Chapter 9
The Camp Fire – That Evening
Ten men sat around the fire. Weapons were close at hand and eyes were sharp even at rest.
Cormac settled close beside Una on the log nearest to the flames, his blade loose at his hip. Around the fire, every one of Drunstan's men was equally armed. The ale was being passed around freely.
A wooden board came between them bearing bread, cold meat, and a wedge of hard cheese. Una ate and said nothing. Cormac listened to the conversation around him and let his eyes move over the camp at intervals.
And in between, he reached across to the board and quietly set the choicest cuts on Una's side. The best piece of meat. The softest end of the bread. The sweetest part of the fruit.
The first time he did it, she glanced at him.
The second time, she opened her mouth to refuse. "Ye dinnae have to."
"Eat, lass," he said quietly. "Ye'll need yer energy."
She nodded and ate.
Una kept her eyes on the fire. No man had ever cared for her so well.
Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she chose not to examine it too closely.
***
THE ALE MADE THE ROUNDS and the men grew louder. Drunstan drank steadily and his tongue ran loose.
Cormac had not touched his cup. Una had noticed and said nothing.
She kept her face turned toward the fire and listened.
"Always sends his man," Drunstan was saying. "Never shows his face. But then lairds like Gunn of Caithness never do."
Laird Gunn.
Una did not move. Why did that name ring a bell? Then it came to her. Brighde Gunn.
The name Catriona had dropped into the sewing room with that small, satisfied smile. Alec Roberts is rumored to be engaged to Brighde Gunn. And Fenella arguing, "We have an understanding! He would have told me if he were pledged to Brighde!"
Then he must be confused, because it was quite clear to all that he was very much in love with Miss Gunn, and furthermore her father, Laird Gunn, was also boasting that a wedding was on the horizon...
Una frowned.
If Laird Gunn was the patron behind this, then it was not a straightforward ransom scheme.
Was he trying to purposefully remove Fenella from Alec's attention?
Una could not make the pieces fit no matter how she arranged them.
And worse yet, she could not tell Cormac about it lest her identity be exposed.
That brought her back to the question she had been circling all evening. She did not doubt that Cormac had protected her and treated her well, but she had to keep reminding herself it was because he believed her to be a high-born noble lady.
She sighed quietly. If he ever found out she was not Fenella, he would no doubt throw her to the wolves himself.
***
THE FIRE BURNED DOWN and men drifted to their bedrolls. Drunstan called an end to the evening, and Cormac rose, Una with him, the two guards falling into step without a word.
In the bothy, Cormac closed the door and pushed the heavy chest against it. There was no lock on the inside, but the noise of it shifting would provide ample warning if anyone tried to enter while they slept.
The candle had burned low. Una could hear the guards outside settling into position for the night.
She looked at the narrow pallet. She looked at the floor.
"I'll take the floor," Cormac said.
"Ye dinnae have to—"
"Ye're exhausted, lass," he said. "And I need ye rested. Tomorrow we need to be alert."
She looked at him for a moment. He held her gaze and gave her nothing more. She was too tired to press it. Una lay down, pulled the spare plaid across herself, and was asleep within minutes.
***
CORMAC SAT AGAINST the back wall with his eyes on the front door.
Gunn. Laird Gunn of Caithness. He had his name, and with it his mission was done. He would send the signal to Seumas in the early hours. His men would be in position before dawn. The camp would be taken, Drunstan with it, and by the time the sun was properly up, it would all be over.
Then Laird Gunn would answer for what he had set in motion, and Cormac would personally return the lass to her father's care.
He sat with that thought for a while, staring at the candle as he turned over the plan.
He heard her before he saw what was wrong. A small sound first. Then the soft chattering of teeth and shivering. The bothy was cold even with the banked fire.
Cormac watched her for a moment.
Then he got up.
He came to the pallet and lowered himself onto the edge carefully.
She stirred. "Cormac?"
"Aye, love," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."
She drifted back but continued to shiver. Cormac decided she needed more warmth, so he settled behind her, drew his plaid from his shoulder, laid it over them both, and pulled her closer against his chest. He felt the shivering ease, then slow, then stop.
She made a small sound in her sleep and turned, her cheek finding his shoulder. One hand curled against the front of his leine. Her braid lay across his arm and smelled faintly of the lavender soap.
Cormac lay still.
Despite his experience with women, he had never spent an entire night with one in his arms. He had never wanted to. But for the life of him, he did not want to be anywhere else but right where he was.
Cormac drew her slightly closer. She came without waking, tucking into the crook of his neck. He exhaled slowly and looked at the ceiling.
He had a signal to send in a few hours. A camp to take at dawn. A mission to complete and a lass to return safely home. He knew all of that. Usually, he would find trouble sleeping when so much was at stake.
But he closed his eyes anyway.
And for the first time in his life, he fell asleep with a woman in his arms.
***