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

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

“Dinnae think of me too often, eh?” Camden said, helping Paisley down from the saddle. “If ye do, the nuns might start to suspect that ye havenae quite returned to the convent in the same condition that ye left. A blush of the cheeks can be a traitorous thing, spillin’ yer secrets without ye ever openin’ yer mouth.”

He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb across the apple of those rosy cheeks, her skin soft and smooth, like silk. It was far less than he wanted, far less than she deserved to experience, but it would have to do.

One more night in that inn of ours. Just one more night.

Despite his longing, he kept the wish to himself.

Paisley had had hours of riding to change her mind, yet they were still there at the bottom of the cobblestone path that led up to the ominous double doors of the convent—thick oak studded with iron bolts, and two iron ring handles as big as Paisley’s head.

“Ye… remember me sayin’ that?” Paisley pressed her cheek into his hand as if she too craved more of his touch.

He smiled. “I remember most of what ye said to me.”

“I’ll be careful nae to blush then.” She pulled away and stood awkwardly for a moment, absent any belongings.

Just a woman hesitating on the threshold of her future. Did she want Camden to give her a push toward the convent or pull her back to him?

It wouldnae make a difference. I cannae give her what she needs.

He let out a low whistle, gesturing up the path. “Nae exactly welcomin’, is it? I guess that’s why it’s a closed order.”

“It’s nae so bad inside,” she replied.

He gazed up the high front wall of the convent, his military mind assessing the height and security of such a fortification. A ladder could easily allow unsavory characters to enter, and even such a sturdy door would not withstand a few shunts from a battering ram.

The forest to the south and west would give good cover to anyone who wished to inflict harm, while the moorlands to the north and east left the convent vulnerable to attacks.

It’s a nunnery, for pity’s sake. It would take a twisted soul to threaten such a place.

The trouble was, he knew of one such twisted soul.

“Here.” Camden reached into one of the saddlebags and took out his hunting knife, sheathed in simple leather. “Take this.”

Paisley stared at it in the same way that a hermit from the mountains might look at the ocean for the first time. “What am I to do with that?”

“Nothin’, hopefully.” He pressed it into her hand regardless.

“I cannae take it, Camden.”

She tried to give him the knife back, but he pressed it flat against her chest, giving her the kind of stare he gave the councilmen who dared to question his decisions.

“If ye dinnae take it, to appease me, I’ll swoop ye up into me arms and kiss ye against those doors so hard that yer darlin’ nuns will think there’s an invasion,” he said, thinking for a second that he might just do that anyway.

Paisley balked and hurried to hide the blade beneath her habit. Judging by the movement of her hand under the coarse wool, she had tucked it into his second-most favorite part of her divine figure—her bosom.

“Well then,” he said, draping an arm around Nyx’s neck. “I’ll be on me way. Ye have a quiet life. Believe it or nae, I do hope it’s the real life ye desire.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, fidgeting with the rosary beads of her scapular. “Can I ask ye somethin’?”

As long as it’s “Can ye take me back to yer castle and show me what I’m missin’ out on?” then aye, ye can.

“Aye,” he said instead.

“Will ye stay there and wave to me while I go inside?”

His heart cracked for her, picturing a thirteen-year-old girl being led into that strange place, through those ominous doors, abandoned by a father whose primary job was to keep her safe.

“I’ll stay and wave ‘til after ye’ve gone inside, even if it gets me chased off by furious nuns,” he told her.

She laughed shyly, already transforming back into the novice nun who had turned his world upside down. “Goodbye, Camden.”

“Goodbye, sweetlin’.”

She turned slowly. He watched her shoulders rise and fall, drawing in a breath of courage. Then, she walked toward the future she had chosen for herself—the first choice she had ever been permitted to make. And just because it was not what Camden would have chosen, it did not mean it was wrong.

I’ll miss ye, love. Mercy, I’m goin’ to miss ye.

It took every shred of willpower he possessed not to run after her, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her back to Castle Cairn. She would only have hated him for it.

Concentrating on Nyx’s damp hide, stroking his hand down her sodden mane, he stayed where he was and raised his free hand, waving it. She knocked on the door, trembling in the rain, looking back every couple of seconds to make sure he was still there.

At last, the door opened, and a pool of amber light spilled onto the cobbles. She looked back one final time, a brave smile on her face, and stepped into that welcoming glow.

The door closed with a thud, Camden’s purpose served, his first brush with something like love coming to an abrupt, bewildering end.

“That’s it, then,” he mumbled.

Nyx nickered, nosing his thigh.

“Aye, lass, I willnae forget her either.”

Stuffing his hands into the warmer, dryer folds of his kilt, he turned away from the convent and began the long journey back to Castle Cairn, content to walk for a while. The saddle would feel too empty without Paisley sitting in front of him.

Och, what would be the harm?

The glowing lights of The Eagle beckoned to him like will-o-the-wisps, singing a soothing song to his weary, cold bones. Night had fallen over this corner of Scotland hours ago, the moonlight shrouded by unyielding rainclouds, all the stars blotted out. And there would be hours more of the same if he did not stop to rest his tired body and overwrought mind.

“What do ye say, Nyx?” He patted the horse’s neck.

The mare snorted in agreement, tossing her majestic head.

He grinned, grateful that he still had one stubborn lady in his life. All she asked for was good oats, a warm stall to sleep in, a decent rubbing down after a vigorous ride, and as many apples as he was willing to give.

The stablehand looked as sleepy as he had the morning Camden had brought Paisley there, but his expression sharpened as he approached Nyx. Recognition creased his brow and tightened his mouth.

“Is she goin’ to bite me this time?” the stablehand asked as Camden slid down from the saddle.

“I cannae tell ye,” Camden replied. “She does as she pleases.”

Grimacing, the stablehand took the reins while Camden made his way toward the hazy glow of the inn. It looked prettier at night, the candles and lanterns an angelic sight to any exhausted traveler. The scent of hearty cooking wafted out, confirming his suspicion that this was the best decision he had made all day.

The sound of chatter greeted him as he ducked under the low lintel and into the inn. Behind the bar, the innkeeper raised a hand in welcome, his eyebrow quirking as he seemed to realize that Camden was alone this time.

Rumors will abound that I’ve lost me touch with the lasses.

He was not certain he cared, striding over to commandeer a table in the corner. A tankard of earthy ale and a bowl of steaming pheasant stew with a chunk of fresh bread were quickly laid in front of him, the innkeeper sending his boy to serve the food and drink, apparently understanding that Camden might not be in a talkative mood.

Letting out a breath that came from somewhere far beyond his lungs, deep in the core of him, he had just torn off a piece of bread to dip into the hearty stew when a familiar face caught his eye.

The woman sat in the opposite corner of the room, her shoulders hunched, her head bowed as if to make herself appear smaller. She wore a dark cloak, but it had fallen back from her face, revealing a cascade of summer blonde hair tinged with gray. Her eyes, when they darted hither and thither, were the color of his favorite patch of moss in the forest, where he had enjoyed some of his most peaceful naps.

What is she doin’ here?

He was up and asking her that very question a moment later, so hasty in his approach that he still had the piece of bread in his hand.

Annie Callum stared at him as if he had just drifted through the walls, clanking chains.

“Laird Cairn?” she gasped, a trembling hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Is it really ye?”

“Aye, and I asked ye a question,” he replied tersely.

He had to remember that she was not the one who had hurt Paisley. Annie had not even known where her daughter had been sent to, assuming she was living a merry life with her aunt. In truth, her only crime was being so na?ve, so trusting of her husband that she had not bothered to try and visit her daughter throughout the eleven years they had been apart.

Annie swallowed loudly. “I… I came to find ye, Laird Cairn. Ye and me daughter.” She hesitated, peering around the bulk of him with furtive eyes. “I left nae long after ye did. I had hoped to reach ye by tomorrow, after askin’ these fine people how to reach yer castle.”

Ye’re too late.

He held his tongue, letting the silence stretch between them. It was a trick he had learned from the grim-faced, grim-mannered, all-around grim Murdoch, who had explained that—unlike him—people could rarely bear silence, often rushing to fill it. Sometimes with answers to questions that had not been asked yet.

“I couldnae endure it, Laird Cairn,” Annie continued in a hurry. “I couldnae just sit by and let me daughter leave like that. I wouldnae have been able to forgive meself. Truth be told, I should have left with the two of ye, but… I was afraid. I didnae want to believe that me husband had lied to me all these years. I thought there must be a reason, but… if there is one, he didnae enlighten me. I begged him to, but he was just… a wall, shutting me out.”

Camden pulled back the nearest chair and sat down. “Ye came here by yerself?”

“I had nay choice.”

“Does he ken ye’ve left?”

She shrugged, her face a picture of misery. “He will by now.”

Camden squashed the piece of bread in the palm of his hand, cursing the heavens for not intervening on the one occasion where it would have been useful. He had considered stopping at this very inn with Paisley, after all. If he had, maybe her mother could have convinced her to stay in the outside world. Maybe she could have given her a better reason to remain.

“Have ye a room here for the night?” he asked tightly.

Annie shook her head. “I left in such a hurry that I didnae bring much with me. I had enough coin until last night, but I dinnae have anythin’ now.”

“Let me take care of that,” Camden said, getting up. “But as soon as the sun rises, Lady Morris, we’re ridin’ to the convent, and ye’re goin’ to tell her what ye just told me. Ye’re goin’ to give her a reason to stay. Ye’re goin’ to promise to make up for everythin’ she longed for and couldnae have for a decade. Do I make meself clear?”

Annie nodded effusively, wide-eyed in the face of Camden’s barely restrained wrath. “Aye, Laird Cairn.”

“Good.” He marched off toward the innkeeper, praying that he would at least have two rooms for the night.

I let her go too early.

Camden did not know how quickly novice nuns took their vows after returning from an unexpected absence, or if there was any protocol at all for that kind of thing, but he hoped there was still time to get Paisley out before she was shut in behind those inferior walls forever.