11
The air in the library shifted. It was still tense, filled with too many emotions for Charlotte to name. But it was altogether different than what it had been only seconds before.
She watched in horror as Cameron crumpled to the floor the same way the book he had thrown had. The weight of his frustration, of the swirl of his feelings crushed him just as easily as the leather had distorted the paper.
“Ye daft fool,” he cried out, his voice harsh and raspy with exasperation. “Nay one will ever respect ye as Laird when ye cannae even read.”
Several curses slipped from his mouth, ruthless and blaring. Every word directed only at himself; some she had never heard before, others she had never dared to say. Each one made her cringe, not at their crudeness, but at how unforgiving he was being. It was an anger she was unfamiliar with.
Whenever Alec would get upset, it was always directed towards her. Even her father had a penchant for blaming others for his problems. Yet Cameron swore at no one but himself. He blamed no one else, speaking only to him, still unaware that she was even there. Somehow, that made it all worse for her. While she could understand his frustration, she hated to see him be so cruel to himself, and hated catching a glimpse of what he truly thought of himself.
His hands pressed harder against his face, his palms sitting directly over his eyes. The string of curses stopped, as did the yelling, but it turned into something much more alarming. To her horror, his breathing became erratic and short. His whole body started to rock back and forth, seeking some kind of release, some kind of way to purge himself of everything he was feeling. A moment later and his breath grew tight and strained, as if his chest would move enough to let any of the air in.
Her feet moved of their own accord. In three long steps she was beside him, kneeling so she wasn’t towering over him. With a gentle hand, she clasped his shoulder and squeezed.
“Cameron,” she called, loud enough for him to hear her over his labored breathing. “Cameron, look at me.”
The command pierced through whatever chaos was roiling in his mind. He stopped rocking only long enough to pick his head up out of his hands. It was an effort for her not to gasp when their eyes met. Gone were the rich green eyes that glimmered with depth and playfulness. In their place were two orbs, completely glassed over with a panic so overwhelming she could see it for herself.
They watched each other as his breathing grew louder, turning into short pants. His hands went to his chest, rubbing hard circles there as his body burned for more air.
Charlotte no longer cared about what was proper or what someone might say if they were to walk in at such an inopportune moment. All that mattered was getting Cameron to pull himself out of whatever hole he had sunk into.
“Everything is all right,” she whispered, letting her hand drop from his shoulder to his back.
She started to rub soothing circles there, hoping to counter the roughness of his own hands on his chest. His eyes didn’t clear nor did his breath slow, but he didn’t start rocking again so she took it as a sign that something she was doing was having some kind of effect on him.
“Just keep watching me,” she told him. “Everything is going to be all right.”
His eyes stayed on hers. They were both desperate to end whatever was happening to him. She had no idea what to do, no idea how to help him. She thought that maybe she should move closer, to let him feel her comfort, but then thought better of it. That was crossing a line that she did not dare to breach with him. Instead, she settled for taking in her own deep breath, making a show of it. In and out, in and out. She repeated the motion until he started to mimic her.
“That’s it,” she encouraged. Another breath and then she said, “just keep breathing. Aye, just like that.”
His breath slowed and the tension in his shoulders and back melted away with every breath they took together. She could feel it all slipping away as the corded muscles under her hand loosened. He blinked and the glassiness to his eyes vanished.
* * *
The room came backinto focus, though it wasn’t the library or the fire or the book he had thrown that Cameron was staring at. Instead, his eyes were locked on Charlotte. He watched her intently, following her as she took in air through her nose and blew it out through her mouth. The movement made his gaze slip to her lips, the same ones he had thought about kissing at dinner a few hours ago. Another breath and his eyes were back on hers. There was something in them that promised him safety, that told his mind he had nothing to be afraid of. And he believed it.
Her hand never stopped moving, rubbing away the knots that had been forming in between his shoulder blades. He fought to relax them even further as his breath returned to normal. It was the fastest he had ever been pulled out of one of his breathing spells. Normally, it would take him the better part of an hour to get back to this level of calm. And then it would be several more hours before he felt like himself again. But with her, it was a matter of minutes.
He knew that she would have questions and after what she had done for him, he would do his best to answer. But he wasn’t ready for the moment to end. He knew that as soon as either of them spoke or acknowledged that he was no longer incapacitated, she would remove her hand and put distance between them again. He wasn’t ready to be alone with his thoughts, with the aftermath of everything that had happened today.
Their eyes stayed locked on each other for several more minutes, despite the fact that they could both tell that he was back to normal. He knew she could feel his breathing had slowed with her hand still on his back. But neither of them seemed ready to speak. So he watched her, scanning her face for something he didn’t know.
It had been such a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings for him that day that he didn’t know what to think about any of it. He had started the day knowing that he had made a fool of himself the night before which was only highlighted by the stark contrast between him and Alastair. But she hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, on their walk, he could almost believe that she was relieved to be around a Laird like him. He had learned much about her, bits and pieces of her past and her interests. Dinner tonight had been a continuation of that comforting warmth when she offered to help him rather than mock him for his lack of table manners. They had talked and laughed for hours. So much so that he had gone to her chambers just for the chance that the pleasantness would continue.
That had been his biggest mistake this far. Seeing that servant, that man leave her chambers had told him more about Charlotte than the entire day had. At least, he had convinced himself that was the case. Perhaps in the morning light he would be able to see the revelation as a mercy, that he found out about his future wife’s true nature before they were married. He would get to go into the marriage with his eyes wide open. It would be another business arrangement and nothing more.
He had disappeared to the library to try to shift his expectations of her, of their future together, when his chest had grown heavy. He knew the feeling well, but hadn’t been able to put it off, hadn’t been able to stop the attack from sinking its claws into him. He had been facing them alone since he was a child, no one ever bothering to help him through them. Until now. Untilher.
None of it made any sense. She was in love with another man, had snuck him into the Knox castle and was still seeing him at least nightly. Yet, she had not run when he turned into a shell of himself. She had not slipped out of the door and pretended that she didn’t see how he couldn’t breathe the way that so many others had. She had stayed, crouched on the floor next to him, doing whatever she could to get him to breathe again. Just as she was doing now.
Cameron realized then just what he had been searching her face for. He was looking for some kind of proof that she was not really there, that the kindness and compassion she had offered him came with an unspoken price. But there was nothing more than genuine concern. The only proof he could come up with was that she was a good and kind woman. One who deserved so much more than he could ever offer.
Guilt racked through him, threatening to set his breathing off again. A woman like her was worthy of a much better man than him. He had been so upset that she was entertaining another man when he was telling a much bigger lie. He was fooling her into thinking that he was truly the Laird of the Knox clan, that he was anything more than an abandoned orphan with an unlucky streak. There were so many things about him, about their situation that she was utterly blind to. And he had kept her in the dark about them all, convincing himself that was what was best for everyone when the truth was, it was only what was best for him. He added ‘selfish’ to his long list of flaws, right beside ‘illiterate’ and ‘foolish.’
He couldn’t hold her eyes any longer.
