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“Oh, I do!” she snapped, cutting him off. She stepped toward him and poked him in the chest. He felt his jaw slip open. “I ken about the seer’s prophecy.”
“Ye what?” he bellowed.
She tilted her chin upward, her face the picture of irritated defiance. “I’m quite certain ye heard me. I do ken yer hesitation. I’m hesitant myself to relent to whatever this is”—she mimicked the motion he had just used and swept her hand between them—“between us. I was hesitant the first time ye kissed me, and that was before I even kenned of Eolande’s prophecy.”
He was so astounded that he simply stood there gaping. By the time he thought to demand who had told her of the foretelling, she was speaking again.
“So dunnae tell me that I dunnae ken,” she growled. “I dunnae wish to be the cause of yer betraying yer family or yer king.” Her voice had dropped to a hushed whisper, as if just saying the words could make them come true. “I dunnae even ken my own past! I kinnae say for certain why I was in those woods with the men that killed the king’s mistress,” she said with such misery that he flinched. “I dunnae blame ye for nae wanting to learn me when I may nae be a good person.”
“Ye are,” he replied. The conviction he felt about that took him by surprise.
She stilled for a moment, gratefulness flitting across her face, but then she took a deep, shuddering breath, and lines of contemplation appeared on her forehead. “I ken the king has designs to use me, and I dunnae wish for ye to ever feel ye must defy him because of me. I ken yer thoughts, but now ye must ken mine.” Her gaze locked with his, swirling with the gray clouds of her agitation. “Dunnae kiss me again, because each time ye do, ye make me want to ken ye more, and I dunnae wish to be left with such a wanting that I kinnae ever do anything about.”
“Sorcha,” he started, his voice catching with the raw emotion her words made him feel.
She shook her head while holding up a quieting hand. “Nay, please let me finish. We will part as soon as ye capture the men accountable for Katherine’s death, and I will be married or sold to a man I dunnae ken.” The reminder of the future the king had planned for her sparked rage within Cameron. His hands curled into fists, and he clenched his jaw to keep quiet as she had asked of him. “I will bear this fate.” She bit her lip. “I dunnae remember if I am braw, but I feel I am nae a coward, so Iwillbear it.”
His throat tightened almost mercilessly at the courage she unknowingly showed with her words. “Sorcha—”
“I dunnae wish to be haunted by memories of yer lips on mine, yer heat surrounding me, the smell of ye like a poison I crave in my blood,” she continued. “And I will be. I will be if ye kiss me again, so dunnae!” She flung out the last of her words, turned around, and raced down the path back to Dunvegan.
For a breath, he stood unmoving, astounded by what she’d said. He thought of the enemy that was possibly still out there somewhere. He quickly gathered his things and hastened to follow her to ensure she was safe. He caught sight of her in moments, staying close enough to keep her safe but not so near that he might accidentally bump into her if she were to cease her flight.
Her words ran through his mind on a loop. It was too late for him, he realized. Memories of her would haunt him forever. He could not imagine yearning for another woman as he yearned for her. He could not imagine allowing her to be married or sold to another man. And it was in his inability to imagine how he could let that fate come to pass that he understood how Eolande’s foretelling could come true. He could imagine betraying his king, devil take it, and even his family, to keep her with him.
As they entered the courtyard, she slowed to a walk, so he did, too. When she disappeared into the castle, he let her go without stopping her. From the corner of his eye, he could see Iain approaching, but Cameron continued to stare at where Sorcha had disappeared. A war between what he wanted to do and what he needed to do raged within him. His nostrils flared in a desperate attempt to get air and to calm the tempest that threatened to splinter him.
“What vexes ye?” Iain asked. He was always so perceptive.
“Sorcha,” he replied, not looking at his brother. He was ashamed of how weak he felt when it came to her.
Iain gripped Cameron’s shoulder. “I ken that look upon yer face, Brother.”
Cameron turned to Iain. “What look is that?”
“It’s the one that settles upon a man when he kens that he kinnae live without a woman.”
“I can live without her,” Cameron replied. “Dunnae be silly. I barely ken her.”
“I barely kenned Marion when I married her, but I was certain verra quickly upon meeting her that I did nae wish to be without her. What sort of life would it be for ye to ken ye let another man have her, one that may nae treat her well? She is in yer head,” Iain said. “And I imagine she is there, too.” He pointed to Cameron’s heart. “And once a woman is there… Aye, ye can live without her, but it is nae a life I wish for ye. That life is misery.”
Cameron’s heart quickened at his brother’s words. “I kinnae chance Eolande’s prophecy coming true.”
Iain’s gaze grew flinty. “Then dunnae let it, Brother. Ye are strong. Ye will find a way, and Lachlan and I—Graham, too—will help ye. Consider it,” he finished.
He squeezed Cameron’s shoulder and walked away, leaving Cameron standing there doing just that.
Eleven
It turned out there was no need for Marion and Bridgette to make excuses to their husbands as to where they were going the next day with Sorcha. Both men had been called away to a meeting with Gowan MacDonald, who was the Lord of the Isles and Marion’s maternal uncle. The MacDonald’s power, as it had been explained to Sorcha by Bridgette, matched that of the kings of England and Scotland. Thus, King David charged Iain with keeping the MacDonald as an ally. All Marion knew about the upcoming meeting was that a messenger had come from Gowan in the middle of the night, requesting an urgent meeting with Iain and Lachlan. Cameron, it seemed, had been sent in Iain’s absence to go see a tenant on the outskirts of the MacLeod land who was having problems with his horses being stolen.
Bridgette told Sorcha that Cameron, after arguing with his brothers, had agreed that Broch was best suited to guard her today while he was gone. It seemed Broch held the position of fiercest warrior after the MacLeod brothers, and apparently Lachlan had told Cameron in blunt terms to stop being a clot-heid when Cameron had attempted to assign Angus as her guard. Angus was a fine warrior, but due to his age, he was no match for Broch. Besides, Angus would not have been as easily persuaded as Broch to accompany the ladies to the Fairy Pools.
Sorcha was not exactly sure what Bridgette had said to him to get him to agree, because when Bridgette had returned to the stables where Marion and Sorcha were waiting for her, she had Broch in tow and there was no time to ask her. But the hopeful look Broch cast Sorcha’s way made her uneasy and she wondered if Bridgette had lured Broch into keeping the excursion a secret with the false promise that it might gain favor with Sorcha. She appreciated it greatly, but not so much that she could conjure feelings for the man that simply were not there.
Her head and her heart were full of thoughts, longing, and confusion for and about Cameron. On the one hand, he was as changeable in his behavior toward her as the weather, but she understood the reasons behind his behavior. It almost seemed to her that he was fighting his feelings for her, and if that was the case, they had to be strong feelings for him to be so inconsistent, which made her feel more forgiving toward him. Of course, his fury at himself had been so great after their last kiss that perchance he’d never kiss her again. A feeling of loss flowed through her at the thought.
Her suspicions about Broch grew as they started off on the journey to see Eolande and Broch maneuvered his horse close to her. Marion and Bridgette rode behind them, their amicable chatter floating up to Sorcha.
