When she came to stand beside him, Caithren’s eyes flashed hazel fire. “Is that what you think I’ll be doing?”
He raised both hands in mock self-defense. “I know you better than that. But the fact remains you could do nothing more than that if it pleased you. Whereas my wife—”
“You are thinking of marriage, aren’t you?”
“I think I might love her,” he blurted. As soon as the words left his lips, he knew they were true. Feeling suddenly unsteady, he braced himself against the solid stone wall. “That’s reason enough to marry her, aye?” His voice shook slightly.
Cait gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Are you sure, Cam? You’ve known her but a few days.”
He gazed out over the busy quadrangle for a spell. “How long did you know your new husband before you decided you loved him?”
“Not much longer,” she conceded, looking thoughtful. “Maybe the Leslies just fall fast.”
Cam snorted.
“So then I have a question for you, Cameron Leslie.” Her face split into a grin. “Why have you wasted the afternoon hanging around here when you could be courting your lady?”
“She invited me for supper,” he admitted.
“Then go ready yourself,” she said. “You look like a drowned rat.”
She gave him a shove toward the keep and the stairs, and he was off without another word.
“Just don’t go gathering flowers to impress her,” she called after him.
NINE
“HE KISSED ME, Gisela.” Clarice paced her friend’s small cookshop. “Just like that, and then he asked me to go home with him to Scotland.”
Gisela pushed a strand of flaxen hair back under her mobcap. “And when he comes tonight, what will you tell him?” she asked, her words directed to the table where she was counting the strawberry tarts Clarice had brought her.
“I don’t know what to tell him. He cannot have been serious, anyway.” Drawing a deep breath, Clarice took the empty basket off her arm and set it on the table. “Watch where you’re running, Mary!”
“You as well, Anne,” Gisela chided her sprite of a child as she watched the two girls race around the cookshop. “You’re making me dizzy.” She reached out a plump hand to stop her daughter’s hectic progress. “Go into the back and fetch Mrs. Bradford two loaves of bread.”
“As you wish, Mama.” Laughing, Anne streaked past a lace curtain and into the next room, Mary close on her heels.
Clarice sighed. “I’m still wondering how it is I invited him to supper. I was leaving to go home and dry off, and the words just came out of my mouth, all by themselves.”
“All by themselves, is it?” When Clarice kept her lips pressed tight, Gisela leaned closer. “You like him, don’t you?”
“He’s good to Mary. Patient. He told her a story. And her eyes light up when—”
“This isn’t about Mary.” With a self-satisfied smile, Gisela counted coins to pay Clarice for the tarts. “It’s true your daughter could use a man in her life. Can’t we all?” Her kind brown eyes sparkled when she laughed. “But this is about you, Clarice, and what you want for yourself.”
“I’ve been happy alone with Mary. After what I went through with Will, I value my independence.”
“And?” The money jingled when Gisela scooped it up.
“He’s young.”
“How young?”
Clarice bit her lip. “Nineteen.”
“A young man, yes, but a man grown. If your age difference doesn’t bother him, why should it bother you? Other women will be envious.” When Clarice rolled her eyes, Gisela handed her the coins. “And?”
The money clinked in Clarice’s hands as she toyed with it, pouring the small pile from one palm to the other. “Scotland. He lives in Scotland. For heaven’s sake, I’ve never even been to London!”
“And?”
She lowered her head, and her voice dropped to a defeated whisper. “My skin tingles when he touches me. I”—she looked up—“I’ve never felt like this before.”
“I felt like that once upon a time.” Gisela’s words sounded far away, as far away as where she seemed to be staring. “Then Tim succumbed to the smallpox, and here I am…running the cookshop alone. Alone, Clarice.” Her gaze focused on her friend. “It isn’t good to be alone.”
“I have Mary,” Clarice said doggedly.
And I’m terrified, she added to herself.
“For how many years will you have her?” Gisela asked. “They grow. They grow and they’re gone. You cannot live your life through a child, my dear. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you.”
TEN
“DELICIOUS.” Cameron pushed back from the table. “You’re a woman of many talents. I thank you for the fine meal.”
Her cheeks burning, Clarice rose to clear the bowls. “It was nothing compared to what they serve at the castle.”
“I’ve told you, Clarice, I’m a simple country lad. I prefer simple country food.”
His words weren’t mere flattery—he’d polished off two servings of the stewed venison she’d prepared. She leaned close to retrieve his empty bowl. He smelled fresh and faintly spicy, not just the clean scent of the river, but like he’d bathed afterward at the castle, using expensive imported soap. Her husband had worked hard at the mill and rarely bathed—he’d usually smelled of stale sweat.
She jumped back when Cameron released a great, thunderous sneeze.
He shook his head as though to clear it. “Oh, I’ll admit that once in a while it’s nice to eat fancy. But a man could fall ill eating like that every day, aye?”
“I hope you’re not falling ill now,” she told him, her heart thudding at the sudden thought. The Black Death had swept through England two years earlier, devastating the population. And its first symptom was sneezing.
His face turned red. “It’s just—” Cupping his hands over his mouth, he sneezed again.
Mary stared at him with open admiration. “You have
