“And?”
“I told her I wanted her for my wife and she answered that she chose me for her husband.”
“Chose?” Aengus spat with derision. “No woman chooses whom to wed! Her father promised her tome, and we would have been married before William left for Scotland if my lands hadn’t been attacked by Irish rebels. As soon as the insurgence was defeated, I went to Wexford to claim her as I’d told her father I would do in a message sent to him right before he sailed—and Aislinn was gone! It wasn’t until the letter of ransom arrived from Clive MacGodfrey the same day that I suspected she might have stowed away—aye, William warned me that she’s outspoken and headstrong. Yet I can see those as desired attributes for begetting strong sons, wouldn’t you say, Campbell?”
Cameron knew that Aengus was goading him into wielding his weapon, his stomach churning that the man would speak of Aislinn as if she were no more than a vessel for breeding.
She was strong and beautiful and brave and bold—and mayhap dying, God help him! What could he do? Lie to the man that he had lain with Aislinn and already claimed her?
If she recovered from her injury, mayhap she didn’t want him after all and had lied to him so that he would take her to her father!
A man as cold and hard as the one standing within a sword’s stroke away… daring him still with a gloating look in his eyes that he had won without Cameron having to utter a word.
“I did not lie with her, my king.”
“Enough, then, we’re done here. Leave us, Campbell, and I will speak tae Lord Butler, and then with Lord De Burgh, about having Aislinn transported tae the convent—”
“A convent?” blurted Aengus. “I plan to sail tomorrow with my betrothed and her father, who barely clings to life, as well as her brother and as many of my men that can stand—”
“Canshestand, Lord Butler?” King Robert demanded in a low, tight voice. “Have you seen her this morning as tae her condition?”
“Aye, she’s not yet opened her eyes or spoken, but Lord De Burgh wishes to die upon Irish soil. I will return in a month’s time with more men to fight with you against King Edward.”
“I’m grateful that you would join our battle for freedom from English tyranny like many of your countrymen, but my wife’s cousin will not be traveling anywhere other than a quiet place where she may recover… if it is God’s will that she lives. Leave if you must tae honor her father’s dying wish—”
“I will not leave without her!”
“Then you’ll be staying in Scotland for a while longer. As for Lady De Burgh’s father, he came here tae fight as well, so our soil is as good as any other for a grave, aye, Lord Butler?”
Sputtering again, Aengus glanced from King Robert to Cameron, his expression hardening. “You will not see her.”
“Aye, Lord Campbell is forbidden tae see her,” came the king’s answer for him. “He’ll be riding north within the hour.”
Cameron swallowed against the fury that threatened to choke him, not at King Robert, to whom he nodded in deference.
One lunge and he would have Lord Butler by the throat, the smug look wiped from his face. Aislinn could have told him a hundred lies—a thousand lies!—and still Cameron ached to see her one last time…
“Leave us now, Cameron.”
His gaze shot back to King Robert, who had never called him by his given name before. Did he see sympathy in the man’s eyes, even pity?
“Aye, my lord king.”
Cameron didn’t nod nor give any look of acknowledgment to Aengus as he strode from the room, his fury not abated moments later when he stepped outside.
The bailey was filled with men and noise and commotion, aye, no fit place at all for Aislinn to recover…if it is God’s will that she lives.
King Robert’s words flying back to make him curse aloud, Cameron stormed toward where two of his men awaited him with his horse.
His massive stallion tossed his head at the sight of him, his glossy black coat marred by tiny red marks where sparks had scorched him. It was the same for Aislinn’s steed held outside the towering walls where the rest of his men were gathered for the ride back to Campbell Castle—God help him, her horse no longer!
Had her father demanded last night with what remained of his strength that her knife and sword be cast into the Firth of Clyde to sink into the dark depths?
Had she been stripped of her tunic and trousers and the cloth binding her breasts—if she lived, never to wear men’s garb again? Oddly enough, it had suited her… though to see her in a silk gown with her red hair once more long and flowing had been a fervent dream—och, never to come true! Blast and damn, why was he tormenting himself?
“Laird Campbell!”
Ready to mount, Cameron turned around to see Daran De Burgh hobbling toward him with the help of a wooden crutch thrust under his left arm.
