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“I was responsible for Katherine’s life; therefore, her death is my responsibility.”
“Aye,” David agreed in a menacing tone. “It is. Shall we move forward with yer death, then?”
“Ye may choose that, Sire,” he said slowly, considering how he would feel and what he would want to happen if he were the king. Revenge would be utmost in his mind if the woman he loved had been killed. “But I vow to ye, if ye allow me to live, there is nae a man alive who will be as relentless as I in hunting down Lady Mortimer’s killers and exacting revenge. I pledge it to ye.”
The king moved his sword and pointed it toward the ground before leaning close to Cameron. “It is fortunate for ye that I believe ye.” The rage simmering inside him was unmistakable in his brittle tone. “And it’s only because of this belief that I will spare yer life…for now.”
Cameron did not allow himself the exhale of relief he felt. He was glad he didn’t, as he realized the king was carefully watching him.
The king took a long, slow breath and spoke again. “I will have a head for this crime, and if ye dunnae give me one, it will be yers. Ye have until the leaves turn to bring me those who conspired to kill my Katherine.”
Cameron nodded. That gave him the rest of the summer, which was not long but was more time than he could have hoped for. “I’ll find them.”
“Ye best,” the king replied, his voice thrashing in intensity. “But,” he added, drawing the word out, as his eyes flashed bright, “I require something more.”
Cameron gritted his teeth. Of course there was more. King David had not managed to keep his throne for the twelve years he was in prison and then come out such a strong, ruthless leader merely by chance. The man was as calculating as he was clever.
“What more do ye wish, Sire?”
“I want ye to learn the names of every lord conspiring to overthrow me—and bring me proof of their treason—so I may quash them like the bugs they are. I’ve nary a doubt that killing Katherine was a blow by the lords who wish to show me they still have the power to control me.”
God only knew how long it would take to discover each name and gather the proof, but if he wanted to keep his head…
Cameron nodded. “Ye have my pledge.”
“Excellent.” The king bared his teeth in some semblance of a smile. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”
As he had no intention of relaying the tale on his knees, he got to his feet and told the king of the attack and the man with the scar and two different colored eyes. Then he paused as the weight of what—or ratherwhom—he had yet to mention pressed down upon him.
He flinched with the realization that his first instinct was to keep the lass’s presence a secret. Eolande’s words of betraying the king rang in his ears. The king seemed more reasonable now, so Cameron felt safer revealing her. “There was a lass with the men who attacked, and we have her,” he said.
The king’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Ye captured her?”
“Nae exactly,” Cameron admitted. “Alex and I came across her when we were riding to collect Katherine.”
“Where is the lass?” the king bellowed. “Why did ye nae bring her to me immediately?”
“Because she’s nae awake. She was felled from her horse by a branch across the forehead, and though we attempted to awaken her, she still sleeps as if she’s dead.”
“She will be shortly,” the king snarled. “Where is she?”
The instinct to lie to the king and say the lass was not an enemy, even though Cameron had no notion whether that was true or not, was so strong that it astounded him. “I asked Alex to take her to Marion to see if she could awaken her.”
When the king turned away and started for the castle door, Cameron bolted after him, as did the king’s guards. A sense of urgency gripped him as he bypassed David’s guards and fell into step beside the king. “Sire, the lass may well be able to tell us who led the attack. I dunnae believe killing her is the best course of action.”
“I will be the one who decides that,” King David growled before stalking into the castle.
Servants and MacLeods alike scurried away when faced with the sight of their king’s livid face. But Cameron could still hear Iain’s, Lachlan’s, and the other warriors’ heavy steps behind him. He met the king’s rapid pace step for step, and it didn’t take long to reach the healing room. When they arrived, the king didn’t pause to knock on the closed door. Instead, he threw it open, causing Marion and Cameron’s sister, Lena, to gasp.
Alex’s sword was already drawn as he shoved both women behind him. A murderous look flitted across his face, but as his gaze skittered first over the king, then Cameron, and then everyone behind him, Alex’s gaze widened, and he slowly lowered his sword.
“Sire,” he said, waving a hand toward the cot where the lass was lying. As the king brushed past Alex and the women to get to her, Marion darted toward the king. Cameron grasped her arm as she started by him and pulled her back, yet even as he did, Iain was by his side, taking his wife by the arm and giving her a warning look.
Marion was a kindhearted lass, which was miraculous since she was half-English and half-Scottish and had been born and raised in England by a man with no honor or love for his daughter. Yet, somehow she had become a woman who never wavered in risking her life for others. And by the determined look upon her face now, that included the mysterious, sleeping lass.
David looked down at the lass and then back at Marion. “Has she woken?”
“No,” Marion answered in her perfect English accent, which never failed to make the king frown. She gave her husband a pleading look, and Iain reluctantly let go of her. He had been overprotective of her since the very moment he met her, after King David had asked—or rather subtly demanded—Iain marry her almost three years prior.
