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

Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

So, that’s it.

Shielding his eyes from the glare of the afternoon sunlight, Camden slowed Nyx to a halt to survey the castle in the near distance. Another half an hour, perhaps less, and the journey would come to an end.

“It doesnae look at all how I remember it,” Paisley said in a distant voice as Lux bowed her head to snatch a tuft of grass.

“I ken I’m biased, but it’s naught compared to Castle Cairn.”

Paisley pursed her plump lips like she did not want to agree but had no other choice.

The castle was a bleak lump of weather-stained rock amidst craggy moorland, almost camouflaged among the browns and muted greens of coarse vegetation. Were it not for the Morris flag flapping above the square fortifications of the western tower, Camden’s keen eyes might have struggled to pick it out of the landscape until he was closer.

“Maybe we’re comin’ at it from the wrong angle,” Paisley mused, frowning. “We didnae pass that messenger of yers. Do ye think he went a different way?”

Camden shrugged. “I expect there are a hundred ways ye can get to this castle.” He swept his arm out to punctuate his point. “It’s nae as if it’s hidden. It couldnae be more out in the open if someone painted the walls bright red. Maybe that’s the point—who’d attack a castle that isnae tryin’ to make itself a challenge? I’d be wary of why there’s nae a moat at least.”

I should’ve taken us down a few wrong roads, made the days last longer.

The journey had been shorter than anticipated, it being the afternoon of their fourth day of traveling. If Camden was being honest, they might have been four of the best days of his thirty years of life.

On their first night, they had stumbled upon a roadside inn sitting alone at a crossroads. Eerie to some, perhaps, but a welcome sight to the weary pair. Camden had paid for two rooms, but they had dined together, talked together, and parted ways on the landing with a smile.

“Think of me when ye’re in yer bed and ye need a sweet release to send ye off into slumber,” he had said, unable to resist. “I ken I’ll be thinkin’ of ye, and the way ye ? —”

“Goodnight!” she had barked, rushing off before he could remind her further of how exquisite she had been in his study.

On the second night, in the middle of the dense forest, following a thin, overgrown trail that the lanternlight could barely pick out of the foliage, they had rested in a glade much like the one where they had first met.

He had thrown down the blankets he had brought with him and built a fire while she watched from the saddle. Once it was warm enough, he had helped her down from the horse and carried her over to the little nest he had made for them. She had not protested the slightest bit when he had lain down beside her and gathered her into his arms to share heat. Instead, she had wrapped her arms around him, nestling close with her head on his chest, falling asleep almost immediately. A sure sign that she felt safe in his embrace.

A busier village inn had provided their third night of comfort, the innkeeper taking one look at them and insisting he only had one room to spare. Like their first night together, they had shared a bath and a bed, with Camden lying above the blankets and Paisley curled up beneath them.

“Do ye ever bathe alone?” she had asked, peering up at him with those beautiful green eyes.

He had laughed at that. “Always, unless ye’re around.”

“I kenned it! Ye rascal!”

“I cannae explain why, sweetlin’. I just feel cleaner, kennin’ I’m soakin’ in rarefied water with a nun.”

“A novice,” she had corrected. “And ye’re lucky I cannae turn plain water into the holy kind, or else ye’d have blisters all over.”

It still made him smile.

Being on the road with no one but him for company had transformed her, bringing her slowly out of her shell. If they could stay out in the wilds together, he had no doubt she would grow more confident, becoming the woman others had tried to hide and suppress.

He would have given more than he dared to admit to have just one more night alone with her.

“Are ye ready?” he asked.

Paisley nodded. “Aye, I think so.”

“I’ll race ye then.”

“What?”

He flashed her a wink and squeezed his thighs, urging Nyx into a lope that turned into a gallop.

The thud of hooves kicked up clods of dirt, the bitter moorland wind whipped at Camden’s face, and he had never felt freer. Grinning like a madman—he must have been if he chose to shorten his time with her like that—he opened his arms wide, keeping his seat with the sheer strength of his legs.

It was the closest to flying a mere mortal could get.

“Braggart!” Paisley’s laughing voice called out, her horse catching up to Nyx.

“Ye’re just jealous!” he shouted back, tilting his head up as he soared along.

“One rabbit hole and ye’ll be done for!”

He chuckled. “Ten rabbit holes and I’d still win!”

There was a method to his madness; he heard the success of it in her heartened tone. While he liked to win as much as any man, this was no true competition but a distraction for the incredible young woman who might be about to get her heart broken twice over.

They charged across the rugged moorland like thunder, passing each other, falling back, drawing level, keeping the race interesting. Had it been any other lady, Camden would have let her triumph, but Paisley was not like other women—she would not appreciate having victory handed to her.

“Ye’re holdin’ back!” she shouted.

He glanced over his shoulder, surprised to see her closer than he had expected. “Aye, but nae with the race!”

“Ye’re incorrigible!”

“Och, that might be the nicest thing ye’ve ever said to me!”

Up ahead, a rusty portcullis served as a decent end line, the bleak walls of the castle rushing toward the riders. They did not slow down, giving it their all, riding on until they had no choice but to ease their horses back into a walk or risk colliding headfirst with the metal grates of the castle entrance.

They were level throughout that last thrilling stretch, Lux and Nyx matching one another beat for beat. The two mares did not appear to realize they were in the middle of a race, mirroring each other’s rhythm.

“Pull up!” Camden called, alarmed by how quickly the portcullis had come upon them.

Paisley noticed at the same moment, turning Lux in a sweeping circle to slow her down. Nyx had already slowed to a plod, and though there was no way of knowing who had won, it did not matter. The brightness of Paisley’s eyes, the grin on her face, and the rosy hue of her cheeks were enough of a prize for Camden.

“I’d call that a draw,” she said breathlessly, bringing Lux to a halt.

Camden smiled. “Me too.”

Dabbing the perspiration from her brow with the edge of her sleeve, she turned her gaze up to the battlements. A frown hardened her soft features, her grinning mouth flattening into an anxious line, her back ramrod-straight with tension.

“Whatever happens in there, I’m here,” Camden said, hating that the distraction had not lasted. “Say the word and I’ll take ye far from this place, wherever ye want to go.”

She turned to him, offering a nervous smile. “I’m glad it was ye. I’m glad it was ye escortin’ me.” She looked back at the portcullis and shouted up, “Is anyone there?”

A grizzled soldier with a bow in hand, an arrow nocked, peered over the gap-toothed edge of the gate battlements. “What’s yer business here?”

“I am Paisley Callum, daughter of Laird and Lady Morris,” she replied without fear. “And this is Laird Cairn.”

The soldier frowned and leaned forward, squinting. “Lady Paisley?”

“Wait…” Paisley’s eyes flew wide. “Is that ye, Kildare?”

The nocked arrow clattered from the bowstring, the soldier’s mouth falling open while the color drained from his face, as if he were looking down at a ghost.

“Is it really ye?” Kildare managed to say.

Camden wondered what the odd, squirming feeling in the middle of his chest was.

I’m nae jealous. I havenae been jealous in all me thirty years.

“I could tell the tale of when ye let a pig loose in Margaret Henderson’s chambers and it took six men to get it out,” Paisley replied, her stiff posture relaxing a little.

Kildare’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Lady Paisley! Mercy, give me a moment—I’ll tell them to open the gate at once!”

He vanished behind the battlements and, a short while later, an almighty screech jostled the insides of Camden’s ears. The portcullis screamed upward, figures darting around the courtyard beyond, no doubt spreading the word that the lost daughter of their Laird had returned at last.

“Take a deep breath,” Camden suggested.

Paisley nodded, and he watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she did just that. He could not imagine what was racing through her mind, nor what manner of welcome she was about to receive.

He hoped, for her sake, that she was about to be pleasantly surprised, but a stone of doubt sat heavily in his stomach.

“I cannae believe it!” Kildare appeared from the side of the gate, his grizzled face lit up by an astonished smile. “I thought ye were familiar, but… I cannae believe it’s ye. How long has it been?”

Paisley pretended to count on her fingers. “Eleven years.”

“Nay, it’s never been that long!” Kildare took Lux’s reins in hand, leading the Laird’s daughter into the courtyard.

Camden narrowed his eyes and slipped down from Nyx’s saddle, determined to be the one to help Paisley down from hers.

“I assure ye, it is,” Paisley told the soldier.

Camden caught up, offering her his arms.

Bashfully, Paisley swiveled and put her hands on his sturdy shoulders, their eyes meeting as he slowly lifted her down and set her on her feet. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes, her hands still resting on his shoulders while his hands had not moved from her waist.

I would kiss ye if ye werenae already worried about the reception ye’re goin’ to get…

“Where have ye been then, all this time?” Kildare’s probing voice snapped Paisley out of it, much to Camden’s chagrin. “Some said ye went to live with yer aunt, some said ye’d died, others said ye’d gone to be a lady-in-waitin’ at the palace in Edinburgh. I wasnae sure what to think. Ye were here one day and gone the next.”

Weaving her arm through Camden’s, sticking close to his side, Paisley replied shyly, “I ought to see me maither and faither before I start regalin’ everyone with tales of where I’ve been.”

“Aye, of course,” Kildare replied, gesturing for the stablehands to come and take the horses.

Pride swelled in Camden’s chest, smothering that obnoxious, squirming sensation that did not sit well. Paisley felt safe with him, and he would give her no reason to think otherwise.

“Come on, sweetlin’,” he whispered in her ear and led her across the courtyard to what he could only assume was the entrance to the castle—a weathered set of double doors that stood wide open despite the blisteringly cold wind and the constant threat of rain.

As they stepped into a drafty entrance hall that somehow felt colder than outside, servants and castle residents stared at them, all business skidding to a halt. Camden could not decide if it was because Paisley had returned and no one knew what had happened to her, or if they rarely received any visitors at all.

Camden met their astonished gazes and used his most authoritative voice, the one he reserved for his council chamber. “Might one of ye fetch Laird and Lady Morris instead of gawkin’ like we have two heads each?”

But there was no need.

A figure in a light gray dress, a thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders, burst out of a hallway on the left. She skidded to an abrupt stop as if she had run very fast from wherever she had been. Her familiar green eyes widened to the whites, her thin hand pressed to her heaving chest as she gasped a heartrending cry of, “Me wee girl. Me dear, dear girl—ye’ve come home!”

Paisley squeezed Camden’s arm, a tentative smile of hope appearing on her beautiful face.

Evidently, she had not yet seen the other figure lurking beneath the archway that her mother had sprinted out of. Camden had. The older man with a thick head of red hair, streaked with yellowish white, needed no introduction. From the steely look in his hazel eyes, he could be no one other than Laird Morris.

Camden glared back at him.

Hurt her and I’ll make ye feel whatever she feels twice over.