“I am being called home. These men will escort me and ensure my safe arrival. Can ye offer them hospitality for the night? We will leave on the morrow.”
“Ach, nay.” Mary’s chest filled with ice. She reached a hand out, but pulled it back, mindful of where they were,in full view of everyone in the hall. Her belly twisted at the news and at the restraint she must exercise. She wanted to throw herself into Cameron’s arms. “That’s so soon,” she managed to utter, somehow putting all of her dismay into those three words.
“Ye need no’ worry. I am fully recovered and those Sutherlands are all braw warriors. I will be well.”
Mary hung her head, devastated. He thought she still worried about his health, not that she didn’t want him to leave. “Why now? Why send those men now?”
“Ye canna guess?”
“Aye, I can.” Anger flared, hot and biting, from her belly to her throat, displacing the cold that had settled there at Cameron’s news. “Da must have sent yer father another letter.”
“Aye, he did. Claiming I have recovered well enough to travel, and fearing for yer virtue if I remain any longer. He left Sutherland nay choice but to send these men after me.”
Mary huffed. Sadly, her virtue was just fine. After that memorable bath, other than holding her when she needed it—his way of repaying her care with his own—Cameron had remained a gentleman. They’d never even kissed. “Can ye no’ send them away and stay?”
“Ye ken I canna. I am no’ eager to leave ye…yet.”
His slip made Mary’s eyes widen, and her pulse leapt in her throat.
“But yer da is right. I am well enough—or nearly so—to travel.” He pursed his lips and glanced toward the waiting men. “I must do as Sutherland bids.”
She crossed her arms. They felt weighted with lead. “And I must do as my father bids and continue to schoolhis new bride. We both have our duty.” She sighed and turned away from Cameron to look at his escort. “This is an awful day.”
The next morning,Cameron arose early and made ready to travel. Despite his reluctance to leave Mary, the courier’s arrival was well timed. He needed to get to Sutherland before the information he gleaned in St. Andrews was overtaken by events. He could also fill his father in on what he’d learned from Domnhall’s men while riding scout for Iain Brodie on the way back to Rose. The healer had examined him again last night and pronounced the rest of his recuperation up to him. It didn’t matter where he did it.
Mary’s pain yesterday had been plain for him and everyone else to see. If he’d told her in private he had to leave, he could only guess what would have happened next. She had reached for him, but she’d quickly withdrawn her hand. Would she have stepped willingly into his arms, or done as she did in the great hall and turned away? The difference between Mary when they were private and Mary in public could not be more stark than she’d demonstrated in that wrenching moment.
When he joined the other Sutherlands in the bailey, Mary was already there, waiting. She gave him a brave smile, but he could see her fighting back tears.
“Are ye truly able to travel? I dinna wish to find out ye have fallen ill again because ye left too soon.”
Her concern about his health seemed the safest ground to stand on at the moment. “Dinna fash, lass. I will be fine.”He traced her cheek, trying to memorize the softness of her skin, the dewy pink of her lips, every feature, every expression he’d ever seen her wear. She’d cared for him in his illness, and come to have feelings for him. He had them for her, too, more than he ever believed he could. More than he knew how to handle, or tell her.
She’d been so kind to him, he didn’t want to see her hurt, and definitely didn’t want to be the one hurting her. The courier had confirmed James Rose kept Sutherland informed of his progress. Rose always intended for him to leave—without Mary. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t eventually return. But since he didn’t know what his father would have him do once he got home, he might never get the chance. This was a good time to leave, before Mary got more attached and he broke her heart. And his.
Not that their feelings mattered at this moment. As she’d said, they had their duty. And his called him north. The others had mounted up, and so he must, too. Though he wanted to tease out one last smile to remember, teasing words failed him. Instead, he simply told her, “Dinna forget me, Mary.”
“How could I?” She reached for his hand and this time she didn’t hesitate.
He took hers and kissed her knuckles, imagining the heat of the skin under his mouth came from her lips. He wanted much more than to kiss her hand, but in the bailey, in front of all these people, hers and his, more was not possible. Now he was leaving, more might never be possible—and would be cruel. He released her hand, turned away and threw himself onto his horse, wincing at the unexpected pain in his side. Without looking back, heflicked his reins. His side hurt less than the shards of glass filling his chest. He heard the other Sutherlands’ mounts fall into line after his, but he didn’t turn his head to see them as he passed through the Rose keep’s gate. He might catch a glimpse of the pain on Mary’s face, and that would surely stop his heart.
Chapter 8
Mary fought for composure, aware that every gaze in the bailey had shifted from the riders departing the Rose keep to her. Many knew what Cameron Sutherland had come to mean to her. They’d protected her and kept the truth of her feelings for him from her father. They knew how losing him would affect her.
She turned away and forced her legs to move, to carry her into the keep, through the great hall and up the stairs to her chamber. No one stopped her. No one offered her sympathy. She would not have been able to tolerate a kind word, or even a sympathetic look.
She lifted the knuckles Cameron had kissed to her mouth, pretending his lips were meeting hers. Her blood heated at the same time as her heart plummeted into her belly. Would she ever see him again? He’d become her best friend, and she’d lost him. Her sisters were gone, and now Cameron, too. She was alone, more alone than she’d everbeen in her life. The pain in her chest brought back memories of the grief she’d felt when her mother died, doubling her pain. Only now she was older, more mature, and would be expected to handle it better. She would not be able to cry and scream and pound her fists on the table as she’d done as a child. She could not even go to his chamber—being found there would make her seem pathetic. And Cameron had once told her she was a strong, brave lass. She needed to be both of those things. She had a new stepmother to train.
Her window looked toward the keep’s gate, but Cameron and his escort were already out of sight when she reached it. She would be denied even that last glimpse of him. Her friend. Her treasure. Or so she’d hoped.
The healer barged in without knocking. “Here ye are, as I expected, already mooning over the lad, and he’s just left. Now, lass, he’ll be gone for weeks, so ye’d best straighten yer spine.”
Mary knew she’d come to comfort her, prompting tears she’d fought to hold back. “He could be gone forever.”
“Ach lass,” the healer murmured, patting her shoulder, then pulling Mary against her chest.
Mary let her head drop to the woman’s shoulder and allowed the tears to come while the healer murmured nonsense. Finally, they slowed and she raised her head. “Thank ye. I needed that.”
