Page 18 of A Scot for Bethan (The Welsh Rebels #6)

Without warning, and before he could say anything, the music stopped.

The onlookers burst into applause, the dancer to Bethan’s left released her with a bow.

When she faced him square on, she appeared slightly dazed.

Automatically, his right hand encircled her left wrist. Mo chreach !

It was so small, so delicate. It made something inside of him melt, a completely new sensation.

Usually she stirred his anger, his protective instinct, or his lust. But never this… tenderness, for want of a better word.

Oh, and the way she was looking at him! Her eyes were wide, her lips were parted, her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed incapable of coherent thought. He dared not think how he would look right now. If how he felt was any indication, she would certainly take fright.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he said at long last. “Why should I want to keep you with me?”

Who was he asking the question to, her or himself?

He had no idea, but he dearly wanted to hear what she had to say, as they both knew she did not belong to him, she was not his to guard, and he should not want to keep her with him at all times.

Heart hammering hard in his chest, Cameron waited, hoping Bethan would come up with an answer that would help him see how ludicrous he was being for wanting to spend his time with her.

She took in a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something she found unpleasant. “I-I don’t know why. I’d understand if you preferred to go speak to someone else now that the carole is over. But please, will you first?—”

“No.” He would prefer nothing other than being with her. And he would not let that wretched Sir Alan get her back in his clutches. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you die of boredom with Sir Alan.”

Let the man try to take her away from him if he dared. He would soon discover that when applied properly, a punch from a determined man could match the best of maces for effect.

Wrapping her hand on the crook of his elbow, he led her toward the door.

“Come. Methinks it’s time for me to act like the insufferably high-handed monster I’m supposed to be and take you out of here.”

“Now what do we do?”

From her vantage point on the battlements, Bethan looked into the distance, to the line of dark trees piercing the sky, making the usually flat horizon appear jagged.

Had everything been torn part today? She certainly felt nothing like her usual self, had not for a week.

Since she had set eyes on Cameron Campbell that night by the gate, her life had been ripped into shreds.

She did not see how it would ever go back to normal now.

Was it even possible, considering that in less than two weeks she would be married to a stranger? Her life had been irremediably altered, whether she liked it or not.

Well, for now she was here, so she had better make the most of the reprieve.

True to his word, Cameron had dragged her all the way across the bailey to the west battlements with the air of someone who would not be denied, adding credence to the tale that he was the demanding, unreasonable man she had claimed him to be.

They were now well away from all the activity—and Sir Alan and his blasted maces.

She could breathe at last. Though to passersby she would appear to be taking the air in the company of her betrothed’s uncle, the furious beatings of her heart made it clear that things were not as innocent as they appeared.

She was alone in the dark with a man she desired like she had not desired anyone else, and she wasn’t sure she would stop him if by some miracle he decided to draw her into his arms and kiss her into surrender.

For she couldn’t be the only one feeling the tension between them, could she?

“We’ll wait here a while, and if anyone comes too close, we will pretend to be arguing,” Cameron answered her question calmly. “If we play our part well, no one will want to interfere, believe me, least of all your Sir Alan. You’re safe as long as you’re with me.”

Mm. Safe from what, Bethan wondered? She looked at the torch burning bright by the gate some distance away. The flickering flames seemed to mirror the fluttering sensations dancing in her chest. Though in the darkness she could barely see Cameron, she could feel him, smell him, sense him.

“So. It seems you were telling the truth after all,” he said, fingering the hilt of his sword as if he’d seen an invisible enemy.

“The truth? What do you mean?”

“You do spend your time being harassed by men. Was Sir Alan the only one after you tonight, I might ask?”

“I’m afraid I do not know. While he was detailing the most gruesome ways of smashing a man’s skull to pieces, he didn’t leave any opportunity for anyone else to get a word in edgeways, myself included,” she answered with spirit.

The notion that she could have spent the evening with Cameron instead, and gotten to know him better, made her angry.

What a waste of time this banquet had been.

“Once I informed him of my pending wedding, it was even worse. Having appointed himself as protector of my virtue, he did not allow anyone to get within twenty feet of me.”

“A wonderful evening, then.”

She snorted. “Wonderful, indeed. It made me wish I had a mace with which to try out all the things I’ve learned tonight.”

Cameron gave a throaty laugh, and she realized that she had only seen him laugh like this with her.

During his dealings with Lord Sheridan, he’d been efficient and to the point.

At Castell y Ddraig, with her brother, he’d done his best to appear reassuring.

With his men he was focused and commanding, and he’d been affable but somewhat distant with Sir Patrick.

Only with her did he allow himself to relax.

She loved it, because it allowed her to do the same, and be herself.

“What about you?” she asked. “I imagine that you had to fend off women’s advances all evening? With men in such short supply, you must have been besieged.”

Although… Had there been ten times as many men present tonight, a man like him would still have stood out and been a target of choice for the ladies.

Cameron gave an exaggerated sigh. “As a matter of fact, I was besieged, as you say. Fortunately, my extensive experience in the art of rebuking women made the task of keeping them at bay easy. Lady Cecily was very persistent, though.”

Sir Patrick’s wife’s younger sister, he meant, next to whom he’d been sitting.

A woman a few years his senior, widowed but still a beauty, she would have begged her sister to place their handsome guest next to her during the banquet.

What had the two of them talked about? Not flanged maces, that much was certain.

Had Cameron surrendered to her wiles and agreed to go find her in bed later tonight?

Jealousy pierced Bethan’s gut at the thought.

But why would he refuse her invitation? They were both free to act on the desire they felt, unlike her.

“Her name is Lady Cecilia I think,” she murmured, looking straight at him. The moon crescent had come out from behind the clouds, and she could now see his face better.

“Is it? It’s possible. I’ll admit that I wasn’t paying too much attention to what she was saying,” Cameron confided, leaning in toward her.

“How rude of you!” She made a point of chiding him but secretly, she was pleased the woman interested him so little that he didn’t even remember her name.

“Aye. Positively scandalous.” He straightened back up and crossed his arms over his chest—his very broad, perfect chest. “But tell me, apart from maces, what did our friend Sir Alan talk to you about?”

She reddened, understanding what he was trying to do.

“Very well. You’ve made your point. I did not attend to what he was saying either.

” She guessed, rather than saw, Cameron’s smirk.

“You know, you should give me some advice about how to get rid of undesirable suitors, seeing as you are quite the expert at it. What do you do to repel them?”

Instead of answering he eyed her up a long moment. “Whatever I do would be of no use to you I’m afraid, Bethan.”

Again, the use of her name, like a warm caress on her senses. She could not find it in herself to protest, even if she perhaps should. It felt right to hear him use it.

“Why is that?”

“Because for a set down to work, you have to mean it and I’m afraid that you do not have a ruthless bone in your delectable little body.

” Delectable? She barely had time to absorb the impact of the word before he carried on.

“You are also far too concerned by what people might think and what is proper to be honest. Fortunately, I don’t suffer from the same problem.

” His mouth twitched, an obvious attempt at hiding a smile.

“You’re right,” she mumbled, feeling dejected. She did not have what it took. “I’m too weak to make it work.”

“That’s not quite what I said. And I do not think you weak, not in the least.”

She was taken aback by the comment. He seemed to say that she shouldn’t change the way she was, even if it meant that she could not get rid of undesirable people when she needed it. This, right after he had called her body delectable, was enough to transform her insides into gruel.

“I’m easily embarrassed,” she clarified, “something I know couldn’t happen to you.”

“Why is that?”

Cameron was curious. Bethan had given his character a lot of thought, if she thought she knew what could or not could happen to him.

The notion pleased him, because he, too, had spent a lot of time thinking about her in the last week.

It was the first time they were talking so openly.

He had explained to her why he hadn’t wanted to become laird the other night, but this felt a lot more personal.

They were discussing their characters, not their role in life. The distinction seemed important.