Chapter 1
Campbell Castle, Argyllshire, Scotland, 1307
“You must take a bride, Cameron! You’re baron now of a great estate, Seoras MacDougall rotting in his grave, the devil take him! Never again will the Campbells swear allegiance tae that accursed clan, so the quicker you marry and produce a son and heir, the better—och, nephew, are you listening tae me?”
Cameron grimaced at his barrel-chested uncle’s bluster, Torence Campbell striding back and forth in front of the massive fireplace at the middle of the great hall.
Aye, he was listening. How could he not be with such a clamor? His head ached from the same words he’d heard for the past four days—God help him!
You must take a bride! You must take a bride!
Was it only four days since Robert the Bruce had named Cameron as baron of the most formidable fortress in all of Argyllshire?
Four days since his closest friend and former commander, Gabriel MacLachlan, had slain Seoras and then returned to his own castle as a baron no longer, but elevated to an earl?
Both he and Gabriel rewarded beyond any expectation by King Robert for saving his life—och, Cameron had only done what came as naturally to him as breathing, which was wielding a sword! He and Conall, his younger brother, and Gabriel had fought side by side as warriors for one overlord or another since their youth, all of them younger sons with little hope of inheriting land or title.
Yet Gabriel had become a laird upon the death of his elder brother—murdered by one of Seoras’s henchmen, they had discovered as well only days ago—and now Cameron was the laird of the newly named Campbell Castle, a blessing that had begun to feel as much a curse.
Especially now when Uncle Torence raised his clenched fist and roared so loudly that the rafters seemed to shake.
“I wish it had been me tae save King Robert’s life! I would have wedded and bedded a lass that very day tae honor our clan—”
“I doubt Aunt Agatha would appreciate such a gesture,” Cameron said tightly, rising from his chair to tower over his uncle, “anddinnautter a word tae me again of honor! Is it not enough for now that the MacDougalls have been defeated? Is it not enough for now that the castle prison has been emptied—Campbells among them? You said you wanted tae speak tae me and you’ve had your say. I’ll take a bride when I’m ready and only then!”
Cameron pushed past his uncle, a clutch in his chest from a declaration he had never uttered before even as Torence shouted behind him.
“When do you think that might be? The Campbell himself sent me here and demands an answer! Our chieftain and your own cousin! You’re not an island, Cameron, no matter this fortress and its lands! Our kinsmen and allies expect much of you—”
“Enough, Uncle, I heard your howling all the way out in the bailey!” came Conall’s voice as he strode into the great hall and flashed a reassuring grin at Cameron. “Give me a moment with my brother and then I’ll join you for a cup of ale.”
Cameron scowled back at him, his patience at an end with all this discourse of brides and wedding and bedding.
He was a man like any other, the sight of a bonny lass more than enough to stir his loins. Yet that felt like a curse, too, for his wretched shyness around women had made him avoid them at all costs for as long as he could remember.
Only once as a lad had he attempted to approach a girl with a wilting fistful of wildflowers, the memory a painful one even now. He had become so tongue-tied that she had laughed at him and thrown his gift into the dirt and stomped upon it, which had made him vow to never again suffer such humiliation.
Even Conall knew to this day not to tease him or prod him, and Cameron had walloped any man who had dared to question his reticence when it came to the fairer sex.
Aye, he was untried and untested in the bedchamber, but what of it? His younger brother by two years had more than made up for Cameron’s lack of carnal experience, the two of them as unlike in that regard as night and day.
“She’s married,” he said dryly, reading Conall’s mind and catching him by the arm as a buxom maidservant hurried past them with a stack of freshly laundered linens.
“Truly?” Conall gave him a roguish smile, his gaze never leaving the young woman’s equally ample backside. “A marvel of God’s handiwork, aye, brother? I’d say from that saucy wink she gave me that she has no husband—or surely not one that pleases her. You’ve always had an eye for details, Cameron, but I’m astonished that you would know such facts already about the servants—”
“She wears a silver ring on her finger, did you not see it?” Swearing low under his breath, Cameron let go of Conall’s arm and faced him. “Did you not come tae find me for some reason?”
Conall nodded, his good humor hardly abated at Cameron’s gruff tone.
They might have been twins for how closely they resembled each other, with their midnight black hair, deep blue eyes, and near equal height and muscular girth, but their temperaments couldn’t be more dissimilar. Even now Conall still grinned while Cameron felt his scowl deepen and his jaw tighten with impatience.
“Oh, aye, I came tae warn you, Laird Campbell.”
“Warn me?”
“Indeed. Word has flown that two daughters of the clan—distant cousins, mind you—will be arriving this afternoon tae make your acquaintance. A messenger just arrived from our chieftain himself—”
“Blast and damn! Will my whole life be ordered now that I’m a landed baron? Four days past, I answered tae no one but Gabriel—our existence of no more notice tae our kinsmen than a flea biting a hound’s ear! Aye, renowned warriors, both of us, but what of that? Always one battle away from drawing our last breath and with no use for hearth or family—and then…this!”
