me I was just like him and even less deserving of having you.”
He lowered his head and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I was desperate for you. I was afraid and confused, and I was also stupid. I didna ken how to love someone properly. I still don’t—not entirely. But I’m learning. I will learn.” He looked up at her, his expression ravaged, and spoke in a near whisper. “I dinna want to be like my da. I want to be a good man. I want to prove to you that I can be that man. Please give me a chance. Please be with me. I…” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “I canna imagine a life without you, Esme.”
She tried to imagine a life, a future, without him. She couldn’t.
And then he said it, those three sweet words that for so long she’d wondered if she’d ever hear. “I love you.” He took her hand again and squeezed tight. “I love you so damn much.” His voice shook with conviction. “I’d do anything for you, anything to be with you, to marry you. I’m so sorry, Esme. So. Damn. Sorry.”
“I…I forgive you,” she said, blinking hard. “And…I don’t want you to go away.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said in a rushed exhalation, shaking harder now, perhaps out of sheer relief.
“But I need time.”
He sucked in a breath. “How much time?”
“I always thought a June wedding would be nice…” she whispered.
“Does that mean yes? You’ll marry me? In June?”
“I think so. Yes.”
His lips curled into a huge grin. “June is a year from now,” he mused.
“We’ll marry next summer. Can you wait that long? Do you have the patience?”
He nodded, deadly serious, looking her directly in the eye. “Aye. I can, and I do.”
“You won’t take control from me again?”
“Never,” he agreed, but then he frowned. “Well, that’s not entirely true.”
She froze, alarm flaring in her chest.
“There’s one place above all I require absolute control,” he said. “And one place I believe you are more than happy to relinquish it.”
She shook her head in confusion. “Where’s that?”
He stood and stepped forward, looming over her. “In our bedchamber.”
A deep shudder ran through her at those three words, the alarm dissolving into heat. In our bedchamber.
“Oh,” she murmured.
Oh, yes. She’d gladly give him control—all the control he wanted—when they were in the bedchamber.
He bent down and framed her cheeks with his hands, his fingertips gentle on her scab as he tilted her head up so she gazed at him. “I love you, Esme Hawkins. I’m going to love you for the rest of my life. You’ll never regret this choice.”
He kissed her then, his lips soft and seductive, and like always, he became her universe in that moment—her whole being, body and soul, straining toward him. She let him lift her up and wrap her into his arms, and she shuddered with the deliciousness of being surrounded by him like this.
She pulled back and looked up at him, smiling. “I love you, too, Cam,” she whispered.
And at that moment, she knew he was right: She and Cam would be together for the rest of their lives, and she would never, ever regret it.
Epilogue
TWO WEEKS LATER
Colin Stirling sat with the Knights, along with Lady Grace, Lady Claire, Lady Esme, and Sam Hawkins, in the drawing room of the house, discussing possible additions to their depleted ranks. Thanks to Andrew Innes, their numbers had dwindled from seven to five.
Hawkins had just suggested a youth he’d trained, Laurent Dupré, as a possible candidate. The Knights had frowned at that—a French lad with a group of five hardened Scottish warriors? But they agreed to consider him.
“I can vouch for Laurent as well,” Lady Esme said. “I think he’d make a wonderful Highland Knight.”
“The Highland Knights and a Parisian Chevalier?” McLeod said. “Mayhap we’ll have to change our name.”
Lady Esme laughed. “Laurent was raised here in England. I think he’d be offended if you labeled him a Parisian Chevalier.”
Colin watched her share a grin with her fiancé. Since their engagement announcement two weeks ago, Lady Esme and McLeod had rarely stopped gazing into each other’s eyes. They were deeply in love, that much was certain. And in lust as well, if the constant touches they shared were any indication.
They made a good match. So good, something told him that their engagement wouldn’t last until next June. If he had to put money on it, he’d have them shackled by the end of the year.
“And,” Hawkins added, �
��Laurent has the way of the chameleon about him. He could pass as a Highlander as much as a Frenchman. I daresay it comes from the necessity of hiding his Frenchness for so many years.”
Colin’s lips twitched in a smile. “We’ll convert him to a Highlander, then.”
“I imagine you will,” Hawkins said mildly.
“I have a suggestion.”
Everyone turned to Ross, who grinned at them from his perch on the edge of one of the walnut side tables. Ross had finally recovered from his ordeal and was back among them, a fact for which Colin would forever be grateful. He loved the exuberant redhead like a brother.
“Maxwell White.”
They looked at Ross blankly, and Ross tilted his head, frowning. “You dinna know him?”
“Never heard of him,” the major said.
“I went to school with him in Aberdeen before we purchased our commissions, but we’ve kept up a correspondence since. He was an officer of the Scots Greys.”
Colin nodded speculatively. The Scots Greys were an elite cavalry regiment that had proven their mettle in the Peninsular Wars, again and again.
“What’s he done since Waterloo?” the major asked.
Ross shrugged. “He told me he’s been on the Continent doing mercenary work. From what I can gather, he’s ready to move on.”
“Will he make a good Highland Knight, though?” Colin asked Ross. “Be honest, now.”
Ross nodded vigorously, his red curls bouncing. “Aye. He will.”
“You seem convinced,” McLeod mused.
“I am. White is intelligent, a powerful warrior, and loyal to a fault.”
The men exchanged glances, and the major nodded. “Let’s meet with him, too, then.”
There was a short knock on the door before it opened to Bailey bearing his silver salver. “Excuse me,” he said in his most English-butler-ish tone. “A letter has just arrived for Lady Esme.”
He went to Esme and held the silver tray in her direction. Her brows raised, the lass plucked the note from the tray and opened it. Her eyes scanned it quickly, and she jumped to her feet so abruptly, Bailey had to take a step backward. “It’s twins!” she exclaimed. “Sarah has given birth to healthy twin boys this afternoon!”
Highland Awakening Page 23