Samantha James (26 page)

Yet he was tormented as never before. He hated having her so near at hand, yet being unable to touch her. It was Glenda who had hinted he might reclaim his husbandly rights—ah, if only he could, he thought blackly. The very sight of his lovely wife made his head swim. She aroused him beyond reason. Motherhood had made her shine like the brightest of jewels; she was more breathtaking than ever. Her hair was unbound, a fiery cloud about her shoulders. He longed to twist his fingers in the silken mass and bring her mouth to his. Her skin shimmered like the finest of pearls. He’d seen this only yesterday, as he’d gone to retrieve the keys to the storeroom. Meredith was sitting in the chair before the fire, holding Brodie. She had looked up quickly, as startled as he.

He’d stopped in his tracks. Her gown was open to the waist. The babe was asleep. His mouth was half-open; it had fallen away from her nipple. Her breast was temptingly full, round and tipped with rose. His breath dammed in his throat; for an instant he could not breathe. A hungry desire quested within him, knotting his gut. His fingers fairly itched with the need to push aside the rest of her gown and bare her completely, to share that succulent fruit with his son. Without a word he’d turned and retraced his steps. It was the only way he could stop himself from lifting his son into his cradle, dragging her into his arms, carrying her to the bed, and making love to her until
they were both exhausted. But he knew if he did, he would not end there.

Only one thing made him hesitate.

He had once taken all from her and demanded everything of her…and in so doing, she’d nearly lost her life. He paled whenevever he thought of it. He could not forget how frail and weak she’d been, how he’d watched her strength seep away, breath by breath. Praise God she’d regained her health quickly! She now appeared vibrantly healthy. Yet he shuddered to think what bearing another child might cost her. The easiest way to rein in his desire was simply to refrain from being alone with her.

Nor was that the only burden he carried. Cameron had his pride, too. He would not return to his bedchamber—to
their
bedchamber—unless she asked. And since she did not ask, he had grimly decided that he had forced his will upon her for the last time. No, he would snatch her will from her no more.

If she wanted him, then she must be the one to let him know it.

Summer came to the Highlands, warm and sweetly scented. The mists lifted, and sunlight sparkled on verdant green hillsides. Radiant flowers bloomed across the meadows. Like the crops that filled the fields, their child thrived. His cheeks grew round and plump. Chubby legs pumped and kicked. He gazed avidly at all around him. The deep murkiness of his eyes had lightened to the brilliant color of a sun-warmed sky…his mother’s eyes.

Passing through the great hall one day, Meredith heard a tiny, cooing laugh that sounded amazingly like Brodie’s as she passed a small adjacent chamber. Curious, she pushed open the door.

Cameron sat in a high-backed chair. Brodie lay on
his thighs, his swaddling pushed aside. A dark finger swirled an idle pattern on the roundness of his tummy; Brodie chuckled delightedly. The sight of this lean brawny man, so big yet so gentle with this tiny infant, was a sight that never failed to move her to the core.

He glanced up then; a slight sheepishness crossed his features. She sensed he was embarrassed, and it made her smile.

She watched as he replaced Brodie’s swaddling and lifted him to his shoulder. In the instant before he rose to his feet, she caught a faint wistfulness in his expression.

“Cameron?” She frowned, tilting her head to the side. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

He looked away—deliberately, she knew. Before she thought better of it, she laid a finger on his sleeve.

“Cameron, please tell me!”

Slowly his gaze returned. It traveled from her face to his son’s. Dark fingers stroked the babe’s cheek. His voice, when at last it came, was very low. “I was just thinking…that I wish my father could have seen him.”

Her breath caught.

Her heart went out to him, for she heard the raw pain in his tone. Her throat tightened oddly. “So do I, Cameron. Oh, so do I, more than anything! And…oh, I do not mean to be cruel, but…but your father is gone—Brodie’s grandfather is gone. But Brodie has another—a grandfather who yet lives…”

His features seemed to freeze. “What do you mean? The Red Angus?”

“Aye,” she said, and then it was a broken cry: “Aye!” Suddenly it was all spilling out. Everything she had not dared to think of, for the pain it wrought. “I have carried this in my heart these many months.
You believe that my clansmen killed your brothers and your father. You saw their plaid, and you heard their battle cry. I—I believe you, Cameron, but no matter what you say, I cannot believe my father was there! He is a man of honor, a just, fair man. He would not murder for murder’s sake alone. He would not surprise those who slept and steal their weapons, even his enemies! Say what you will, but I know he would not!” She drew a deep breath, her eyes mutely pleading. “You led him to believe that I was dead—but what of Brodie? How long will this go on? Cameron, ’tis not right! My father has a grandson, and ’tis only right that he should know!”

His jaw jutted out. Damn her, he thought. Damn her! The one thing she would ask of him was the one thing he would not give…could not give!

Curtly he spoke. “Brodie is my son, Meredith. He was born a MacKay—”

“A MacKay with Munro blood! No matter how you may hate it, you cannot deny it. Aye, this is your son, but he is mine, too! So tell me, Cameron. Will you teach our son to hate the Munros—to hate the Red Angus? To hate his own grandfather?”

His tone was sharp. “You could just as easily teach him to hate the MacKays!”

“When he lives here among the MacKays?” Her chest was heaving. “That will not happen, Cameron, and you know it as well as I!”

“What, then? Do you wish to go to Castle Munro? Need I remind you that ’twas you who said you would never return there?”

A tremor went through her. Now it was she who hesitated. “I do not know,” she cried brokenly. “I do not know!”

For an eternity his gaze rested on her, cool and
chill. “So what would you have me do? Ask him to come here? He would not, Meredith.” Flatly Cameron made the pronouncement. “He would think it was a ruse—a trap.”

It came to her then, as suddenly as a storm in the mountains. She drew a ragged breath. “Nay,” she said quietly. “He would not.” Her hand crept to the silver chain about her throat. “Not if you sent him this.”

A brooding darkness slipped over Cameron throughout the night, for this was a decision he did not want to make. A part of him was furious with Meredith for even suggesting it…To think of the Red Angus here at Dunthorpe!

Still another part of him whispered that this was inevitable. When Brodie had been born, Cameron had deliberately put the feud—and the Red Angus—out of his mind. At the time he’d thought it best that the Red Angus never know his daughter was alive, that he had a grandson.

He could not ignore the truth. Meredith was right. Their child was a MacKay…a MacKay with Munro blood. And raised here at Dunthorpe, influenced by his clansmen, Brodie might easily grow to despise the Clan Munro.

The very notion was disturbing—nay, unpalatable! No matter his own feelings, it wouldn’t be right if Brodie were to decry his own kin.

And he could never hurt Meredith like that—never in this world. She had forgiven him much, he admitted. Could she ever forgive him if he refused her in this?

It was a chance he would not take.

Yet ultimately, the choice was taken from him, in a most unexpected way.

It was Moire who announced casually at the table one morning, “They say the Red Angus is dying.”

A dozen pair of shocked eyes fastened upon her. “What!” someone said. “Where did you hear that?”

“From the peddler at the gates last eve.” Moire defended herself staunchly. “He passed through Munro lands on his way here.”

Within the hour it was the talk of the keep. It was Glenda who sought out Cameron and told him. Cameron wasted no time climbing the tower stairs. His step was heavy, for this was a task he did not relish.

As the door opened, Meredith straightened from the cradle where she’d just placed Brodie. “Good morning.” If she was a trifle cool as she greeted her husband, she could not help it. He had yet to speak further of allowing her father to see Brodie.

He stepped before her. One look at his face and she knew instantly that something was amiss. Beneath his tan, he was distinctly pale.

“What is it?” she said quickly. “What is wrong? Is it Glenda?”

He shook his head. “Glenda is fine. Meredith…it seems your father is dying.”

Meredith put a hand to her throat. “That cannot be,” she said in a half-strangled voice. “You say this only to hurt me!”

“Believe me, this brings me no pleasure, Meredith. But I thought it best if the news came from me.”

She swayed. Blackness stole all through her. For one perilous moment she thought she might faint.

His hands came out to catch at her shoulders. “Meredith!”

She pushed him away. “I am fine!” Suddenly she
was babbling. “I must go to him. I must!” She turned toward the cradle. “Brodie. I must gather his things. And he should be fed…” She stretched out a hand. “And Glenda. I must tell Glenda—”

“Meredith—”

“No, Cameron, you cannot stop me!” she cried wildly. “He is my father! If he is dying, then I must go to him. I must be with him. If you will not take me, then I will find my own way.”

“Meredith. Meredith,
hush
!” Strong arms closed around her. “I will not stop you! But you must calm yourself—”

“I cannot! There is much to be done. Brodie’s things must be packed. We must have food for the journey—”

“And we will. I will send Glenda to you. Feed Brodie, and then rest while you can, for the journey is a long one.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then departed swiftly.

Meredith had just finished feeding Brodie and laying him in his cradle when Glenda burst into the chamber.

“Meredith, Cameron told me you must make ready to journey to Castle Munro.”

Meredith nodded. “Aye. My father…”—she couldn’t help the betraying catch in her voice—“he is dying.”

Glenda laid a hand on her shoulder. “I heard, Meredith. I heard. And…oh, I know there has been much distrust between the Clan MacKay and the Clan Munro, but I am truly sorry.”

Meredith’s throat clogged tight. Papa…dying. She could scarcely stand to think of it. It was still so hard to believe…

She couldn’t withold the tears that sprang to her
eyes. Seeing them, Glenda’s arms came around her. Meredith drew both comfort and strength from Glenda’s embrace.

After a moment she drew back. “I am fine. Really. Now…do you mind helping me gather our clothing?”

“Of course not—that is why I came. Oh, and I stopped by the kitchen and ordered bread and cheese packed.”

Between the two of them, it did not take long to collect the necessary belongings. Picking up the pouches, Glenda put them near the door.

Meredith had started toward Brodie’s cradle just as Glenda turned. It seemed the tears were now in Glenda’s eyes—a sight that made Meredith stop short. “Glenda,” she cried. “What is amiss?”

“’Tis nothing.” Glenda dashed at the dampness in her eyes and sought to smile.

Meredith shook her head. “Nonsense,” she admonished. “If ’twere nothing, then you would not weep.”

“You are right,” Glenda admitted. “’Tis just that…I will miss you dreadfully, Meredith. You will return, will you not?”

The odd note in her voice made Meredith’s gaze sharpen. She looked at Glenda oddly. “Why would you think I would not return—” All at once she understood. “Ah,” she said softly. “’Tis because we go to Castle Munro, is it not?”

Glenda nodded, her golden brown eyes wide and distressed. “You are my greatest friend in all the world, Meredith. If this is the last time I shall see you—”

“It is not.” The lump was back in Meredith’s throat as well. “Glenda, it is not! This is my home
now. This is where I belong.” She reached out and grasped Glenda’s hands in her own. “And I will miss you, too,” she said simply, “for you are like a sister to me.”

“Meredith. Oh, Meredith, I feel the same!” The pair hugged each other once again, their smiles shaky as they drew back.

Suddenly Glenda’s faded. “Meredith,” she said quietly, “mayhap I meddle where I should not, but…oh, I know you have said nothing to me—indeed, I do not blame you—but I know that matters between you and Cameron are not what you wish. Yet I know in my heart that he loves you. I
feel
it. And so I would ask you to have faith. Have faith and believe that all will be well, for I truly believe it will.”

A pang rent Meredith’s heart. If only it was so…for she could not bear to think she might spend her life loving a man who might never love her in return.

Outside in the bailey, Cameron had ordered that the horses be readied and supplies gathered. It was there he saw Egan and told his friend of his plans.

“You go to Castle Munro!” Egan’s regard was tight-lipped and disapproving. “By the shroud of Christ, that woman will be the death of you yet!”

Cameron’s eyes glinted. “Be careful where you tread, my friend,” he warned softly. “She is my wife, and I will tolerate no disrespect for her, even from you.”

Egan sighed, the sound heavy. “I know that, Cameron. But I dislike the idea of you traveling alone on Munro lands.” He made a sudden decision. “Let me gather some men—”

“No. A large party will garner too much attention.
I think it best if we travel discreetly.” Cameron was adamant.

But so was Egan. “Aye, you are right, of course. But I will not let you go alone, Cameron. ’Tis too risky.”

In the end, Cameron decided Egan’s suggestion was sound. If something should happen to him, he could trust Egan to get Meredith and Brodie to safety. In truth, it was one less worry. By noonday, they were well on their way.

Though Meredith made no protest, Cameron was anxiously aware that she was exhausted by the end of each day of travel when he lifted her from her mount. She was unused to riding, as he was. Brodie, lamb that he was, obliged both mother and father greatly by proving to be an excellent traveler. Cameron fashioned a sling to carry the lad on his back, and Brodie seemed to delight in it. He gazed brightly around at the vivid green landscape. He did not fuss or cry, except when he was hungry and sought his mother’s breast. If they but had more time, Cameron would have insisted on a cart and pony where Meredith and the babe could sit or ride at their leisure. Yet he knew Meredith would have chafed at the delay.

The next day, they crested a small rise. They followed the road, which skirted the edge of a dense forest. All at once an odd feeling slithered down his spine. He glanced over at Egan. But a glimpse of Egan’s frosty blue eyes yielded what he already suspected—they were being watched, and Egan knew it, too.

Something unspoken passed between them; Egan gave a slight nod. Raising a hand, Cameron called a halt. Meredith, who was holding Brodie, flashed a grateful smile. Brodie had begun to squirm, rooting
against her, for he was hungry. Strong hands on her waist, Cameron swung his wife and child to the ground. He bent low so that he spoke directly in her ears.

“Say nothing, lass, but go behind that boulder and do not move until I come for you.”

Meredith’s gaze flashed to his. His stern warning came as a surprise, but she was too alarmed by his fierceness to do anything but obey. Hurriedly she did as he bade her, shushing Brodie. She had just ducked behind the boulder when footsteps pounded behind her. Hoarse shouts erupted.

Cameron and Egan were already turning as three great brutes dressed in blackened leather rushed at them. One carried a battle-ax, while the other two were armed with dirks. Sunlight caught the glint of steel as they ripped their swords from their scabbards.

The trio was no match for the two men of the Clan MacKay. The battle was over almost before it began. Shaken and dazed, Meredith was ushered back to her mount by her husband. She gasped as she spied the three broken bodies.

“Cameron!” she gasped. “Who are they? Why did they attack us?”

“Thieves,” he said smoothly, “from the look of them. They care not who they prey on.”

A shiver went through her. Back at Dunthorpe, she had not been pleased when she saw that Egan meant to accompany them. Yet now she was heartily glad of his presence.

It was much later that she slept in utter weariness. But there was no sleep for Cameron. He paced restlessly beside the fire.

From where he sat before the flames, Egan looked
up at him. “Those men today,” he said suddenly. “They wore no plaid.”

“I know.” Cameron continued his pacing.

“It was just as I thought—a trap,” he spat. “They knew we were coming. They were lying in wait.”

Cameron made no answer, but continued his pacing.

“Why”—Egan voiced aloud the thought that had been in Cameron’s mind since the attack—“do I have the feeling that we were not meant to reach Castle Munro?”

Only then did Cameron come to a halt. “Because we were not,” he said grimly. “Which means we shall have to be very, very cautious from here on out.”

It was the following afternoon when Castle Munro came into view. Perched on a bluff overlooking fields of grasses that undulated in the breeze, its tall stone walls glittered in the sunlight. Overhead the sky arched brilliant and sunny. Though it was not so massive as Dunthorpe, it was still a castle of considerable size.

With every step that took them closer, a feeling of dread coiled in Cameron’s belly. For the first time, he understood what Meredith must have felt as she’d passed through the gates of Dunthorpe. Yet his lovely wife had borne it bravely, her head held high…

And so would he.

In case something should go wrong, Cameron insisted that Egan remain behind and stand watch. Egan liked it not a whit, but he did as Cameron asked. Later, when he was assured of all of their safety, he would send word to his friend. If all was well, he would see that Egan was admitted.

As they approached the outer walls, a sentinel appeared at the gatehouse. Before Cameron could announce them, Meredith pushed back the drape of her hood and revealed her face.

Another time, and Cameron might have chuckled at the amazement that washed over the sentinel’s features. He dropped to his knees and made the sign of the cross.

“Dear Lord, am I seein’ a ghost, then? Surely I’ve gone mad, for this cannot be! ’Tis dead ye be!”

Meredith’s lips quirked. “I assure you, Ranald, you’ve not gone mad. ’Tis I, Meredith, and I am as alive as you. But please, tell me”—she couldn’t hide her worry—“how is Papa? He yet lives, does he not?”

Ranald’s eyes drew together, as if in puzzlement. “Aye,” he said slowly, “he does.”

Meredith sent a fervent prayer heavenward. “Thank you, Ranald, thank you.”

They ventured farther within. Once they reached the inner bailey, Cameron leaped lightly to the ground, then helped Meredith to her feet. Brodie was sleeping soundly, cradled in the crook of her elbow.

By then, they’d begun to attract notice. There were shocked whispers from several people nearby.

“’Tis her! ’Tis Angus’s daughter!”

But Cameron had been recognized as well. “Do ye not know who he is?” someone shouted. “Look at his plaid!”

“He is a MacKay!” someone thundered.

A mighty blow from behind knocked him to his knees. Meredith gasped and whirled on the giant who had struck him. “Leave him be!” she cried indignantly. “He is with me!” She extended her free hand to Cameron, who accepted it and rose to his feet. He
said nothing, but his lips were a taut, straight line. His expression was nearly as hostile as those who had gathered around them.

“What goes on here?” demanded yet another gruff male voice. “Step aside, and let me have a look!”

Meredith turned…and came face-to-face with her father.

Every drop of color drained from Angus’s face. He staggered, as if he would fall. Anguish crept into his eyes, a world of it.

“Papa!” Meredith cried. “Papa, do not look at me so!”

He shook his head. “I see what I do…yet I cannot see what I am seeing!”

Meredith smiled mistily. “I am here, Papa. Your eyes do not deceive you.”

“God in heaven,” he breathed. “My jewel is alive. My jewel is alive and whole and well!” Tears filled his eyes, tears that made Cameron both wince and smile.

Unable to speak for the joy that surged within him, Angus held out his arms. Meredith laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes.