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Graham frowned at him. “Cameron—”
Cameron cut him off again, that tightening feeling in his throat causing him to swallow hard. “Lachlan is too busy fighting battles or training to fight battles. The pitiable wee devil barely takes time to enjoy the sun on his face, let alone a lass.”
Deep lines appeared between Graham’s brows. Cameron didn’t know whether it was because he still hadn’t let Graham speak or because of Graham and Lachlan’s contentious relationship. To say the two brothers were not close was not strong enough. Cameron may only have been fifteen summers, but he saw the things his brothers tried to hide. He suspected much of the problem between Lachlan and Graham was that Graham was jealous of Lachlan. But it was not Cameron’s problem to sort out.
“And ye…” He speared Graham with a knowing look. “I ken ye only have eyes for one lass, though ye dunnae ever seem to make any progress with her.” Cameron was boldly alluding to his suspicion that Graham was smitten with Bridgette MacLean, Alex MacLean’s sister.
Graham’s face turned red, and he opened his mouth—likely to deny it—but Cameron pushed forward again, glad to have the focus off himself. “Dunnae bother crying false. I will nae tell yer secret.” He continued toward the shore but had not gotten more than five steps when he met with Mary, who was slow to climb the stairs with the jugs of ale she was carrying.
She paused directly in front of him and gave him a saucy look. “If ye win the dagger-throwing contest, I’ll give ye a kiss.”
Out of habit, Cameron winked at the lass, though he felt no desire to woo anyone at the moment. “Then I must be sure to win,” he replied smoothly, ignoring the derisive noise that came from Graham.
“Come find me in the kitchens when it’s over, aye?” she asked, stepping around him.
She had already walked past him when he replied, “Aye, I’ll do that.”
He continued at a faster pace down the stairs, wanting to reach the shore before Graham might speak of his purpose in life again. Lillianna, a curly-headed brunette one year his senior, came quickly up the stairs toward them.
The daughter of the stable master paused in the middle of the steps to smile up at him, and he slowed to a stop. “I’ve been looking for ye, Cameron,” Lillianna said.
“Have ye now, lass?” he teased. Lasses and humor usually helped to keep the empty feeling away. “What is it ye be needing from me?”
“I’ve collected fern seeds for ye to rub on yer eyelids so ye can see the fairies that come out tonight during the celebration,” she replied with a flirtatious smile.
He barely repressed the urge to shudder, which would likely offend her. He had as deep a belief in fairies and in seers as any man or woman in his clan, but that did not mean he wanted to see the magical creatures. Before his father had died, he had told Cameron about a time he had sought out Eolande, the seer who lived at the Fairy Pools on Skye and was thought to be of fairy blood. Long ago, Eolande had gifted one of his forefathers with a charmed Fairy Flag to be used to save his clan in a time of dire need, so when the seer had foretold his father’s death, Father had believed her. Not a day had passed that Father hadn’t regretted the burden of the knowledge.
No thanks. He didn’t want to see fairies, or seers, or the seer-fairy of Skye and learn some dire foretelling of his own life. Still, he’d take the seeds so as not to hurt Lillianna, and he would toss them away. He held out his hand. “That was verra sweet of ye to collect seeds for me, Lillianna.”
“Close yer eyes,” she commanded, surprising him.
“What for?” he asked with a frown.
“So I can rub the fern seeds on yer eyelids, of course,” she answered.
Behind him, Graham shifted from foot to foot, and Cameron could imagine the restless, irritated expression his brother likely wore. It no doubt resembled the one his father had worn for years whenever he had looked at Cameron.
His stomach tightened. He was stuck. But he’d not appear fearful now. “Dunnae fash yerself, lass. I’ll do it.”
Did his voice sound panicky, or was that his imagination? He studied Lillianna’s face for signs that she might have noticed his hesitation.
She smirked at him. “Dunnae tell me ye’re suddenly afraid to let a woman touch ye?”
“Aye,” came Graham’s laughter-choked voice. He shoved Cameron in the shoulder. “Are ye scairt to let the lass put the fern seeds on yer eyelids?”
Cameron’s tic returned with the force of a hit to his jaw. He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. His brother knew good and damned well that he had no interest in seeing any magical creatures. Graham was the one person to whom Cameron had long ago confessed his wariness.
Lillianna gave him an expectant look, and then her lips parted. “Are ye fearful of the fairies, the seers, or both?” Surprise muffled her tone.
“Nae either,” he said as decisively as he could manage and promptly closed his eyes. “Just eager to reach the dagger-throwing contest. Be quick about it, aye?”
“To be certain, I will,” she responded before her cool, smooth fingertips touched his lids and gently rubbed the fern seeds on them. Unease stirred deep within him, but he held himself perfectly still. Suddenly her touch was gone, and he opened his eyes to find her face a hairsbreadth from his. “Do ye ken what I have under my gown tonight, Cameron?”
He gave her a wolfish smile. He knew well the tradition of wearing nothing under one’s outer clothing on St. John’s Eve. Legend had it that young, unmarried folk would divine lovers for the night, or perchance even find their future spouses. He had no interest in a spouse, but a lass to dally with…? He started to raise his hand to run it down Lillianna’s rosy cheek when his brother clasped his shoulder.
“Time to go,” Graham barked. Stepping to Cameron’s side without releasing his hold, he propelled him down the stairs.
For the space of a breath, Cameron considered resisting, but he did need to get to the dagger-throwing competition. Still, he glanced over his shoulder and winked at Lillianna. “Wish me luck.”
