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Broch fidgeted, not answering, and when Cameron’s anger sparked again, he was about to demand a reply when the likely answer hit him. His nostrils flared as he stared at his longtime friend. “Ye did it to gain favor with Sorcha.”
A flush covered Broch’s neck. “Aye. I’ve no excuse, and I expect to be punished.”
And he would be. The man had known Cameron would not agree, but he’d done it anyway. Yet, Cameron did not give the penance immediately. He carefully thought upon what he wanted to say, knowing jealousy was involved on his part. “I must take away yer command of men for a time. Ye ken I would nae have agreed to such an excursion, nor would Iain or Lachlan.”
Broch lowered his head. “Aye. The woman enchanted me.”
Cameron felt as if Broch had hit him in the jaw once more. He swallowed hard. “Did she…did she give ye reason to believe she welcomed yer attentions?”
“Nay,” Broch said with a shrug. “But I’m stubborn, and I’d hoped she would after a time.” He lifted his gaze to Cameron’s. “I see now that she will nae. I did nae ken ye already had a claim on her heart.”
Shock stilled Cameron, and he glanced around swiftly, relieved to see everyone but he and Broch had dispersed. “Did she say that to ye?”
“She did nae have to. It was in her eyes when she looked at ye. Adoration. Trust. Fear that I had hurt ye. I did nae ever believe I’d wish to be looked upon that way, but I believe now I might desire it verra much.”
Cameron knew exactly what Broch meant, but he’d not say it. Instead he said, “Tell me of the seer and the attackers.”
As Broch began to talk, Cameron forced himself to focus, though his thoughts kept trying to stray to Sorcha. He would see her soon—after he secured the dead attacker and combed the woods for the one still at large. Once that was done, he would deal with her sneaking away and her recklessness. He had to if he was going to keep her protected. He just prayed he could keep his hands off her long enough to make her understand that she had to take more care with her safety.
Sorcha paced the length of her empty bedchamber, noting the first light of a new day had streaked the sky in a breathtaking display of oranges, reds, and purples. The léine she wore swished against her thighs with her fast, agitated strides. Her head ached, and her eyes stung with lack of sleep. She’d tried to rest—oh, how she’d tried—but the peaceful state had eluded her.
After Marion and Bridgette had departed late in the night, the guard appointed to watch over her from outside her door had told her that Cameron was out with a tracking party looking for her attacker. So she’d waited, tense with anxiety, on the edge of her bed, thinking he would come speak to her when he returned. Thundering horse hooves had filled the courtyard when the moon had nearly departed the sky, and a glance down below had revealed the tracking party had returned, yet still Cameron had not come.
Exhaustion had weighed heavily on her, so she’d stripped off her gown and climbed into the bed, certain that she would fall asleep immediately. Except her mind had raced with a hundred possibilities of why he did not come to her, each tormenting her in its uniqueness and keeping sleep out of her reach. No matter what position she had tried, her head had battered her with questions. Was he furious that she had gone to see Eolande? Was he angry that her journey to the seer had endangered Broch, Marion, and Bridgette, even if accidentally? It could be that he simply did not wish to see her. He may have decided she was entirely too much trouble and was planning to persuade the king to take her off his hands. Or perchance he thought she cared for Broch. Or that she was evil…
The more questions she had, the more irritable she became. She was upset with him. She understood that he likely warred with himself because of the seer’s prophecy—and she was pleased he had admitted he’d attacked Broch out of care for her—but she needed him to talk to her so they could determine if they could even cross the divide that lay between them.
She’d abandoned sleep and taken up pacing long ago. As she completed another trip across her room, she paused in front of the window, looking out at the sunlit courtyard and massaging her aching temples. There were no answers, only questions and growing frustration. Cameron had the answers she sought—well, some of them anyway—but perchance he intended to avoid being alone with her ever again. She breathed slowly and evenly, considering what Eolande had said to her. The attack the seer spoke of had occurred, but what was the change? She skipped over the things the seer had said that she could not comprehend, and she settled on what the woman had said in regard to Cameron. Did they truly share a passion that could not be denied?
Her gut told her that such an attraction as the one that had sparked between them was not a common occurrence. Her mind started to turn to all the obstacles they faced even to have a future, but she shoved the thoughts away. She knew the obstacles well—her memory, the king, the prophecy. Yet, she still wished to learn Cameron. He was the man she wanted to walk with, talk with, train with, and have take her in his arms. But before she could admit all of that to him, she had to tell him what the seer had foretold to her.
Eolande had said their passion would either sink under the weight of heavy lies or rise with powerful love. Who would be the liar? Was it her? She curled her hands into fists. She had no control over the sort of person she had been, but by God, she had full control over whether she had honor or notnow, and she chose honor.
She sighed as the rest of Eolande’s prophecy echoed in her head, especially the part about a claim upon her body that would supersede the one upon her heart. Eolande could have been seeing that the king would force her into a marriage her heart did not want, or possibly someone else would. Either way, Cameron had a right to know since the seer said he would forsake his own honor to free Sorcha.
Fierce determination to see the man and make him look at her and hear her overcame Sorcha. If the stubborn Scot refused to come to her, then she would simply have to go to him. She quickly donned her gown and then marched toward the door and flung it open, coming to a shuddering halt at the sight of Cameron filling the doorway. A thick leather strap that secured his gleaming sword was all that covered his sculpted chest. His hair was pulled back by twine, revealing the harsh but beautiful lines of his jaw. His green eyes appeared almost moss colored in their darkness, and they widened as he raked his gaze over her before meeting her eyes once more. The desire flaming there set her heart to pounding and instantly heated her body.
He stepped toward her without a word but with a predatory look about him. She set her palm to his chest and locked her gaze with his. The rapid beat of his heart thumped against her fingertips, as the heat of his flush singed her. She wanted to relent to him, but he had to be at peace with what he felt for her before she could, and he had to hear what Eolande had said. She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips.
“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt ye,” he said, his voice husky. The apology made her heart squeeze. He ran his finger gently over her lips before removing it. They stood face-to-face, very close, but he no longer touched her. “I dunnae want to fight how I feel any longer.”
To hear that he had accepted how he felt for her, overwhelmed her. She dropped her palm and pressed her body close to his, bringing her mouth to his ear. “Nor do I,” she whispered, allowing herself to forget for the moment what she wanted to tell him of Eolande.
He rubbed his cheek against hers as he set his hands to her waist and lifted her with ease. He carried her into the room and kicked a leg backward, closing the door with a resounding thud. When he set her on her feet again, her chest brushed his, making her loins tighten and her breasts grow immediately heavy. A moan escaped her, and he responded with a growl before his arm slid around her waist once more and his hand fisted in her hair to tilt her head back. He slanted his mouth over hers, stoking the fire that threatened to consume her.
His fast, demanding kisses sang through her veins and made her gasp, but when his mouth suddenly became slow and gentle, almost reverent in its caresses, she wanted to weep at the tenderness he was displaying. It showed her that what was between them had the promise of more than desire, just as Eolande had foretold. As he kissed her, his hands explored her back, her waist, her hips, and then slid up to the neckline of her léine.
Breaking their kiss, he pulled back from her, his gaze boring into her as he tugged her léine down over one shoulder and then the other. Ever so slowly and gently, he inched it along her breasts, exposing the tops but nothing else. He stilled, a questioning look coming to his eyes.
“I’ll cease now if ye wish it,” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
God, she did not wish it. What she needed to tell him of the seer niggled in her mind, but she shoved it down for one more moment. She wanted him to bare all of her and then set his hands to her burning body, because she was certain he could offer relief to the exquisite ache that had claimed her. “Nae yet,” she replied, her voice husky.
Desire darkened his gaze further as he slid her léine over her breasts to her waist. Silently, he stared at her with a look of bold, frank possession. Her blood thickened as he reached out and cupped her breasts, running his thumb over her straining buds. She hissed as her body arched involuntarily toward him, and he caressed her again in slow, teasing circles that made her want to scream with pleasure.
He moved his hand from her breasts, making her whimper for the loss of his touch, and he cupped her chin and fastened his gaze to hers. “Ye are the most glorious creature I have ever beheld, and I dunnae only mean yer body, though I’ve nae ever looked upon a lass as beautiful as ye. Ye make me want to drop to my knees and worship ye.”
She raked her gaze over his face, thick arms, slabs of his stomach, and muscled legs, locking her eyes to his once more. Intensity shone in the green depths, and his jaw was set, just as it had been the moment she had looked upon him after waking from her injury. She had known then that he had a tight rein on a great amount of power. Was he keeping control for her now? Did he fear releasing it with her? She wanted to see him without his inhibitions, without the shadows of doubt that danced in his eyes. No matter what came for them in the future, this moment was theirs, and it very well could be the only one like this they would ever share. She prayed it was not, even as she reached out with trembling hands and ran them down the length of his chest, glorying in the way his lids grew heavy with the need she was creating in him.
