Page 11 of A Scot for Bethan (The Welsh Rebels #6)

Chapter Four

A rainbow!

Despite her heavy heart, Bethan’s chest swelled in delight.

Two perfect arcs, one bright and close to the ground, and a bigger, paler one higher up, were stretching their colors over the valley.

It was as if nature was intent on cheering her up with this vision of beauty.

Saying goodbye to Siaspar earlier that morning had been just as hard as parting from the Hunters had been the day before and she dearly needed this small moment of joy.

“Please, could we stop a moment to admire the rainbow?” she asked Cameron, who was riding just behind her, as was his custom. “I’ve never seen such vivid colors.”

From the way he arched his brow she fully expected him to refuse. He had reiterated his intention to press on when they’d left Castell y Ddraig and she knew he was eager to reach Scotland. The request to stop, and for such a trivial reason, was sure to irritate him.

But to her surprise, he agreed with a gracious tilt of the head.

She could even have sworn he was amused.

This was unhoped for. Not wanting to give him the opportunity to change his mind, she jumped down from the saddle and walked over to the edge of the cliff.

Handing the reins of his stallion to Murdo, Cameron followed her.

“The view is quite breathtaking, don’t you think?

” she exclaimed, looking at the rich carpet unfurling at her feet.

After a brief morning shower, the sun was shining once more, and everything was bursting with color and life.

The breeze was making the tall grass in the fields undulate like waves on a rolling sea. “So beautiful.”

“Aye, ’tis beautiful.”

Bethan kept her back turned because she had a sudden suspicion they weren’t talking about quite the same view. Was he admiring the grass dancing in the wind—or her? His voice had gone suspiciously hoarse.

Heat flared in her body because she was suddenly certain he was looking at the swell of her buttocks.

Instinct told her that was where his gaze would come to rest. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed how he looked at her, like a man would look at his next conquest, definitely not the way an old uncle would look upon his nephew’s intended bride.

She had been on the receiving end of such looks too many times not to recognize them.

But with Cameron it was different, better.

He didn’t just give her the impression he found her beautiful.

He made her feel beautiful. Up until now, she had accepted what people, and men in particular, told her because it seemed silly not to.

She was beautiful, it was the general opinion.

It was the first time she had felt it, though.

Trying her best to appear relaxed, she took another step forward. Before she could take another, Cameron seized her by the elbow.

“Careful. ’Twould be a rather nasty fall from here.”

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of falling,” she whispered.

Did he really think her so clumsy? Or did he fear she would throw herself off the cliff to escape a union she did not want?

It was not impossible, but she didn’t protest. The heat of his hand on her arm was as wonderful as it was unsettling and prevented her from thinking straight.

“No one ever intends to fall,” his tone gruff. “And yet it happens.”

Yes. It did. She had not intended to be attracted to the man charged with taking her to her betrothed, but that was exactly what had happened. Bethan took in a shaky breath.

She was falling indeed. Hard.

It had been a lost cause from the start, she had to admit.

At the tavern, his solicitude and manly presence had struck her.

Once she had seen his face in the sunlight, the attraction had become stronger than was wise.

And now that she knew about his penchant for mischief and his protectiveness, she wasn’t sure how she could resist the lure of him.

A rainbow. A bloody rainbow. Cameron shook his head in disbelief.

What was the woman doing? She was not above talking about servicing men on her knees yet here she was, displaying incomprehensible enthusiasm for an arc of colors thrown haphazardly over the horizon.

She’d brought a company of armed men to a halt in order to admire something only a child would get excited about.

And the worst of it was, he’d allowed it.

Forget her, what the hell was wrong with him ? He’d never been so foolishly weak before, especially when he had a mission to accomplish.

“Come,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended, pulling her back from the edge of the cliff.

His heart had jumped in his throat when she’d bent over the abyss, and this reaction had fanned his annoyance anew.

What was he doing, worrying about her thus?

He had better come back to indifference where she was concerned, and fast. But how? It already seemed too late.

Last night at Castell y Ddraig he had been unable to detach his gaze from her.

Being with her brother had brought out the best in her.

She’d been relaxed, she’d smiled, she’d laughed, she’d been even more beautiful than usual—and he’d been utterly entranced.

As if that weren’t enough to make him feel bad, in the morning he’d had to be the one to put an end to the moment.

Feeling like he was doing something wrong always brought out the worst in him and today was no exception.

“We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Seeing the light die in her eyes when she finally looked at him pierced his heart.

Mo chreach ! Did he really have to be such a bastard?

What harm was there in her enjoying a beautiful sight before starting her new life?

A life she hadn’t chosen and didn’t want?

None. He was too unsettled in her presence, that was the problem.

But it wasn’t her fault he found the idea of her being married to Dougal increasingly hard to bear, it wasn’t her fault he was battling ill-advised feelings for her. He shouldn’t unleash his temper on her.

Bethan walked away from the cliff edge without a word.

“Wait,” he called, intent on telling her she could enjoy the rainbow for a little bit longer. After all, it would not be long before it disappeared.

“Why?” The word was as biting as the icicles hanging from tree branches on a winter’s day.

“As you say, we’ve wasted enough time already.

After seven long years and countless delays, having sent his uncle to escort me, I wager Dougal is eager to meet his bride.

I would hate to keep him waiting for a moment longer than necessary. ”

Thoroughly chastened, Cameron turned around to face the valley.

The sky was clear once more. As if nature had decided there was no point wasting its best colors if no one was there to appreciate them, the rainbow had vanished into the air.

The day was unseasonably warm. After the downpour earlier, the sun had started to shine with fierce intent.

More used to the stark climate of his native land than sunny afternoons, Cameron soon decided to call for another halt.

The horse needed a drink, and he needed a break from looking at the lady riding in front of him.

All day long he had looked at her straight back, betraying a courage he could not help but admire, at her hips swaying in unison with the horse’s movement, betraying a sensuality he could not help but want to explore.

Perhaps he should ride ahead of the company, from now on, or at least by her side. Then he might not be so affected by the arousing sight.

“I was about to ask for a halt myself,” McBain replied. “My head is pounding something fierce after the excesses of last night. I’m afraid I overindulged in the excellent ale we were offered.”

“Aye. So I noticed,” Carmeron said dryly. The man had made a fool of himself, just like that night at the tavern. It was quickly becoming a habit.

Bethan gave a side smile, looking almost glad to hear of McBain’s suffering. Apparently, she didn’t like the man any better than he did himself. Ah, so she was a good judge of character, also.

“Our grandfather was a brewer, so Siaspar knows a thing or two about good ale,” she told the men.

“Indeed, it was delicious. That doesn’t mean his guests should ridicule themselves by drinking three times more than they should, though. I suggest a dunk in the river to clear your head,” he added, addressing himself to McBain once more.

And if you drowned, that wouldn’t be the end of the world.

What a bloody fool. Cameron couldn’t wait to arrive and be rid of the man.

He would be sent where he belonged, back to his father’s cottage on the other side of the loch to tend to his sheep.

It was all he was good for. No wonder the clan had preferred to ask Cameron to succeed the old laird.

That Dougal gave his trust to men like McBain was proof enough of his inability to surround himself with competent advisors.

God only knew what would have happened if he’d been put in charge of the clan.

His nephew might well be as brave as any soldier on the battlefield, having taken part in sieges and ambushes from a young age, but he lacked the ability to choose trustworthy men to administer his domains.

Ah well, he supposed, everyone had their purpose in life.

At least the Campbells’ loss was the Bruce’s gain.

Having spotted the perfect place for watering the horses, Cameron called a halt.