Chapter Ten
"What?" Certainly, Camille knew Sarah was interested in Dugald, but she didn't know they were going to be a couple.
"MacKerrick and my daughter," Chief MacVay said. "We are negotiating a marriage contract."
"Oh. I see." Camille ground her teeth and forced a smile.
"We're keeping it a secret for now. But Sarah is taken with him and he seems equally mad for her."
Mad? Camille watched Dugald for a moment. As far as she could tell, he was devouring his food and not paying much attention to the girl beside him. Sarah leaned toward him, talking. He nodded and then glanced at Camille. He frowned and his gaze darted to MacVay.
Although Dugald did not seem terribly interested in Sarah, that did not matter.
Rarely did lairds marry for love. They married for money, power, prestige and alliances.
So even if Dugald was not enamored with Sarah, he might still wed her for any of those other reasons.
And then he might fall in love with her.
It happened sometimes. Her cousin's marriage had been arranged by the king.
Angelique had disliked Lachlan at first, but after a few weeks she fell in love with him, and he with her.
Her appetite suddenly gone, Camille left her spoon in her half-eaten porridge. She sent them another glance, her heart aching. They did make a fetching couple, dark-haired. Sacrebleu! She could not abide it. She pushed herself up from the table.
"Pardonnez-moi," she said to Laird MacVay and headed toward the exit. She would simply wait in the bailey until her party was ready to leave. If she didn't get some fresh air now, she feared she would lose her breakfast.
Outside, she greedily inhaled the cool country air and felt a bit better. Though the sky was overcast, thankfully no rain fell. Dugald's men were readying the horses for travel.
"What is amiss?" Dugald asked behind her.
She turned, noticing his confused expression.
"Why did you leave the table?" he persisted.
"I did not feel well." That was the truth at least. "Will we be leaving soon?"
"Aye. Within a half hour."
"I'm glad."
"What did MacVay say to you?" he asked in a low tone.
She shook her head. She could not speak to him about it now. "I will tell you once we are away from here."
He frowned. "Did the man make a rude suggestion?"
"Non. It is nothing really." She forced a faux smile, hoping he would not press the issue. "I just want to go home. I miss my cousin. She is like a sister to me."
He nodded. "I'll be back in a moment. I must thank our host." He disappeared inside.
Was that the truth of it, or did he wish to say goodbye to his future bride? Mayhap give her a kiss until next time? She could not follow him and watch to see if he kissed the girl. If he was determined to marry her, then he would. Camille could do naught to stop him.
One thing was certain—she would not be the paramour of a married man.
She was glad when Owen offered to help her mount the mare. Soon, they would be on their way. After what felt like an eternity, Dugald finally emerged from the great hall and mounted his stallion. Amid the sounds of dozens of hooves clomping quickly over the cobblestones, they set off.
She refused to look at him. Had he taken the girl into an alcove and kissed her goodbye?
Or would her father have allowed such liberties without killing Dugald or demanding he marry her on the spot?
Her own imagination flayed her and the realization she could never have him was like a dagger to the heart.
She did not know why she wanted a man who'd abducted her anyway. He was no better than an outlaw!
But he was supposed to be her outlaw, and no one else's.
"What is wrong?" Dugald asked, riding beside her.
"Naught." She forced the word out past her constricted throat.
"What did MacVay say to you during the meal to upset you?"
"Naught."
"Do not lie to me, Camille," he warned in a low tone.
She loved it when he said her name. Imagining him whispering it into her ear near broke her heart. She could not talk to him now without crying like a bairn, damn her weakness for him.
They rode on a trail between a loch and the wood. "Halt!" Dugald called and grabbed her reins.
Confused by his actions, she frowned. "What are you doing?"
Abruptly, he dismounted, then lifted her down from the saddle. After taking her arm, he guided her into the wood, the trees clothed in fresh green leaves. The men behind them snickered and murmured comments she couldn't make out.
"What on earth are you doing, Dugald?" she demanded.
"I'm going to talk to you in private," he growled.
"Your men think we're—"
"I don't care what they think."
"Well, I do!"
Stopping, his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. "We're going no farther until you tell me what MacVay said to you."
She shook her head and stared at the blue plaid sash which crossed his chest over his shirt and doublet.
She could not tell him what she was thinking and feeling.
As a chief, he had far more important things to deal with than her feelings.
He would not care that he would break her heart if he married Sarah or any other lady.
With warm fingers, Dugald lifted her chin, forcing her gaze upward. He watched her with narrowed eyes. His green eyes, much darker than the forest, reflected confusion and … she knew not what else. He had become precious to her, but now…
"Damn you," she muttered, not wanting to say anything to him. She was but bedsport to him.
"What?" Dugald demanded.
Sacrebleu! He would not leave her alone until she told him. Stubborn man! "You are going to marry MacVay's daughter," she blurted.
"Nay, I am not. Is that what he told you?"
"Of course! He said it was all being arranged."
"He is hoping I'll marry her, but I've decided not to."
A hint of relief flowed through her and perhaps some disbelief. "Why?"
He shrugged. "We do not suit."
She shook her head, refusing to live in a dream world. "I know how it all works, Dugald. My cousin had to marry a man she did not care for, because the king arranged it. But then she fell in love with her husband."
"And?" Dugald frowned. "What are you saying?"
"Nothing." She headed back toward the horses, refusing to tell him the obvious.
Dugald took her arm and firmly but gently drew her back. "Tell me."
She expelled a hard breath. "You are a chief. You will have to marry for wealth, power and an alliance. 'Haps you want that alliance with MacVay, or with a different chief. You know this already."
"I have not decided, but, nay, I don't need an alliance with MacVay."
She shrugged and refused to look at him.
He tilted her chin toward him. "Why are you angry with me?"
"I'm not. I just…" know I cannot have you for my own husband and it breaks my heart. No, she could not tell him that.
"What?"
She shook her head, tears burning her eyes. If he could not catch her meaning, she was saying no more. She would not tell him she wished to be his wife.
"Camille," he murmured and drew her into his arms. When he kissed her, she wanted to push him away, but then his tantalizing lips enchanted her. She craved more kisses from him… deeper kisses, and he gave them… so many her head was spinning.
Before she knew what was happening, he laid her on the leaf-strewn ground and tugged at her skirts.
"Dugald, what are you doing?" she chastised.
"I want you, lass. I cannot get enough of you," he murmured between kisses. "What say you?" The infinite passion in his dark eyes held her spellbound.
How could she refuse him when she burned for him?
One last time.
She drew him to her. "Oui, maintenant."
"What does that mean?"
"Yes, now." She pulled at his kilt, drawing it upward until she exposed him. She slid her hand along his fevered shaft.
He hissed a breath then quickly got onto his knees and pulled her to sit on his thighs.
Their clothing covered them completely. Slowly, he impaled her upon his shaft and they sighed in blissful union.
He lifted and lowered her. Soon, she joined him in the frenzied, desperate rhythm, kissing him, devouring his delectable mouth.
When the climax seized her, making her feel as if she were flying toward the heavens, a cry burst from her mouth. Dugald covered her lips with his own and clutched her tightly to him. He shuddered within her. Pressing his face to hers, he growled into her ear.
"Saints, lass," he hissed, slipping from her body. "You will be my undoing."
He was already her undoing. She didn't know what she would do without him. She'd been foolish and fallen in love with him.
She drew back a few inches. "Dugald." Looking deep into his forest green eyes, she stroked his stubble-roughened cheek.
For that moment, she felt him gazing into her soul.
But, as if the intensity was too great, he glanced away, helped her stand and arose himself.
Their clothing fell back into place. She waited, hoping he would say more, but he silently tucked her hand around his elbow and led her from the wood.
Why would he not say more? She could almost hear the words he wanted to say, but only the shuffling of the damp leaves under their feet and the twittering of the birds overhead filled the silence between them.
When they emerged, the men pretended to ignore them…
at least most of them did. A low murmur reached her ears but she didn't understand the words.
Gaelic. And then a snicker. Abruptly, Dugald yanked a man off his horse and threw him to the ground.
"One more sound from you, Guaire, or any of you, and you'll be relieved of your sword and sent on your way. Do you understand?" he yelled.
"Aye, m'laird," several answered.
"Good." He helped Camille mount. "Bastards," he hissed between clenched teeth, then glared around at the men. None of them would dare make eye contact. Focusing on her again, he whispered, "Are you well?"
She nodded, her heart pounding hard as she watched Guaire slowly rise to his feet.
The men were judging her and they had every right, but still, it hurt.
Made her ashamed. But she could not deny Dugald or her feelings for him.
He felt as right and natural as drawing her next breath.
She hoped he would realize how good they were together.
Thank the saints he wasn't planning to marry the MacVay girl.
And Camille was thrilled he had been unable to keep his hands off her when they went into the wood.
She knew deep down it meant naught, but she still felt she had a slight reprieve.
She could make a good chief's wife. Why not?
Though her father was no Highland chief and she could bring no alliances to the marriage, she could bring other things. Passion, for one.
Did Dugald really wish to marry one of those dull girls he had no interest in?
∞∞∞
Late that afternoon, Camille heard the hoof beats of many horses before she saw them approaching in the distance across the moor.
"Halt!" Dugald commanded, slowing his own mount. Staring into the distance, he said, "'Tis a garrison of two dozen."
Shielding her eyes from the sun peeking through the clouds, Camille nodded. Focusing on their fair-haired leader, she realized who they were. "It is Lachlan!"
"Who?" Dugald asked.
"My cousin's husband. Lachlan MacGrath-Drummagan, the Earl of Draughon." Although she was glad to see Lachlan, dread also weighed heavily upon her, for this meant she would have to say au revoir to Dugald and allow Lachlan and his men to take her home to Draughon.
"What the devil is he doing out here?" Dugald frowned darkly.
"Mayhap searching for me? The guards and servants who were with me in Perth must have returned to Draughon and told him of my disappearance."
"Damnation!" Dugald grumbled. "I expect trouble from him, and we are outnumbered. I only brought a dozen men this time."
"Non! Lachlan is a fair man."
A hundred feet or so away, Lachlan and his men stopped and he murmured instructions to them which she could not hear.
"Laird Lachlan!" she called out and waved.
"Release the lass at once!" Lachlan demanded. "Or suffer the consequences!"