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“That,” Cameron said, “sounds like an excellent idea.”
Everyone was acting so oddly tonight at supper, but then again, Sorcha thought the past several days had been strange. She was not about to voice her concern, however. The longer Cameron chose to linger at his brother’s home instead of heading for the Earl of March’s castle, the more time she had with him. Each moment was precious, and not just because she feared the moments were numbered.
In the past few days, Cameron had spent a great deal of time with her, perfecting her ability to defend herself; showing her how to work with iron, wood, and other metals to make swords, daggers, even a shield; swimming with her; and talking with her about their childhoods. Each night, they danced in the great hall, and afterward took long walks in the moonlight. And at the end of every evening, he’d come to her bedchamber with her, worshipping her body in ways that took them both just to the edge of losing control, but not over, never over. She would fall asleep in the safety of his arms with him singing softly to her. He had one of the most beautiful voices she’d ever heard. She could have been utterly happy, except for her lie. It gnawed at her, and the need to tell Cameron pulsed within her. Yet she could not chance revealing the truth and putting him in a position to choose between her and the king.
Sorcha felt eyes upon her, so she looked up from the trencher she’d been staring down at to find Lena smiling at her. The smile looked suspiciously as if Lena knew a secret. Lena took a long drink from her goblet and set it down, giving Sorcha a hard look. To Sorcha’s left, the young priest she had met earlier accidentally knocked over his goblet of wine.
“I beg yer pardon, my lady,” Father Blackstone said, his cheeks turning red.
Cameron had told her the man was rather new to his brother’s castle and had earned a reputation as somewhat of a clumsy man. Sorcha quickly helped him clean up the mess, and when she was done, Father Blackstone thanked her profusely. He leaned close to her, a twinkle in his light-brown eyes. “My predecessor told me the best way to gain the confidence of yer flock is to show them ye are human. How am I doing?”
Sorcha felt her eyes widen. “Ye mean ye’re doing these things—” she motioned to the table where the wine had been spilled “—on purpose?”
“Aye,” he replied, a look of guilt flashing across his face. “I’ve been here since winter and nae a soul has come to confess to me. The last couple that got married even sent word to the old priest and had him journey here to perform the ceremony. It seems my age makes people believe I’m nae ready to lead them.”
He gave her an expectant look, as if she had a reply that would make him feel better. She cleared her throat and said, “I have faith in ye.”
“Do ye?”
She nodded.
He grinned. “Ye may be the only one.” He turned and glanced at Cameron, who sat on the other side of him. Cameron took no note, as he was engaged in conversation with Isobel, but Isobel smiled sweetly at the priest and then gave Sorcha a look. It seemed a strange mixture of happiness and secretiveness, almost like Lena’s had been.
Sorcha frowned, but when the priest patted her on the hand, she focused on him once more. He leaned in again, as if he had something private to say. “Do ye intend to marry Cameron if he asks ye?”
His question shocked her, but she assumed he was asking because he wanted her to say he could perform the ceremony. “I’d like to,” she whispered.
Suddenly, she felt someone hovering over her, and when she glanced up, Cameron stood there, looking down at her, an expression of utter possession gleaming in his eyes. Had he heard what she’d said? Embarrassment had her stuttering for words. “I…I did nae mean—”
“Do ye intend to marry this woman?” Father Blackstone asked Cameron.
“Aye,” Cameron replied. Her heart fluttered in both happiness and wariness.
“Excellent,” the priest replied, suddenly standing and moving from the bench. “When ye are in need of me to perform the official ceremony, I’ll be here.”
As the priest left, Cameron held out his hand to her. She took it, suddenly aware that everyone sitting on the dais was staring at them. She skimmed her gaze over Lena, Alex, Isobel, Graham, and Isobel’s grandmother. What must they think after hearing her say she’d like to marry Cameron? Did they think a marriage would soon occur? Did Lena worry that Sorcha had forgotten the prophecy?
“If ye’ll excuse us,” Cameron said, cutting into the whirling noise of worry in her head.
Once they had quit the great hall and were walking toward her bedchamber, she paused and turned to Cameron. “Please dunnae feel ye must ask me to marry ye this day,” she murmured, her embarrassment so acute that her entire body felt singed. She tensed, prepared for Cameron to argue.
“Dunnae fash yerself,” he said, a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, as if he found her embarrassment—the whole situation, really—amusing. “I dunnae feel that way in the least. I ken how ye feel about marrying me. Everything happens when it is time,” he added, his tone almost…what was it? Resigned? Had he resigned himself to the fact that she had thus far refused his marriage proposal? Would he not ask again? But no, he’d said he would. Yet, her stomach turned with sudden worry that he might give up so easily on her. She was being unreasonable. That’s what she was—utterly unreasonable. She could not demand blind devotion when she was not giving it.
Biting her lip so she’d not voice the absurd thoughts in her head, she followed him into her bedchamber, half expecting him to decide not to sleep with her tonight. He closed the door as he ushered her in, and she found herself suddenly agitated and unsure what to say or do. She turned from him, toward the window, and strolled to it, feigning interest in the stars so he’d not see the emotions on her face.
She felt his presence before he touched her. When he moved, the air crackled with his power and intensity. His warm hands came to rest gently on her shoulders, and the heat of his body enveloped her. Unable to resist the pull of her body to his, she pressed her back against what felt like iron but she knew was his body, carved of almost pure muscle.
“I’ve nae ever seen a more beautiful sight,” he whispered, his breath fanning her neck and making her shiver.
“Aye, the sky is lovely tonight,” she replied, staring in wonder at the bright-white stars dotting the dark sky and feeling somewhat calmed by his touch.
“Nae the sky,mo ghraidh,” he said, his voice a balm to her worries.
His love.
She committed to memory how the endearment sounded coming from his lips. Whether they were married in this life or not, she would always know he had loved her and remember this moment.
She turned suddenly in his arms, slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, and pressed her chest to his, her pelvis to the proof of his hard desire for her. “Cameron, I want ye,” she said simply, infusing the four words with a silent, desperate plea. When he didn’t immediately remind her that he’d not join with her until they were married, she pushed forward. “All of ye. I want to ken ye as I nae ever have.” As she might never get the chance to again…
