Page 15 of How a Scot Surrenders to a Lady

Still, as Marion moved to the king’s side, Iain and Cameron went with her and Lachlan came up behind her. “She’s taken a terrible injury to the head,” Marion explained. “It could be days before she awakens. If she ever awakens…”

The king turned to face them all, a vicious smile twisting his lips. “Even in sleep I can see she is a rare beauty.”

Disquiet stirred within Cameron. The king had a mind to use people to suit his needs, and it sounded like he had decided upon a use for the lass. Cameron had the pressing need to look at her, but he forced himself to remain still with his gaze locked on the king, who was spearing him with dark, unmerciful eyes.

“If she awakens and proves to be embroiled with those who killed my Katherine, I have just the man to sell the lass to. If she also proves to be unmarried and of worthy stock, of course, he will be the perfect match for her.” The unease within Cameron increased as the king’s smile twisted further. “And she will wish every day that I had ordered her death.”

Cameron could feel himself frowning. He struggled to straighten his features, but the king’s words battered at him.Married?He’d not once considered that the lass could be married, given Eolande’s foretelling, yet the seer had not mentioned it.

Aware that David was staring at him expectantly, Cameron nodded. “As ye wish, Sire.” Even as he gave his promise, unwillingness swirled within him.

The king pointed at him. “Until the leaves turn. Dunnae forget it,” he warned. “And keep me informed.”

“Ye’ve my word, Sire,” he said, doing all he could to infuse his voice with fervor.

“I’ve had that before, and it did nae prove worth having,” David snapped.

Cameron flinched as the king brushed past him. He rested his gaze briefly on his brothers and Alex who had drawn together and were speaking low.

The king paused at the door. “Iain. Alex. I wish a moment in private.”

Both men quickly followed the king out the door. The moment it closed behind Alex, the king, and his guards, Cameron’s gaze swept past his sister Lena, who stood near the cot the lass was on. Lena scowled down at the lass and then at him, but his attention had been drawn from his sister to the lass. He burned to ask questions about her, but first…

“How is Rory Mac faring?” Cameron asked as concern flooded him.

Marion nibbled on her lip. “Fever has set in already, but Alanna and I bathed him, and made him as comfortable as possible in his own bed. I was able to clean his wound satisfactorily, so I have hope that he will bear it and live to be as stubborn as ever.”

Relief moved through Cameron. It seemed that Marion and Rory Mac’s wife had done well; only time would heal him now. Cameron focused on the still unmoving lass. “Have ye ever tended to a body who did nae awaken from such an injury?”

“Aye,” Marion replied. “But only one. The others awoke, some disoriented and some actually not recalling the day or other such memories. One even forgot his name for a bit.”

He disliked the sudden lump of dread that settled in his belly. He wanted to believe the dismay was simply because he needed to question the lass, but as his gaze landed on her delicately sculpted face, then moved lower to her long neck, and lower still to her slender, creamy shoulders, shock stole his next breath. Her gown had been tugged down over the curve of her shoulders to the top of her arms, and there, on her right shoulder, was an unmistakable heart-shaped mark.

There could be no denying Eolande’s words regarding the lass now.

He moved toward her, aware of the door opening, Iain entering the room alone, several pairs of eyes drilling into his back and his sister’s gaze searching his from the front, yet he did not meet her questioning eyes or turn to meet those of his brother’s and Marion. He reached down and traced his fingers over the mark. It was smooth, her skin silky and warm.

“Cameron?” Iain asked.

He heard his brother, but he could not seem to answer or turn from the lass. His breathing and heartbeat became ragged as her eyelids began to flutter. It felt as if she had raised a hand and slipped it around the back of his neck to pull him closer. He leaned toward her until her body heat touched him, her smell surrounded him, the whisper of her breath sent jolts through him.

“She’s waking,” he murmured, unable and unwilling to say more.

“Move back, ye clot-heid,” Lachlan growled. “Ye’ll scare the lass.”

Cameron nodded, yet he stayed where he was. He couldn’t have moved even if he wanted to, for in truth, he had never felt so drawn, so compelled to be close to someone in his life.

Her dark lashes fluttered slightly, and a soft moan came from between her rosy lips. Behind him, his family pressed nearer, too near for his liking. He wanted to be alone with her, yet that was likely dangerous. No matter what, he had to remember Eolande’s words and not allow any connection to the lass to form. With that in mind, he dug within himself to find the determination to pull back and put physical distance between them, just as her eyelashes fluttered once more and her lids opened.

Bright, silvery-gray eyes met his. Unmistakable desire claimed him as her gleaming gaze widened, and she frowned. “Do I—” she croaked and then started to cough.

Immediately, a mug appeared by his right shoulder. “Give her this,” Marion commanded.

He took the mug and offered it to her as coughs racked her throat.

Slowly, she sat up, reached out, and grasped the mug. Her fingers grazed his, and the shock of her touch caused the stirring longing within him to blaze. He pulled back when he was certain she had a grip, and he watched, fascinated, as she took a long drink, cleared her throat, and handed the mug back to him. He accepted it without question while she pressed her fingers to her temple.

“What have ye done to me?” she asked, her voice low and husky, likely from lack of use.

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