Page 65 of Highland Flame

Chapter Seventeen

Yvaine rushed into the catacombs, wanting to hide away from everyone. She’d just admitted her dark secret aloud, and there was no going back from that! She had boldly told Cam and his friends that she was a murderer and because of it, she would hang for her crime now. That troubled her immensely. Still, in a way, it was also a relief to have that secret out in the open. It had weighed heavily upon her conscience as well as her soul. No longer would she have to carry the burden on her shoulders of pretending to be someone she no longer was.

She’d made a mistake, and would now pay for it with her life. But mistake or not, it still didn’t change the fact that she was happy that Dun was dead.

“Yvaine! Yvaine,” called out Cam from behind her as she hurried into the underground mazes, not caring where she was going or if she’d ever be found again. Her life was as good as over now anyway, so she might as well get used to being amongst the dead. Without a torch, it was impossible to see where she was going. Her foot hit something and she fell to the ground. Feeling around, her hand settled atop something round. When she picked it up, trying to decipher what it was, she realized it was a skull.

She screamed, throwing it down and getting to her feet.

“Yvaine, dinna move. I’m comin’ to get ye,” called out Cam, his voice getting closer. She thought she saw a torch burning up ahead, and hurried toward it, not wanting to talk to Cam right now. When she followed the light, it led her to the door of the underground room where Cam had been staying. She frantically felt around for the lever to open the door, but could not find it.

“Lass, slow down before ye hurt yerself.” Cam came up behind her, grabbing the torch from the wall, and putting his arm around her, pulling her to him.

Yvaine could hold back her emotions no longer. She burst out crying, hiding her face against Cam’s plaid.

“Calm down, sweetheart. It’s goin’ to be all right,” he told her, using his foot to find and move the lever attached to the secret room’s door. The stone slid aside, and he pushed the wooden door open, motioning for her to go inside. He brought the torch with them and closed the door behind them.

“Oh, Cam, now ye ken my secret and ye have every right to hate me.”

“Hush,” he told her, placing the torch in a holder on the wall and lighting several beeswax candles before extinguishing the flame of the main torch. “I dinna hate ye, and neither do I condemn ye for what ye did.”

“But I killed a man,” she cried. Every time she said it, she felt worse and worse.

“In self-defense,” Cam added. “No one is goin’ to blame ye for tryin’ to protect yerself.”

“That’s no’ true and ye ken it. While men have the right to beat their wives, women canna do anythin’ to harm their husbands. If they do, they pay for it with their lives.”

“Come here.” Cam reached out and put his arms around her. He held her tightly, kissing the top of her head. “I’m goin’ to help ye, I promise.”

“There is nothin’ ye can do. Dinna get involved. This is no’ yer problem, it’s mine. Cam, ye need to go find Avianca and bring her back. That is what’s really important. We both ken she belongs with ye. My brathair had no right to take her away from ye.”

“I’m afraid it is partially my fault for no’ tellin’ him sooner that I’d changed my mind and wanted to raise her on my own.” He kicked off his boots and removed his weapon belt, sitting on the edge of the bed. Then he reached over and pulled her atop his lap. “I will get Avianca back, if it’s the last thing I ever do,” he promised.

“But how?” she asked with a sniffle, wiping away a stray tear with the back of her hand. “Ye dinna even ken where to look for her.”

“I’ll find out. Dinna worry about that. I’ll also help clear yer name so we can get married and raise our family together just like we planned.” He gently laid his hand on her belly.

“Blethers, how can ye even say that after what I told ye? Ye dinna want a murderer as the mathair of yer children.”

“Mayhap no’, but I do want a strong lass who can protect my children from harm. That, my dear, is none other than ye.”

“I’m no’ strong.” She whimpered. “I cry more than anyone I ken.”

“Cryin’ doesna make a person weak, Yvaine. All it does is show that the person has feelin’s. Emotions are a guid thing because it proves that the person has the ability to be compassionate . . . to care . . . to love.” He picked up her hand and kissed each finger as he rattled off his list.

“Then ye dinna hate me?” she asked, seeming like she still needed confirmation.

“I dinna hate ye, lass. However I think ye may hate yerself.”

“I’m no’ a guid person, Cam! I killed a man and I am glad he is dead. That makes me a horrible sinner.”

“I’d be glad, too, if I had been the one to kill the bastard. Dun didna deserve to live. No man should ever hit and hurt a woman, especially no’ his own wife . . . or bairn,” he said, reaching down and kissing her on her belly.

“I’ve gone and ruined everythin’,” she told him with a pout.

“On the contrary, ye escaped yer prison. For standin’ up to the man, I admire ye.”

“A lot of guid it does to admire a woman who will soon be swingin’ from a rope around her neck.”