Samantha James (23 page)

Afterward a steady procession of servants streamed from the kitchens bearing food and wine and ale. The minstrel played a host of lively, merry tunes. Boisterous laughter bounced from every corner of the hall. The atmosphere was gay and festive. Meredith chuckled as one reveler went to reclaim his seat on the bench. He tucked his bottom beneath him and ducked low, only to completely miss the bench. Clearly he’d imbibed a little too freely from his cup.

It was then Meredith spied Aileen, peering at her from alongside Adele, her mother. Her eyes were dark and baleful, her lips pursed in a frown. Meredith crooked her finger to beckon her, but Aileen promptly shook her head. All at once she had a very good idea what was amiss with the little girl…

Cameron had already noticed where her gaze rested. He tipped his head to hers. “What is wrong with Aileen?” he murmured.

Meredith sighed. “I fear I’ve forever lost favor with her, for it seems I’ve claimed her prince.”

“Her prince?” Cameron was puzzled.

Meredith’s brows shot high. “Do you mean to say you’ve never noticed? Aileen is quite taken with you, sir—and meant to someday claim you as her husband.”

“Indeed.” Cameron rubbed his chin and pretended a thoughtful concentration. “Why, who knows? By the time she is old enough, mayhap I’ll have a yearning for a much younger bride.”

Meredith gave a mock indignant gasp. “What! Do you commit me to the ranks of the aged already?”

“Nay, wife.” His eyes were dancing. “And I fear
I must reconsider. I’m quite content with the bride I have and do not wish for that to change.”

Wife
. It gave her an odd thrill for him to address her so.

“But I cannot have the child angry with my lady,” he went on. To her surprise, he rose and strode toward Aileen. Meredith watched curiously as he sat on his haunches before the little girl. She couldn’t hear their conversation, but he returned a few minutes later.

“All is well,” he told her mildly. “You are no longer in disfavor.”

“Never tell me. You told her you would marry her when she is older.”

He shook his head. A smile lurked about his lips. “I assured her we would name our firstborn daughter after her.”

“You what!” Meredith was aghast.

“Aye,” he said with a wink. “But before we have a daughter, we will have a son.” He swung her high into his arms.

“Cameron! Put me down!”

“I think not, lass. I will have but one wedding night—and I do believe it should begin this very moment!”

Amidst bawdy shouts and laughter and cheers, he strode across the hall and toward the stairs. And suddenly she was laughing, giddy with relief and delight and happier than she had ever known she could be.

In his chamber he lowered her to the floor. Gently he touched her cheek. “’Tis good to hear you laugh with me,” he said quietly.

She cupped her hand to his cheek. “Aye,” she agreed, a small catch in her voice, for his eyes were achingly tender. “’Tis good.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her
knuckles. “Wait,” he said suddenly. “I have something for you.” He touched the tip of her nose with a fingertip. “Close your eyes.”

Her eyes flashed to his. Her laugh was breathless. “Cameron, what—”

“Shhh! You must close your eyes or you may not have it.”

Drawing a deep breath, Meredith did as he bade. Heavy footfalls crossed the room. There was a creak, and she guessed he was rummaging in his chest. A moment later she felt him something slip over her head.

Her breath caught—and so did her heart. Surely it was not…

Her hand came up. Saints be praised, it was. She touched the finely etched surface of her crucifix. “Cameron…how? ’Twas broken—”

“I had it repaired.”

Meredith’s mouth had gone dry as dust. “Cameron,” she said tentatively, “does this mean that you’ve forgiven my fa—”

He didn’t give her the chance to finish. “’Tis for you, Meredith. I returned it, for I know you treasure it.” His response was carefully guarded. “As for all else, may we please not speak of it? This night is for us, Meredith. Only for us.”

She swallowed a pang. She knew then that his feelings had not changed—yet it did not change her own. Mayhap he was right, that the feud had no place in this moment, for this was their wedding night. Thoughts of no other should intrude. God willing, there might come another time…

For in truth, Meredith was touched beyond measure. All at once, ’twas not the gift, but the giving of it that was beyond price.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Her eyes shining,
she slipped her arms around his neck. Tangling her fingers in the dark hair that grew low on his nape, she drew his head down to hers.

The moment their lips touched, a heady possessiveness swept over him. The contact sent a jolt all through him. He felt the way her lips trembled beneath his, the way she arched against him, and joy shot through him. She was here in his arms, agonizingly sweet and tempting, and she was his wife. His heart thundered. Dear God, he thought in amazement, my wife. His arms stole about her. With a groan he almost crushed her against him. What might have been meant as a gentle offering dissolved into a blistering passion. His tongue delved into the honeyed warmth of her mouth, again and again.

It was a moment no less intense for Meredith. She was trembling as he divested her of her gown and his own clothing. The need to feel his hard length, to feel the pulse of his desire throb against the very gates of her womb was almost more than she could bear. But when he would have scooped her up and borne her to the bed, she stopped him with a fist centered squarely on his chest.

“Wait,” she pleaded. “Wait.”

Meredith drew a slow, uneven breath. Many a time he had kissed every silken hollow of her body, even there at the cleft below her spine, rendering her a boneless heap by the time he turned her over and plunged deep within her. Suddenly all she wanted was to please him the same way he pleased her. She kissed the squareness of his jaw, the corded length of his throat, the discs of his nipples hidden beneath crisp, curling hair. All the while she ran her hands over the gleaming satin of his shoulders, the plane of his back, the flexing steel of his buttocks. She even dared to
taste the hollow of his navel, the bulging swell of his thighs. She thrilled to the feel of rock-hard muscle sheathed in bronzed, gleaming skin. A reckless abandon washed over her then, as she dared still more…

Slowly she knelt between his thighs.

She brushed her lips across the grid of his belly, then drew back to see his response.

He swelled before her very eyes.

“Oh, my,” she whispered. Her eyes widened as she beheld his rigid length.

Her shocked whisper was almost his undoing. He made a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan. Through some miracle, he’d kept his hands at his sides. Now he reached for her.

She shook her head. “Nay, Cameron, not yet.” She was determined to give him the same exquisite pleasure he gave her. Always he was unselfish in his loving. Always. And now, so would she be just as unselfish. For one never-ending moment, she paused, poised between his thighs.

With her tongue she touched him.

His heart leaped. Nay, he thought. Nay…

And then there was no further thought of stopping her, for he could no longer think. He could only feel…

His blood was scalding. Every sensation was centered there, at the overwhelmingly sensitive part of him that betrayed his need of her. Mesmerized and unable to move, he couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight. It spun through his mind that this was the most gloriously erotic moment of his life. To think that she would do such a thing—and to the part of him she had once so feared…The flaming curtain of her hair skimmed over his thighs. Her tongue was a divine torment. Swirling daintily.
Darting boldly. Tasting every inch of him, even the pearl of desire that glazed the arching tip.

A shudder wracked him. His hands plunged into the streaming skeins of her hair. His fingers skimmed her nape, the bareness of her shoulders. His breath grew harsh and rasping.

“Sweet Jesus,” he said hoarsely. “I can stand no more!” With a cry, he caught her and dragged her upward.

Two steps and they were at the bedside. He pulled her astride him.

His eyes sheared directly into hers. “Remember the day you told me you would ride neither before me nor behind me?”

“Aye.” Steadying herself against his chest, she gazed down at him.

“Now you will ride upon me.” His smile was wicked and wanton.

She needed no further guidance. A twist of the hips and his thickened spear was deep within her. His hands found her breasts. He stroked her nipples until they stood hard and taut against his palms. When he kissed her he tasted his essence on her tongue.

They were both roused to a fever pitch, their hips churning in a wild frenzy as they scaled the heights toward completion. Gritting his teeth against the eruption he felt building inside him, he plunged his thumb within her nest of curls and stroked her pleasure button. She cast back her head, her eyes smoky and dazed. The walls of her channel contracted around him, again and again. With her release came his own. Their mingled cries reached beyond the stars and shattered the very heavens.

Winter descended brutal and hard upon the land. Many a day was long and dark, scoured by the relentless blast of winds that whipped down the passes. High above Dunthorpe, the mountains stretched across the sky, beautiful but daunting, the rugged crags of granite garbed in their wintry armor, locked in snow and ice.

Many within the keep commented that never had there been such a frigid winter. Yet they bore the rigors of nature well, venturing without into the snow and cold as needed and tending their duties with cheerful vigor.

There were several instances, however, that marred the peaceful days. One was when a flock of sheep disappeared—stolen, it was claimed, by the Munros. The other was when two young men—both belonging to the Clan MacKay—wandered onto Munro lands. The men were held for several days before being released by the crofter who had captured them. Meredith was saddened greatly by the continuing hostility between the clans; yet there was no bloodshed in either case, and for that she was eternally glad. Oddly, even during those days of heightened tension when word came of the strife, there were few hate-filled,
suspicious glances directed her way. Since she had married Cameron, much had changed. As his wife, she was accepted as she might never have been otherwise. For that, too, Meredith was grateful.

And so, although her days were not spent in glowing happiness, there was at least a measure of contentment. She treasured the long nights huddled cozily beneath the blankets, anchored against her husband, his powerful arms snug and warm about her body. Every morning when he left, he pressed a lingering kiss upon her lips—and the swell of her belly.

As the days slipped into weeks, her body grew heavy with the weight of the child within her. Yet Cameron took an avid interest in her pregnancy. He inquired daily about her health. Though Meredith occasionally bemoaned the babe’s animated activity in her womb, Cameron was raptly absorbed. He would lay for hours beside her, his hand cupped possessively on the mound of her belly, feeling the babe’s undulating movements beneath his palm.

“A lively wee lad, is he not?” he boasted one evening as a tiny elbow or foot jabbed his hand.

“Aye, a lively wee
lassie
,” Meredith emphasized with a toss of her head. “And determined to keep her mother awake in the hours of the night when she should be sleeping!”

“Then you have only to wake the lad’s father”—a teasing, unholy glint appeared in Cameron’s eyes—“for you need not lie awake alone, sweet. I am only too happy to provide another diversion, one I think both of us would find extremely pleasurable.”

His crooked, irreverent grin made her heart turn over. He was achingly tender, ardently sweet. His touch spoke not only of comfort and concern, but of stirring passion. Though Meredith felt ungainly and
clumsy, Cameron declared she was more beauteous than ever. His husky assertion made her melt inside.

A wellspring of hope had begun to gather within her. They talked for hours on end, about little things, silly, mundane matters. His gaze made her shiver with awareness, for it was ever upon her…as he was ever in her heart.

The one thing they did not speak of was the feud between their clans. Meredith was reluctant to break their fragile truce. She could only pray that when their child was born, Cameron’s hatred of her father would blunt and soften.

And she dared to pray for more…that he might someday love her in return. Love her as wholly and completely as she loved him.

One evening in the last month of her confinement she wanted to surprise him, so she arranged for them to dine alone in their chamber. Though she did not care for hot mulled wine, Cameron was fond of it, so she asked that it be brought, along with several other of his favorites—fresh-baked bread wrapped in a clean linen cloth, fat sausages steeped in meaty juices, a tray of honeyed cakes and pastries to indulge his sweet tooth. All in all, it was an evening filled with quiet serenity.

After they had eaten, Cameron drew her down upon his lap. His nearness made her quiver inside. He was so handsome, so splendidly lean and strong. Unable to help herself, Meredith wrapped her arms about his neck and laid her head on his shoulder.

He laid his hand upon her belly. “It will not be long now,” he murmured.

Her lips brushed the bristly hardness of his cheek as she shook her head. “Nay,” she agreed. “Glenda
feels it will be soon. Indeed, it could be but a matter of days.”

His knuckles grazed the softness of her cheek. Fingers beneath her chin, he brought her gaze to his. “Are you afraid?”

Meredith could not control the bend of her mind. She recalled how Glenda’s babe had been born dead. What if that should happen to her own? She couldn’t withhold the quiver of fear that shot through her. Yet again she despised her weakness.

She lowered her eyes. “Aye,” she admitted, her voice very low.

Cameron made a sound deep in his throat. “Meredith! Be not afraid, sweet. Be not afraid, for I swear I will let nothing harm you.”

“You said you would be with me,” she reminded him.

Cameron’s heart contracted. Both her voice and her mouth were tremulous. “I will,” he promised anew. When she lifted her face, he spied the tears that threatened to overflow. His embrace tightened. “Meredith! Do not weep. I will protect you, sweet. I will protect you always.”

His caring speared her heart, his words a healing balm to her wounded soul. She clung to him as he kissed away the tear that slipped from the corner of her eye.

It was later, as he prepared for bed that night, that he brought a hand to his abdomen. A grimace of pain sped across his features.

Meredith raised up on an elbow. “Cameron, what is it? Are you ill?”

A sheen of perspiration dotted his upper lip. “’Tis nothing,” he insisted.

“Cameron, are you sure? You look unwell—”

Before she finished, he crashed to the floor.

Meredith slipped from the bed as quickly as her condition would allow. “Cameron!” she cried. “Cameron!”

His skin was ashen gray and clammy to the touch. Even as she dropped to her knees beside him, he writhed in pain and clamped a hand to his belly. Meredith pushed it aside. The whole of his abdomen was a tight hard knot; she felt it cramping beneath her fingertips.

His lips were bloodless. “Daggers…turning inside,” he groaned. He managed to push himself to his knees, only to drop his head and retch violently.

Meredith raced to the door and opened it. “Egan!” she screamed. “
Egan
!”

It seemed to take forever before Egan rushed in. At a glance he took in Cameron’s distress. It was he who lifted Cameron to the bed.

By morning the bed was drenched in sweat. There was no ease from the violent spasms that now shook his entire body. Meredith sat beside him, bathing his brow and face. Never had she felt so helpless!

She shook her head and glanced at Egan, who stood at the end of the bed. “He needs more help than we can give.”

Their eyes met; his were as frightened as her own. His glance sought Glenda’s, for she hovered behind Meredith. Glenda gave a nod.

Egan strode to the door and threw open the oak portal. His bellow surely shook every timber of the keep.

“Send Finn for the physician!” he shouted.

Once again, it seemed to take forever before the physician finally appeared. He was a small man with hands as slight as a woman’s, and there was an air of
capability about him that could not be denied. He listened while Meredith and Egan described Cameron’s malady, then quietly asked to be alone to examine Cameron.

Egan reluctantly withdrew, but doggedly remained outside the door.

Meredith hesitated. Glenda placed a hand on her arm. “Come,” she murmured softly. “We must do as he asks.”

Meredith nodded. But unlike Egan, she did not remain, for there was a place where she might do far more good…

In the chapel she sank to her knees before the altar. Trembling, she clasped her hands to her breast. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her lips parted. “Heavenly Father…” she began.

How long she remained there on her knees, she knew not. A long time later, the door behind her creaked on cumbersome hinges. Emptying her lungs with a long sigh, she started to rise. She was not given the chance. Fingers of steel snared her elbow, jerking her upright.

With a gasp, she looked up into Egan’s scarred face. “Egan!” she cried softly. “You’re hurting me—”

“Be silent!” he hissed. His grip on her arm tightened until she nearly cried out. He dragged her from the chapel and toward the south tower. Meredith could do naught but stumble after him. He did not stop until they reached the chamber at the top. He thrust her inside and stepped in after her.

Meredith noted dimly that this was the chamber where she’d spent the very first night. Her eyes locked on Egan’s face. He looked for all the world as if the demons of hell resided within him.

Her heart was pounding. “Egan! Egan, why are you acting like this? Sweet Lord, is it Cameron? Tell me. Tell me, please! What is wrong with him?”

“As if you do not know!” he sneered.

“I do not!” Only one man had frightened her more than he did now—that was Cameron, the night he’d stolen her from Connyridge. “Please, Egan, tell me what is wrong!” An awful thought crowded her heart. “Never say he is dead!”

“He is not, despite your most diligent effort.” Harsh lips twisted. “Tell me, Meredith. Just now in the chapel—did you pray that he would die?”

“Nay! I prayed that he will soon be well again!”

“And you had best hope that he is. For if he dies, lady, so do you!”

Meredith’s heart was beating so hard she could scarcely draw breath. She stretched out her hands. “Egan, why do you do this? Tell me what is wrong with my husband!”

“Ah, lady, you feign ignorance so well! But you do not fool me. I know very well what you did. He may well die because of you!”

“What I did…” Meredith felt the blood drain from her face. “Egan, I tried to help him! I summoned you for help.”

“A ploy, that you might later proclaim your innocence.”

“Nay!” she breathed. “Nay!”

“Who else, then, I would ask? You supped with him. You ordered mulled wine—and but one cup. The servants tell me that you do not drink it.” Those cold blue eyes fairly simmered with accusation.

“Only because I do not care for it!” Meredith’s mind was all awhirl. Was this really happening? Mer
ciful saints, it was a nightmare! “Egan, please,” she implored. “Is Cameron all right?”

“He lives. That is all I will say.” He strode toward the door, then turned. “By God, lady, you may count yourself blessed. For did you not carry Cameron’s child, you would even now dwell in the cold and damp of the pit prison! Were it not for that, I would kill you myself! So use your time well. Pray that your husband lives, else your time on this earth is measured.”

Meredith shrank back. His voice was like a whip, each word a lash tearing into her flesh. The depth of his rage vibrated like blackened thunder in the air.

When he was gone, she trembled in fear—yet not because of Egan’s warning. Tears rained freely from her eyes. Her only thought was of her husband. Cameron, she thought achingly.
Cameron
! Was his condition so very dire, then? The thought that he hovered at death’s door was like a knife in her heart.

When Cameron awoke, he felt battered and bruised, as if he’d been trod upon by a thousand horses. Summoning both breath and strength, he called his wife’s name.

It was not Meredith who loomed at his bedside, but Egan.

The grim-faced warrior cocked a heavy brow, noting with approval the tinge of color in his chieftain’s skin. “’Tis good that you are finally awake,” he said softly. “How do you fare?”

“As if I’ve been turned inside out.” Cameron could not help his grumbling.

Egan smiled slightly. “’Tis little wonder. The physician gave you a purgative.”

“A purgative! Why?”

Egan’s smile withered. “For the poison.”

“Poison…”

“Aye.” Egan spoke the word as if it were a condemnation. “You were poisoned.”

Cameron’s gaze sharpened. “Where is my wife? Where is Meredith?”

“Do not concern yourself with her.” Egan’s reply was terse.

“And why the devil not? She should be here, not you! ’Tis a wife’s duty to attend her husband.”

And the last time she tended him nearly killed him! Egan fought to hold his tongue. Instead he said tersely, “She is in the south tower.”

“What is she doing there?”

“It was either there or the pit prison.”

“The pit prison!” Cameron swore. He pushed aside the covers and swung his legs to the floor. For an instant his head swam dizzily. “What the blazes has come over you?” he demanded. “I know you have never liked her, but God’s blood, she is my wife. And if you have harmed her—” Cameron stopped.

“If I have harmed her! You fool, the witch poisoned you. Remember the meal brought to you here in your chamber?”

“Aye, we shared it! There was no poison!” Cameron protested as vehemently as he was able.

“Aye,” Egan said. “All but the wine, I dare say! She knew full well that you would not suspect should she not partake of it!”

Cameron shook his head. The notion that Meredith would try to poison him was too much to comprehend. Too much to bear. “Nay. Nay, I say.”

“And I say aye! She sought to protect herself by calling for me! I’ve talked with the servants, Cam
eron. All are loyal to you, as loyal as I! Who else could it be but her?”

He may well be right, Cameron thought. Indeed, ’twould not be the first time she sought to see you dead. Remember she held your dagger to your breast?

But could not do the deed!

And now she had!

It was as much exhaustion as shock that made him fall back weakly. Egan grabbed his legs and hiked them to the bed.

Cameron’s features were drawn and white. “Have you accused her? Before all here?”

Egan hesitated. “Nay. I’ve not accused her openly, though I did confront her.” His lips compressed. “She denied it.”

His gaze sought his friend’s. “Tell me it is not true. Tell me she did not betray me!”

Egan’s harsh features softened, for he well knew his chieftain’s dilemma. He shook his head. “Were it within my power I would, Cameron. But all points to her, and however painful it may be, the truth does not lie.”