Chapter 14 #2
She put her head down and quickened her pace. “Not my problem.”
“It might very well be your problem when I show up at your door afterward, begging for some potion for indigestion only you can fashion for me.”
She stopped abruptly, then turned and looked up at him.
Her expression wasn’t welcoming. She looked rather devastated, actually, as if she had suffered a loss so great that even thinking on it was too much to bear.
He would have reached out to comfort her, but he feared to touch her.
She looked so fragile, he thought she might shatter if he touched amiss.
But instead of backing away from him, which he half expected, she took a step closer to him. “And just what sort of potion, my laird,” she whispered hoarsely, “would you want the MacLeod witch to make for you?”
Cameron took a deep breath, hoping to clear his head enough to find something useful to say, and breathed in her scent without thinking.
She smelled like wildflowers.
The pain that slammed into him without warning was blinding in its intensity. He realized, quite suddenly, that he was on the verge of passing out. He stumbled back a pace and doubled over.
He stood there with his hands on his thighs, desperately sucking in air, and wondered what in the hell was happening to him. How was it a fresh-faced, potion-brewing Yank who smelled like meadow wildflowers on a warm summer’s day could affect him so?
“Lord Cameron?”
“Headache,” he ground out. “Nothing more.”
“Are you really ill,” she asked in a much kinder tone than she’d used before, “or just angling for dinner?”
He would have shaken his head, but he didn’t think he could manage it. It was all he could do to close his eyes and pray he wouldn’t sick up his lunch on her feet.
She sighed deeply, then took his keys out of his hand. He heard his car door slam shut and the alarm be set. The next thing he knew, Sunshine had ducked under one of his arms and drawn it over her shoulders. Her other arm went around his waist.
“Can you make it to Patrick’s? I don’t think I can carry you.”
“I’ll manage.” He straightened, felt the world spin wildly, then forced himself to remain upright. He was appalled to realize how hard he was leaning on her. He dredged up reserves of strength he didn’t often use and steadied himself. “Forgive me. I’m not usually so feeble.”
“You probably need to eat. I’ll make you some tea so you can go do that.”
He supposed he couldn’t hope for anything else. He stumbled along with her and found himself, eventually, standing in front of Benmore Castle. He closed his eyes and bowed his head as Sunshine knocked. The door soon opened.
“Sunny,” a woman’s voice said happily. “And . . . a friend?”
“Cameron mac Cameron,” Sunshine said. “He’s got a headache and I promised him I’d get him something for it here. He is not staying for supper.”
Cameron would have smiled, but he was too busy keeping himself on his feet.
He had the impression of a woman who looked a great deal like Sunshine Phillips peering at him with great interest before she backed up and welcomed him into the hall.
He followed Sunshine as best he could, then found himself pushed down into a chair.
His keys were slapped into his hand and he was summarily abandoned.
He wasn’t unhappy for the chance to simply close his eyes and let the pain in his head recede.
It helped to sit. He put his keys into his pocket, then rested his head against the back of the chair and listened to the sounds of family wash over him.
They were good, homey sounds of supper being prepared and sweet women happily discussing in dulcet tones the pleasant things that interested them.
“Hell no, I am not going back in there! You take it to him.”
“Sunny, what in the world is your problem? I think he’s a perfectly lovely looking man. Are you out of your mind?”
“I don’t care what you think, I’m not out of my mind, and he’s engaged!”
“Oh,” came the answer, drawn out quite a long time. “Why is he here with you, then?”
“He’s not here with me, he’s just here. Now, please just take him his tea so he can be on his way.”
“If you’re sure—”
“Maddy!”
Cameron waited until he heard light footsteps stop in front of him, then he opened his eyes. He had to look twice to realize that it wasn’t Sunshine he was staring at. He managed a smile.
“You must be Patrick’s wife.”
“Madelyn,” she agreed. She handed him a mug. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
“He’s not staying for dinner!” came the call from the kitchen.
Madelyn smiled politely. “I think my sister’s afraid we don’t have enough placemats. I’ll go look and see if that’s the case or not. Can I get you anything else in the meantime?”
“Tea is lovely, thank you,” he said politely. “I’m sure it will help.”
“Sunny’s concoctions always do.”
“Anything by the MacLeod witch would,” he said, intending it as a jest, but he found quite suddenly that those words could not be spoken so lightly.
“Lord Cameron?”
He looked up at Madelyn MacLeod and forced a smile. “Just a headache. Not to worry.”
She looked at him closely for a moment, then frowned thoughtfully to herself and walked away.
Cameron finished Sunny’s tea without any more company. He actually began to feel quite at ease sitting in a well-appointed hall with a roaring fire in front of him. The pounding behind his eyes began to fade and he had to agree that Sunshine Phillips did indeed make good brews.
He closed his eyes again and attempted another bit of eavesdropping. It was made easier, several moments later, by the arrival of the lord of the manor into his kitchen.
“Who?” Patrick MacLeod said, sounding very surprised.
Cameron wondered if any of them knew how to whisper.
“Lord Robert Cameron.”
That wasn’t Sunshine. She wouldn’t have said his name that way.
“The Cameron? Really. Why?”
“Who knows? He almost ran over me.”
That was Sunshine. He suspected, to his surprise, that he would have recognized her voice in a crowd.
“Well,” Patrick said, sounding amused, “all the more reason to have him in for supper.”
“I don’t want him to stay for supper—damn it, Patrick, stop!”
Cameron heard the tread of a heavier foot and opened his eyes in time to see Patrick MacLeod sit down in the chair across from his.
“Welcome,” Patrick said with a smile.
“Thank you.” Cameron held up his mug. “Your sister-in-law was kind enough to offer me a bit of tea.”
“She’s altruistic—especially after she’s almost been run over.”
“I didn’t run over her.”
“I said almost.”
Cameron managed a smile. “I’ll concede almost.”
Patrick propped one of his ankles up on the opposite knee. “Why are you here?”
“No small talk?” Cameron asked.
"I’m not good at it. I like my speech plain and my answers unadorned.”
Cameron studied the mug in his hands for several moments in silence. “I’m not sure,” he said quietly. “I just had to see her.” He looked up. “Sunshine, I mean.”
Saying it sounded completely daft, but he couldn’t deny the words. Perhaps it was nothing more than seeing a beautiful woman and having his imagination run wild. Perhaps it was but a very pedestrian case of cold feet—and the saints only knew he had reason enough for that.
“Well, you’re honest, at least,” Patrick said, rising. “Take off your coat, man, and stay a bit.”
“That easily?” Cameron asked lightly.
Patrick shot him a look. “Highland hospitality. I should think you would know all about that.”
Cameron nodded, because he did. There had been a point in his past when he had allowed quite a few souls to sleep in the comfort of his hall regardless of whether or not it had been wise.
Highland weather was unpredictable; the comfort of a roaring fire was not to be taken lightly.
The sight of a beautiful woman to enjoy whilst sitting in front of that fire made it all the more desirable.
He left his coat hanging on the back of the chair, then picked up his mug and followed Patrick into his kitchen.
He had to pause for a moment at the entrance and admire the three beauties there.
Madelyn was lovely, with her dark curling hair falling down her back and her muddy green eyes full of good humor.
The fairness of her face made her beautiful, but the happiness she wore—perhaps unconsciously—made her exceptional.
She planted a kiss on the head of the second beautiful female there, a small one who was sitting in a high chair, banging toys onto an empty tray.
And then there was Sunshine Phillips.
She carried things over to the table, things he didn’t normally eat like salad and steamed vegetables. He supposed it didn’t matter what she intended to feed him; he wouldn’t be paying much heed to it.
She was, he had to admit, the loveliest witch he’d ever seen.
At the moment, though, she looked as if she was on the verge of either weeping or reaching for some sort of blade to end her agony.
It wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d used that blade on him.
He took the seat Patrick offered him because he feared that Sunshine would find a way to keep him out of it if she could.
Besides, sitting brought him closer to the object of his scrutiny.
He pointedly ignored the fact that he shouldn’t be looking.
Sunshine was not his—and, given how she was pretending he wasn’t there, she likely wouldn’t have wanted to be his even if he were free.
He was surprised to find how much that bothered him.
A quick grace was said, interrupting his cheerless thoughts, then Patrick passed the potatoes. Cameron accepted a bit of everything, accepted another cup of tea from Madelyn, and watched Sunshine take nothing that wasn’t green. An herbalist to the core, apparently.
An herbalist who was, again, making a point of ignoring him.
She was perfectly willing to speak to Patrick and Madelyn. At one point, she even took baby Hope out of her chair and paced with her so Madelyn could finish her supper in peace. But nary a glance did she cast his way.
He could see that Patrick noticed, for the man shot his sister-in -law a pair of quizzical looks.
He got back far worse than he dealt out.
Cameron was gratified to find that he wasn’t the only one she was apparently irritated with.
Madelyn didn’t do anything but carefully step around her sister verbally and give her husband the occasional look that said very clearly that he should just keep his mouth shut.
Interesting.
Cameron again ignored the fact that he shouldn’t have been there, shouldn’t have even been looking at a woman who wasn’t his, shouldn’t have felt so at peace. He turned his attention back to his meal and kept it there.
’Twas safer that way.