Conall ducked as Cameron swung his arm to indicate the impressive great hall that had been stripped of any shields and banners of the MacDougalls and adorned instead with those of Clan Campbell.
Clan Campbell.
Nothing of his own,Cameron Campbell, but already he had commissioned a banner and painted shield to place above the ornately carved chair where he would sit as ruling baron of this strategic fortress.
Aye, still a warrior, but so much more—och, Robert the Bruce must have lost his senses to award him so much and so soon!
Already the king had left with his forces enlarged in number, thanks to his foray into Argyll, and returned to Dumbarton to prepare for King Edward’s expected invasion of Scotland. He had commanded Cameron, Gabriel, Conall, and other men loyal to him to remain behind and ensure Argyll remained under his sovereignty.
That weighty charge meant training the men now under his command—former prisoners and eager young kinsmen who had flocked to the fortress to take up arms under Cameron—so that they would be ready to fight when the need arose.
Clearly, from his disheveled hair and sweaty tunic, Conall had been hard at his new duties, which were to whip the men into shape as quickly as possible.
He loved to fight as much as he loved women, life sometimes seeming a game to him that Robert the Bruce must have recognized. The king had promised a reward to Conall, too, for helping to save his life—though he’d said he needed some time to think upon it before any pronouncement was made. Conall hadn’t seemed to mind at all, but had shrugged and laughed, just as he chuckled now and clapped Cameron on the back.
“Ease yourself, brother. The Campbell doesna rule you, and he knows how highly King Robert esteems you. It’s strategy, pure and simple—chess pieces tae be moved upon the board. Always remember that you’re in charge here, no matter our clansmen trying tae influence you. There’s no harm in meeting the lasses—”
“Och, God.” Cameron set off with determined strides toward the archway leading out to the bailey, that same clutch in his chest as Conall hastened after him.
His knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of his sword at his belt.
A fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his face… aye, he could feel it.
His tongue growing thick and heavy as if he already faced the young women who would soon be demanding his attention.
“Cameron!”
He ignored his brother and strode even faster, desperate now to do the only thing that had ever calmed him.
Wield his sword. Fight. Train.
Until he was so exhausted that he could barely stand, though he knew other responsibilities would call him away before he had a chance to reach that welcome state.
Battlements and fortifications to inspect alongside the Campbell kinsmen he’d named as his captains.
His newly appointed steward, Fergus, needing some of his time to discuss the domestic workings of the fortress.
The chief cook, Montrose—a Frenchman, for God’s sake—come to plague him with pleas to make fancier meals of stuffed this or glazed that even though Cameron preferred plainer fare.
Farmers clamoring for time with him to discuss crops and cattle, villagers coming to him with their concerns, and the stout head of housekeeping, Berta, asking what else she could do to make him comfortable in his sumptuous suite of rooms in one of the square towers.
Did he want imported silken sheets upon his bed like Earl Seoras had insisted upon? Candles scented with lavender or thyme? Musicians to lull him to sleep at night with harp and lute? God help him,what was he? A fearsome warrior or a wastrel to grow soft with ridiculous comfort and wretched excess?
“Cameron, wait!”
He had already stepped outside into blinding sunlight and a piercing blue sky—another fine, late spring day in a June that had proved warmer than most and needing more rain.
More worries! More concerns! He drew his sword and made his way toward the outer bailey filled with the grunting of men hard at training and metal ringing against metal—and already he felt his breathing grow calmer and his mind clearing.
Only then did he stop and turn to face Conall, who almost ran into him for how abruptly Cameron had turned around.
“What, brother?”
“I was going tae offer tae entertain our guests, if you’d like. The lasses are coming tae Campbell Castle whether you wish them here or not—”
“Entertain?” Now Cameron smiled wryly, though he felt no humor. “Lay a finger upon a one of them, Conall—stroke even a strand of hair and you’ll find yourself wed so quickly that your teeth will rattle. Is that what you want? A wife?”
“Me? God, no! I thought only tae relieve you of a burden—aye, you’ve so much on your shoulders—”
