The Bedeviled Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (39 page)

“Aye, I swear it, lass.” Breathing heavily, he clasped her to him. “I’ll never let ye go, Kate. Never. And I swear I’ll never allow any man to harm ye again.”

She rested her head upon his chest a moment, simply enjoying the scent of him, before reaching up to pull his head down and kiss his soft, chiseled lips.

The kiss was sweet, gentle, and filled with an unguarded tenderness.

And then Cameron pulled back. Lifting a finger to stroke her cheek, he whispered in a tone that sent another shiver down her spine, “I love ye so much, Kate, that the mere thought of losing ye is a mortal wound to my very soul.”

Her heart sang, but as his eyes darkened with passion, he smothered any words she might have said with another deep, soulful kiss.

She melted against him, brushing her palms over his muscular chest and deepening the kiss. He moaned softly—or was that her? And then he shifted, his lips searing a path of fire on her skin. Shivering, she lifted his face to frame it with her hands and then kissed him with a kiss that ignited the fire of desire.

With a low, rumbling groan, he pulled back. Again, she saw the passion raging in his eyes and she knew it mirrored her own, and then he gently fell back with her onto the bed. And as the moon rose in the balmy, summer night, they shared their fierce, surging love.

Chapter Seventeen - The Countess

Cameron woke with the sun. He had slept little. Not because of their tender, passionate lovemaking—after which Kate had promptly fallen asleep—but because deep in his heart, he harbored the fear he would wake to find it was all a dream.

He lay as he was, cradling Kate in his arms and cherishing each moment, watching the circling birds through the window and listening to the seals barking in the distance. Never had he felt such a deep, abiding peace. He wished it would never end.

Kate stirred in her sleep, moving her hand to rest lightly on her belly, and Cameron smiled.

Slowly, and with deep reverence, he moved to kiss the soft curve, skimming his fingers over his unborn bairn in a light caress. The babe moved under his hand, and his eyes misted with emotion. The great feeling of protectiveness that washed over him was beyond anything he had ever experienced.

And then his peace disappeared with a single thought.

Childbirth was a perilous venture.

And his wee Kate was so small.

He frowned. Surely, fate would spare her further misfortune. So far, her life with him had been a harsh and turbulent one. Wasn’t that enough?

He fretted for a time until he noticed that her long, thick lashes had lifted and that her sparkling brown eyes were observing him with curiosity. “And why do ye look so grim, Cameron?” she asked.

Sweeping her dark hair aside, he lowered his lips and kissed the nape of her neck, unable to confess his dark thoughts.

But Kate’s sharp eyes had missed nothing. “Do ye still believe that ye are cursed?”

He swallowed.

She buried her face against his chest, and her thin shoulders began to shake.

Alarmed, he attempted to push her back so that he might console her, but she only snuggled deeper, and he realized then that she was laughing.

“Ach, Kate!” He sat up, annoyed but vastly relieved. “Ye fair frightened me!”

Propping herself up on her elbow, she wrinkled her nose and made a face. “If it is a curse ye are worried over, fool, then save your fears!” Her dark eyes danced. “I am, after all, a witch. Curses mean naught to me!”

Amazed that she could jest over the matter, he eyed her in wonder and then slowly returned her smile. Aye, life with her would be warm and real.

She would make an exceptional countess.

Fiercely, he caught her close, pressing her against his chest and burying his face in her hair.

“Cameron, ye fear too much,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “I never dreamt I would be accused of witchcraft, nor did I dream I would wed the finest earl in Scotland. If such things are possible then none of us can know our future. Let us simply live and take joy in the day!”

He nodded into her hair, knowing a small part of him would always fear he had cursed her, but he knew that he’d rather live with the fear than live without her.

Rising from the bed, he stepped into his breeches and groped for his shirt, shrugging it over his shoulders when the slip of Kate’s bloodstained bodice fluttered to the floor.

“What is that?” she asked as he stooped to pick it up.

Slowly, he held it out.

She recognized it at once, and a look of dismay crossed her face.

“I kept it always, close to my heart,” he confessed softly.

“Then keep it no more!” she pursed her lips. “Ach, burn the dreaded thing, it has no place in our life now.”

But a sudden thought crossed his mind, and he shook his head, tucking it away into the folds of his cloak. “I have other plans for this, my sweeting. But I will see that ye never lay eyes upon it again. Come, ‘tis time to start the day.”

He watched her dress and then holding her close, shared a tender kiss before descending the tower stairs to find Julian already gone with the dawn, bound for Edinburgh.

Cameron sighed, knowing that he must do the same.

They stayed longer than they should have before finally exchanging farewells and promises to visit soon. Then Cameron gently led Kate down to the sea-gate, lifted her into the boat, covered her warmly with a fine woolen plaid, and ordered the men to depart.

As they set sail, Merry appeared on the shore astride her black stallion, and as the boat glided north, the young lass raced with them for a time, galloping along the shores and across the blooming, purple moors with her dark hair streaming out behind her.

But when the boat approached the shadow of a mighty cliff, she reared the beast on its hind legs, and waving a cheerful farewell, wheeled around to fly in the opposite direction.

The sea was calm and akin to smooth glass as they sailed past islands and precipitous cliffs. The flat tops of MacLeod's Tables rose in the distance.

Kate rested her head upon Cameron’s shoulder as they sat in the warm sunshine, watching the peaceful rolling moors slip by them. Sailing past Duntulm Castle standing on its lofty mound with its windows looking sheer into the sea, they turned south down the coast to the narrows of Raasay.

And it was then that Kate asked if she might bid farewell to Flora.

“I wouldna be here, Cameron, if not for her,” Kate said, sharing the details of the woman’s care.

“Then I am forever in her debt, my countess.” Cameron kissed Kate’s fingers, permitting his eyes to smile.

Reaching Kiltaraglen shortly thereafter, they sailed into the loch mirroring the rosy-tinted hills and the darker, shattered peaks of the Cuillin behind them.

Cameron leapt ashore and with an easy arm, lifted Kate down, setting her carefully upon her feet. And then hand in hand, they slowly walked up the path leading to Flora’s small cottage on the hilltop.

When they arrived, the old woman was sitting on the bench beneath the tree.

“Kate, ‘tis good to see ye again, lassie.” Flora hobbled to her feet, placing both wrinkled, clawed hands on the top of her stick. “Isobel sent word that ye might come.”

Kate rushed over to wrap the old woman in a warm hug as Cameron followed at a sedate pace. He waited until they had exchanged their greetings before bowing over the ancient woman’s hand.

“I am forever in your debt, kind lady,” he addressed her in a respectful tone. “Is there aught ye desire? Name it, and I’ll see it yours.”

Flora laughed, shaking her head. “There is little I need, laddie, and there is little I desire anymore … aye, nae even youth.”

“Surely there must be something?” Cameron insisted politely. “Ye have saved the life of my wife and child. A man can owe no greater debt.”

“Ach, well, if ye insist.” Flora’s lips split into a wide smile. “I’ve always wanted to taste an orange, my lord. I’ve heard they are as sweet as honey. I saw one once, a few years ago, but I didna taste it.”

Cameron smiled. “I’ll see that ye have your fill of them and more besides, good mother.”

Aye, he’d see her well supplied with all of the delicacies of the king’s table. Eyeing the state of her cottage, he decided he would send men to repair it as well. Aye, he’d see that she wanted for naught for the remainder of her days.

As Kate and Flora began to chatter, he strolled about, taking notes of things he would have done before returning to hear Kate say, “And if ye see Maura, let her know that both my father and Sir Arval live still. I would have her know the truth so that she may find some peace in her tortured heart.”

Flora patted Kate’s hands. “Hold kindness dear to your heart, sweet lassie, and dinna let the travails of life rend it from your soul.”

And as Kate kissed her withered cheek in farewell, Cameron bowed politely.

Though he was less inclined to be so forgiving of Maura, he did feel the stirrings of pity for the woman.

It was too dark to resume their journey by the time they reached the bottom of the hill, and so they stayed the night at the local inn instead. And after dispatching a man to arrange fitting transport for Kate’s journey to Edinburgh and another to see to Flora’s needs, Cameron joined Kate in a lavender-scented bed and for the first time in months, slept well.

They rose with the dawn and set sail once more. Kiltaraglen dwindled into the distance as the boat ploughed through the sea, wave by wave.

And as the afternoon sun finally pierced the pearly haze that had shrouded the sea since morning, they entered the narrow channel of Loch Alsh where the castle of Eilean Donan perched on its rocky islet with moss and golden seaweed clinging to the black rocks at the base.

The elderly Lord MacKenzie and his white-haired lady met them as they disembarked and led them to the castle where they stayed until Kate’s velvet-curtained litter arrived several days later.

“What is this?” Kate asked, wrinkling her nose at the luxurious litter slung between two white palfreys. “I’m not the queen, Cameron!”

“I’ll take no chances with ye, lass.” Cameron lifted a challenging brow. “’Tis not safe for ye to ride a horse while carrying a bairn.”

She protested only a little after that, but soon he saw her safely ensconced in pillows and plaids. They exchanged their farewells with the Mackenzies and set off, traveling at a slow pace, up slopes fragrant with thyme, through stands of birch trees quivering in the breeze, and along the blooming moors.

They halted early each day, spending nights in ivy-covered inns, neighboring castles, and more than once in one of his own holdings before finally crossing the mountains to see Stirling Castle perched below them in the distance.

And as they once again crossed the old stone bridge spanning the River Forth, Kate called out for the horses to halt.

With a bright smile, she held out her hands. “Let’s walk awhile, Cameron!”

Cameron gently lifted her out of the litter, an answering smile curving his lips.

“’
Twas not so long ago that I thought ye an outlaw.” Kate laughed, pulling him up Stirling’s cobblestoned streets. “And ye let me think it, ye lout!”

“Even then, I could not bear to lose ye, lass,” Cameron replied softly, viewing her from under lowered lashes. Reaching down, he stole a kiss.

She blushed a little, batting him away before she said, “We should hie ourselves off to the almshouse straightway. Even though I know Lady Kate cares for it now, we should see whether she’s doing it properly, shouldn’t we, Cameron? I’ve been fair concerned over it. What if she’s lost interest and wee Donald is suffering?”

“I do believe the lady has been preoccupied of late,” Cameron replied with a sly twist of his lips. “But I have heard from the monks that ‘tis the wee Kate Ferguson they fear. I doubt your Donald has come to harm.”

She walked a few steps before cocking a bewildered brow at him. “How would ye hear from the monks now? When did ye have aught to do with the almshouse?”

“I sought ye there a time or two when ye still thought me an outlaw.” Cameron’s lips twitched into a broader smile. “And Father Gilbert mentioned your meddlesome ways upon each occasion then.”

“Meddlesome?” Kate’s brown eyes lit with indignation. “Ach, the woolens were of poor quality, Cameron!”

Frowning a little, she fell silent but quickened her pace until they once again turned down the tree-lined lane.

The almshouse bustled with activity. The roof had long ago been repaired, and the men were halfway complete with the building of a new addition. A group of children played under a tree with several barking dogs as a group of women surrounded a large, black cauldron. They were chatting with the elderly gray-haired monk stirring it.

As Cameron and Kate arrived, the monk glanced up, and his blue eyes smiled. Handing the ladle to one of the women, he hurried over to greet them.

“My lord, my lady, ‘tis well to see ye again. Ye’ll find all in order here.”