The Bedeviled Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (40 page)

“Ye’ve done well, Father Gilbert.” Cameron surveyed the place, nodding in satisfaction.

The monk dipped his head in respect and replied, “As have ye and Lady Kate, my lord, ‘tis through your generosity that these good works can continue.” He then smiled at Kate. “And, my lady, ye’ll find the woolens to be of the highest quality as ye requested.”

It was then that Cameron saw the understanding dawn in Kate’s eyes. Misty-eyed, she rounded on him and punched him in the shoulder. “Ach, ye lout! ‘Twas your hand all along!”

With a soft laugh, Cameron caught her wrist and pulled her close. Planting a kiss on her cheek, he murmured, “Then go see that the lady has done all to your satisfaction, my wee Kate. There’s no limit to what this Lady Kate may desire done.”

They stayed some time there, and while Kate found them all—including the wee Donald—quite well taken care of, she found plenty of changes to make and began rattling off orders until the poor monk was overwhelmed, and Cameron feared she would exhaust herself.

Pulling her away at last, he retired with her to the castle on the hill overlooking the river below and rested until the pale moon rose on the horizon. That night, they once more slept in the chamber where their love had begun, and he again stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning, but this time to savor the feeling of peace as Kate slept deeply, with her head upon his shoulder.

They left early the next morning, bound for Craigmillar, passing swiftly through the woodlands, the tops of the trees blurred by mist. Cameron had sent messengers ahead to prepare Kate’s father and Sir Arval for the journey on to Edinburgh, but it was an unexpected surprise when both men, sitting astride fine horses, met them three miles from the castle.

The change in Kate’s father was astounding.

The man dismounted with only a helping hand from Sir Arval and walked to meet Kate halfway as she ran to her father’s side. She wept as though her heart would burst, and there was not a dry eye among those witnessing the reunion.

After several hours had passed, the party neared Edinburgh, and it was not long before Cameron once again saw the dark castle rising high on the crag above him.

He sighed.

Treachery and intrigue awaited him there, but this time he vowed that he would overcome it.

Lord Julian Gray stood in the upper courtyard to greet them, clad in a fine velvet cloak and with both a dirk and a sword belted about his slim waist.

At his side, hovered Lady Nicoletta and Lady Elsa.

“And what is this?” Cameron’s dark eyes swept over Julian’s weapons.

“’
Tis Albany in France.” The man sighed a little. “And tidings he may be the target of an assassination plot.”

Lady Nicoletta rolled her eyes in a gesture that Julian did not miss. Turning upon the sultry woman, the fair-haired lord cocked a challenging brow. “Ye’ve been naught but discouraging of this entire venture to protect the prince, Nicoletta. Enough so that now I’m wondering what drives ye. Do ye want this assassination to succeed?”

Lady Nicoletta’s eyes flashed dangerously. “And who are you to accuse me of such perfidious desires, lordling? If such tidings are true, then the queen should send a man who knows how to use a dirk for more than spearing a partridge while dandling a lass upon his knee!”

“Ach, are ye jealous?” Julian’s eyes narrowed in surprised speculation. “I didna think ye fancied me—”

“Fancy
you
?” Lady Nicoletta eyed him in outright disdain. “Who would fancy a man who has kissed every woman in Scotland, if not in France as well?”

“Life is simply one person going as another arrives,” he answered with a flippant shrug.

They moved away, continuing to spat, as Lady Elsa stepped forward to bow low before Kate.

“I would you forgave me my jealous words of ill will, my lady.” The woman’s fingers fluttered nervously. “I was—”

“’
Tis more than forgiven, my lady,” Kate interrupted, hurriedly pulling Elsa to her feet.

“You may not call me that, my lady,” Lady Elsa whispered with a shy twist of her lips. “You must call me
Elsa
.”

Kate grimaced, but her dark eyes were smiling. “Ach, I’m little learned in such fine ways. Ye’ll have to teach me!”

“I would be honored and delighted, my lady.” Lady Elsa’s face flooded with a genuine warmth, and then she turned to Cameron and bowed again. “’Tis good to see ye well, my lord.”

“And so with ye,” he replied, inclining his head politely and then added, “I have not thanked ye as I should have for standing in for Kate at the wedding.”

Lady Elsa smiled wryly. “’Twas not the wedding I had wished for, my lord,” she confessed ruefully.

“Forgive me, kind lady,” Cameron answered softly.

“There is naught to forgive, my lord,” she replied in a wistful tone. “Now that I see you both here together, I would I could wait for love ere you wed me off.”

“I swear ye’ll only marry the man ye wish,” Cameron promised.

He then led Kate across the upper courtyard, into the castle with its high gray-stoned walls and up a stairway to his apartments before leaving her in the company of ladies waiting with the gowns and jewels that befitted her station.

He retired to his own chamber, to make ready for meeting the queen, but it did not take him long. Soon, he stood again before his desk, peering down at the writ upon it declaring Kate to be his wife.

At once, the memory returned of the parchment accusing her of witchcraft, and he slid his hand into his pocket, removing the bloodstained bodice. Moving to the window, he stared down in the direction of Holyrood.

Aye, he’d leave Cochrane a message that would strike fear into his soul. He’d see justice done, not only for the sake of Kate, but in memory of John Stewart, Earl of Mar.

Sir Arval’s voice shattered his thoughts, announcing the queen expected both Cameron and his lady to join her for supper.

Tucking the bodice away, he stepped into the adjoining chamber but paused upon the threshold.

Kate was already waiting for him, standing straight and proud before the crackling fire. He’d always thought Kate bonny, but the stunning creature in front of him took his breath away. The finest gown of blue satin fell over her prominent belly in graceful, loose folds. The bodice gleamed with pearls, and the jewels about her neck twinkled in the firelight.

Ach, she truly was born to be a countess—to stand among the leading nobles of the realm. With grace in her every movement she walked towards him to slip her arms about his waist.

The scent of her hair filled his nostrils, and he let his hand caress and tickle her neck. “We’d best go afore I find an excuse not to go at all, my sweeting,” he teased in a low, soft voice.

As they stepped into the queen’s privy chamber, Queen Margaret rose to greet them, the long sleeves of her green satin gown sweeping almost to her knees. Her blue eyes locked on Kate’s prominent belly and lit with interest even as her own hand dropped to rest upon her own unborn child.

“I did not know you were expecting a child, Cameron.” The queen smiled warmly.

“He didna know it himself, Margaret,” Princess Anabella snorted as she swept into the room, but her grim eyes were twinkling as her gaze swept Kate from head to toe. “Now ye look the proper countess, Kate.”

Kate curtsied deeply to them both.

“Now that we are cousins, I will expect you often in my company.” The queen nodded to one of her ladies standing in the corner holding a large bundle wrapped in silk and said, “Give the countess her gift.”

The woman set the bundle on the table and carefully lifted the silk covering away to reveal a gilded cage housing two yellow canaries.

Kate’s eyes sparkled in delight, and in moments, she was chattering with the queen quite comfortably. And as the evening progressed, and talk turned to the business of childbirth, Cameron rose to his feet and excused himself.

He exited the queen’s privy chamber with a smile upon his lips. The three women had scarcely noticed he had left.

But then his countenance darkened, and drawing out Kate’s bloodstained gray bodice, he held it up against the torchlight.

His dark eyes narrowed, and covering his face with his hood, he left the castle bound for Holyrood.

* * *

Thomas Cochrane had stayed late in the king’s apartments in Holyrood, speaking with his majesty on possible ways that they might regain control of the country. It was Cameron now, who held the nobles of Scotland in his hand. Both the king and he were at a loss of how they might wrest even a shred of power back.

Since encountering Cameron on the day of Mar’s death, Thomas had feared for his life. A fear, of late, that grew tenfold by the day. He ordered guards to accompany him at all times now, even within Holyrood itself. And he’d taken to posting men outside every window and each door of his apartments, in order to guarantee the safety of his private chambers.

He hurried down the corridors, six armed men at his heels. Taking the steps two at a time, he nervously glanced ahead and spied his guarded door with some sense of relief.

He was almost safe.

He rushed past the bowing men and fairly flew into his apartments, leaning against the door with a loud sigh.

He was in his sanctuary now, a place so well protected that no one could penetrate it.

Taking another deep breath, he rubbed his hands together briskly and glanced about the chamber.

Aye, he felt safe here. This was one place where danger could not reach him.

It was then that he noticed something on his writing desk.

Curious, he grabbed a torch from a nearby sconce and approached. But each step slowed as he recognized Kate’s gray, pearl-encrusted bodice pinned to his desk by the very blade that had pierced his now-scarred hand.

He swallowed.

With violently shaking hands, he pushed back the tattered cloth with a finger to see words scrawled upon a slip of parchment, words that—even unread—made his soul quake with fear.

He closed his eyes.

It was several long moments before he could open them again and force himself to read the words. Barely suppressing the scream rising to his white lips, he whispered them aloud:
May God have mercy on your soul, for I shall not.

Epilogue

The smell of snow was in the air as Cameron wheeled his prancing charger around again to inspect his men for the fourth time.

“All is ready, my lord.” Sir Arval maneuvered his steed to block his path. “I do believe fifty men, three litters, and five midwives is quite enough to make journey. ‘Tis only sixty miles, my lord.”

Cameron’s dark lashes dropped in suspicion. “Did Kate send ye here?”

Sir Arval smiled, a little bashfully. “Yes, my lord. She swore she would walk to Inchmurrin herself if you didn’t permit us to finally leave. She’s readied the children and has sent for her winter boots—”

“Ach, there she is.” Cameron’s dark brows furrowed as Kate appeared at the gate of Edinburgh Castle, accompanied by two fur-bundled lassies and a maid carrying a third. They were the king’s children, the daughters he had acquired through his previous marriages, but of late, he had come to feel almost as if they were his own. Kate’s first action as countess had been to send for them, and the girls had fallen in love with her instantly.

Who couldn’t help but fall in love with the lass?

Even the queen was quite taken with Kate. Her majesty had wept at the news of their departure from court. And even though they had promised to return in the spring, she had sworn it would not be soon enough.

Catching sight of him, Kate waved, stubbornly lifted her chin, and boldly stepped forward.

He was at her side in an instant. “Kate, I’m not quite ready. Ye should wait by the fire a wee bit longer, my sweeting!” he said, removing his black, fur-trimmed cape to throw it over her fine green woolen one.

“Cameron, I’ll never see Inchmurrin at this pace!” She stamped her foot impatiently. “Our bairn will be born afore ye allow me to leave, and I’ve still a month to go!”

Bundled in two cloaks, she looked like a soft plump seal, but he knew better than to say it. With his lips curving into a private smile, he pulled his mantle about her closer, tucking it under her chin and protectively over her belly.

“Come, lassies.” Kate held her hands out to the young girls at her side. “Are ye ready to walk to Inchmurrin? ‘Tis not far.”

“Ach, Kate.” Cameron smiled, giving in. “If ye insist then, we’ll leave.”

Her brown eyes sparkled as she threw her arms about his neck, her dark hair spilling from under her hood. “I so very much insist that we leave this very moment, ye obstinate mule! My father has been waiting for me nigh on a fortnight now!”

Sliding his pair of soft leather gloves over her fingers, he lifted her into one of the litters before tossing the giggling lassies in next to her. And as the snow began to fall silently, gently coating the streets of Edinburgh, he began the journey to return home with Kate, to his ancestral lands.