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She frowned. “I ken it, as well, but I ken in my heart that ye bring it out in me.”
“It better be only me,” he growled and kissed her soundly on her pretty mouth. “I have nae ever been jealous over a lass, but with ye, it is different. Ye are mine. I’d kill any man who dared to touch ye.”
“I am nae yers yet,” she teased, but the shadows of worry flickering in her eyes told him it was not so lighthearted as she would have him believe.
He grasped her chin gently. “Ye are mine.”
“For now,” she conceded, settling back beside him.
He lay perfectly still, listening to her breathe and thinking about what she had said. Her words reinforced what he’d thought earlier. She would need utter surrender from him, all his heart and soul, to make her trust him completely and give hers in return. Was he prepared to surrender to her fully? For so long, he had kept his heart shielded and allowed no one in—as he had believed it was what he wanted—no, needed—to do to become the warrior he intended to be. And now? What did he need to do to protect her, keep her, and still be worthy of the MacLeod name?
His brothers all had wives they had surrendered to, and they were still fierce warriors. Of course, he was not his brothers and never had been. Maybe that was the problem, or maybe it was the answer? The truth evaded him, and after a while, he realized Sorcha’s breathing had grown deep and steady. He glanced at her to find her eyes shut and her face peaceful with slumber. As much as he wanted to sleep here with her, it was safer to return to the others, so he gathered her and his plaid in his arms as carefully as he could, pleased he managed to do so without waking her. She had to truly trust him with her safety to sleep so soundly.
He walked slowly into camp with her nestled in his protective embrace. A fire burned in the middle of multiple rings made of his men. The inner circle, the one closest to the fire, included Lena, Alex, Broch, and two empty spaces that Cameron knew had been left for Sorcha and himself. He nodded to the guards who’d been assigned the first watch as he weaved toward the inner circle. Lena lay between Broch, who was facing her, and Alex, whose back was to her. Lena, Cameron realized with a start, was awake and staring intently at Alex’s back. She seemed to have no notion that Cameron even approached so focused was she upon Alex.
Cameron knew the moment she noticed him. Her gaze skittered from Alex, and a scowl came to her face, followed by a disapproving frown.
He could feel her eyes on him as he laid out his plaid, settled Sorcha onto it, and then went searching for a blanket to cover her. Once he had it tucked under her chin and at her sides, he started to lie down, as well.
“I dunnae like that ye are growing so close to this woman,” Lena said.
He straightened and looked at his sister, who had sat up and had her knees drawn to her chest. Her long russet hair fell over her knees, reaching all the way to her ankles. She looked fragile, as if she had been broken and put back together but left with great cracks.
Her blue eyes were narrowed upon him, hinting at her displeasure. “We dunnae even ken her past. She may well have plotted to kill Katherine,” Lena hissed.
He ground his teeth in an effort to stamp out his rising temper. He knew his sister meant well, even if she was showing it poorly. “She did nae,” he said firmly.
“Ye dunnae ken that for certain,” Lena snapped. “What if when she recalls exactly who she is and realizes she is our enemy, she tries to kill ye or, at the verra least, warns whoever she plotted with that ye are after them?”
“She will nae,” he insisted.
“Are ye sure?” Lena whispered ferociously. “Would ye risk my life on it? The king’s? Alex’s? The safety of the MacLeod clan? It could be—” Lena scrambled over to him and clutched him “—that her family was involved in the plot to kill Katherine. It could be that her family is one of the ones rebelling against the king. Use yer brain, Cameron,” Lena urged, her voice rising.
He opened his mouth to argue, but his sister’s words had sent doubt slithering through his mind. Furious with himself for allowing any uncertainty in, he growled, “I would gladly risk my life on her nae hurting me or any of ye.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed further. “And mine? Yer family’s? Dunnae ye see that Eolande’s prophecy is coming true? Ye are forsaking yer family and yer king for this woman!”
He set a hand to his sister’s arm. “Have faith in me, Lena. I will nae ever forsake ye or our brothers. Ye are my family.”
“We shall see,” Lena muttered and went back to her place, lay down, and turned her back to him.
Grunting with frustration, he lay down, too, knowing he needed sleep, but when he rolled onto his side, he froze.
Sorcha stared back at him, tears streaming down her face. His gut twisted with her pain, and fury at his sister heated his blood. “Sorcha,” he murmured, reaching for her, but she shook her head while swiping at her tears.
“I’ll nae be the thing that separates ye from yer family,” she said vehemently. With that promise, she turned away from him. He brushed his fingertips against her shoulder, but she shifted farther away from him, placing her almost against Broch. Left with no choice but to cease trying to grasp her or see her practically lying on top of Broch, he pulled back and settled for staring at her.
He could not say how long he watched her, waiting to see her breathing deepen and know she had succumbed to sleep, but eventually her back rose and fell in long breaths, her tense posture relaxed, and she rolled onto her back, her face tilting toward him.
Moonlight streamed over Sorcha’s face, highlighting her beauty while tightening Cameron’s chest and quickening his breath. The need to touch her strummed through him, keeping sleep out of his reach. How ironic that he’d never before ached to hold a woman with the intent of nothing more than tenderness or cared to sleep the night with a woman by his side, and now he could not sleep because the desire to do both those things with Sorcha was battering him. When he decided it was safe to attempt to touch her once more, he moved toward her and slipped his arm across her waist. With her eyelids still closed in heavy sleep, she released a contented sigh that made him smile. She turned on her side again, but this time, instead of trying to put distance between them, she wiggled her backside against his groin.
The overwhelming need to protect and shelter her flowed through him. He tugged her as close as he could get her, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the simple exquisiteness of her heat against his skin, the soft exhalations of her breath, and the lush womanly curves nestled trustingly in his arms. He turned his focus to the weeks ahead, his stomach tightening at the thought of all that was at stake—his family, his honor, his life, and most certainly his heart. Before he could think much upon it, sleep finally, mercifully, claimed him.
Sixteen
Sorcha may have awoken in Cameron’s arms, but she had done her best not to touch him all day, and it was about to kill her. She had also tried not to ride at the front of the caravan by his side, but he’d flat out refused her request to allow her to ride in the back of the line with the rest of the warriors. As determined as she was not to come between Cameron and his family, he was just as determined to keep her next to him, which literally put her between him and his sister for the day-long journey.
Sorcha suspected he had done it on purpose to prove a point to his sister. As much as she hated to be that point he was trying to prove, she could not deny that his desire to be with her and his commitment to what he wanted inspired awe and an equivalent desire to stick by his side. But worry was there, too. Lena stayed next to them the entire day, as if she needed to protect Cameron from Sorcha, and when they turned onto the long, narrow bridge that led to Brigid Castle and Cameron rode forward to speak with the guards, Lena grasped Sorcha by the arm as the entire party drew to a stop.
