Page 9 of A Laird and a Gentleman

Mariam shivered as fear took hold. He couldn’t send her away, not now when she had only seven days to find a path to goodness. “Nay, you don’t understand. I truly meant to do what you asked—”

“You leave me no choice.” He picked her up and slung her face down over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” She could feel the play of muscles in his shoulders as they braced beneath her struggling weight. He walked quickly from the chapel and to the stairs, taking her down one flight before heading down the long hallway that led to her chamber.

His arms were around her knees and she could feel the heat from his body even through the layers of her gown. Fear made her heart pound frantically in her chest. She could feel her emotions coiling inside her, felt a trembling in her limbs that sent out waves of distress to the walls around her and the floor beneath, causing them to shudder. Realizing what she was doing, Mariam clamped back her emotions before any shaking truly took hold. “Let me go!” she cried.

“I’ll let you go,” Cameron said as he entered her room. He slid her down the front of his body to land in a heap upon her bed. She fought to look dignified as she batted her skirts down to cover her knees and ankles, but not before a satisfied grin came to his well-formed lips.

Cameron glared at her from the side of the bed. “You have skirted the edges of my temper for a year now, Mariam. I’ll have no more of it.”

“But—”

“When I ask you to do something, you will do exactly as I ask. Or the next time you disobey me, you will find yourself in a carriage, headed back to the king. Understood?”

Since he’d proven he wasn’t about to listen to anything she had to say, Mariam pressed her lips together and angrily crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’ll take your silence as agreement,” he said before he turned and walked to the door. He paused and looked back. “Do not leave this room or this castle until I release you.” He remained there, waiting until she finally nodded.

With that, the door shut and the bolt slid home, locking her inside. “I really was trying to do the right thing,” Mariam whispered with a touch of desperation in her voice. I am not evil. I will not go down that path, not today. Not ever.

At least that was her fervent hope.

Chapter Three

Cameron paced the length of the great hall. He’d been pacing since he’d confined Mariam to her chamber. The evening meal had been served and cleared, and even though he’d sent Mistress MacInnes up with a tray, he could not chase thoughts of his ward from his mind. He walked to the hearth, then to the tall thin windows on the long wall, to the doorway, and back all over again.

Damn the woman. Why could he not rid himself of the image of her staring at him with innocence in her eyes from the middle of her bed? He reached for his sporran and withdrew a delicate piece of white cloth, opening it as he had a dozen times already this night. The three broken pieces of the necklace she had worn every day for the past year lay nestled inside.

He’d gone back to the chapel after locking Mariam in her chamber to marvel at the miraculous change Mariam and Mistress MacInnes had accomplished. The room smelled of lemons, and every surface shone bright in the candlelight. It was then that he’d noticed three glittering white objects on the floor and had collected them, reassembling them to produce the outside swirl of the shell from Mariam’s necklace.

It was a white common whelk with reddish bands and wavy folds across its surface. The seven whorls of the spire were still intact, but the aperture was broken in half. The leather strap that she wore about her neck had broken free of the shell, and was most likely still about her neck.

Why would a shell that anyone could find along any Scottish shoreline hold such great significance to her? Mariam had never communicated the necklace’s importance, but that she wore it every day for every occasion revealed what she did not say. And he knew when he’d seen it smashed upon the flagstone that he had to find a way to repair the shell for her.

Cameron groaned when he realized where his thoughts were leading him. He had no time to placate Mariam. He was training his men for war. The tensions were building again between King James and his nemesis the Earl of Bothwell who wanted the throne. Bothwell had returned to Scotland from hiding in England to gather his supporters once more. Another attack upon the king and queen, like the one the earl had orchestrated at Falkland Palace last year, could occur at any time. Cameron and his men had to be ready for when, not if, the earl tried to capture the king again.

Abruptly, Cameron returned the cloth and shell to his sporran. He had to keep his mind focused on the defense of his king and nothing more.

“What’s got you so on edge?”

Cameron reached for his sword and fell immediately into a defensive stance.

Alexander froze. “It’s me, Cam—” He spread his hands placatingly.

Cameron startled as he recognized the man before him and returned his sword to its sheath. “My apologies, Alexander. I was lost in thought.”

“Over what?”

Cameron frowned. “I need to work the men harder. My informants sent word this morning that Bothwell was sighted in Fife. He’s up to no good, and we need to be ready.”

“Bothwell is careful. He won’t attack until he has an advantage.” Alexander raised a brow. “Are you certain your troubles do not lie closer to home? Perhaps with a fiery maid locked upstairs in her bedchamber?” When Cameron didn’t respond, Alexander added, “It’s not like you to lock away your troubles. When will you release her?”

“When I’m ready.” He met his friend’s amusement with a scowl. “Since when do you care about how I treat my women?”

Alexander’s brow rose. “And is she that . . . your woman?”

Cameron groaned. “She’s a female in my household and under my protection. Why are you pressing this? We have many more important matters with which to concern ourselves.”