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“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 ominousthud. 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.
