Chapter Fifteen #2
He didn’t say anything to that because it was the truth. There was no use in denying it. “And ye?”
“Auchnacree. My father is the chieftain of Clan Keith.”
Even though he’d hoped for Clan Ruthven, Clan Keith had always been a possibility. He knew that; God help him, he knew that. But the reality of it was more of a blow than he ever though it would be.
Keith.
Isadora was a Keith.
Cam stared at her for several moments as the news sank in, like a weight carving into his chest.
“Keith, is it?” he repeated slowly.
Isadora nodded, watching his face closely for his reaction.
“I know what happened tae Netherton,” she whispered.
“We saw it burn that night. I went back, day after day, looking for ye but knowing I would never find ye. I told ye I thought ye were dead… and seeing the destruction of Netherton, it was so easy tae believe that.”
We saw it burn that night. Of course they saw it burn; they had done the burning! Cam pushed himself off the wall, impacted by her words beyond what he ever believed himself capable of.
He realized that he’d lied.
He’d lied to them both when he told her that things like clans didn’t matter. They mattered in the worst way because that was why he was at the Ludus Caledonia.
Now, it was difficult to separate his sense of vengeance from his love for Isadora.
The struggle was intense; her answer hadn’t killed his love for her, not in the least. He still loved who she was.
What he didn’t love was what she was part of.
Isadora didn’t know why he was at The Cal—she didn’t know that it was because he’d come to learn to kill every one of her clansmen, men who had murdered his grandfather and burned his village.
Heart pounding, Cam stepped away from the wall.
His breathing came in rapid, deep gulps that he somehow managed to control when all he wanted to do was bellow at the top of his lungs.
So Isadora and her father were there looking for a skilled warrior, were they?
To destroy another village, perhaps? To kill more innocent women?
God, he was going to have a breakdown if he didn’t get away from her and collect himself.
Off to his left, Milo was calling to his men, mercifully reconvening their training session. Without a word, Cam walked away from Isadora so he could resume his training. She couldn’t possibly have known that she’d just made her father and brothers a target for Cam’s vengeance.
When Cam resumed training, he nearly took Galan’s head off.
*
After watching the man train for the past two weeks and seeing vast improvement, Isadora intended for her father to see Cam in a different light.
It was time.
Of course, she had no idea of Cam’s inner turmoil in learning she was part of Clan Keith.
He’d grown quiet after she’d told him of her clan, but she never sensed anything beyond the man processing what he’d been told.
He’d finished his training for the day with ferocious intensity, which convinced Isadora that now was the time for her to introduce Cam to her father.
Niall wanted a warrior and Isadora had found one.
They’d spent two long weeks watching many different men.
Some were good, some not so good. Because Niall’s intention was to make an offer on a warrior, Clegg had permitted the man and his family to remain at The Cal until such time as the offer could be made.
They had a small cottage and had been provided with food and supplies while they made their decision.
Unfortunately, the only warrior who really caught Niall’s eye was the very man who had beaten Cam so badly, much to Isadora’s horror.
The Beast was all Niall could speak of. Isadora could see the value in The Beast’s strength, of course, but she felt that they needed someone with intelligence and reasoning skills, and that someone was Cam.
She didn’t want anyone named The Beast leading her clan.
And so began the subtle art of convincing Niall that he not only wanted Cam, but needed him. Isadora had always been good at manipulating her father, so she put those skills to use.
As the evening sessions of training began, Isadora thought on the best way to bring up the subject to her father. Niall usually didn’t watch the novices, so the fact that she brought him to the evening session was unusual. After the first few minutes, he was bored.
“There is nothing here I want tae see, Issie,” he said. “The skilled warriors are practicing above in the small field by the village. Yer brothers are there, watching them. I will join them.”
There was a subtle tug-of-war going on now between Isadora and her father. Her father clearly wanted the bigger, stronger, mindless warrior.
Isadora clearly didn’t.
She was going to win.
“Da, I want ye tae think on something.”
“What?”
“Ye know that it will be much more money for us tae procure a more advanced warrior, dunna ye?”
Her father eyed her. “Of course I do.”
Isadora pointed to the field. “Some of these trainees are excellent,” she said. “And Sir Clegg would take less money for them.”
Niall frowned. Isadora pressed on. “Ye are impressed by The Beast’s brawn, as we all are, but brawn willna win wars in the end. Wars are ended by man’s intelligence.”
Niall’s anger eased as she explained her point. He cast her a long glance, mulling it over. It occurred to him that while he had his eye on a big beast of a man, Isadora had her eye on someone else.
He knew his daughter well.
“Am I tae understand that there is a man down there ye wish me tae see?”
Now he was starting to catch on. With a smile playing on her lips, Isadora pointed down to the arena floor where men were practicing disarming each other.
“That one,” she said. “The man with the blond hair and the broad shoulders. Do ye see him? He is fighting the man with the dark hair.”
Niall watched for a moment. “I know him,” he said. “He is the one who lost tae The Beast.”
“Aye.”
“And ye helped him from the field that night.”
“Ye saw that, did ye?”
Niall nodded firmly. “I did,” he said, turning to look at her. “The question is why.”
Isadora could hear her father’s great suspicion. “It’s not what ye think,” she assured him. “I recognized the man when we first came tae The Cal. I have seen him before.”
“Where?”
“When I was a wee lass,” she said, deliberately omitting the fact that she’d not only met him while trying to steal from him, but she’d been seeing him when Netherton was burned. “He is from Netherton. Netherton, Da. And now he is here, learning tae fight.”
It was clear by Niall’s expression that something clicked in his mind as she mentioned Netherton. His attention returned to the field.
“He’s from Netherton, ye say?” he muttered thoughtfully.
Isadora nodded. “We saw what happened tae Netherton, Da—it was a massacre. But somehow, Cam survived and he has come tae The Cal.”
“Cam?”
“’Tis his name.”
Niall scratched his head, watching as Cam tripped up his opponent and pounced on the man. “He seems strong,” he said. “He is cunning from what I have seen, but he’s not fully trained.”
“I know.”
“Then what did ye have in mind?”
It was time to close the deal. “He has a stake in the same thing that concerns us. We can hire any warrior, but defending the Keith against Drostan Lindsay would only be a task, a duty. But tae Cam… it means much more. His heart would be in the fight and that is the most powerful motivator of all.”
That had Niall’s attention. He continued to watch Cam; he had natural ability. That was evident in every move he made.
Seeing that she had her father’s interest, Isadora went for the kill.
“Because he’s not fully trained, Sir Clegg will take less money for him,” she said, appealing to her father’s frugal side. “Cam is good enough tae lead our men intae battle. Our fight with the Lindsay is his fight, Da.”
Niall sighed faintly, lured by his daughter’s reasoning but understandably torn. They’d come for a fully trained warrior, after all, but what she said made a great deal of sense.
“I’ll consider it,” he said. “I must see the man fight again before I can make any decision, lass. There is a feast tonight honoring some ancient Roman god, so I’m told, and tomorrow there will be fights in the arena.”
Isadora hadn’t heard about any feast or games but, then again, she’d spent every day in the lists, watching the trainees. She hadn’t paid attention to much else. But she didn’t push him, mostly because she didn’t want to anger him so he would refuse purely out of spite.
She was willing to let him think on it.
Isadora watched him leave, heading up to join her brothers as they observed the more advanced warriors, but she remained where she was, watching the blond man beneath the cold winter sun.
She could envision herself fighting side by side with him, a warrior of great strength and honor, as they defeated the Lindsay and punished them for their nefarious deeds. It was a bit idealistic, but Isadora didn’t care.
Cam Netherton was the stuff of dreams.
Even that young lass, years ago, had thought so.