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Dark fear swept through him. “Have they been harmed?”
Broch nodded. “Aye, but nae fatally. Lena took a cut to the head, and Sorcha one to the leg—”
“Where are they?” he demanded, his voice mingling with Alex’s, who demanded the same.
Broch looked at the two of them. “In the healing room with Isobel.”
“Wait here for my return,” Cameron ordered. “I’ll ride out with ye.”
“We all will,” Alex added, turning toward the castle entry with Cameron.
“Dunnae tarry!” Graham called. They paused and looked back at him. “Whoever gained access to this island could have only done so under disguise, which means they’ve likely already left the way they came.” His grim voice displayed his anger. “I’ll meet ye back here and ride to the other side of the island with ye after I speak with the guards. Make haste.”
Cameron and Alex both nodded as they turned toward the castle door and hurried inside in silence.
It didn’t take long to reach the healing room, and when they entered, they parted, Alex going toward Lena, who was lying on a bed with Isobel huddled over her, and Cameron going to Sorcha, who stood by the window with her back to the door. She turned as he approached, happiness flooding her face, then disappearing in the same instant, replaced by a stark wariness that stopped him. Unease gripped him as he started once more toward her, pulled her into his arms, and ran his hands over her head, shoulders, back, hips, and kneeled at her feet to gently lift her gown and expose her legs.
“What are ye doing?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper.
He traced a finger gently down her leg where her wound had been dressed. Slowly, he unwrapped the bandage, feeling her eyes upon him as he did so. He inhaled sharply at the long, angry cut on her leg, and as fury flowed through his veins, he tilted his head up to look at her face. “I will nae sleep until I find who has been hunting ye. I’ll kill them. I vow it.”
The fear that flashed in her eyes confused him, but as he stood and pulled her into his arms, she clung to him and he thought that the fear must be for him. He brushed a hand through her hair. “Dunnae fash yerself,mo chridhe. I’ll be verra stealthy, so I’ll nae be in danger.”
She pulled back and met his eyes. That same look was in her eyes—stark, vivid fear—but now wariness accompanied it.
Apprehension flickered through him. “What is it?”
“Mo chridhe?”she whispered.
He frowned. “Ye dunnae wish to be ‘my heart’?” He intended his voice to be steady, yet he heard it wobble.
“What? Nay!” she said in a low, rushed tone, as she pressed her lips to his.
When she started to draw away, he locked his arms around her back and held her prisoner as she was holding his heart prisoner. She had his heart. She’d taken it, likely just as his brother had warned—from the very first kiss. He slanted his mouth over hers, tasting her, feeling her, tormenting them both with a kiss that stirred their passion but must be stopped for what lay ahead. She pulled away before he could manage to gather the will. Her hand came to rest on his heart, and her gaze, burning bright with worry, locked with his.
Unease blanketed him once more. “What is it?” he demanded.
“I’ve remembered my past,” she whispered, her voice laden with misery.
His gut twisted at the obvious fear in her tone. “Ye ken who ye are?” he asked quietly as he drew her to the far side of the room, away from Isobel and Lena. He was aware Isobel had stilled in her ministrations to Lena.
Near the window overlooking the courtyard they faced each other. She stared out the window as she spoke. “My father is the Earl of Angus.”
Her words cut through him like an icy wind on the coldest winter day. He winced and inhaled sharply. The Earl of Angus had once been one of David’s allies. He’d had the king’s favor and had believed that David would never make a choice that would lessen the earl’s wealth. But the king would abide no man who attempted to tell him how to rule, and all who had tried—like the Earl of Angus had—had ended up having land taken from them and given to someone who was truly loyal. Thus, the earl’s power and wealth had been greatly diminished, thanks to David.
Cameron swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. She was the daughter of an enemy of his king and his family, yet she had his heart. Eolande’s prophecy rang in his ears as he asked Sorcha, “Why were ye in the woods the day Katherine was killed?” His heart thudded as he waited for her to answer. It seemed an eternity before she spoke, yet he knew it had taken only two breaths.
“My father, the Earl of Ross, and the Earl of March learned that Katherine would be traveling through the woods near our home.” Sorcha had a faraway look on her face and a crease between her brows. She swallowed audibly. “They decided to kill her to send a message to the king that he could nae control the nobles,” she said, biting down on her lip, her distress obvious. “And that if he tried, there would be grave effects. Hugo offered to kill Katherine in exchange for my hand in marriage.”
A tremor coursed through her, and he squeezed her tighter. Disgust coursed through him. Both her father and King David had been willing to barter her away to a loathsome man like Hugo simply to keep their power.
Cameron had to stop it.
“Father also offered Hugo the castle my brother was supposed to inherit—Blair Castle.” Sorcha paused again, and a dark look overcame her. She took a deep shaky breath. “I overheard the exchange and tried to beat Hugo, his men, and my father’s men to yer party to warn ye, but I was overcome by Hugo.”
Cameron nodded, rage pounding through his veins for Katherine’s murder, for the betrayal of the king, for Sorcha.
“I’m sorry, Cameron,” she said with a shake of her head. “I understand if ye wish to turn from me—”
