Chapter Six #2
Most assuredly? What was that supposed to mean?
Did not he and his kind understand that the Lord did not speak to the king while leaving everyone else in the dark?
The king should not have absolute reign.
She doubted Mr. Cameron would fight for him if King James held beliefs that were contrary to his.
But what did she care about any of it? It was likely that she wouldn’t live to see another king take the throne.
“Is James such a good king that ye hand over all yer loyalty to him?”
“No’ always,” he admitted shamelessly.
“Does he make decisions that ye believe come straight from God?”
“Nae.”
“Then why—?
“Because he is the king.”
She waited for more, but nothing else followed from his lips.
Finally, she shook her head. “’Tis senseless to kill fer a man ye are no’ sure of.”
“Tis senseless to kill fer any man,” he corrected.
Was he being serious? Elspeth couldn’t tell by looking at him. He sounded serious, but what warrior felt such a way?
“Surely ye have killed many, Mr. Cameron.”
“Just because my body is good at somethin’ doesna mean my heart agrees with doin’ it.”
She certainly didn’t expect that reply and gave him a puzzled look.
“I follow orders, Miss Woodburn,” he explained as if hearing her unspoken thoughts. “I dinna ask questions.”
“Well, Mr. Cameron,” she said in earnest, “mayhap ye should.”
He stared down at her as if he were actually considering it, but then he chuckled as if her suggestion were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.
He kept walking and didn’t pause again until they reached the house.
“Who lives there?” She pointed to the bigger house.
“My parents,” he let her know.
“Do they live here or at the castle?”
“Both. Dinna fret,” he went on when she remained quiet. “I will make certain ye are gone before they come.”
She could understand him being too wary of her and her hatred of Camerons to allow a meeting, but why did she feel as if he had just insulted her? “Ye have my thanks,” she retorted. “The less of yer kin I meet, the better.”
He shot her a dark, impatient look but kept walking to his house.
“What do ye intend to do with me?” she asked, trying to speak with some confidence in her tone, but she was hungry and worried what her enemy’s plans were.
“I havena yet decided,” he let her know. “Fer now, we will eat.”
“Hand that hare over to me,” she said, holding out her hand to take it. “I will prepare it.”
His slow glance made her feel bare and exposed. She almost stumbled over her own foot.
He dropped the hare and reached around to steady her with his right hand.
“I am fine,” she let him know coolly and pulled away from his touch.
He didn’t seem to take offense but bent to pick up the hare and then continued on.
“Miss Woodburn, as I was readyin’ to say, ye either enjoy cookin’ or ye are plannin’ to poison me.”
She fought with every ounce of strength she possessed not to stumble again. He could not possibly know. How could he? She laughed to demonstrate what she thought of his ridiculous assumption.
“I would never kill ye with something as painless as poison.”
“Some poison can make a man twist and writhe on the floor until his insides leak out.”
She felt her blood drain from her face.
“Though ye are deserving of it, Mr. Cameron, I dinna care fer torture. Just to make it painful.”
He scoffed, mocking her. She felt her blood boil in her veins.
“Aye, I am deservin’ of it fer wantin’ to see ye one more time. I deserved bein’ beaten and chained up in a dungeon with no water while I bled out on the filthy floor, and when I woke up three weeks later, I couldna lift my arm. I deserved it all because yer kin perished instead of mine.”
That was all she would hear from him about her family! Gritting her teeth, she swung her arm around and brought it back, cracking her palm against his cheek.
She almost fainted at how good it felt. She had wanted to do it for so long.
He glared at her with his dark, unholy eyes. “That is the last time I will allow ye to put yer hand to me that way.”
Something in his tone, the way his gaze bore into hers, made her nod in agreement. Good as it felt, she wouldn’t risk her life by striking him again. Besides, now that she’d done it, the need to do it was gone.
“I willna strike ye again if ye mention my family so callously.”
He tried to look serious but the flash of amusement in his eyes gave him away.
“I feel as if there are things ye are choosin’ no’ to say.”
Just as she chose not to answer him now. He was correct though; she left out what she would do to him if he spoke so callously of her family again.
He opened the front door and stepped inside, then waited for her to do the same.
She did and snatched the hare from his hand on the way. “Supper will take an hour.”
“There is a small butcher block outside the back of the house and a kitchen as well.”
She left him there by the front door looking after her, or not. She didn’t turn back to find out.
While she was butchering the hare, a skill she’d had to learn in the kitchens of Talwarby Castle, her first prison after the death of her family, thoughts of Mr. Logan Cameron invaded her.
Not current thoughts of him but memories of him that night, an eternity ago.
He’d been bloody and swollen and cloaked in shadows.
A pitiful sot, helpless to do anything but die.
Och, but she should have let him—but that would not have saved her family.
The moment he disappeared from his kin’s sight and her father’s men were found dead, his kin knew where to go to find their beloved cousin. And, beloved he certainly was.
They’d killed for him.
She wished all sorts of things while she prepared his food. One of them being, she wished his cousins were still there. So be it. She would rid her nagging thoughts of him when he was gone from the earth. Then she would ride to Tor Castle, where the rest of them lived.
An hour later, she set his steaming bowl of hare stew before him and then sat on the bench on the other side of the wooden table, facing him.
He looked at her like he might leap over the barrier that separated them and take a bite out of her, rather than his stew. He waited a moment when she realized he was waiting for her to eat first.
She obliged. She’d made a separate broth for herself and sipped a spoonful, knowing he would want her to eat first. She only had to get him to trust her and eat what she’d prepared without her. Then she would add more.
“Despite this stew being as delicious as it smells,” he began, lowering his spoon from his lips—
—goodness, but they were full and round lips.
“I regret that ye had to learn to cook it.”
She blinked her admiring gaze from his lips to his eyes. “Hmm? Ye regret it?”
“Aye.”
Was his voice this thick earlier, this deep, resonating through her veins and making her insides tremble?
“Why?” she asked, not knowing what to say at such a statement coming from him. “Why…why…” She thought about it quickly. “Why would ye regret it if ye werena guilty?”
“Ye’re correct,” he said, spooning more stew into his mouth. “I never should have gone back to set eyes on ye again. But ye were…” He paused as if thinking about his next words.
Elspeth could hardly wait to hear them. “I was…?” she asked impatiently.
He stopped chewing and smiled slightly, looking at her. “Pure.”
What? She almost laughed. But she didn’t. Aye, she had once been pure and innocent of the unmerciful ways of the world. Remembering that time in her life made her eyes burn with tears she refused to shed in front of the guilty.
She watched him lift another heaping spoonful of poisoned stew to his mouth.
“I didna mean to cause ye such heartbreak.”
Why was he saying such things? Was she supposed to forgive him? She’d never considered it—just as she’d never considered him confessing such things. She blinked her misty eyes at him.
Bastard.
“Wait!” she erupted before the spoon entered his mouth.