The Bedeviled Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (8 page)

It was a rather disreputable place, serving more as an alehouse with bedding on the floor of the kitchen than a proper inn. The common room was dark containing only a single man drinking his ale with a scowl upon his face.

Kate was nowhere to be seen.

Grimacing in displeasure, Cameron turned back to the door when he heard her warm laughter sounding from the back. Suddenly, his heart grew light and he found himself striding to the low door and ducking to peer inside.

Kate stood with her back to him, laughing at a young lad as she pressed a small bundle into his hands. “Ach, ye wee ruffian, I’ll not tell your mother what ye just said, but be careful with these eggs now!”

Catching sight of Cameron, the lad’s eyes widened, and clutching the bundle, he bolted out of the back door without a moment’s hesitation.

Turning, Kate’s brown eyes sparkled at once upon seeing him. “Ach, ‘tis Cameron!”

He stood there, grinning like a fool in a manner quite unlike himself and saying nothing.

Kate didn’t seem to mind. She clearly enjoyed chattering. “Aye, your eggs have made many a smile this day, Cameron,” she said, throwing a faded plaid over her shoulders and stooping to pick up her basket. “I’ll not ask ye where ye got them, or the partridges, though I’ll have no more such fine gifts. ‘Tis not worth your head!”

“Did ye keep any eggs for yourself, lass?” he asked mildly.

“I’m not a saint!” Kate wrinkled her nose and added with a sheepish smile, “I ate three, and my father ate two. But wee Donald’s mother is taken ill, and she canna leave the almshouse to find work, and ‘tis difficult to heal eating only the weak gruel that is made there.”

“She’ll be fine,” Cameron murmured in assurance. In fact, he knew she would be eating right well. He had ordered his most trusted man, Sir Arval, to set the almshouse to rights, but Kate didn’t need to know it. “Perhaps fortune will yet bestow blessings upon the place.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “’Tis a nice thought.” Then, looping her basket over her arm, she grabbed both of his hands in hers and swung them exuberantly. “I’ve thrilling news! Maura found me work at Stirling Castle!”

“Stirling Castle?” Cameron repeated, flinching in displeasure at the thought.

“Aye! I’m to be a serving wench! I spoke to the Chamberlain of the Great Hall just this morning, and I’m to start on the morrow!” She was ecstatic, but then her brows furrowed. “What is it?” she asked. “‘Tis written bold upon your face that ye aren’t pleased to hear this!”

“A serving wench … in the Great Hall?” Cameron’s lips thinned in a grim line. ‘Twas appalling news.

Kate frowned in bewilderment, but then began to laugh. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up, pulled back the hood of his cloak and asked, “Do ye fear that I’ll see the Dreaded Earl?”

“Aye,” Cameron replied in a reserved tone. It was exactly what he feared.

“Ach, I was not telling ye the truth, man.” Kate nudged him in the ribs and sliding her arm through his, pulled him out of the kitchen. “I’ve never met the man.”

“And I pray ye do not,” Cameron murmured, clenching his jaw. He wasn’t ready to give up playing the part of the outlaw. Not yet. Her company was far too intoxicating. He would enjoy it just a wee bit longer first. But only a wee bit longer.

The door to the inn burst open, and a middle-aged woman swept inside. Spying Kate, she blew her a kiss as she hurried into the back room, calling over her shoulder, “Thank ye for minding the place, lass!”

“’
Twas an honor,” Kate called back. Then, smiling up at Cameron, she invited in a warm, cordial tone, “Come with me! I’ve something that will put a smile upon your lips!” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him out of the inn and down the street.

“Where are ye headed, lass?” he asked, not particularly caring for secrets.

Sending him a mischievous look, she refused to answer. Still holding tightly onto his fingers, she tugged him up a familiar street and turned down the lane that led to the Brass Unicorn.

Stopping in front of the vine-covered inn, she reached into her pocket and drew out a penny. Dangling it before his nose, she said brightly, “Allow me to buy ye supper with a hard-earned, good honest coin! ‘Twill taste like a king’s feast!”

He had no doubt it would taste far better, but he shook his head. “I’ll take nothing from ye, lass—”

“Pah!” Kate rolled her eyes, yanking him into the place and pointing to an empty table. “Sit there, ye lout. I’ll be back shortly.”

Cameron eyed the place that he had only just left that morning.

From the corner of the common room, Morag straightened curiously and watched Kate sailing toward her with purpose.

Reluctantly, Cameron made his way to an empty table, jostling and bumping elbows along the way. And then moments later, Kate joined him with a meat pie filled with pork fat, a dish of stewed hare, and a tankard of ale. Seating herself by his side, she took a big bite of the pie before holding it up to his lips, nodding for him to do the same.

He watched her tongue lick her lips and then all thoughts fled, save ones of pulling her close and exploring her mouth with his own tongue. Quickly averting his gaze, he swallowed and murmured, “I thought ‘twas the lord’s duty to see the lady’s trencher filled first.”

Kate snorted. “What fine words, but ye aren’t a lord and I’m certainly not a lady!”

Cameron tensed, wincing at his lapse and expelled a breath, relieved Kate had taken it as a jest. But then he noticed she was watching him, her brows drawn in a puzzled line.

“Ach, but ye always appear to be fighting some inner battle, Cameron,” she said, laying a compassionate hand on his arm. “I wish I could be of aid to ye.”

Covering her hand with his long fingers, he squeezed it and answered truthfully, “Ye are, my sweeting, for I find ye a warm welcome in an otherwise inhospitable place.”

She smiled at that and leaned her head against his shoulder.

For a moment, he was tempted to bury his face in her hair.

He drew back a little.

It was a mistake to be here with her. She was quite unlike any lass he had ever met, and if he were honest, a temptation he would fail in resisting. He should be an honorable man and leave while he still could.

The traveling minstrel from the night before took out his recorder and began to play a lively tune, and the folk gathered in the room began to clap. Several women picked up their skirts and began to dance.

Springing to her feet, Kate grabbed his hands and pulled him up. “Dance with me!”

Holding the tankard in one hand, she slipped her other arm through his and tried to reel him around, collapsing into laughter when she failed miserably in the attempt.

Her merriment was contagious and his lips began to twitch in amusement. It was hard to worry in her company. She knew how to distract him from his dark thoughts.

Tingling with excitement, he caught her about the waist, twirled her around and bending her head back, kissed her full on the lips. It was a quick kiss, but a vibrant one. Her lips were sweet and eager.

And then Kate moved away, her merry eyes teased his as she danced a moment and then she stepped close to whisper ruefully in his ear, “I should have nothing to do with the likes of ye!”

“Aye,” Cameron agreed, looking steadily down at her. If only he
were
a thief instead of an evil bane to womankind.

“What is it?” Kate asked softly, laying a light hand upon his chest. “I wish I could unburden ye.”

With a deep breath, he replied darkly, “’Tis dangerous to be with me, lass. Ye should go.” Losing interest in dancing, he returned to the table.

“Then, dinna be such a fool!” Kate followed him and slammed her palm on the table surface. “Walk away. Ye aren’t bound to live a life of ill repute as an outlaw!”

He glanced up, a little startled at her misunderstanding.

She stood close to him, too close, with a fierce expression on her face and her hands upon her hips. And he found himself falling under her spell once again. It was impossible to think morose thoughts when she was standing so close. Her lips were compelling. Everything about her was a temptation.

She was giving him an earful about mending his criminal ways and then, in spite of it all, he found himself smiling.

He rarely smiled.

Why was he doing it so often in her company?

Aye, she was the lively talker, but he knew one way to stop her chattering.

Succumbing to his desire, he slipped an elegant finger under her chin, tilted it up, and slid the pad of this thumb gently over her lips before touching her mouth lightly with his in a slow, lingering kiss. She responded at once, sliding her hands up his chest to lock them behind his neck, and making soft sounds in her throat, opened her mouth eagerly to his.

But then hoots of laughter from the surrounding folk in the inn shattered the moment and, feeling her smile against his mouth, he reluctantly lifted his head.

“My mother warned me to stay away from men like ye,” Kate accused breathlessly with her brown eyes dancing. “But she didna say ‘twould be so hard!”

His dark, smoldering eyes locked with hers and the corner of his lip curved into a smile, but then he caught sight of the tall, black velvet-clad figure of Lord Julian Gray stepping into his field of vision.

Cameron straightened, noting the wicked gleam of mirth in the man’s eyes.

“A good evening to ye, Cameron.” Julian winked, folding his arms to observe Kate from under half-closed lids. “And, who might this sea-siren be?”

“Sea-siren?” Kate burst into laughter. “I would think ye must be speaking of Cameron, good sir, for I know ye canna be speaking of me! But then I would remind ye that only a lass could be a sea-siren.”

A smile creased Julian’s cheek as he eyed her with a curious interest.

Leaning close, Kate whispered in Cameron’s ear, “I’ll leave ye to your fellow thief now. I’ve errands to run afore I go home, but we’ll speak on your choice of trade the next time we meet!”

She turned to leave, but Cameron caught her fingers and gave them one last squeeze before she disappeared through the throng of merrymakers still dancing to the minstrel’s tunes.

“’
Tis a curious thing to find ye here with a lass,” Julian drawled, lifting a long leg over the bench to settle across the table from him.

“Aye, ‘tis foolishness that must halt,” Cameron murmured. Clenching his jaw, he began tapping the table with a long finger.

“If ye speak one word claiming ye are a bane to womankind then I’ll have little patience with ye this night.” Julian rolled his eyes. “Ach, I’ll never understand the Stewarts and their penchant for superstition! ‘Tis a warm-blooded lass ye have in your arms, lad. How can ye even think of curses at a time like this?”

“And I’ve not said a word of curses, Julian,” Cameron replied in an aloof tone. He couldn’t admit that he had been
thinking
of them. Deliberately switching the subject, he asked, “What brings ye here?”

But Julian was just warming up to the subject. “Ye never even slept with your wives, Cameron. How could ye have cursed them?”

Cameron sent him a cold look of disapproval. “I’ll not speak of this now, Julian.”

A merry glint entered Julian’s gray eyes. “But I’ve solved your problem, lad! Your ill luck with women lies in the fact that ye
dinna
bed them. Just bed this one, and you’ll find your curse broken!”

With a scathing look, Cameron rose to leave.

When it came to women, Julian had never understood him. Aye, he’d never understood Julian, either. Though neither of them had ever formed a true attachment to any lass, Cameron hadn’t out of fear of harming them with his ill luck, aye, perhaps even a curse. Julian merely lost interest after a few short weeks.

Julian caught his forearm. “Ach, dinna be such a fool. I meant no slight on the lass. Wed her first, if ye must,” he growled in apology. Withdrawing a rolled parchment from the folds of his cloak, he pushed it across the table and then helped himself to the tankard of ale and added, “I came to deliver ye that most pressing missive.”