The Bedeviled Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (25 page)

With her face flushed, Kate fumbled with her bodice a moment to draw out two letters. “I overheard Thomas ordering Maura to put these in Albany’s desk. He swore the prince and ye would be undone when they were found, and—”

Half tempted to fling the letters into the fire so he that he might return to the delightful pleasures of her skin, Cameron graced them with only a cursory glance. He had almost tossed them over his shoulder when the belated realization struck him that the wax seal was strikingly similar to that of Edward IV, the king of England.

He froze.

All lustful thoughts disappeared in an instant.

Holding the letters up against the dim, red firelight for a better view, his eyes locked on the wax seal.

There was no doubt.

Both letters, one addressed to Albany and the other to himself, bore King Edward IV’s signature red wax seal.

He stared at them, stunned, as the enormity of the risk she had taken slowly sank in.

“Kate!” He choked. “Swear to me that ye’ll never place yourself in such danger again! If ye had been caught—” He shuddered, unable to let himself dwell on it further.

“But if the letters had been found, then ye would have suffered!” She shook her head fiercely, her dark eyes flaring passionately. “I canna bear it if something were to happen to ye, Cameron!”

Pulling her after him to the chairs before the fire, he took a deep breath and broke the seal on the letter addressed to himself.

Edward IV, by the grace of God King of England and Defender of the Faith, to the most Illustrious Cameron Stewart, Earl of Lennox, greetings.

We are in receipt of your great proof of friendship and loyalty as demonstrated by your promise of men and arms for your support in the matter of delivering the throne of Scotland to its rightful Sovereign, Alexander Stewart, Duke of Albany.

We will rely on the armed men to be sent to at the time and place we specify and for this we also entreat you, with your cousin Alexander Stewart, by the nearness of blood which is between you, to proceed with moderation until the appointed time.

We shall not fail in our endeavor to free Scotland from the perfidious reign of James III and when that time of victory has come upon us we will grant you titles and lands in Wales and also Kent as confirmed by the affixing of our seal.

Dated by the hand of Edward IV at London, 4th of May in the 18th year of our reign

“Sweet Mary!” Cameron swore, staring at the missive with horror.

What unholy plan had Thomas concocted? It was far more serious than he had thought if he had resorted to forging such letters.

Aye, there was no doubt that the wee lass had saved his life.

Clearly, Thomas had wanted these letters found this night and if they had been, with the king’s current suspicious state of mind, cousin or no, Cameron could well have lost his head on the spot.

With a sense of dread, he kicked life into the dying fire and kneeling close for a better view, tore open the letter addressed to Albany.

Edward IV, by the grace of God King of England and Defender of the Faith, to the most Serene and Mighty Alexander Stewart, Duke of Albany, soon by the grace of God King of Scotland, greetings.

We do not doubt that the recent tidings of your slaughters and plundering expeditions of late in the Borders are subject of rumor only. Such dark suspicions will not stand in the way of the alliance between us to place you upon your rightful throne.

Have patience in our good judgment that we will heed your demands to claim your right to be solemnly crowned King of Scotland but at a time most opportune to insure victory. The continued ambition of those in James’ court have plunged Scotland into a treacherous state, full of private war and feudal disorder that is most advantageous to our cause at this time and we will begin this endeavor soon to the lasting prospect of peace between our kingdoms when you take the throne that is your right.

May your Lord Julian Gray feel that he has offended not only us, but also you, by daring to impede our messengers whom we sent to you in the month past. Fortunately, the missive was destroyed before he could lay eyes upon it, but heed our counsel that the frequent interchange of messengers must need halt for a time, or your esteemed venture will be cast into great peril should the discovery of it reach the ears of your brother.

Dated by the hand of Edward IV at London, 4th of May in the 18th year of our reign

Cameron read the letter twice, knowing in his heart that this one was no forgery. It held the ring of truth. Lifting his voice, he called for his man, Sir Arval.

The grizzled Frenchman appeared at once.

“Bid Lord Gray come without delay!” Cameron ordered grimly.

The man bowed and left but not before sending Kate a warm smile.

She sat opposite him, perched on the edge of her chair, a worried expression upon her face. “What is it?” she asked in a fearful tone. “Are ye safe?”

Moving to kneel before her, he gently placed the letters on her lap and took her hands in his. “I owe ye my life, Kate,” he whispered, kissing her fingertips. “Read them and ye’ll see. I’ll hide naught from ye again.”

An expression of bashful humor entered her eyes. “Ach, Cameron, ye should know I canna read! Not many can, ye lout!”

It wasn’t until she called him a
lout
that he became aware just exactly how much he had ached for her to do so. With his lips curving into a smile, he replied, “Then ‘tis time ye learned, my sweeting.” Aye, as his countess, she would find it a necessary skill.

She eyed him skeptically, but patiently allowed him to point to the words and read aloud but as the meaning became clear, she gasped, “Ach, Cameron! Ye must run! ‘Tis too dangerous for ye here!”

He suppressed a sigh. If only he could run, he would. “I cannot do that, Kate. I must stay and see this through, for the sake of Scotland.” Aye, ‘twas his duty.

Sliding from the chair to his side before the fire, she cupped his cheek in her hand. “I always thought the nobles only collected coin to spend their days reveling in luxury without a care in the world,” she confessed.

He gave a little laugh. “Most do, my sweeting.”

She was so close, and the sweet smell of her skin made his blood boil. His feelings for the lass only intensified each day. With a tender look, he pulled her closer and let his lips brush the top of her head in a soft caress before dropping his lips to kiss her cheek gently.

Her expression was serious, and he was ready to ask the cause of her concern when she suddenly hugged him and buried her face against his shoulder.

“Do ye think of … bairns, Cameron?” Her voice sounded muffled against his chest, and she began to pluck the cloth of his shirt almost nervously.

He frowned at the unexpected question, but answered truthfully, “I’ve thought little of the wee lassies in my keeping, but I have seen them well cared for. I swear they are the king’s, Kate, and not mine! I would never deceive ye.” He titled her chin up with his finger.

With her brows drawn in a line, she appeared worried, and he wondered if she thought him a liar. He sighed. Ach, he should not have let the misunderstanding that he was a thief continue for so long. “I swear ye can trust me, Kate. I’ll never hide anything from ye for the rest of our lives, I swear it.”

There was a strange silence between them.

His frown deepened.

“I should return to the princess,” Kate said finally, moving as if to rise.

“No, ye cannot go back, my sweeting.” He gently grasped her hands, pulling her back down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What is it that concerns ye so? Have I—”

“Canna go back?” It was her turn to frown. “What can ye mean?”

He sighed. “Ye’ve heard the letters, Kate. They are of the most treacherous nature, and now we must assume Thomas knows that I’ve seen them. Ye aren’t safe here anymore, lass.” He squeezed her fingers tightly as he vowed, “I’ll see ye and your father sent off afore dawn to—”

“Ye’ll be sending me away?” She snatched her hands angrily from his.

“For a short time only, until this is settled—” he began, but she interrupted him again.

“But I dinna want to leave, Cameron!” Her dark eyes were suspiciously bright.

“I won’t send ye far, my love,” he promised and then whispered into her hair, “I will not make it without ye, lass. I cannot bear to be apart from ye long.”

Somehow, he was kissing her again, a deep, intimate kiss of sweet abandon when Lord Julian Gray strode into the chamber.

Spying them on the floor, the man’s long lashes dropped in a mirthful expression as he stifled a yawn and queried, “And what might this most urgent matter be, Cameron, that ye sought fit to drag me from a most pressing matter of my own?”

Rising to his feet, Cameron sent him a dark look of amusement. “The lass can wait, whomever she may be, Julian.”

Julian sent him a devilish grin. “Ach, ‘tis three of them, Cameron. I canna decide which—”

With a grim expression, Cameron pressed the letters into his hands, murmuring a quick explanation of how Kate had come by them.

Julian read them where he stood, scanning the contents quickly. He showed no emotion until he had finished them both. Waving the letter addressed to Cameron with a snort of disgust, he said, “’Tis not even a clever forgery. The writing is not Edward’s.”

“Aye,” Cameron agreed.

Exchanging a long look with him, Julian bent forward and tossed the parchment into the fire.

They watched in silence as the paper began to smoke before a sudden burst of flames rose to devour it.

“And what of Albany’s?” Cameron asked quietly.

Julian gave a rough laugh. Settling into a chair, he helped himself to a goblet of heated ale brought by Sir Arval before continuing. “I found myself in Cumberland afore coming to Stirling and there I crossed paths with an Englishman of the most suspicious nature. He burnt the letter ere I could read it, but I saw the red wax seal well enough.”

Cameron clenched his jaw.

He had known there was truth in Albany’s missive.

Albany was proving as big a fool as his brother James. Was the dreaming, wistful Mar the only royal Stewart with a shred of honor left in him?

“The plundering of the Borderlands had been laid on one John of Scougal and his band of desperate retainers. For that reason they were executed by the hand of Albany himself,” Cameron informed grimly. “Word of it reached court on the day of my own arrival here.”

Julian blew his hair back from his face and mused aloud, “So, he murdered others to cover his crimes?” After a moment, he noted, “Have ye not seen how Lord Hume speaks with Thomas at every feast now? The man refused to acknowledge his presence before, and I now have no doubt I will find out on the morrow that the Humes’ coin is behind the gold chain that now proudly hangs on Thomas’ neck.”

Lord Hume headed one of the most powerful Borderland clans. If Albany had broken truce with England by plundering the Borderlands for his own gain, and had then made John of Scougal pay the price, it was no small wonder the fierce Borderland clans would seek vengeance against the prince. They would stop at nothing until they saw Albany beheaded. But such a thing would pitch Scotland into a civil war in its current state, for James was not a loved king. He could no longer count on the nobles to rally to his call.

But if the Borderlanders had the truth on their side, why had they embroiled Thomas in the matter? What were they seeking? And had Thomas stumbled upon yet another secret? Had Albany, corrupted by greed and power, truly begun plotting for the throne?

Were they headed for a civil war already?

“I find it tempting to let Thomas have his way with the scoundrel.” Julian voiced the thought crossing his mind as well. “Betraying his own country and executing innocent men are crimes that should not go unpunished for any man and doubly so for one of royal blood.”

“Aye, he must be punished, but we must see what the Humes want from Thomas. In any case, I’ll see Scotland safe first,” Cameron said at last. “We must assume Albany has Edward’s backing and plans to wage war. We must band the nobles together, to protect our land, or we will surely fall.”

Julian snorted. “I fear Scotland is already lost. The king is an imprudent, feeble-minded puppet. Albany has become a bloodthirsty plunderer seeking his own gain. And Mar is a melancholy lad, mourning for days long gone and only lives now for the hunt. None of them can unite Scotland under a single banner.”

Gazing into the crackling flames, Cameron murmured softly, “We have the crown prince.”