Samantha James (5 page)

And he was right. She was too stubborn to change her mind.

“Do you truly care?”

“Only that you do not further delay our journey.”

Meredith glared. The beast! Somehow she managed to keep her tone civil, disguising her anxiety.

“You’ve yet to tell me where this journey takes us.”

It seemed he never would, for he made no reply.

She tried again. “We travel north and west”—she held her breath—“toward Munro lands.”

His gaze narrowed. Meredith had the uneasy suspicion he’d not expected her to notice. Then all at once the corner of his mouth lifted in a baiting smile.

“North and west,” he agreed mildly, “toward
MacKay
lands.”

Munro lands. MacKay lands. In truth, what did it matter? Either way, she was his prisoner. These many months at Connyridge she had taken comfort from the repetitive order of the day, yet now the world was splintering all around her. She knew not what the day would bring. Indeed, she knew not what the hour would bring, if the truth be told, for her life was in
the hands of this rude Highlander, Cameron MacKay! She had no say over it, over him, she thought with a rising hysteria.

Stop it! hissed a voice from within. She could not control the outside world, but she must take command of herself, she decided. Meredith forced a deep, calming breath, determined to seek respite from the turmoil in her soul. She knew but one sure way to accomplish this.

Sinking to her knees, she closed her eyes and made the sign of the cross, then clasped her hands against her breast.

Behind her, there was a long expulsion of breath and a brusque exclamation.

“God’s teeth, woman! What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

Her lips stopped moving. Her eyes did not open as she said simply, “I am praying.”

“Again?”

Was the man blind? Meredith found little need to reply.

There was a foul curse, the jangle of a harness, and the noisy stomp of footsteps. In the next instant two strong hands shot out, cupping her elbows from behind. In a heartbeat she was lifted to her feet and turned bodily to face him.

“I have not harmed you, have I? Abused you or beaten you?”

He was angry again. She could feel it in the muted restraint of those hands which still curled warm about her shoulders. He was so tall! Far taller than her father, or even her Uncle Robert, who was by far the largest man at Castle Munro.

Her prayer had irritated him, irritated him vastly, she realized. She could well believe that here was a
man who believed in no God, yet the notion that any man could be so foolish was almost beyond comprehension.

Ah, if only he would let her go. She hesitated, uncertain how to answer. Then, compelled by a force she was powerless to control, her gaze trickled slowly up the strongly muscled column of his neck, past the clenched line of his jaw, to the glitter of his eyes.

His expression was everything she expected, a reflection of his manner, hard and impatient. With his features so drawn and fierce, his mouth so very thin, he frightened her half out of her wits!

Her gaze veered away.

He gave her a tiny shake. “Answer me,” he demanded. “Have I hurt you, harmed you in any way?”

Her eyes returned to settle on the broad expanse of his chest. “Nay,” she said finally. Through some miracle she managed to sound somewhat normal. Her composure returned, little by little.

His hands fell away from her shoulders. “Then cease your prayers!” he growled.

That brought her head up anew. Now that he no longer touched her, she no longer felt so muddled. It seemed suddenly important that he not know of her fears—or, at least, the depth of them.

“You do not understand,” she stated coolly. “I do not pray for myself. I pray for you.”

“For me!” He appeared taken aback.

Meredith stared him straight in the eye. “Aye,” she said quietly, “that God will forgive you your recent sins.”

“Sins! To what sins do you refer? I’ve no doubt you’re anxious to regale me with your account of my misdeeds.” His smile was both false and brittle.

Meredith stiffened. “Very well, then. You took me
from Connyridge, and for what purpose, I ask? To make my father believe that his only child is no more.” Her denouncement was stinging. “’Tis revenge you want, revenge for the death of your brothers and your father. But I tell you, you are wrong! The Red Angus is no murderer. He did not kill your father or brothers, for he would never be so cruel!”

His smile was wiped clean. “And I tell you he was, for I was there!” His gaze scraped over her like a sword of molten steel. “You speak of God’s forgiveness. But is not God a vengeful God? Aye, ’tis revenge I seek, revenge for the slaying of my family. I think I need not remind you that Scripture tells us, ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth’!”

Her reply was swift and vehement. “‘Judge not, that ye be not judged,’” she quoted in turn.

He did not flinch in the slightest. “I am prepared to face whatever consequences come my way in the days to come. But your father is responsible for the deaths of my brothers and my father. And I promise you, ’tis a debt I will see repaid measure for measure.”

Meredith shook her head. It was not defiance but genuine puzzlement that prompted her question. “How? You chose to let my father live…and I have no brothers!”

He stepped near, so very near that her breasts brushed the folds of his plaid; so close she could see the dark steel that ringed his eyes.

“True,” he said, his tone suddenly soft, “but now I have you.”

But now I have you
.

That dark-featured face shadowed with a day’s growth of beard…that ever-so-slow smile…that voice as soft as swan’s down—any one of them might have sent a shiver throughout the length of her.

The three of them combined…it was enough to send a river of ice rushing through her veins.

His claim was true. He had neither harmed nor abused her…

But she had the awful feeling he was not yet through with her.

Bravely she held her ground, boldly drawing herself up before him. Somehow she managed to keep her regard entangled with his.

“I would ask you this. Did you see him?”

“Did I see who?”

“My father! You claim he was among your attackers, but I must know—did you see him? Face-to-face, I ask? For I swear to you, my kinsmen would not strike men down and leave them for dead. Never would my father sanction such butchery!”

It seemed an eternity yawned before he finally spoke. When he did, his lips were ominously thin. “I did not see him face-to-face. But I know well the bat
tle cry of the Munros and the colors of their plaid—and there was no mistaking the color of his hair.”

“You will not even consider that you could be wrong? That there was treachery involved and someone sought to lay the blame on my father?”

“I will not, for I know who is to blame!” Cameron’s lips barely moved. “And were I you, I would let this matter rest here and now.”

Meredith’s nails dug into her palms. Suddenly everything inside her chest was boiling and determined to be free. “You think you have defeated me because I am a woman,” she cried, “because I am weaker and you are stronger. Were I a man,” she accused, “you’d not have dared to lay a hand upon me. You are a wretch,” she went on, for the spark had been kindled and would not be doused. “Aye, you are the slimiest vermin of the earth. I find your actions despicable, as you are despicable!”

She stood with bare, dirty feet planted apart, the tilt of her chin undeniably defiant. Cameron was amazed—and angry beyond words. Despicable, she called him. How dare she pass judgment upon him, this—this pious little nun who was not a nun! And how dare she imply that he was wrong, that it was not her kinsmen who had killed his! What treachery there was belonged solely to her father!

But he did not reveal the depths of his ire—he did not dare, for he knew he would regret it later, as would she for provoking it!

He forced an even calm he was far from feeling. “Are you quite finished?”

The seconds passed, one into another, while each tested the resolve found in the other’s eyes. Cameron was certain another outburst was imminent. Her lips parted, then compressed tightly. Fury flared in those
dark-lashed eyes. Yet in the end she said nothing.

“I will take that as an aye.” He whistled for his mount. “Let us depart, then. But just so you know, lass”—as he swung onto his mount, the smile he offered was tightly—“were you a man, you would be long since cold in your grave.”

A heel on Fortune’s side, and the animal sprinted forward. This time Cameron was in no mood to be mindful of his pace. It was not intentional—he was simply too angry with the wench!

Before long, the forest thinned. High above, fluffy masses of clouds cast huge shadows across the landscape below. Starlings swirled and veered and swooped with the currents of the wind. Before them, the hills rose in meadowed benches of bright yellow and verdant green.

Just then some small sound reached his ears—a tiny, choked-off sound of distress. It lasted but an instant…

Cameron’s head whipped around.

Meredith was just behind him and to the right. He reined Fortune to a halt, then called to her.

“Do you need assistance?”

She shot him a fulminating look but said nothing. With her countenance set in smooth, implacable lines, she marched on. Whatever it was, she’d completely recovered, as if naught had happened.

“As you wish, then,” he said coolly.

His gaze lingered on her a moment longer. A beauty, he’d thought last night, but such did not even begin to describe her. Impossible as it seemed, she was even more breathtaking in daylight! It mattered naught that her skin was smudged with dust, that her hair hung tangled about slim, narrow hips. The wretched gown she wore was ragged and torn—yet
drooped in places that hinted of rounded pink tantalizing flesh that he had never thought to imagine—not in a Munro! A part of him could not reconcile such beauty, not when such vile blood flowed in her veins; yet at last Cameron admitted that which he had sidestepped throughout the day. Nothing could disguise the beauty beneath.

Cameron had slowed his pace. His gaze sharpened when he saw that she had begun to limp. A dozen times he nearly snatched her before him in the saddle, yet a dozen times he stopped himself. Why didn’t she ask him to stop? She moved on with stoic persistence, the bonny wee fool!

They had just come upon the river that wound through the glen when she went down on one knee. A grimace twisted her features as she stretched out a hand to catch her fall, yet she was upright again in the next breath; had his regard resided elsewhere but an instant, he would never have noticed.

This time Cameron did not hesitate. He wheeled Fortune to a halt directly before her and swung to the ground.

Aware of the fierceness of his expression and the swiftness of his approach, she threw up a hand as if to ward him off.

“Stop!” she cried.

“Sit!” he countered.

She did not, but began to back away.

He snared her elbow and pulled her to him. With a growl, he laid his palms upon her shoulders, expecting her to fight him. She yielded, dropping to the ground as if she were melting, her legs folding beneath her.

Her eyes were huge. “Why do you look at me so?”

Only then did Cameron realize the fierceness of his
expression. Could it be this was a means to yield her compliance…a mere glower?

“Show me your feet,” he said sternly.

“There is no need!”

Hurriedly she tried to draw her feet beneath her, but Cameron was too quick. He planted his hand squarely atop her thigh, just above her knee. Her reaction was immediate. She tried to recoil. With his fingers Cameron squeezed, just enough to convey the message that she was not free.

She froze. He had the feeling he’d shocked her to the saintly core. All at once her face burned crimson.

A potent satisfaction filled his chest. A look. A touch. This was proving most enlightening—it would seem either would quell her resistance.

Cupping his free hand around one shapely calf, he drew her foot forward, dimly aware of the softness of her flesh. She flinched, but did not withdraw.

His frown returned in short order.

His prediction proved correct, yet he experienced no gratification. The soles of her feet were raw and bruised. In places the flesh was torn and bloodied. In truth he didn’t know how she could stand, let alone walk. He cursed her—and himself, for allowing her to continue to walk these many hours.

They sat upon a small embankment that sloped to the edge of the river. Rising, Cameron retrieved a strip of linen cloth from the pouch on Fortune’s flank and walked through deep green ferns to the water’s edge. She looked like a frightened doe ready to bolt, yet she hadn’t moved by the time he returned. Her features, however, were decidedly nervous as he returned to kneel before her.

His mouth grim, he wiped the mingled grime and blood from her feet as gently as he could. When he
was done, he slipped his dagger from the sheath at his waist. Her eyes flew wide, but surprisingly, she made no move to scramble back. Instead she clasped her fingertips before her. Dimly he noted her hands were dainty-looking and small, like the rest of her.

There were several thorns embedded deep in the heel of one foot. With the point of the dagger he set about removing the first. She inhaled sharply, yet no protest was forthcoming.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His tone was brusque. “You could have ridden.”

He raised his eyes suddenly. He had the feeling he’d startled her, but she didn’t glance away, as he suspected she would.

“To walk was my choice.”

In all his days, he’d never known a soul so stubborn! He snorted. “And a foolish choice it was, too!”

Her chin thrust out. “I am not a simpleton!”

His lips thinned. “What, then? Or will you tell me now how our Savior went to the cross with bloodied feet—how you chose to follow in His steps with your antics?”

She gasped. “What? Do you dare to mock Him, too?”

“Lady, I believe in the Lord as much as you. But in my estimation, those who seek to martyr themselves are naught but fools.”

A glare burned hot and bright in her eyes. “And I begin to see why you did not heed His call, though I see why He would turn aside a MacKay—in particular one such as you!”

Cameron’s jaw snapped shut. Why, the insolent bratling! She not only insulted his clan, but the man he was! At times he wondered if he’d stolen the wrong woman, for this was not the meek and timid
maid he’d heard tales of! One moment she was humble and trembling, timid and shy, the next she dared what no sane man would dare, unless he harbored an utter disregard for his life!

His mood was suddenly black as the pits of hell. With a whistle he got to his feet, then plucked her from the ground like a duck from its nest. Fortune appeared, his ears pricked forward. Cameron swung her atop the black steed’s saddle and followed her up.

“You will ride,” was all he said. Mayhap she recognized that he was possessed of little tolerance just now, for she did not argue…

At least not yet.

They continued several miles upstream. At length he halted near the water’s edge for a quick assessment. The river was wide, cut here with upthrusting boulders. Normally it was fairly shallow, but there had been rains in the previous sennight; though the waters had not overflown its banks, the river was swollen higher than was usual during the early summer months. Still, he and his men had crossed safely on their way to Connyridge, and he judged they would do so again.

He leaped lightly to the ground, then pointed to a clearing across the river. “We will stop there for the night,” he said curtly.

Her gaze followed the direction of his finger. He knew naught of the sinking flutter of her heart—that the sight of the calm, peaceful glade lent her no ease.

“There? Across the river?”

“Aye.”

“But…we must cross.”

“Aye!”

She persisted. “There is no bridge? No other way across?”

He mistook her dismay for stubbornness. “There is not. The river traverses east to west and we travel north.”

“Can we not wait until morn?”

“We will not wait. We cross now.”

She faltered. “But…it looks so deep—”

“’Tis not.”

She made one last rally. “How will we cross? Must we”—there was a slight quaver in her voice—“swim?”

“You may ride Fortune. I will lead him across.”

He waded into the water, his hand on Fortune’s bridle.

They were a third of the way across when the bottom dropped out from beneath Cameron’s feet. The water was higher than he’d anticipated—there must have been more rain. He swore and kicked strongly. Fortune tossed his head, his eyes bulging. A word and stroke from his master, and the massive animal quieted. The water deepened, and soon Fortune could no longer stand, either. The beast began to swim. A quick glance behind revealed that Meredith had gone pale. Her fingers were twisted in the horse’s mane. The water crept higher, clear to her hips.

Then suddenly it happened. The shifting currents of the stream pushed the animal to the side. The beast neighed and began to swim more strongly.

But for Meredith it was already too late. From the corner of his eye Cameron saw a flurry of movement. There was a cry and a spray of water high in the air.

Just before she went under, she screamed. She resurfaced but a second later, and for one agonizing heartbeat, their eyes collided—hers were stricken and filled with panic. His heart leaped. Too late Cameron realized what lay behind her reticence.

He started to swim after her, but a rush of water had carried her beyond reach—he knew he would never catch her this way. Abruptly he changed direction, swimming to the shore.

Lunging from the river, he ran along the bank, keeping her in sight. A more accomplished swimmer would have floated with the current, staying atop the water until it was safer. But she was fighting it. With flailing arms she clawed desperately at the air, bobbing up and down, pitching back and forth like a twig.

There was a bend just ahead. Cameron leaped across a fallen mossy log and nearly lost his footing. Somehow his feet found purchase in the mud and he managed to remain upright. He was just ahead of her now; in but an instant she would be delivered into a smooth, glassy pool. Inhaling deeply, he launched himself forward.

He surfaced next to her. Just before she would have gone under again, he caught her and hauled her up against his side.

She flung her arms about his neck. Stricken, glazed eyes lifted to meet his. “Do not let me drown!” she cried. “Do not let me drown!”

His arm tightened around her. “I have you now, lass.” He placed his mouth near her ear. “Now listen to me. Keep your head above the water and do not struggle against me.”

It took but ten strokes to reach the bank. When he was able to stand, he slid an arm beneath her legs and carried her from the river to the top of a grassy embankment. Unmindful of the two humans’ ordeal, Fortune glanced up from where he munched the leaves of a bush.

Cameron stopped, a curious uncertainty within him. His lovely captive had yet to release him. The twine of soft, supple arms about his neck had not loosened;
her body still arched against his as if he were all that she sought in the world.

And he could still feel her terror with every uneven breath she took…just as he could feel it leave her little by little.

It was then that the oddest thing happened. The ghost of a smile danced on his lips.

“Lady,” he murmured, “if you will but look about you, you will see you are in no further danger of drowning.”