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Inside, Cameron winced for Sorcha as her eyes widened and fastened accusingly on her brother. She had no idea of the plan, and he could well imagine her fear of what was happening. “Yer Grace, my father was nae the only one to betray ye. My brother and—”
The king held up a silencing hand. “I ken my betrayers well, Sorcha. In time, all will get what they deserve, even if at first they seem to escape justice.”
“My lord,” Sorcha’s brother whined. “I did nae betray ye, I vow it. She simply wants my castle.”
Sorcha gasped. “Nay!”
“Finn Stewart,” the king said in a voice so cold it felt as if an icy wind blasted Cameron, “ye’ve been named traitor to me and murderer of Katherine Mortimer—”
“I did nae kill Lady Mortimer!” Finn shouted. “Sorcha! Sorcha, Sister, tell the king that I did nae kill Lady Mortimer. I beg ye.”
Cameron trained his gaze on Hugo, who was barely controlling the gleeful smile on his face. Cameron would kill the arrogant man this day. He’d kill him for murdering Katherine and betraying the king, but more so, he would kill the man because he intended to make Sorcha his wife to gain the castle that was now hers. Her father, no doubt, would soon die in prison, the Earl of Ross and his son obviously having done exactly as Cameron had suspected. They’d taken their names from the petition, pledged renewed fealty to the king, and given the names of Sorcha’s father and brother as the murderers. And in exchange, they expected Hugo to marry Sorcha and inherit Blair Castle.
“Hugo shot Lady Mortimer,” Sorcha said quietly, “but my brother and father did willingly aid Hugo and the Earl of Ross. They plotted against ye, Sire.”
“Hush, lass,” the king ordered. “It is honorable of ye to try to defend yer brother and father, but dunnae do so with lies.”
Sorcha’s eyes widened. “But, Yer Grace!”
“Sorcha Stewart,” the king declared, and Cameron braced himself for what he knew was coming, “I hereby transfer yer care over to Hugo and give my consent for him to wed ye.”
“Nay!” Cameron thundered, the words bursting from his chest. The situation felt so real that his stomach turned.
As Hugo’s men moved to seize Sorcha, Cameron withdrew his sword, and Broch stepped in front of him with his own sword drawn. “Ye dare to defy yer king?” Broch roared.
To his left, Sorcha was crying, and when he glanced her way and saw that Hugo now grasped one of her arms with a look of possession on his face, Cameron forgot for a moment that things were occurring as he himself had planned. He lunged toward Hugo, only to find the point of Broch’s sword digging into his chest.
“Shall I kill him, Sire?” Broch asked.
For one breath, the king looked as if he were actually contemplating it.
“Yer Grace,” Graham said calmly, “I’m sure ye dunnae wish to do such a thing.” He had withdrawn his own sword, and suddenly the swish of hundreds of swords being drawn behind him filled the tense silence. His brother’s support and fealty humbled Cameron.
“Of course nae,” the king finally answered. “We’ve all lost reason over a woman before. Take yer brother and ride home. Ye,” the king said, motioning to Broch, “go with the lass and ensure she is treated well.”
“Yer Grace,” Hugo protested, but he fell silent at the king’s quelling look.
Graham tugged on Cameron’s arm to get him to move. He knew he was supposed to go; he’d devised it all exactly this way. Depart. Hide. Wait for Hugo to ride past with Sorcha on the way to his home. Then Cameron would take her back. Yet, he could not leave. He had something else to do for Sorcha. “Sire, I request ye give the discipline of Finn Stewart over to me.”
“Nay,” the king said in a tone that brooked no argument and rang with the finality of all his rage against those who had killed Katherine or stood by and let it happen. Cameron wanted to argue for Sorcha, but to do so would be folly and possibly destroy his carefully laid-out plan.
“Away, now!” Sorcha sobbed at him. “Away before ye get yerself killed! I’m yers,” she continued, her sobs racking her body. “I will always be yers.”
Graham had to drag Cameron away, and when he got to his horse, he stood there until Graham hissed, “Mount the damned beast and let us away. Ye have planned this, and I ken it’s gutting ye, but it is going exactly as ye said it would. Dunnae lose faith in yerself now, Brother.”
Cameron nodded grimly, mounted his destrier, and rode away. He didn’t look back. He feared if he did, he’d change his mind and ruin everything.
Twenty
Sorcha’s entire body was wrapped in weariness and despair. Sitting on a horse behind Hugo and beside Broch, waiting helplessly for them to depart, she tried to think of something she could do, yet she could not seem to rip her focus from what had just occurred. She stared off in the direction Cameron had disappeared, both relieved that he’d left and was not killed, and shocked that he had actually departed. He was gone.
Betrayal and abandonment enveloped her, yet she shoved back at the emotions. She’d told him to go, wanted him to do so. If he’d stayed and fought for her, he would have lost his life. The thought of a life hanging in the balance brought Finn to mind. What could she do to aid him? She glanced behind her to where he was being held, and as she did, his scream ripped through the air. A scream tore from her own lungs as her brother grabbed a sword from the hands of the startled warrior to his right. The warrior to Finn’s left, one of Hugo’s men, responded lightning-quick, plunging his sword into Finn’s heart. Sorcha watched in mute disbelief as Finn crumpled to the ground.
She started to slide off the horse to go to him, but Broch jerked her back on. “Ye kinnae help yer brother now.”
Blood poured from Finn’s wound onto the ground, and she knew it to be the truth. Her heart wrenched, and she turned to Broch for comfort, only to remember he had betrayed Cameron by drawing his sword against him. She knew in her head that Broch likely felt he had to first be true to the king, but her heart hated Broch at this moment. “I despise ye,” she hissed.
“Good,” he growled. “I’d be disappointed if ye did nae.”
