Page 26 of Warrior’s Lady

"And Lady Violet? Why did he want her almost as badly as the Stone?" Orrin asked.

"Did I hear someone mention Lady Violet's name?"

Both men turned, drawing their swords more out of habit than necessity. Camden's sword pointed at the Bishop Berwick's heart. Orrin's aimed for his gut. One sword poised to kill, the other to cause suffering. Which outcome did the man deserve more?

"Lord Lockhart. You've certainly outdone yourself," the bishop said as he frowned down at the weapons pressed against his pristine robes. "You found your niece in record time. Anger and grief usually spur men to accomplish great deeds."

"What do you want, Berwick?" Camden asked, his sword steady.

"You wound me, Lockhart." The bishop's frown increased. "I've come to make certain that little girl has come to no harm." With a gloved hand, he pushed the tip of Camden's blade away from his heart. He scowled at Orrin. "Would both of you cease this attack? I am no threat to you."

Camden sheathed his curved weapon. Orrin followed his example. But he remained close, and Camden could see the twitch in his hand as it hovered over the hilt of his sword. "I repeat. What do you want?"

"I've come to make you an offer. My dear mother would be most happy to take charge of your niece. She will instruct her properly in the ways of a noble lady."

The bishop's gaze moved to the orchard where Violet and Thomas had just finished their lesson for the day. They headed directly for them. For a moment, Camden wished he'd never encouraged Thomas to take his niece out for a ride. Even with a full contingent of warriors nearby the outdoors seemed suddenly too vast, and his niece too vulnerable with this man nearby.

"She stays with me," Camden said with icy precision.

"Then perhaps I may send my mother to you? She can train both your niece and your other young charge."

"We have no need of your help."

The bishop frowned. "Oh? But I know all about Rhiannon Ruthven. What I don't understand is why you trust her, the spawn of a family of traitors, rather than me, a holy man?"

Camden's surprise vanished. His own experience with holy men might color his perspective, but at this moment he did prefer Rhiannon's help to that of the bishop's. And this bishop obviously had connections inside his castle. Only someone who lived inside these walls would have access to information about his niece and Rhiannon. "Rhiannon will teach Lady Violet all she needs to know."

Thomas led Violet up the slope to where he and the bishop stood. With each step, Camden's worry increased. He had to keep Violet away from this man.

The bishop's eye brightened as the young girl approached. "Think of Lady Violet, not yourself."

"She is my first priority." Camden moved to stand beside his niece's horse. He caught the reins, holding them with a firm hand. Caution flared. His men filled in the space around them. They stood with their bodies tense, as though sensing Camden's tension.

"And what about the Ruthven woman?" The bishop's gaze strayed from Violet to the keep. "Perhaps a little repentance might do her good if she is to take charge of something so precious."

Unease passed through Camden. The bishop wasn't after Violet. Not this afternoon, anyway. Nay, he wanted to speak to Rhiannon. That was the true reason for his visit.

"Does she know you are here? Did she ask you to come?" Camden felt his body tighten as he once again questioned Rhiannon's motives for coming to his home.

"Nay," the bishop replied. "It is the shepherd who must find a sheep who has left the flock."

"There are no lost sheep here. The woman is ill. I wouldn't advise seeing her." He lied. But something inside him warned him not to give the bishop access to Rhiannon.

"You cannot dismiss me, Lockhart. I serve the people, all people. She might want me to stay."

"I asked you to leave." He didn't think, merely reacted — a survival skill that had seen him through his days in the Holy Land. He drew his sword. The rasp of steel filled the air as his men drew their weapons. "Or shall I force you?"

The bishop cast a furious glance at him before turning to hustle through the outer bailey. "You are treading on dangerous ground, milord."

"Danger has been my life," Camden replied, striding toward the gate with his men. Once the bishop left, Camden ordered the portcullis lowered and the gate closed, and to remain that way unless he himself granted entrance.

Only when the two heavy planks of wood slid into place did Camden feel the winds of dusk that blew crisp and cold on his face.

He needed that cold to focus his thoughts. He was the new laird of the Lockhart clan whether he liked it or not. With that position came certain responsibilities. The first and foremost, keeping his clan safe from anyone and anything that could harm them.

Could the bishop truly be the threat he seemed? A holy man? Camden frowned at his thoughts. Shaykh Haashim had been a threat for seven years. Never would he allow any member of his clan to suffer as they had at the hands of a holy man.

Camden slammed the door on his memories. He clutched the curved sword that was ever-present at his side. He was no longer a slave. He could protect his people from the invading English, from the bishop, or anyone else. Grasping the comfort the thought brought, he shifted his gaze to the sky now turning from a hazy pink to a pearlescent gray mixed with heavy dark clouds. There would be snow tonight.