Authors: Dawn Halliday

Highland Surrender (38 page)

BOOK: Highland Surrender

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He didn’t relish the thought of confronting her. He didn’t know how she’d react. But she deserved the truth . . . and so did he.

Fog bathed Gràinne’s cottage when Cam stopped in front of it an hour later. He stopped his horse, both man and animal staring at the small structure. One of the guards appeared, but Cam waved him away, and the man disappeared back behind the wall.

He had no desire to wake Gràinne. She was still recovering.

Since Cam was a green youth, she’d been there, always supportive, always soothing—offering him physical and mental comfort. Gazing at her little cottage, he realized he no longer thought of her in a carnal way. When had that stopped? Even during Cam’s obsession with Sorcha, he had come to Gràinne for physical release.

Now, while he still thought of her as a friend, he had no desire to bed her. He knew that, even if he waited here until she awoke, he wouldn’t bed her today. Or ever again.

What an odd thought. Something had shifted, altered his life beyond recognition. Hell, he didn’t know who he was anymore.

He’d changed since he’d returned home. First there was Ceana. When the highwayman shot him, he’d been so certain he was dead. But then he’d awakened to her gray-blue eyes staring down at him, and he’d been reborn. There were the families he’d talked to, those he’d helped, and his plans for the future of his lands. There was Robert MacLean, his brother, and there was Elizabeth. And then there was Ceana. It all circled around to her, didn’t it? She had changed him. It had all started when he’d first seen those gray-blue eyes. Now, for the first time in his life, he could see, really
see
, the world around him.

Cam dismounted and led the horse to the nearby watering trough. They made shuffling sounds in the silence, and fog swirled around the horse’s legs as it lowered its head and drank. When the animal had taken its fill, he tied it to the post beside Gràinne’s cottage.

Just then, Gràinne walked out her front door. Her doe-brown eyes widened, and she fumbled with the bucket she carried in her good arm. “Cam?”

He grimaced. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no, this is my regular waking time. But what are you doing here?”

Unable to answer, he simply shrugged. She pushed a red curl away from her eyes and gestured at the door. “Come in.”

“Are you sure? It’s early, and you haven’t even dressed—”

She snorted. “I wouldn’t deny you anything, love; you know that. Especially my house. Come inside. I was just going to put some porridge on, but I’ll double the amount. You look like you could use a bite.”

“Thank you.”

She followed him inside and shut the door behind them. As always, the room was tidy and comfortable. The elegant furniture Cam had supplied grossly mismatched the packed-dirt floor, the lack of a chimney, and the simplicity of the architecture.

He helped himself to one of the chairs at the table and leaned his head in his hand, every muscle in his body weary. It’d been a long night, and he hadn’t slept at all.

He smiled up at the woman. His onetime mentor, lover, friend. “Are you well?”

“Aye. Ceana came up day before yesterday. Said I’m nigh good as new.”

“I’m glad.”

She put the water on over the fire and then took the seat across from him. “What ails you? Looks like you’ve been trampled in a cattle stampede.”

He twisted his lips at her. “Thank you for that.”

She shrugged. “ ’ Tis only the truth.” When he didn’t answer, she cocked her head. “I gather you haven’t come to bed me.”

The woman was direct, as always.

“No.” He cast her an apologetic glance, and she smiled.

“Och, no need to explain. I imagine that between Ceana and the lady you’re to marry you’ve plenty to keep your hands—and cock—more than occupied.”

He groaned aloud. Gràinne leaned forward a little. “So, have you bedded the wee lass yet?”

“Elizabeth?”

“Aye.”

“No.”

“Ah.” She settled back in her seat, a smug look on her face. “Then I gather the look of misery on your face wasn’t etched by her. Which means, then, that it was bonny Ceana who has affected you thus.”

“Observant, as always,” he said dryly.

Her expression gentled. Reaching forward, she covered his hand with hers. “What happened, love?”

The whole sordid tale spilled from his lips, unchecked and uncensored. He finished with his departure from Ceana’s cottage and his random ride, ending on Gràinne’s doorstep.

She sighed. “Oh, Cam. You know you mustn’t pursue her.”

Cam had risen and commenced pacing the small space of her cottage. He spun round to face her. “What? Why?”

“She will never risk your death; don’t you see? If ’twere to happen to her again, she wouldn’t survive it. And God knows, it would happen again.”

“Of course it wouldn’t!”

She raised a red brow at him. “What makes you so sure?”

“Curses? Come, Gràinne. I’ll not allow a superstitious fancy to rule—or ruin—my life.”

“That’s foolish. You’d risk your life, and perhaps hers, to test it?”

“There is no risk!” he bellowed, no doubt waking the occupants of the entire row of cottages.

She recoiled a bit. “Well. You seem confident.”

“Of course I am confident. Why must I suffer because the woman I love chose to fall in love with the wrong man years ago? I would never betray her like he did! Never!”

“And what of the poor girl who’s promised to you?”

“She’s bedding my stable master.”

Gràinne’s brows rose higher. “Oh?”

“Yes. I caught them . . . the first time. She’s been sneaking to his rooms most every night since.”

“And how do you feel about this?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know Elizabeth. I never did. For some reason I cannot fathom, he seems to understand her. I cannot comprehend it, but then again, how can I explain anything about love? How can I explain how I feel for Ceana?”

Gràinne crossed her arms over her chest. “Why have you come to me, Cam?”

His hands dropped to his sides. He stared at Gràinne. “You’ve always helped me. I need your help now. Please, you must tell me what to do.”

“You don’t need me, love.”

His hands flew upward in frustration. “Yes, I do! I don’t know what’s up and what’s down. I can’t think . . . unless it is about her. Hell, I’m obsessed . . . like with Sorcha, but . . .” He thrust his hands through his hair, cupping the back of his head and holding it. “Different.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It’s . . . it’s . . .” He shook his head helplessly and dropped his hands. “With Sorcha I thought only about myself. After the fact, I realized I hadn’t taken her into consideration at all. I didn’t give a damn about her reputation, about her happiness, not even about her marriage to Alan. With Ceana . . . I don’t want her hurt again. Ever. I want to protect her, to make her happy. Hell . . .”

He paused to catch his breath. Ceana’s pain, so evident in her voice and expression as she’d told him her tale, had become a part of him, and it hurt to remember.

“I want her to be content,” he said in a low voice. “I want her to feel at ease, satisfied, safe. With me.”

Gràinne nodded slowly. “Then what do you need me for?”

“You must tell me what to do.”

“Ah, Cam. Stop fooling yourself. You know what you want, and I’ve the feeling you know how to get it. You already know what you must do.”

He stood helplessly in the center of Gràinne’s cottage and watched her kneel before the hearth and spoon the porridge into bowls.

She rose and placed the bowls on the table and then motioned him over. “Come, love. Eat with me.”

After a moment, he nodded. He’d need his energy. Because, damn it, he was going after Ceana MacNab. And then they were going to marry, whether she agreed to it or not.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

E
lizabeth opened her eyes to a muted dawn. Light filtered through the trees and streamed onto the ragged path laid out before them.

Rob’s body pressed against her from behind, and, closing her eyes, she melted against him.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning.” She couldn’t fathom, really, how she had possibly slept atop a horse, wedged between the front edge of the saddle and Rob, but she did feel better. Somewhat.

The night’s events began to encroach on the edges of her consciousness, and she hurriedly thrust them away. She was with Rob, she reminded herself. She was safe. Bitsy was safe.

She straightened a bit and took in her surroundings. The horse descended a gentle slope. The loch gleamed dully through the trees to their left, but she’d never traveled this particular rutted path before.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere they won’t think to search for us.”

She nodded. Judging by the position of the loch to their left, she assumed they must have rounded the end of the water and were now traveling away from the village of Glenfinnan.

They rode for another half hour, climbing the mountainside and gazing at the loch far below, and then descending again to the shore. Finally, they rounded a bend on the bank, and a lone cottage came into view.

“There,” Rob said, his breath whispering over her ear.

“What is it?”

“It’s one of the earl’s hunting cottages. We’ll stay here tonight, and tomorrow we’ll move on.”

“Toward Glasgow?” she asked. That would be the most logical place for them to go, given that Rob had spent most of his life there.

“Aye.”

She nodded.

“We’ll use the cottage only for shelter today. We must not take anything of his lordship’s.”

“Of course,” she agreed.

They dismounted, and Elizabeth turned her face to the warmth of the sun, twisting and stretching her weary back. Left free to meander, the horse walked to the loch’s edge and drank. Around them, spring grasses bloomed in a variety of pastels, but green prevailed. It carpeted the ground and washed over the trees. It was truly an idyllic scene.

An image crossed her mind. Of her and Rob remaining in such a quiet, tranquil place for all their days. Making love, working side by side, raising children.

She closed her eyes. Someday, perhaps. Not today. Not anytime soon. Her uncle would come after them. He might be close. They were still in a great deal of danger.

Rob’s arms slipped around her from behind, and she leaned against him. “It is pretty here.”

“Aye, it is. It is one of my favorite places on Camdonn land. When I first came here, I imagined . . .”

“What did you imagine?” she prompted when his voice faded.

His chest expanded against her back as he took a deep breath. “I imagined I’d someday tell the earl I was his son and that he’d grant me this land.” He gestured to a flat area beyond the cottage. “It is enough for a small farm, and I could build a stable on the flatlands above the bluff.”

“You’d have been isolated out here,” she murmured. “But self-sufficient, I suppose.”

He shrugged. “Isolation suits me.”

“I think it would suit me too,” she said thoughtfully, “though I haven’t experienced much of it.”

“Nor have I.” His lips feathered across the shell of her ear. “It was crowded where we lived in Glasgow. Only at Camdonn Castle have I been afforded some measure of privacy.”

She rested against him, content for this moment before they’d need to start running again.

“Elizabeth?”

She turned to look up at his face.

He gazed down at her, his liquid brown eyes somber. “You’re not questioning my choice to bring you here.”

“I trust you,” she said simply. “I know you’ll have brought me to a safe place.”

BOOK: Highland Surrender

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