Finnegan had chastened her about her temper—but she had never known a red-haired Irishwoman without one! Yet if everything Conall had told her was true, she owed a great debt to Cameron for helping to save her life that she must repay.
Aye, there had to be something she could do—other than reining in her temper—to help him as well, but what?
Chapter 7
“I’ll return within a week, Conall. Swear tae me you’ll keep everything under control while I’m gone.”
“Another oath this fine morning? The air is ringing with them,” Conall answered with a wry smile, though he quickly sobered at Cameron’s frown and nodded solemnly. “Aye, you have my word. A good thing that storm passed us by or you’d be riding in the mud tae Dumbarton. Take care, brother, and watch your sword around that one.”
Conall’s glance at Aislinn mounted behind him made Cameron stiffen—och, did he have to mention her stealing his weapon in the blink of an eye and using it against him? The day not turning out at all how he had planned, twenty armed men mounted as well and waiting astride their snorting horses, Cameron heaved a sigh and cast a look around the bailey.
It seemed everything had ground to a standstill, as warriors hard at their training and servants busy with chores stopped what they were doing to see them off, only a few hours since he’d been forced under duress to swear to Aislinn’s demand to take her to King Robert.
A knife at Conall’s throat, no less! Cameron still couldn’t believe she had done such a thing—but then again, had anything about her been commonplace since he had first laid eyes upon her?
“Well, Laird Campbell, are we going to sit here or finally be on our way?”
Her impatient query grating upon him, Cameron didn’t spare her a glance but focused once again upon Conall.
“If anything goes awry, send a messenger at once.”
“Nothing will go awry, Cameron—and if it does, Gabriel is only a few hours’ ride away. I’d be more likely tae seek his assistance than trouble you”—Conall stepped closer to Cameron’s massive black steed—“since you’ve got your hands full enough, wouldna you agree?”
Again Cameron sighed, as much with resignation as frustration that this fool’s errand would take him away from the fortress when he’d only been the laird for five days—God help him, less than a full week! Nodding to Conall, he raised his hand, signaling for those that accompanied him that the moment for them to take their leave had come.
Within those few hours of intense activity, everything and everyone needed for the journey had been assembled, Cameron feeling for the first time that he was truly in command over both the fortress and his Campbell clansmen.
Not a man questioning his orders.
Not a servant hesitating to assist in preparing the provisions that had been strapped to a half-dozen pack horses.
And thankfully—finally!—his two unwanted prospective brides had left ahead of them with their entourage, without Cameron having to utter a word of farewell.
Conall had bid them goodbye in the bailey with the diplomacy of a seasoned courtier, while Cameron had watched from a tower window, and then turned at once to shoving the last of what he needed into a leather bag.
All the while his thoughts captured by Aislinn—always Aislinn, though he had tried to thrust her from his mind.
She had been one of the first to mount up and wait for him outside the massive stable, her horse no calm and steady gelding, but a lively roan stallion that even now whinnied and tossed its head impatiently. Would she ever cease to amaze him?
A glance over his shoulder told him that Aislinn remained just as eager as she lifted her chin to stare boldly at him, which made Cameron snap his gaze back forward and gather up the reins.
Her retreat from death’s door to sitting so capably astride one of the most high-spirited horses among his stock had astounded him as well, though the sharpness of her cheekbones and pale cast to her skin was still evidence of what she’d suffered. Thanks to the swift needle of a seamstress, she wore a close-fitting woolen tunic and trousers, and her leather shoes from the prison cell cleaned and thrust into the stirrups.
Conall, too, had been quite industrious in finding her a fur-trimmed cloak that Cora had left behind, as well as a leather belt around her waist that could sheathe a knife—but there Cameron had adamantly drawn the line, refusing to give her a weapon.Any weapon!
“Good journey, brother!” shouted Conall as Cameron urged his mount into motion. Others watching echoed the sentiment, the bailey resounding with their voices as he and his men—and Aislinn—rode in a thunder of hooves out the fortress gates.
Good journey?An ordeal more like it, that he hoped would be over as quickly as he could manage and Lady De Burgh soon to become King Robert’s problem—
“God bless you, Laird Campbell!” came a resounding shout repeated by villagers who rushed from their homes and shops to wave and cheer as Cameron passed by.
The broad smiles on their faces were so different than days ago when he had ridden toward the fortress through the village that lay just outside those imposing walls.
Corpses hanging from trees and lying alongside the road, and the piteous sound of women weeping had been the cruel evidence of Earl Seoras lashing out at his own clansmen in his ill-fated quest to become king—och, thank God the man was dead!
Already the houses and side streets looked different, too, as if sunlight had burst through a black pall of despair. Doors and shutters were freshly whitewashed and everything swept and tidied, his heart warmed by the sound of children playing and laughing.
Aye, he had so many responsibilities now, but if this was the result, then it was well worth his every effort to make life better for all those under his charge.
