Trapped with the Devil of the Highlands (Falling for Highland Villains #3)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

“Do ye have any notion of what ye’re doin’ to me poor nerves?” Camden’s mother, Olivia, asked in a shuddering voice as she perched on one of the long, pew-like benches that lined the castle hallways.

Camden sat beside her, his gaze drifting toward the narrow archway in the near distance, through which Paisley had vanished. It led to the wrong staircase, her bedchamber being on the opposite side of the castle, but there had been no time to tell her that. The second she heard that his mother was coming, she had scarpered.

“Ye ought to try that tonic that Lady MacAllen keeps sendin’ over,” Camden said, lounging on the bench.

“When this cèilidh is over and yer future is secure, I’ll drink it all,” Olivia replied, also glancing at the archway through which Paisley had disappeared.

Camden was curious to discover that it was not absolute dismay on his mother’s still-beautiful face, for a glimmer of curiosity showed in the scrunch of her eyes and the contemplative set of her lips.

“I thought she’d be gone by now,” his mother said, almost to herself.

“Who?”

Olivia shot him a dark look. “Dinnae be impish with me, Camden. Ye ken well enough who I mean.”

“Aye, and ye ken well enough that she’s set to be a guest at yer cèilidh. I told ye as much, so why would she be gone?”

Camden prided himself on keeping his private life apart from his Lairdly duties, but he was no fool. He was aware that his mother had some inkling of his reputation. It had never been discussed, and as far as he knew, his mother had never seen one of his paramours sneaking out at dawn, but maids talked, and not all were as reliably tight-lipped as Rowena.

“It’s nae me cèilidh, Camden,” Olivia replied, exasperation coloring each sharp word. “It’s yers! It’s all for ye, to see ye well settled at last. Ye cannae behave like a wildlin’ for the rest of yer life. It’s nae becomin’, and it’s nae what yer faither?—”

“Dinnae,” Camden said softly. A warning.

Olivia’s fingertips found the silver locket at her throat, rubbing the already worn metal even smoother with her anxious touch.

“Kenna is a lovely lass,” she said a moment later. “I ken she can make ye happy if ye’d just put yer faith in the match. Ye cannae play daft games when one wrong move can affect so many lives.”

And I willnae bow to the whims and wishes of old, bitter men who wouldnae raise a sword if there were barbarians at our gates.

He smiled sweetly and shuffled closer to his mother, putting his arm around her and pulling her into a hug. She tried to bat him away, attempting a stern expression, but he knew she could not resist his filial affection for long.

“Och, ye wee rascal!” She laughed at last, relaxing into his embrace.

He hugged her tighter. “I’ll keep tellin’ ye this ‘til I’ve got nay breath left in me lungs, Maither. Put yer faith in me . I dinnae plan on lettin’ me clan go to wrack and ruin over somethin’ so trivial as marriage.”

“Oh, Camden… Ye dinnae truly think that, do ye?” Olivia pulled back, brushing a dark lock of hair from her son’s face.

“That I wouldnae be so foolish? Aye, I do.”

She shook her head sadly. “Nay, me sweet boy—tell me ye dinnae truly think that marriage is trivial. Ye couldnae be further from the truth. Marriage is… the greatest gift. Marriage is a blessin’, a union unlike any other, a… wondrous thing. And I ken that ye and Kenna will find a love like the one yer faither and I shared, with time and patience and ye nae dallyin’ behind closed doors.”

Camden pressed a kiss to his mother’s brow. “The cèilidh is in four days, Maither. Ye ought to return to stringin’ up decorations, rehearsin’ the musicians ‘til their fingers are bleedin’, and runnin’ the cooks ragged with commands for the feast. Meanwhile, I’m goin’ to ride out and see if I cannae find a stag to present to me betrothed.”

Though she’s nae the one ye think.

“Ride out?” His mother pulled away abruptly. “Now? Ye cannae be serious, Camden. I ken where ye like to hunt—ye’ll nae be back for the cèilidh if ye go now! It’s a fine gesture, of course, but why did ye nae do this before?”

“There wasnae anythin’ worth bringin’ back,” he replied with a shrug, thinking of the MacDunn man in the forest.

His mother knew of the threat from Laird MacDunn, but she knew only what Camden and his man-at-arms chose to tell her: a more palatable version of the truth. If she had learned that her son had gone out alone to chase down stray MacDunn loyalists, her ‘poor nerves’ would have taken a startling dive into outright apoplexy.

“And I will be back in time, Maither,” he promised, seizing her in another rough hug before he got to his feet. “Ye worry about makin’ everythin’ look pretty for the occasion, I’ll worry about makin’ a dramatic entrance with a big, bloodied stag slung over me shoulders.”

His mother blanched, not at all amused. “I shall pray with all me heart that ye’re jestin’ with me.”

“Och, Maither, dinnae spoil the surprise.” He began to walk away, sending a wicked grin over his shoulder as he added, “Ye’ll have to wait and see.”

“I shouldnae get used to this, but I could,” Paisley wheezed to Rowena as they returned from a lengthy walk in the private garden.

At least that was what Paisley was insisting it was, rather than admitting that she was hiding from Camden’s mother. The bedchamber that had formerly felt like a sanctuary had lost some of its security, filling her with fear that Camden’s mother would come knocking, curious to find out who she was.

“Ye’re certainly gettin’ better with the stairs,” Rowena teased, for it was plain for all to see that Paisley was not getting better with the stairs.

Drenched in sweat, breaths heaving in and out of her lungs, her legs on fire, Paisley doubted she would improve unless she spent many months at Castle Cairn. Alas, she did not have that sort of time at her disposal, no matter how giddy Camden’s flirtations made her feel or what dreams their encounters conjured up at night.

Paisley bumped against the door to her bedchamber to open it, having no strength left to be ladylike. As the door swung open to reveal a blissfully empty room, devoid of any lurking mothers, she heard a soft, scraping sound.

Puzzled, she peered around the door to find a folded piece of paper on the floor.

“I’ll fetch ye some tea,” Rowena said as Paisley bent down to pick up the paper.

Paisley mumbled her thanks and unfolded the note, walking over to the edge of her bed as she read:

My dearest Miss Nunford,

I’ve gone away for a couple of days to hunt for deer in the woods. I know just the spot where a man can find what he wants. I hoped you might kiss my bow for good luck before I left, but you’d already scarpered from my mother, so I’ll have to get you to kiss it when I come back.

Enjoy your freedom.

Yours (whether you like it or not),

Camden.

She flushed with embarrassment, hurrying to stuff the note into the top drawer of the writing desk, burying it under the fresh sheets of unused paper. Was he quite mad, writing that sort of thing and leaving it under a door where anyone could find it? Did he get some strange thrill out of such things?

She slammed the drawer shut and took a breath, deciding that she would enjoy her days of freedom without him. If he could ride off with just a note, leaving her in an unfamiliar place without a second thought, she would not spend her time waiting for him to return.

I ken just the place to start.

“I kenned ye would do this!” Olivia wheezed, practically clawing at the locket at her throat. “Three days ye have been gone! Three days! Look at the state ye’re in!”

Camden slid down from Nyx’s saddle as dawn began to break above the majestic peaks of the mountains, easing Castle Cairn out of night’s impenetrable shadow and into the inky hue of a painfully early morning.

He gestured to the fine stag that the midnight-black mare carried on her back. “I couldnae come back empty-handed.” He approached his mother. “And at least I wasnae gone for four days, so there’s a small mercy for ye.”

Olivia backed away from her muddied son, putting her hands up to fend him off. He had no notion of how wild he looked, but there were leaves in his hair, a streak of dirt across his face and bare arms, his clothes thorn-ripped and covered in miscellaneous muck. And he had not had as clear a mind since before he crossed paths with Paisley.

“Take that to the kitchens, will ye?” he called to a pair of stocky lads who were passing through the courtyard. They rushed to heed their Laird’s command.

“Well, I hope ye managed to get the last of yer… willfulness out of yer mind,” his mother grumbled, her hands on her hips. “As I trust that guest of yers has grown bored with waitin’ for ye and returned from whence she came.”

Camden froze, all the clarity of the last three days fogging over at the mere mention of Paisley.

“She left?”

He had written her a note before his departure, but what if she had grown tired of waiting and had attempted to reach Morris lands by herself? No one would have stopped her.

Rowena would have, would she nae?

His mother shrugged. “I havenae the faintest idea, but when I took those gowns ye insisted on to her, she wasnae there, and the maid said she hadnae seen her. I am far too busy preparin’ for the cèilidh to worry about yer waifs and strays, Camden. But if I were her, I would have taken the hint and made meself scarce.”

The chill in Camden’s veins made its way to his face, turning his expression into cold stone, a flinty flare in his eyes as he fixed them on his mother.

“Maither, I’d urge ye to remember that I’m nae just yer son—I’m the Laird of this clan and castle, and I dinnae like yer tone.” He did not speak unkindly, but with a firmness that brooked no argument.

Olivia blinked but stayed quiet.

She meant well. Camden knew that she did, but there was only so much disrespect a man could take before he snapped. His clan believed in him, his people admired him. His mother should stop listening so keenly to the council, not realizing that they were the ones who deserved her lack of faith.

“Now, if ye’ll excuse me,” he added. “I should bathe. Guests will be arrivin’ soon enough, and I cannae have them thinkin’ I was dragged through a hedgerow backward.”

He headed toward the castle entrance, but the sight of garland above the doorway prompted him to pause on the threshold. It was a masterful creation of pine fronds, holly leaves and berries, plump purple thistles, and red peonies.

With a breath, he turned back and offered a kinder smile, noting the other pretty garlands and wreaths and sprays of flowers that surrounded the courtyard.

“The courtyard looks beautiful, Maither. I’m sure the rest of the castle looks beautiful too.”

She waved a dismissive hand, though her blush told him that she was not too wounded by his earlier curt tone. “It’s nae finished yet, but it’ll be fine when it is,” she said, watching the two young men carry the stag off to the kitchens. “And… I think venison will be an excellent addition to the feast.”

With a balm slicked over any perceived injury, Camden tried to walk as casually as possible through the doors while his mind yelled at him to sprint as fast as he could to Paisley’s room.

She cannae be gone. She wouldnae be daft enough to do that.

He repeated the mantra in his head as he raced up staircase after staircase, ignoring the strain on his lungs and the burn in his thighs. By the time he reached Paisley’s bedchamber, he was out of breath, sweat beading on his brow.

He did not bother to knock, striding right in with no idea if she would be on the other side.