Samantha James (21 page)

God above, he did.

At last he breached her, the lash of his tongue blatantly erotic against her swollen core, tasting the dew of a passion that spun wild and out of control. Dimly she heard herself cry out as pleasure reached its zenith, carrying her to the stars and beyond.

She was still moaning when he braced himself above her, his eyes blazing, his arms bulging. He filled his hands with the smoothness of her buttocks. She couldn’t look away as he came inside her, tight and thick, embedded so deep that coarse dark hairs mingled with the flame of hers.

“Meredith,” he said tautly. “
Meredith
!”

There was no holding back for either of them. The kiss they shared was fiercely ravenous, his thrusts torrid and hot. Feeling the hunger in him, the silver glitter of his gaze, knowing he wanted her so made her all giddy and hot inside. Her hips began to circle and writhe, churning with the tempo of his. She felt her
passage tighten and contract around his rigid thickness, again and again. Then everything exploded inside and she was flung high aloft yet again.

Her convulsive shudder but spurred his own. His breath ragged, Cameron kissed the arch of her neck, the place where her pulse thrummed wildly at the base of her throat. He plunged wildly. Once. Twice. Thrice. With a jagged groan, his scalding seed erupted deep within her.

In the aftermath his fingers twined with hers. Easing to his side, he carried their joined hands to the center of his chest; his hand engulfed the small one curled trustingly within his own.

A son, he thought in amazement. I will have a son! A laugh of sheer pleasure rumbled from his chest.

But Cameron was not laughing several days later. In three days Meredith had eaten nothing and drank little, for when she tried, her stomach rebelled. Desperate, he sought out Glenda, for he was well aware she knew of the travails of pregnancy. Hurriedly he told her of Meredith’s plight.

“She is so weak she can scarcely lift her head from the pillow,” he finished grimly. “Can you help her?”

Glenda’s hesitation was almost nonexistent. Her heart went out to him, for Cameron’s expression was harried—he was clearly distraught. Concern for his child? she wondered. Or both…?

She strongly suspected it was both. Laying her hand on his forearm, she gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I will go to her,” she promised softly.

Abovestairs, Meredith’s head still whirled. She’d just stumbled back to the bed from the chamber pot, which now held the contents of her stomach. The door creaked. Footsteps approached.

The thick, dull pounding of her heart seemed to echo through her entire body. “I will be fine,” she muttered, thinking it was Cameron, too exhausted to open her eyes. “Just give me a moment.”

She heard the splash of water in the basin. The mattress dipped. Vaguely it registered in her mind that the weight there was not enough to be Cameron. At the same instant, a cool wet cloth swept down her cheek. She turned into it gratefully, for she felt both clammy and hot. Beads of perspiration dotted her upper lip.

The cool wetness settled on her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered open. Glenda’s sweet features swam before her. Meredith would surely have gaped in startled surprise, had she possessed the energy.

Instead she heard herself mutter, “You should not be here.” Her lids drifted closed. She welcomed the darkness that swirled around her and let exhaustion lead her to sleep. She dozed lightly, and when she opened her eyes, the room was much brighter.

Glenda was still there.

Seeing that she was awake, the other woman moved to the bedside. Gentle hands eased her back to the bed. “Do not rise yet”—the command came in firm but dulcet tones—“for I would have you eat something first.”

Meredith paled. “I cannot eat.”

“You must,” Glenda encouraged, “for the sake of the babe. Please, ’tis but dry bread. Will you at least try?”

Doe-soft eyes met those of fairest blue, one pleading, the other guardedly wary.

Finally Meredith nodded. One morsel at a time, Glenda handed her the dry, crusty bread, instructing her to stay as still as possible while she ate. A full
quarter hour later, Meredith was shocked that she’d not had to bolt from the bed and rush for the chamber pot.

Glenda came near. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Meredith admitted.

“You look better,” Glenda observed. “There is more color in your cheeks.”

Meredith turned her head so that she did not have to strain so to see the other woman. “How is it you knew ’twould help?” she asked after a moment.

Glenda smiled slightly. “My mother was a midwife in the Border lands, before her hands became so gnarled with age that she could no longer use them. She knew much about the birthing of babes, and I listened well.” She paused. “It may help to keep dry crusts of bread at your bedside, to eat when you first awaken, but before you rise. ’Tis a remedy passed on from my mother, from her mother before her, and hers before that.”

Meredith nodded. An awkward silence cropped up. She sensed that neither she nor Glenda knew what to say.

“Glenda, there is no need for you to remain. I know you are here because Cameron bade you come.” It slipped out before she could stop it, and then she could have kicked herself. She hadn’t meant to sound petty and mean, yet one glimpse of the distress on Glenda’s face and she feared she had. Yet before she could say a word, Glenda raised her head. Tears stood high and bright in the golden brown of her eyes

“That is why I came,” Glenda said slowly, “but that is not why I stayed.” She paused. “I must be honest,” she said in a low, choked voice. “I hate what your clansmen did to Niall, to his family…but I can
not hate
you
. Oh, I wanted to”—suddenly it was all tumbling out in a rush, and she could not stop it—“aye, I tried so very hard! Yet the more I saw of you, the more I
see
you, the more I come to know you…” Her tears spilled over into her voice. She began to sob. “Oh, Meredith, I cannot do it. What you said a few days ago—you are right. We are no different than you! As women, we share a bond that mayhap no man can ever understand. Oh, don’t you see…I—I cannot hate you!”

Meredith was struck dumb. Then, as she realized what Glenda was saying, a wellspring of emotion poured through her. She pushed herself from the bed.

Her arm slipped around the MacKay woman’s shoulder. “Glenda. Glenda, please, do not cry—else you will make me weep as well! For nothing would please me more than to call you my friend!”

“Truly?” Glenda’s gaze sought hers.

“Oh, aye, Glenda. Aye!”

Suddenly they were hugging each other, both weeping and laughing at one and the same time.

A short while later Meredith tipped her head to the side. “You said your mother was from the Border lands. How did she come to live in the Highlands?”

“She didn’t,” Glenda said quickly. “Both of my parents were Lowlanders. I did not come to live in the Highlands—here at Dunthorpe—until after my marriage to Niall.”

Meredith was stunned to learn that when Glenda had first arrived, she, too, had felt like an outsider. Highlanders were a breed unto their own, and often looked askance at Lowlanders. Nor, Glenda confided, had it been easy to come and live among strangers.

Nor was her marriage to Niall a love match, at least not at first. Indeed, Glenda did not lay eyes on him
until the day they were wed! Their fathers had fostered together and grown to be great friends, so much so that they pledged their firstborn son and daughter would marry, did God allow it.

The hours sped by; Glenda stayed well into the afternoon. It was odd, yet Meredith felt she’d known Glenda all of her life! Somehow she’d known it would be so. By then Meredith was feeling much more like herself. She was painfully ignorant of such matters as carrying a babe, but Glenda was patient and she felt no embarrassment. By Glenda’s calculations, Meredith was stunned to learn, she was nearly three months gone.

It was much later that Meredith walked her to the arched doorway.

Glenda reached out and gave her a quick hug. “I’ll check on you in the morn,” she promised. “If you’re feeling up to it, will you share the morning meal with the rest of us?”

Meredith swallowed. “Everyone knows, don’t they?”

Glenda’s heart went out to her. “Aye,” she said softly.

Meredith’s heart plummeted. Hot shame washed through her. “How can I?” she said miserably. “How can I ever hold my head up again? Everyone is surely convinced that I am a harlot—and I am!”

Glenda spoke firmly. “Nay, you are not! No one will condemn you for what he did. He took you to his bed and you had no choice in the matter! There are times a man will have his way, and there is little a woman can do.”

Meredith’s eyes avoided hers. “You do not understand. I am. I am a harlot, a Jezebel!”

Glenda was puzzled. “Meredith, it was bound to
happen, so do not judge yourself so harshly! Oh, I know not why, but this babe will be a kind of healing not only for Cameron, but for everyone! And I am not the only one to think thusly!”

“That is not why he wanted this child…why he wants a son! ’Tis to make me pay, a way to give back a part of what my clansmen took from him. He said that if I gave him a son he would release me!” Self-loathing poured through her, like boiling oil. “And I agreed—I agreed!”

Glenda was stunned. “What! He said he would free you, if you gave him a son?”

“Aye.”

“But Meredith…how can you bear this babe, and then leave?”

Meredith went utterly cold inside. “I do not know,” she whispered. “God help me, I do not know!”

She was suddenly shaking from head to toe. What had she done? she thought helplessly. Sweet Jesus, what had she done?

In the weeks that followed, it was a question that plagued her no end. Meredith was more confused than ever. In those wondrous days that followed their time together on the isle, she had put the possibility from her mind—the chance that his seed would find fertile ground within her—foolishly. Oh, so foolishly! Though she longed to feel frozen inside, she could not.

Yet now the moment of truth was upon her. Until now, she’d dared not think of it. But now she had no choice. A child grew inside her, a child of her own blood. Long before the day she felt that first faint flutter of movement in her womb, she knew…

She could never give this child up. She could never abandon her bairn.

Yet how could she forsake her very heart?

She thought of her father. How did he fare now that he thought his only child dead and gone? If Cameron had his way, it would always be so, for she was certain he would never discharge the vengeance in his heart. Aye, if Cameron had his way, Papa would never know of his grandchild, the grandchild that would have brought sunshine into his life and tears of joy to his eyes.

Bleak acceptance was not so easy.

So what was she to do?

She might well have been cleaved in two, caught between the man who had sired her…and the man who had seized her very heart for his own as surely as he’d seized her from the priory.

For when night cast its murky veil upon the earth, she could not deny her own treacherous longing. In the dark of night—and aye, even sometimes in the day!—he whispered tenderly of the delight he found in her embrace.

Cameron was clearly elated at her pregnancy. At times, Meredith couldn’t help but resent him for it. Deep in her heart, she knew that Glenda was right—he would have had what he wanted whether she wished it or no. He had imposed his will upon her, and her swelling belly was but the proof. He would have what he wanted, and no doubt a son!

Yet he was caring and tender—he treated her as if she were precious! She had only to rise and he was there, lending his arm. Glenda was convinced it was her he wanted, but Meredith was not deceived. She was but the receptacle that housed his child.

It was Glenda who helped her through the early bouts of sickness. In the short time that they had grown to know each other, Meredith came to love her as surely as she would have loved her own sister. She knew it was difficult for Glenda, having endured the loss of her own bairn—a bairn she’d waited nearly five years to have. Indeed, Glenda had thought she was barren. Somehow that only made her loss all the more heart-rending. She ached inside for Glenda, and could only hope that Glenda might someday find a man to love and cherish her as Niall had done.

She voiced the concern one day. “Glenda, what of
you?” she asked. “You have remained here these many months. Do you ever long to return to your home in the Borders?”

For an instant, a faraway wistfulness dwelled in Glenda’s golden eyes. “Sometimes,” she said after a moment. “But my parents are gone, taken three winters past. My uncle still lives in the keep. During my time here, I came to know and love Niall’s brothers as my own. Dunthorpe is my home now and ’tis hard to think of leaving.”

Meredith reached out and touched her hand. “’Tis my hope that you will someday find someone to love as you loved Niall. You are so young to be widowed and—and it pains me greatly to think that you might be alone for the rest of your life. I will pray that—”

“Nay, Meredith, do not, for such a thing can never come to pass!” Glenda’s tone was low and fervent. “I have resigned myself to widowhood. Never will I marry again—never. Oh, I know you do not understand! But I could not bear to lose a husband and child ever again. ’Tis far better that I am alone.”

Her words were scored with bitterness. Though Meredith did not entirely agree, clearly it was a subject best left alone for now.

It was some weeks later that she found herself confiding she was hardly averse to Cameron’s touch.

A faint blush stole into Glenda’s cheeks as she remembered how she’d gone eagerly into Niall’s arms, almost from the very first…to the very last. “’Tis no sin to enjoy fleshly pursuits with a man,” Glenda said softly.

“It is when the man is not your husband.” It was a painful truth that Meredith admitted. No matter that he’d taken her to his bed, no matter that he was solicitous and sweet, he did not love her. Of a certainty
he would never marry her. How could he? she reflected bitterly. He would never forget that she was a Munro. No doubt he still regarded her as his fiercest adversary.

It was a burden that dragged at her spirit. To be unwed, yet bear a babe…she felt dirty. Shamed. Yet again she despised her weakness, weakness of both body and will. She could only pray—and she did!—that God would forgive her transgressions…that he would forgive her many failings.

For Meredith could not forget what Moire had said.
He took you to his bed, but he will never take you to his heart. Never, for you are the daughter of the Red Angus
.

Of late it took but a single thought and her throat grew tight with unshed tears. Though Glenda had assured her that women in her condition were inclined to weepiness, it seemed her emotions ran riot. To Meredith it was but one more sign of her weakness.

She caught sight of Moire and Cameron one drizzly morn from the tower window. The day was dark and dreary, an ominous reflection of her mood. The rain began to fall in drenching sheets from a leaden sky. Cameron raised his plaid high above her head to shield her. Together they ran across the bailey, dodging puddles. Near the doorway of the stable, Moire lost her footing. A sinewy arm reached out and caught her up against him. For one timeless moment, Moire braced her hands against Cameron’s chest. She gazed up at him, a smile full upon glistening red lips, a smile he returned in equal measure and more.

An oppressive weight settled on Meredith’s breast, until she felt she was being crushed. With a cry she wrenched away from the window. She could stand no more. She could
watch
no more, but she could not
stop her mind from meandering down a path that led to the future. She was suddenly terrified. What would happen when this bairn was born? Would he cast her out? What if their child was a daughter? Would he cast them both out? And if their child was indeed a son, would he rip the babe from her arms once he had what he wanted and she was no longer needed? Would Moire stand as mother to her child? She could not bear the thought.

You are a fool, a niggling voice jabbed in her head. He can do whatever he wishes, for this is his keep and he is chieftain here. As he once took great pains to remind you, he is the stronger…

The depths of despair encircled her breast. She sat in the chair, staring into the dancing flames of the fire, seeing naught but a future barren of happiness. Never in all her days had she felt so empty inside!

When Cameron strode into his chamber, he was whistling a merry little tune. “Meredith? Meredith, where are you?” He peered into the evening’s gloom, then frowned. Why hadn’t she lit the candles? He finally made out her form, huddled in the chair before the fire.

“Ah, there you are, sweet.”

He strode to her, pulling her up from the chair. But when he tried to take her in his arms, she was limp and unresponsive. He gazed down at her, puzzled and just a trifle hurt.

“Meredith?” He queried her uncertainly. Suddenly fear leaped high within him. “Are you ill, sweet?”

Sweet
. Meredith’s heart squeezed. Was that what he called the lovely Moire?

“I am fine,” she said curtly. There was a pause. “Cameron”—she spoke his name quietly—“what will happen if this child is a lass and not a lad?”

“A lass,” he repeated. He blinked, as if the possibility had never occurred to him, never until now.

“Aye. What if I do not bear a son?”

“Meredith, do you forget I had six brothers? My father sired seven sons—seven!” A laugh erupted, deep and resonant. “Can you doubt I would have a son?”

His arms were still looped around her. Her fists came up to lodge on his chest, not resisting, yet not yielding, either.

“You cannot be certain of that. I may very well carry a daughter and not a son. What will happen then?” She was insistent.

He was determined. “Well, then, we shall just have to make certain the next is a son.”

“The next.” Meredith blanched. “Do you mean to say you would—”

“I would.” His smile was boastful, his eyes agleam as he stepped back. His gaze swept the length of her. “As with the first, it would be no hardship. And I did say I would have a son.”

Meredith stiffened. “You would force another babe upon me?”

His smile was wiped clean. His features hardened, brittle as a thin layer of ice. His lips barely moved as he spoke. “I did not force you, Meredith, and well you know it.”

Meredith pressed her lips together.

He gritted his teeth at her withering expression. “Do not look at me like that. What have I done that is so terrible?”

“You got me with child!”

“You wanted this child. Need I remind you of what you said at the isle? ‘Give me your seed. Give me your son.’” Anger forced the remark from him.

“You would have had what you wanted anyway,” she flung at him. “When the choice is but one, there is no choice at all!”

In some far distant corner within him, Cameron knew she was right. Had she not surrendered, he would have had his way, even if it were under the guise of seduction. Ruthlessly he pushed aside his guilt. But he would not admit it to her, not now!

“You will not find me so obliging a second time.” With an effort she held his stormy gaze. “You leave me no choice, Cameron. Release me.” She would not allow him to know she could scarcely bear the thought of leaving him.

“Release you!” He glowered at her. “So we are back to that, are we?”

Her spine went rigid. Lord, but he infuriated her as no other! Reckless anger lent her courage. “Release me,” she said again. “Now. This very night.”

He scoffed. “To go where? To Castle Munro? From your own lips, you said you would never return there. The man who abused you, who took you from your chamber…no doubt he is still there, Meredith.”

Meredith’s breath caught. Ah, but he was cruel to remind her of that which tormented her so…that which was best forgotten.

“Even if I did return you to your clan, what would you say? When it came out that I took you from Connyridge—that you carry a child of MacKay blood—your clansmen would retaliate. The feud would begin anew. Nor will I allow you to wander at will carrying my child. As for the nunnery”—his lip curled—“it was never meant to be. Admit it, Meredith. Indeed, I doubt you would ever have taken your vows.”

She trembled. It was as if he saw inside her, clear
to her very heart, and she hated him for it. For seeing what she would rather keep hidden. She gave a cry of important rage.

“God, but you are a vile bastard!”

His teeth shone white against his bronzed face. He cast his gaze briefly heavenward. “Lord, will you listen to this? I vow you had best close your ears, for sweet, saintly Meredith has deigned to curse. I must admit, sweet, it springs to your lips quite readily.”

His mockery cut deep. “This child is mine,” she flared. “Need I remind you who carries it?”

“And need I remind you who gave it to you? This child is just as much mine as yours.”

Her breast rose and fell. Blessed be, but there was no arguing with him there. She spoke the first thing that vaulted into her mind.

“If you will not release me, then I will escape. You will not know when or how, but somehow I will find a way!”

A tempest flared in eyes that impaled her with their fierceness. He snatched her up against him. His tone was blistering, his features taut with anger.

“Hear me and hear me well, Meredith. I will not release you, nor will you escape me. Never will I let you go, even if I must chain you in this chamber!”

Her last vestige of control slipped away. A crippling wave of pain slammed through her. He was right. She could not leave here, for where would she go? Back to Connyridge? No, she could not endure the pity of the sisters. Nor could she return to her father—or anywhere on Munro lands. If anyone, especially Papa, should discover that she had been at Dunthorpe these many months, the feud would ignite once more. The thought pierced her to the quick. Dear
God, what if Cameron should die? Killed by one of her own?

Nor was there any need for him to chain her, she realized achingly. For she was already enchained. Chained not by fetters of iron, but enchained by the heart. The soul.

She loved him. She loved him madly, but she would never dare admit it to him. Nay, not when he harbored no such affection for her!

Cameron’s mood was black as a moonless night. Conflicting urges tore at his breast. He was torn between the need to storm back to his chamber and shake her senseless…and to make love to her until nothing else mattered, until all the angry words between them turned to gasping sounds of passionate rapture.

Did she truly think he would release her? He was both amazed and furious. Nay, he would send her nowhere—not to Connyridge or Castle Munro. For he knew her, his pious little maiden. She would be broken and defeated, her pride in shreds, ashamed and degraded. His clansmen might have called it the sweetest revenge of all…

But Cameron could not do it. He could never hurt her like that.

It was Glenda who noted the discord between the two. Cameron spent three straight nights on a bench in the hall, while Meredith spent hers alone. In the morn—indeed, throughout the day!—Cameron snapped at any and all who were unwise enough to cross his path. Meredith’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. The mere mention of his name caused her lips to tremble. Tears flowed she could not control.

Glenda felt like throwing her hands high in mingled disgust and frustration. She had bided her time these
many weeks, for she’d been convinced the pair would see what
she
could see. But it appeared they were too blind. Or too stubborn. Perhaps both.

She waylaid Cameron one afternoon when the hall was deserted. “You are a lout,” she told him.