He knew she was correct about moving his arm every chance he had. He just needed reminding.
He lowered his arm, then lifted it again and bent his elbow.
He’d practiced on his horse. Why not washing bowls?
“If ye would have been here over the years, I would have been back to fightin’ by now.”
“If I would have been here, I would have killed ye by now. If not, why would I help my enemy return to fighting against Covenanters?”
He nodded. She was likely correct about that too.
He looked down at his left hand holding onto the bowl while his right tipped its contents into the stream.
She took the opportunity to snatch his bowl from the rock where it waited for its turn to be washed. She plucked three smaller rocks in her hand and scrubbed them against the inside of the bowl in a circular motion.
Slipping her gaze to him, she motioned to the movement of her hand.
He mimicked her movement with his left hand. Scraping the bowl in inward circular motions and then outward motions.
She cleaned the bowl as if she hadn’t just helped him—and enjoyed it.
It made him laugh softly, almost to himself.
When the cleaning was all done, he gathered the pot and she took the two bowls. They returned to the house, and after shelving the supperware, she followed him to the sitting room.
“Would ye like some wine?” he asked her, striding to the small table housing a jug and four cups.
“Nae. I dinna trust that I wouldna try to do something foolish. Fer the time being, at least.”
“Ah, then I am safe fer the time bein’.” He scoffed, pouring himself a cup.
“Scoff if ye like, Mr. Cameron, but yer time on this earth is not long.”
“I imagine there was no one to tell ye the proper way to threaten yer enemy is no’ to let them know yer plans.” He sipped his drink and let his gaze pierce hers. “Ye never stop tellin’ me.”
She tossed him a black look and fell into the cushioned settee across from him. “I canna help it. Every time I look at ye, I am reminded of the horrible darkness ye brought into my life.”
Aye, she was telling him that there could never be anything between them but hatred and contempt. She was correct, he reasoned. He had to take her threats more seriously. He should show her less mercy. He should treat her more like what she was: his property, granted to him by the king.
But he had no stomach for it. “Go to bed, Miss Woodburn. I’ll get us fish in the mornin’.”
“I will cook it,” she volunteered.
He waved his hand away and took another sip of his drink, watching her leave from under his thick lashes. At least her last words to him were not a threat.
He thought about where he should take her. Muirshearlich was a small, intimate hamlet. She might fit in there. But, the Abernay brothers lived in Muirshearlich. They were known to harass the lasses in the hamlet.
He did not want Miss Woodburn to be harassed.
Torlundy was nice but too close to the castle and to the house. Fort William was large and pleasant to the eye. But many times, the king stationed his army there. He did not want Miss Woodburn to be surrounded by Royalist soldiers.
He downed the rest of his wine and closed his eyes. He didn’t remember dreaming but it had to be a dream.
Sir, I willna hurt ye.
He opened his eyes to his faerie, Miss Woodburn.Ye must wake up and escape. Do ye hear me, my lord, ye must leave now. There is nae time to—she stopped whispering and looked up.
It was her. What had Miss Woodburn been doing in the dungeon, helping him? Even an hour after he opened his eyes again and left the house to get some fish, he wondered if the dream had been real. She said she had not been down there. She would not have helped him.
