He appeared ready to draw the sword sheathed in his belt while Aislinn felt Cameron stiffen beside her, though he didn’t reach for his own weapon. Instead he glanced at her, something chilling her in his darkened eyes, while she stared back at him in confusion.
“Do you know this man, Aislinn?”
“No, I’ve never seen him before—”
“He’s your betrothed, Lord Aengus Butler!” her father cut her off, clenching his teeth as he raised himself on one elbow, while Daran looked up at her with pity. “You would have known him quite well as your wedded husband if you hadn’t stowed aboard my ship and now disgraced us all!”
Aislinn heard Cameron suck in his breath, but he didn’t move, as if rooted to the ground.
Aengus Butler. Aye, her father had told her the man’s name as the one he intended for her to marry, but she had never met him!
She didn’t know what to say, what to do, the world suddenly crashing in around her as surely as had the flaming roof.
Her temples throbbed, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She looked from her father, who had fallen back onto the ground, groaning, to Lord Butler, who glared at both her and Cameron, and then up into the dark sky as her knees wobbled beneath her.
A terrible pain shooting through her head, ah, God, was she dying?
The last thing she saw was Cameron’s face above her, his stricken voice calling her name as if from a great distance… and then cold, numbing oblivion enveloped her and Aislinn heard no more.
Chapter 15
“God help you, Campbell, the woman’s betrothed! Her pledged husband as powerful a man in Éire as you are here, if not more so! Did Lady De Burgh not say a word of it tae you?”
Cameron shook his head at King Robert, who sighed heavily and continued his pacing.
“Och, you’ve known her for hardly a week, it canna be so great a loss. A wife will be found for you, your clan will see tae that soon enough.”
Like another blow to the gut, Cameron said nothing, but held his silence as the king went to the window to look out in the direction of the River Clyde.
“WhereisLord Butler? His warship lies at anchor and I see commotion aboard, but no rowboat being lowered. He demanded this meeting upon his arrival in the wee hours of the morning, as if I dinna have other matters on my mind—like Edward preparing for battle near Carlisle. A rumor flies that he’s not well, but I doubt that will stop him from ordering his forces north tae try and defeat me—aye, let him come!”
Instead of turning around to face him, King Robert seemed to fume at the window while Cameron stood at attention in the king’s personal chamber—the future he’d envisioned with Aislinn nothing but ashes.
The moment she had collapsed last night, Aengus Butler had rushed forward and pushed him away from her while William De Burgh had cursed him for allowing his daughter to accompany him into danger.
Cursed him!
Cameron’s clothing covered with burn holes from the sparks and his hair singed—och, but none of that had mattered at the ashen pallor of Aislinn’s face. Only then had he seen the egg-shaped lump on the left side of her forehead, an injury she must have suffered when she was pitched from her horse.
He hadn’t been close enough to save her from falling, and had jumped from his own horse when she was rolling upon the ground to put out the flames at the hem of her cloak. Everything after that had been a blur of fighting to keep them both alive, and the desperate rescue of her father and brother—och, and then the terrible realization that she had lied to him in not revealing her betrothal.
Lied to him!
Cameron’s gut clenching, he wanted only to leave Dumbarton Castle and return at once to the fortress and leave this entire debacle behind him.
He and his men had arrived before dawn after an exhausting ride from what was left of the MacGodfrey stronghold to see that Lord Butler’s ship was anchored beyond the shallows, the water route proving much swifter.
Cameron had reported at once to the castle, and had been met by one of King Robert’s captains and told to get some rest and come back later that morning.
The king had already been apprised about everything that had happened by Lord Butler, and Aislinn and her father and brother and the other freed prisoners had been taken to the castle infirmary along with the Irishmen wounded in the battle.
At least his own men and those of the king hadn’t suffered grievous injury, a few of them sent to the infirmary. Cameron found himself wondering, in spite of his resolve to thrust Aislinn and her deception forever from his mind, if she fared better that morning.
How could he not? He loved her still though he felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, yet what did it matter?
She was soon to wed another man, something Aislinn had known before she stowed away, Cameron cursing the moment she had set foot upon Scottish soil.
“She’ll need complete rest and quiet—my chief healer told me as much right before you arrived,” came King Robert’s voice to wrest Cameron from the bitter tumult of his thoughts. “You said she fell from her horse and hurt her head, Campbell?”
