She had avoided capture.
Painfully, Katherine dislodged herself from the branch and climbed down carefully, wincing as her feet touched the forest floor. The good news was that she was alive with only a few scratches to show for her ordeal.
The bad news was that she would have to walk back to the keep.
Sighing, Katherine moved out of the woods as quickly and cautiously that she could, nearly sobbing in relief when she ran across her horse standing nearby. Her arm was burning continuously now, her hands raw from the bark of the tree, but she pulled herself up onto the horse regardless, pointing it toward the keep. “Ride like the wind,” she whispered, digging her heels into its flank.
She had to get back to the keep and apologize to Cameron for doubting him. Someone wanted to end her life, and Katherine suspected that it wasn’t just any outsider, but someone inside her clan. Why else would anyone want to kill her? There was nothing to gain. The clan was still reeling from Liam’s reign, their crops starting to show promise, and their funds, well, those were all but depleted for now. If it hadn’t been for the coffers that her cousin had hoarded away in the dungeon instead of prisoners, the keep would have fallen down around their ears, and they would have starved during their first winter.
But they hadn’t, and now someone was trying to take it all away from her. She didn’t understand why. She had only been in power a few days, with no time to change anything that had been set in the past.
Was it a clansman that she had refused to give him what he wished? Katherine doubted that. There had been a lot of them, not just one or two, which meant there was an unseen group out there, one that had chosen her as their target.
When the keep came into view in the distance, Katherine nearly sobbed in relief, slowing the horse so it wouldn’t throw her as they moved over rocky ground to cover the last few miles to the stable. The moment she took care of the horse, she would have to find Cameron and tell him what happened. He would likely lecture her on her safety, of course, but after what she had gone through, Katherine would welcome it. He had saved her life once. She wasn’t too keen on him having to do it again.
At last, the stable came into view, and Katherine guided the horse toward it, rounding the building and pulling the horse to a halt as she saw the scene that was before her.
Cameron stood there, his sword strapped to his back, and his jaw clenched so tightly that she thought it would shatter.
He looked angry at her.
Swallowing hard, Katherine dismounted the best she could, wincing as her injured arm pulled tight and had her catching her breath. The cut was still bleeding.
Cameron was there in an instant, grasping her by the waist and moving her away from the horse. “Take care of it,” he growled at the wide-eyed stable boy, who hurriedly did his bidding.
Katherine could feel the anger radiating off his body, so she did not fight him, biting her lip instead as he directed her toward an empty hut near the stable and not the keep. He would no doubt tell Arran of this issue, and she would be reprimanded not once, but likely three times.
Perhaps she should have listened a long time ago.
9
Cameron had never been so livid in all his days at one person. He had been angry before, but what he felt at Katherine right now was beyond explanation.
She had not only disobeyed him by riding out alone when he had already told her repeatedly that her life was in danger, but she had gotten herself injured in the process.
He could lock her in this hut for the rest of her days and not feel one ounce of sympathy for her.
Cameron marched her into the hut and slammed the wooden door behind them, the only shaft of light coming from the crack in the closed shutters at the window. “Bloody hell, woman!”
Katherine flinched and he released her, putting some distance between them before he wrung her lovely neck. “Tell me what happened!” he bit out, needing to know.
She cleared her throat several times. “I went for a ride to the moors. I do it often.”
“Not as laird ye dinnae.”
She arched a brow. “Do ye want tae hear the story or not?”
She vexed him!
“Tell me.”
“I was about tae turn back tae the keep,” she continued, her voice smaller than usual, “when I felt a burn and realized I was under attack.”
Cameron closed his eyes briefly at her words, thinking of a thousand different ways this morning could have turned out. When he had woken and made his way to the keep, he hadn’t found Katherine at the table, and he knew that something was wrong. The keep had been turned upside down in the search, and when the stable boy had confirmed that a horse was missing, he knew what she had done.
He just didn’t know how much of a start she had on them.
The next hour had been tense as he readied a group of warriors to ride with him, splitting them up into two groups to cover more ground. He had thought of all sorts of things that could have happened to her, each one turning his stomach more.
Now she stood before him, blood on her arm, and he still didn’t feel good about it. “Wot did ye do lass?” he asked, needing to know.
“I climbed a tree.”
Cameron let out a bark of laughter. Why was he even surprised at that? Katherine never ceased to amaze him. “A tree?”
She nodded. “I couldnae outrun them.”
Them?
Cameron clenched his fists tightly. “Who were they?” He would slaughter them personally, run them through with his sword.
“I dinnae know,” she answered, her voice soft again. “I didnae see their faces, but I think—I mean, I know—they meant tae do me harm.”
Her voice broke with her last words, and Cameron drew in a sharp breath. There was more than one threat. “I told ye not tae go alone, yet ye did.”
“I didnae know!” she cried out. “I didnae know that it was true!”
Cameron closed some of the distance between them. “If only ye had listened.”
“I’m tired of listening tae others!” she interrupted, all traces of fear leaving her expression. “I’m a laird! I dinnae have tae obey anyone!”
He stalked over to her until she was pressed up against the wall. His rage was nearly boiling over. “Ye are stubborn, and that nearly got ye killed today! Dinnae ye understand that!”
“I was fine!”
He pointed to her arm, where the arrow had grazed her skin, leaving a cut in its wake. If they had not been such a bad shot, she could have had it embedded in her arm or chest. It would have knocked her off the horse, and she could have been trampled.
She had not been fine, and Cameron knew that. He just didn’t understand why Katherine did not see it as well. “Ye are not fine. Ye are hurt. Ye could have been killed, and then what? What would yer precious clan have done then?”
She pushed at his shoulders; he didn’t budge but grasped her wrists gently. “Tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me that ye are in trouble, and I will let ye go.”
“Never,” she breathed, her eyes wild. “I can handle mahself, Cameron. Ye were not here when I had tae deal with mah cousin. Ye were not here when I had tae barricade mah door whenever he drank too much. Dinnae tell me that I need ye because I dinnae!”
Some of Cameron’s anger lessened at her words. She was right. He had not been there for that, but he was here now, and she was refusing to let him help her. She was treating him like he was the enemy when there was a real enemy out there. “Dinnae make me find ye like this again,” he said, though his voice was softer. “I cannae, lass. I cannae see ye hurt.”
Her lips parted, and he swore before he leaned forward and pressed his against hers, feeling her surprise in the kiss. She tasted like wildness, as wild as the moors she had just ridden through, and he groaned, sliding his hand up her arm and cupping the back of her head to pull her tighter against him. Soon she was opening up under his kiss, and Cameron was lost in the pounding of his pulse in his ears, the way her body felt
pressed up against his. It was what he had imagined it would feel like kissing Katherine, and he had dreamed of it often over the last few months.
Katherine made a small noise in the back of her throat, but she didn’t pull away. He coaxed her mouth open, sweeping his tongue inside. Never had he thought he would be kissing her like this, but now that he started, he didn’t want to stop.
He was kissing Katherine McDougal.
Cameron broke the kiss anyway, taking several steps backward until there was distance between them. He had kissed her. He had put that look on her face, the redness in her lips.
Arran was going to run him through with his sword for touching her in such a manner. “We need tae get ye tae a healer,” he forced out, striding to the door. “Before yer wound festers.” It was the only coherent thought he could piece together at the moment.
He didn’t even bother to see if she was following him, pulling in a lungful of air to get his wits about himself. He needed to keep a level head around Katherine so he could protect her, but that was proving harder to do every time he was in her presence.
And now he knew how she kissed. That was dangerous in itself. It wasn’t going to be something he forgot anytime soon.
Later, after he had been assured that Katherine was being taken care of, Cameron rode with a group of warriors out to the wood that Katherine had described, looking for any sign of her claims. He believed her story. She had the proof, and since he knew she hadn’t believed that her life was in danger to begin with, there would be no reason for her to fake anything.
No, she had experienced something today he hoped he could keep her from experiencing again—both the attempt on her life and the kiss.
Especially the kiss.
After collecting the arrows that had been left in the tall grass, Cameron found one that had the slightest bit of blood on it, knowing this was the one that had pierced her skin. She had been smart to race them to the wood for cover, and that was probably what saved her life. The lass was not incapable of taking care of herself.
But next time, she might not be so lucky, and that was what he feared.
Cameron dismounted from his horse and placed his hand on the tracks made under the tree, noting what was likely Katherine’s boot print in the dirt, following the other tracks until they led out of the wood and into the moors. There would be no way for him to know which way her assailants had gone, nor did they leave behind anything that would help Cameron identify them.
This was indeed a mystery.
“Wot now?”
Cameron looked at one of the warriors, proving to be a good second-in-command to Katherine one day. “We need tae keep our ears open in the village.”
He arched a brow. “Ye think the threat is in the clan?”
Cameron clenched his jaw, nodding. “’Tis the only thing that makes sense.” A rogue bandit party would not waste their time on arrows and the like. They would have chased her down and used their swords. Plus, the McDougal clan had attempted to make peace with the clans the former laird had wronged, and there had not been any random attacks for over two years because of Arran’s ability to smooth things over.
This was someone who knew about Katherine and the clan’s new leader. This was someone who disagreed with it.
After returning from the wood, Cameron made it a point to visit Katherine and found her seated before the fire in the great hall, her jaw clenched tightly.
“Wot did ye find?” she asked immediately, no trace of embarrassment from the kiss they had shared earlier.
“Nothing,” he replied, clasping his hands behind his back so that he wouldn’t reach out and touch her. The feel of her in his hands was still burned into his memory. He cleared his throat, wanting to rid himself of these sudden emotions that threatened to tear him in two. “We found horse tracks and yer boot prints. There was nothing else.”
She nodded, exhaustion brimming around her eyes. “Aye.”
“How is yer arm?” he asked politely, noting the bulky bandage under her dress sleeve.
“’Tis fine,” she said softly. “I dinnae even feel it now.”
“It must be the first time ye were shot with an arrow then,” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood, “because they hurt like the very devil tae me.”
They shared a smile, but hers faded far too soon, and she looked away.
He started to step closer but stopped himself at the last moment, clenching his jaw in the process. “Ye need tae be in bed, lass.”
“I cannae sleep,” she whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. “I keep feeling, well...”
“Ye dinnae need tae tell me, lass,” Cameron stated gently. “Ye are stronger than this.”
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, but she blinked them away, turning away from him. “I am sorry, Cameron, for not listening.”
Surprised, Cameron stared at her back. Was she really attempting to apologize to him? “I wilnae let anything happen tae ye.”
Her shoulders lifted. “I know.”
Cameron didn’t know what else to say so he walked off, leaving her standing by the fire. Something had changed inside her, something that he wasn’t so certain was a good thing. Nevertheless, he would send a missive to Arran to let him know what happened and that his worries were true. Someone was after the lady of the keep, and Cameron would do all he could to keep her alive.
But as he lay in his bed that evening, all he could think about was the feel of her lips against his, the way she had pressed against his body. He shouldn’t think of her like that, but Cameron couldn’t help it. Maybe it was because he had been waiting years to do so or that it had just finally grown so hard to turn himself away, but he knew whatever was going to come of it wasn’t going to bode well for him.
She was going to be the death of him, one way or the other.
10
He banged his fist on the table, the wine bottles rattling in the middle. There would be no symbolic drinking tonight, no celebration.
They had failed.
They had not carried out their mission, and it had been an embarrassment to ride back from the moors and know that she was still alive.
The others shifted in their seats, some clearing their throats, and he wanted to run his sword through them all. It had been the perfect opportunity to rid themselves of Katherine McDougal, one lone woman against four.
Not only a woman, but she was unarmed and in the midst of the moors.
Yet she had outsmarted them, and now he was paying the price for their failure, one that he had hoped would be a far different outcome for today’s events. “We failed,” he growled, glaring at them. “You failed.”
They had not failed a mission in over twenty years, yet a mere slip of a woman had ruined that. His anger bubbled in his chest; he gritted his teeth, wanting to burn the bloody hut down and start over again with a group that could carry out the plans. Katherine leaving the keep alone could not have been better even if he had thought of it himself.
Failure was all it had been.
“Another time then,” one said, his words barely above a whisper. “She’s bound tae leave the keep again.”
“She’s far too stubborn not tae,” another said. “I’ve heard rumors. They cannae keep her from doing what she likes.”
“We must find something that will be unable tae fail,” he replied, his voice still rough. He had failed himself. His aim had been true numerous times, but none had impaled Katherine to cause bodily harm. It was frustrating to know that victory had been just within his grasp only to slip out once more. He could not let her spend too much time as the laird. People would start to agree with her, and then the clan would begin to show their loyalty, and their mission would be doomed.
They had to act fast. “Consider all the options,” he told them. “Nothing too great. We have the resources tae ensure that it will happen, and we cannae fail again. We are not failures, brethren. We are survivors.”
The chorus of ayes filled the room and he smi
led under his hood, knowing they would try again. The problem they were going to have now is that Katherine was aware that her life had been in danger and that it was likely to be attempted again.
That and the Mcaiwn guard that had been assigned to her. While she didn’t allow him to guard her all the time, he imagined that she would be changing her mind after this mishap today.
Why had they failed? They should be celebrating right now, another burn mark turned red, yet no arrow had pierced her, and all they had been left with was a vanishing woman who now was encased in her keep, surrounded by her warriors. He had watched them ride out earlier, with the Mcaiwn guard at the helm, and knew they were looking for clues.
He had briefly thought about sneaking in the keep and finishing the job, but the keep had been closed off, and he wished for her to suffer, not to make her death quick. She had a hand in their former laird’s death, and he had suffered greatly—only a shell of a man when he had hung from the gallows.
There would be pain and suffering for Katherine. He had to just figure out how he was going to accomplish it.
So, he reached for the wine in the center of the table, pouring a few glasses so each member could partake in the drinking. “Here is to the future,” he replied, holding up his glass. “We will not fail again. We are one with Scotland. We are the future of Scotland!”
“We are the future of Scotland!” they repeated before taking the drink and forcing it down. The wine itself was several generations old, and it burned his throat as he drank it, the bitterly tart taste turning his stomach.
Still, it was worth it if he got what he wanted, and for years, he had. This was just a setback, but it would not happen again. He would send his best men to perform the next task and ensure that it was completed regardless of their price. If they died while carrying out the mission, then it would be considered a job well done.
He had no qualms about their deaths or his own if it meant freeing this clan to become something greater, under a better rule than the lass they had chosen. The clan deserved someone who saw the visions, who understood what needed to take place for them to become one of the greatest clans of Scotland.
Highlander’s Royal Blood: A Steamy Scottish Medieval Historical Romance Page 6