Page 3 of A Laird and a Gentleman

“Thank you, Malcolm.” Cameron nodded his agreement. “Mariam has her challenges, as we all do, but you must understand I cannot marry her off just yet, or send her back to King James, and certainly not to her father. Both men will only send her down a darker path.” Cameron paused, then added, “I cannot give up on her just yet.”

Rhys groaned. “Why must you always see the good in everyone?”

“I fear it will be your undoing,” Quinn warned, but with a half smile continued, “But if that is what you wish, I support you.”

“As do we,” the others eventually chimed in chorus.

Quinn’s lightheartedness faded as seriousness returned to his face. “But if you have need of our assistance in this matter, any of us would come to your aid at a moment’s notice.”

“Thank you, brothers.” Cameron brought his fist to his chest and tapped it twice in their usual salute to each other. The others echoed his salute before turning their attention back to the task at hand, returning Lachlan and Elizabeth to their home and the safety it would provide for their future.

As they waited for the couple to appear, Cameron’s thoughts strayed to the young woman who was his ward. He was disappointed with Mariam for not speaking out at the trial as she should have, for he knew her statement had been a lie, but beneath that disappointment also simmered a thrill at the idea of conquering her—not in a physical way, but helping her, as Malcolm phrased it, to find the goodness in herself.

A battle lay before him, and perhaps the greatest challenge of his life.

Chapter One

Ravenscraig Castle, Scotland

August 30th, 1592

The laird would return to the castle at any moment. And with his arrival would come his decision about what to do with her. Over the past week Mariam had spent hours upon hours thinking about what would happen when Cameron came through the gates of Ravenscraig, and she’d come to no conclusion yet.

She hated that she couldn’t determine what Cameron would do. He could forgive her. He could send her away. He could punish her in some way. All of the scenarios she’d run through in her head seemed equally viable. She clutched the shawl about her shoulders with trembling fingers. The afternoon air teased her hair against her cheeks and swirled about her feet as she waited with all the other castle residents in the courtyard.

She turned her gaze upon Mistress MacInnes, the chatelaine; then to Hobbins, the steward; and next to Petunia, Thea, and Estella, three of the castle’s many maids. Giles, the stable boy, looked toward Mariam for a heartbeat, then turned away. None of them would look her in the eyes. They were all afraid of her. And who could blame them? She hadn’t gone out of her way to be particularly pleasant to any of them since she’d come to live among them.

Just the week before Lachlan Douglas and Elizabeth Ruthven had arrived at the castle, she had locked Cameron’s guard, Ian, in the armory when all the other warriors had gone to the lists to practice. He’d had to break down the door to free himself. She’d put briars under the saddles of three of the men’s horses before they had gone hunting in the woodlands. One of the men had been thrown from his horse and had broken his arm. And she’d stolen both of Thea’s shifts and had tossed them into the garderobe.

Mariam winced at the memory of how her maid had cried at the discovery. After apologizing, Mariam had given her maid two of her own shifts as replacements.

No one ever retaliated against her misdeeds. No one ever called her out. But they all avoided her as they did now.

Mariam straightened her shoulders and walked past those gathered in the courtyard. They shied away as she approached. She didn’t take their rejection personally. In fact, she was relieved by it. If they didn’t look at her, they wouldn’t see all the things she tried to hide.

She’d come to feel somewhat at ease at Ravenscraig in spite of her own bad behavior. For the past year she’d convinced herself she’d found a safe haven at last. Yet she couldn’t afford to become complacent, drop her guard, or allow herself to be made vulnerable by the illusion of safety.

Mariam had experienced a moment of alarm when Lachlan and Elizabeth had come to stay, however briefly. Elizabeth had looked at her as though she saw through Mariam’s disguise—as though she knew her secret. But Elizabeth had remained silent. Once Lachlan and Elizabeth had departed, Mariam had thought the fear of discovery would vanish along with them, and in a small sense it had. The castle residents continued to ignore her, for which she was grateful.

Avoiding the bustle of the crowded courtyard, Mariam settled herself at the edge of the crowd just beyond the castle’s massive double doors opened wide in preparation for their laird’s imminent arrival. Cameron Sinclair and his men had been seen from the castle turrets, approaching from the north over an hour ago. Suddenly, the clomping of hoofbeats on the drawbridge brought Mariam’s thoughts back to the moment. All around her those gathered fell silent. She tensed her jaw, willing herself to ignore the increasing tension in her neck as Cameron came into sight.

Seeing what no one else around her could, she noted that Cameron’s aura was a mixture of blue, red, and yellow. Blue was the sign of calm. Red was that of energy and strength. Yellow was that of knowledge and power. Cameron’s aura was usually these colors, and that brought a sense of relief that she didn’t see any dark red—the sign of anger. She’d been able to read people’s auras all her life. Her mother, who also saw what Mariam did, had taught her from the age of three what each color meant. It was a secret they had shared, and one she cherished now that her mother was gone.

A bump against her shoulder brought Mariam’s attention back to the present. A man from the castle scurried away from her in an effort to get closer to the laird of the castle. She opened her mouth to offer a scathing retort, but snapped it closed as Cameron neared. He rode with a contingent of men, his own guardsmen, sailors, and one other she recognized from the tribunal as Alexander Ross, another of the king’s special guard.

Cameron brought his big black warhorse, Bucephalus, to a stop some distance from her, and still his gaze found hers among the crowd. Her demons stared at her from the depths of those dark eyes, demanding to know, even after all the time they’d been apart, why she’d accused an innocent man of witchcraft.

Mariam waited for him to look away. When he finally did, her body sagged and she closed her eyes, trying desperately to still her fears. She could always do as she’d done before and make light of the events, hoping Cameron would turn a blind eye to her behavior as he had in the past, or she could beg for mercy and admit she had wronged an innocent man.

Or, she paused as a third option occurred to her. She could tell Cameron the truth about what she suspected she was, and what her father would do to her if he found out.

For an instant, a spark of hope filled her. Could she, after so many years of hiding, finally share her secret with someone? Mariam felt an overwhelming desire to have another human being know her fully, to have another understand. Yet, with her next heartbeat that excitement vanished and she opened her eyes.

There was too much fear, too much risk, too much at stake for anyone to know her secret. Her only option was to remain silent and pray Cameron wouldn’t force her out of his castle. It would be her worst nightmare come true once again—being left alone with no one between herself and her father.

It had happened before. One day she’d had a doting mother. The next day, she did not. No explanation was ever offered, but Mariam had heard her parents’ arguments as she lay in bed each night. Had her mother left of her own volition? Or had her father pushed her away? Those two questions had haunted Mariam throughout her childhood. It wasn’t until years later that she’d heard rumors about her father’s role in her mother’s disappearance—that he had pushed her from the cliff near their home and onto the rocks below.

Mariam had always assumed she had been the source of conflict between her parents, and that ultimately, she had been the one who had caused her mother’s death. And that she was more like her father than she cared to admit. Cameron had seen that side of her as well, over the past year, and in the tribunal chamber.