Page 26 of A Laird and a Gentleman

The man lowered his hood and faced her. He was unchanged since she’d seen him last—dressed in a mud-colored monk’s robe, complete with a rope belt tied about his ample belly. His hair was a dull red and streaked with white. His lips hard, and his dark eyes bored into her own. “Father. Why are you here? The king told you to have no further contact with me.”

Beside her, Cameron tensed and his hand drifted toward his sword, but he did not draw. Instead, he remained still, watchful.

“Did you do it?” her father asked, his voice harsh.

“Did I do what?” Mariam asked, unable to keep her fear from showing in her voice. Her father’s arrival here could only mean one thing. Somehow the tale of what she had done this morning when herding the animals had reached him.

John Swinton stepped closer and put a heavy hand on her arm. A surge of revulsion turned her stomach, but she did not pull away. That would anger him more. It had been a long time since he’d struck her, and she doubted he would do so in front of Cameron, but she had also learned early in life never to underestimate her father’s ability for cruelty.

“I’ve heard rumors about you.” His grip tightened on her arm. “Rumors that you have been wicked, using witchcraft to charm animals into submission.”

Beside her, Cameron stood with his legs slightly apart, hands on his hips, making him appear both threatening and much larger than her father. “Sir, I would ask that you unhand my ward.”

“She is my daughter, and I shall do as I please.” Instead of releasing her, her father jerked her to her feet. John Swinton’s eyes glittered more wildly than she’d ever seen them before. “Is it true? Are you filled with sin and evil that needs to be purged?”

Mariam’s stomach pitched. In the year since she’d seen him, her father’s fanatical zeal for rooting out witches had definitely deepened. Even her relationship with her father would not protect her from him. And she’d deluded herself into thinking she was beyond his reach here at Ravenscraig and under Cameron’s care.

“I shall know the truth, Daughter. Are ye a witch?”

Just as the words left his mouth, twenty of Cameron’s men flooded the chamber. They paused at the word ‘witch.’

“I am no witch. You better than anyone else should know that.” Despite her fear, she held her ground as her father reached for the leather sheath attached to his belt from which he withdrew a long, cylindrical, brass needle that tapered to a fine point. The violence in her father’s gaze told her one thing—he meant to harm her as he had harmed so many others suspected of witchcraft before her.

In a blur of motion, Cameron spun Mariam away from her father with such force that she stumbled then caught herself just as Cameron drew his sword.

Her father’s face hardened as he lunged at Cameron with his dagger-like weapon.

The seasoned warrior feinted to the right, easily avoiding the blow. “Go back to Haddington. You do not belong here.”

Swinton bared his teeth in a snarl as he slashed at Cameron with his lethal needle. “Not until I take back what is mine.”

“Stand down, Swinton. You have no further obligation to your daughter nor she to you. I’ll never let you harm her.”

His face hard, his eyes catching the light from the windows and smoldering like embers in a fire, Swinton lunged with a slash of his needle.

Without much effort, Cameron blocked the attack, then his blade sliced the flesh on Swinton’s temple just above his ear. A dark ribbon of blood spilled from the wound, running down the side of his bearded face that disappeared into the dark robe covering his body. “Do you yield?”

“Never to one who harbors witches.”

Cameron shook his head. He met her father’s next forceful blow with his sword, capturing the older man’s hand more than his weapon and turning his appendage once, then twice, causing Swinton to gasp with pain. His wrist rolled, forcing the long needle from his hand. The torture device landed with a clang against the stone floor.

The instant Swinton was subdued, Cameron’s men rushed forward. They caught him by the arms to restrain him. But Swinton struggled against their grasp. “We are not done here!” he growled.

“Aye. We are.” Cameron sheathed his sword. His face remained impassive except for a tiny vein that throbbed to life in his temple. “Because you are Mariam’s father, I shall let this indiscretion pass. If you ever challenge me again in my own home, I will not be so kind.”

“The king will hear about this.” Swinton pressed his lips into a thin white line as he stared at Cameron.

Only the square ridge of Cameron’s jaw betrayed the control it took to keep his anger in check. “Aye, he will. I intend to send word to him myself. In the meanwhile, you will stay here as not necessarily a prisoner, but not quite a guest either.” Cameron addressed four of his men. “Take him to the green chamber at the top of the castle. Two of you remain outside the door. We will have a rotating watch while Swinton is here.”

Leaving the dais, Cameron retrieved the pricker’s needle from where it had fallen and handed it to one of his guardsmen. “Lock this away in the armory.” When her father was escorted away, Cameron returned to Mariam’s side. “Are you unharmed?” he asked, his tone solemn, as his hand slipped beneath her elbow.

“He cannot hurt me any more than he already has.”

Cameron’s brow furled. “He has hurt you before?”

Mariam shrugged. “I do not want to talk about my past with my father.” She looked away to the five guardsmen who remained in the great hall with them. “Your men are very protective of you.”

“And I of them. We have been through much together over the years. I would lay down my life for those whom I care for.”