“Perhaps Kenna has mellowed with age. She was once a hellion who ran around in breeches and only cared about riding her horse and hunting with our brothers.”
Cam snorted, a grin playing at his lips. “She hasn’t done so lately.”
When they were young, Marian had teased Kenna about her hoydenish ways, when really it was jealousy. How nice it would have been to go off without a care and do whatever she’d wished. As the oldest daughter, Marian had been primped and polished to perfection. She was enslaved to her duty to the family and was not afforded the luxury of fun.
She’d been paraded around at court and forced to attend tedious parties and dinners. The men who’d flirted had not been like the men she’d known in Scotland. They were all rather foppish. But despite their shortcomings, none of them had wanted to make an offer for a half-English woman from the Highlands. They’d teased her about her accent, which in fact barely remained, thanks to her tutors.
Only the Duke of Endsmere had been interested, having lost his first wife to a fall. It wasn’t until after Marian was married to him and had suffered her own first fall at his hands that she realized the true reason he’d chosen her. He’d been so desperate for a match he’d been willing to take a Scot.
How silly she’d been to think she had won the affections of a duke. Instead, she’d earned the attentions of a man with an evil reputation even in his own circles, and who had no other options. Hadn’t he told her time and time again how lucky she was to have been brought to London as his wife when she was only one step above a whore or a beggar? Most times when he’d said this, she’d been in such pain she knew it hadn’t been luck that had brought her into his lair.
She’d prayed to God for escape, vowing never to care about such trivial things as dresses and hair or making a noble match, if she could only be safe.
Years ago, she’d been told she was beautiful, a sight to behold. Now she was nothing, and she didn’t care if a man ever fancied her again.
Her blond hair was loose; some fell to the front, covering the long scar along the side of her face. In London the fashion was to have only a few curls cascading down, which put her scar on display. Though, only the very brave or most vulgar people dared ask her about it. As with all of her injuries and scars she’d lied, knowing no one wanted to hear the truth…or could do anything to help her even if they’d wanted to.
And no one had wanted to.
…
Cam studied the lass in quick glances as they made their way to Dunardry. He avoided the village, not wanting to be stopped and asked who she was. He wasn’t sure what he’d say just yet.
It was quite a situation.
They were legally married, but would Lach allow it when he’d wanted Cam to marry someone else?
Cam looked at her again and thought she might be lovely once she was cleaned up and smelled better. He cringed at her bare feet, glad it was August so she hadn’t lost her toes to the cold.
“If you thought Kenna was the pretty one, does that mean my sister has blossomed?” she asked with a tender smile. “I always expected she’d grow into a lovely woman one day.”
“She has indeed bloomed,” Cam said and then coughed to cover his smile. He and Kenna were dear friends. He was happy for Lach to have found love with her. And while Cam might at times have felt a twinge of envy and wished he’d had a woman of his own, he knew love wasn’t wise for a war chief to indulge in.
Love made a warrior think too much. As a single man, Cam could rush into the heart of a battle, knowing no one would be shattered if he never came home. Well, except maybe Kenna and Lachlan, and his other cousin, Bryce, who was coming out to greet him as he pulled the cart to a stop in the bailey.
Bryce eyed the half-empty cart and then the lass in the seat next to Cam. “Did you dig her up out of the field?” he asked with a crooked grin.
“Wise arse.” Cam jumped out of the cart and came around to help Mari down. “Mari, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Bryce Campbell.” He turned to the shorter man who still towered over Mari. “Cousin, I’d like ye to meet Marian Fletcher MacKinlay, my wife.”
Watching Bryce’s eyes go wide as he coughed and choked was worth admitting the strange course of events that had landed Cam with a bride.
“Your wife? Are you mad? You’ve only been gone three hours. How did you take a wife?”
“She simply ran out of the woods and we married,” he said, enjoying himself a little too much. It was a funny story to tell, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be all that fun to live with the consequences.
Especially after Lach found out.
Chapter Three
Two little boys ran up and grabbed Cam’s legs, squealing in delight. He picked up the one on his right and held him up to inspect his face. Damn if he could tell them apart, even though Kenna and Lach knew at a glance.
“Are ye wee Douglas or the other one?” Cam asked.
His only answer was laughter. The lads were a little over a year and didn’t say much yet.
“You guessed it right. ’Tis Douglas,” Lach said, following behind. “What is this?” He scooped up Roddy and then took Douglas.
Cam didn’t know how the man managed to hold two squirming boys and still look imposing and in charge, but he’d mastered it when his sons were but wee babes.
“I thought I told you to gather rocks until nightfall.”
“Aye, but I
