Chapter Sixteen
Elspeth sat beside his bed the rest of that night, feeding him small amounts of ale to revive his heart and the rest of him. She didn’t know if it was enough. Sometimes certain remedies did not work. If he died…
She swallowed back her tears. Since when did she have such strong feelings for him?
He slept. The candles around the room had died out. Only the one on the bed table still burned. It bathed him in golden light and shadows. Enough light to see him.
Sleepy, she leaned down in her chair and rested her head on the edge of the mattress. His arm was closest to her face. Her eyes followed the sinewy lines that sculpted his forearm…his upper arm.
Moving closer still, she rested her head on his chest and stared at his chin and chiseled jawline beneath his shadowy gruff.
She fell asleep on him, smelling him, feeling him, hearing his heartbeat going strong against her ear.
She woke the next morning with a jolt, remembering what had happened. She sat up and felt his arm falling away from where it was around her shoulder.
He was awake, staring at her, smiling when she sat up.
“How are ye feeling?” she asked urgently. He hadn’t had any ale since she fell asleep.
“Much better, especially now that I woke to find ye in my arms.”
She blushed and moved away from him. “Ye are still in danger. Best not to leave yer bed fer a few days.”
“We will see.” He didn’t exactly give in.
“Helen is locked in my room. The windows are boarded up.”
“Did she say why she poisoned me?”
“Nae, but I suspect she did it at someone’s request.”
His gaze zeroed in on her. “Who?”
“I dinna know. She willna say. Ewen is questioning her.”
“Why do ye think she isna alone in this?” he asked.
“Because she told me her master had found her and one night, while he was striking me, she killed him. I believe there was a man involved. Mayhap she killed him, mayhap she did not. I believe she did not. I believe he sent her to kill ye. Mayhap one of yer enemies used a lass to try to take ye doun. They drugged me and that is why I dinna remember anything.”
“Those are all excellent possibilities,” he said with a tender smile.
“Aye,” she agreed without correction. Indeed, she was no longer passionate about killing him. Not as much as she was about kissing him.
She shook her head to clear it of such traitorous thoughts.
Watching her, his smile deepened. She looked away from it.
“Ye were sayin’?” he urged.
“Aye, I went to speak with her after she was put into my room. I heard her speaking through the door. I thought someone was with her, so I listened. I heard her say, ‘He will kill me if he finds out I slept with Ealar.’ When I entered the room, she was alone.
“He.”
“Aye. She willna say who “he” is.”
He shrugged his shoulder and pushed himself up on the bed. She hurried to lay her hands on his shoulders. “We will find oot and whoever “he” is, will be dealt with.”
“Dinna move too much.”
She couldn’t help her eyes from roving over his visage, taking in sight of him with his mahogany-colored hair spilling over his pillows, his dark brows adding shadows to his eyes, his shapely nose, and decadently full lips.
How could any man look so good after being poisoned?
“Thank ye fer takin’ care of me, Elspeth, he said softly, compelling her to move closer. She didn’t. She cared for him. There was no denying it. But she could resist it, couldn’t she?
“Ye have been kind to me,” she told him. “I was simply returning that kindness.”
“Is that the only reason? Do ye care fer me, Miss Woodburn?”
His resonant voice seeped into her blood, her bones. “Dinna be—” She stopped before she said ridiculous things. Her answer was clear in the way she took care of him, and in her behavior with him, letting him kiss her…
“I am afraid I do, Mr. Cameron. Just a wee bit,” she told him the truth.
Instead of torturing her with another one of his smiles, he pouted, which was just as detrimental to her good sense.
“That must make things doubly difficult fer ye,” he empathized.
He empathized. Her heart softened even more toward him.
Elspeth nodded. “Ye empathize with me fer finding it more difficult to kill ye. Ye surprise me, Logan.”
When she moved to stand and leave the edge of the bed, his fingers around her wrist stopped her and pulled her back.
She fell against him and into his lap but didn’t try to right herself.
He was going to kiss her and she wanted it.
She missed his lips on hers, his scent engulfing her, his tongue probing her mouth.
She stopped caring if she was mad. She could call him her enemy, but he wasn’t.
She was glad she had rinsed his mouth with mint as both of his arms closed around her. His mouth covered hers, touching her and releasing hundreds of crackling flames through her blood. His lips were soft, like lush pillows molding to her. She lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair.
She never wanted to stop kissing him—
The bedroom door burst open, giving Elspeth less than a breath to break their kiss and nearly fall off the bed.
His hand caught her. His smile calmed her.
“Logan, what is… I was just told ye were…” The woman standing at the door was beautiful, with a thick red braid falling over her chest, and eyes like lightning in a storm.
“Mother,” he began.
His mother. Elspeth prayed for the floor to open and just take her down to the pits of hell, where she belonged. A trollop was what she was. His mother didn’t have to say it; Elspeth knew it. What other kind of woman would passionately kiss a man who’d been almost fatally poisoned?
Fatally poisoned. The thought of it made Elspeth want to run into his arms again.
“Is Father with ye?”
“Nae,” she sighed and went to stand at the edge of his bed. “The leaders of the Chattan called an urgent meeting and invited him. He sent me here with Ewen and will come as soon as he can. How are you feeling? The lads told me what happened.”
“I am well, thanks to this woman, Miss Elspeth Woodburn.”
His mother flicked her gaze to her. “Aye, I know of her. Daughter of the late Lord Dunley, who stabbed my son.”
“And lost his life and the lives of his wife and bairns fer it, Mother.”
Elspeth looked at Logan, propped up in bed, standing up for her family, her father, who ended his dream of defending his king.
She had wondered what kind of man Logan Cameron was. Now, she knew fer certain.
“Miss Woodburn, would ye give me and my son a few moments alone?”
“Of course.” Elspeth curtsied and nearly ran from the room.
She ran into Jamie in the hall.
“Did ye meet her?” he asked her. “The Lochiel’s wife?”
“Aye,” Elspeth answered miserably. “I met her.”
“Do ye still wish to kill her?”
“Hush, Jamie!” She slapped his arm. “Nae, I dinna. But I dinna want her to know that I did. She already hates me after what she saw.”
“What did she see?”
Instantly, her cheeks burned. It didn’t take more than that for Jamie to guess the rest. His eyes opened wider. “Och, lass, I—” his words faded into something new. “Then we were correct, Logan cares fer ye!”
“Were ye all discussing mine and Logan’s relationship?”
“Aye, we were,” he confessed enthusiastically. “Even Ewen had to admit Logan seemed taken with ye. Steafan didna believe it. It has been more years than I can remember since Logan sought a woman’s attention, let alone cared fer one. But I knew ye were changin’ that, Miss Woodburn.”
“I told ye she loves him,” Ealar appeared, turning the corner and reaching them. When she set her eyes on him, he winked at her. “I heard her myself. She called him ‘my love’.”
“Ealar also thinks his brother’s heart is lost to ye,” Jamie pointed out.
“Miss Woodburn,” Ealar said, coming closer. “I will be sure to tell my mother how ye have been helpin’ Logan use his arm again, and how ye saved his life.”
“Twice,” Jamie added and patted her on the back.
Ealar gave him a look that suggested Jamie was the most uncouth heathen in Scotland, and then bowed low before her, showing Jamie how it was done.
“’Tis true then,” Logan’s mother appeared, coming toward them after leaving his room. “Ye saved my son…” she looked at Jamie. “Twice.”
“He has been kind to me, my lady,” Elspeth answered quietly.
“Aye, he is kind to many,” his mother said almost absently. “But he has never been seen kissing any of them.”
“Kissing?” Ealar repeated wide-eyed.
“Come walk with me, Miss Woodburn,” his mother said and turned away.
“Aye, my lady,” Elspeth said, following her and casting a worried glance over her shoulder to Ealar and Jamie.
They left the house together and walked to the larger house.
Elspeth followed her inside and her eyes opened wide when she saw the interior.
The Main Hall and sitting rooms were twice the size of their son’s, and the house had been erected with two landings.
Elspeth briefly walked through corridors covered in paintings to get to a smaller, private sitting room.
Once inside, Elspeth was offered a seat in a cushioned chair, upholstered in burgundy fabric, while Ismay Cameron checked a nearby jug, and shook her head. Elspeth was sure she heard Ealar’s name muttered as his mother poured them water.
“My son told me ye have had a difficult time since losing yer family,” she mentioned, handing Elspeth her drink.
“I made it through,” Elspeth told her. She didn’t want this woman’s pity. Could she truly make friends with more Camerons? Did she want to?
Ismay Cameron gave her a hard, knowing look. “Did ye make it through to exact revenge?”
“Aye,” Elspeth answered honestly. “But…”
“But?” the Lochiel’s wife pressed, almost demanding, but her gray eyes went a bit warmer on Elspeth.
Elspeth didn’t know why she lowered her gaze, breaking their eye contact. Mayhap it was because she was supposed to hate this mother of Camerons. But despite her being a Cameron, she was, first, Logan’s mother, and that mattered to Elspeth, so she lifted her gaze and answered.
“He isna what or whom I imagined.”