“THERE’S A BONNIE loch near Leslie.” Seated on the blanket he’d brought—which he’d positioned as far from any flowers as possible—Cameron crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back against the trunk of a tree. “But not nearly as large as this one.”
Clarice smiled, watching Mary play with her friend Anne by the lake’s edge. “We are fortunate the marquess allows us to enjoy his park.”
Indeed, this patch of England was a sylvan scene, blue water lapping softly at green shores. Friendly swans roamed the gently sloped grassy banks, begging crumbs from the picnickers who sat shaded beneath the tall, leafy trees.
Before they’d eaten, the girls had begged dancing lessons from Cameron. Right there in the open, he’d taught them all a branle, the courante, an almain, and the English pavane. “Lady Kendra’s been busy,” he’d told Clarice.
Now, watching her lick the delicious stickiness of roast chicken from her hands made him envy her lucky fingers. She turned to the huge picnic basket he’d brought with him from the castle. “Lud, there’s enough food left to satisfy the entire village.”
He grinned. “I told Cook I needed to feed four ravenous folk.”
Sipping wine from a pewter goblet, she sent him a mock glare over the rim. “Are you telling me you didn’t prepare all this yourself?”
“Nay.” Cameron crossed his long legs. “I suppose you should know I cannot cook. That’s why I require a wife.”
Though he’d said it in jest, he was pleased to see she didn’t flinch at his words. Maybe she was getting used to the idea.
Tomorrow was the ball, and Sunday he’d be leaving for home.
The realization hit with a stab of desperation. He couldn’t leave her here. Whatever bond he’d felt upon meeting her, since then it had grown. He was more than certain of his feelings now.
Aye, he’d known her but a few days. Aye, it was daft. But he’d always been someone who knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was Clarice.
He suddenly reached to pull her to him, to hold her close, to kiss her doubts away, to convince her, once and for all, that she didn’t want to live without him any more than he did without her.
Her goblet fell to the ground and rolled down the mild slope. With her palms flat on his chest, she pushed away and sat straight. “I cannot.” Her words came in a harsh whisper. “I’m feeling too close, and…you’re leaving.”
She shot a glance to where the girls played by the water, oblivious.
“Clarice.” Fingers on her chin, he gently eased her gaze back to his. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but —sincerely, no jesting—I want to take you with me. If you didn’t believe it before, maybe you will now. You have to now, or it will be too late.” He studied her eyes, the gray bright with a sheen of tears. “Do you truly think it matters that you’ve years to your credit I haven’t lived?”
“No,” she whispered, looking resigned. “It’s—”
“You cannot believe you don’t deserve a baronet. For heaven’s sake, all that means is I own some land. And with it comes a title of sorts. But I’m not nobility, and even if I were, I’d still want you.”
“I know.”
Then why did she look like her heart would break? “Would you be so unhappy, then, to leave the place of your birth?”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “That’s not…no.”
“Are you afraid, then, to come away with me unwed? Afraid for your soul? We needn’t live in sin, Clarice, you mustn’t think I’ll rush you into such things. It’s only that I cannot wait here three weeks for banns to be called. Leslie needs me. And the thought of leaving without you…”
“No…that’s not the problem, either. I cannot marry you, Cameron. I cannot. It wouldn’t be fair to you, can you not see that? I’m older than you, and I’ve—”
“I told you, I don’t care about such things!”
“Let me finish—”
“A handfasting, then—”
“A what?” She blinked, clearly confused.
“A handfasting. At home, we don’t have too many clergymen, as you do here. And so it is custom to join hands, and to pledge to each other and God to live as man and wife for a year and a day. At the end of that time, if no child is conceived, the couple can choose to part ways. When next a priest comes to visit, the marriage is confirmed by the kirk. It’s simple, aye?”
“It’s impossible,” she whispered.
He didn’t understand. “Why would you think so? It’s the perfect solution. A time-honored ritual sanctioned by the clergy, one that allows us to wed before leaving Cainewood.” When she only shook her head, he gritted his teeth in frustration. “What is your objection, if I may ask? I know you like me—no, more than that. And I won’t hear otherwise.”
“Whenever my husband…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, then faded away entirely.
“Aye?”
“I cannot be a true wife to any man,” she blurted all of a sudden. “I was married seven years. Long years. Yet I never once enjoyed sharing a bed with my husband.” Her face blazed red, but she held Cameron’s gaze. “He said I was…frigid. I hate that word. But it fits. When it comes to intimacy, I feel…nothing. Nothing but pain and revulsion and fear.”
Cameron drew a deep breath and let it out. Such suffering she had endured…he couldn’t imagine it, but he sent up a quick prayer that he could somehow help ease it, nonetheless. “That was with him,” he said carefully, taking her hands. She didn’t pull away. “You don’t feel revulsion and fear when I kiss you.”
“That’s different. I had never been kissed before—” His mouth gaped open, and she held up a hand. “Not really. Not the way you kiss me. It was new to me, and yes, wonderful. But I know what the rest is like. I don’t know how other women stand it. I know only that, for me, it can never be something I welcome.”
He knew she was wrong. But he also knew that no words would convince her of that. “It’s sorry I am for you, Clarice. That must have made your marriage even more difficult.”
“It did. Will always said that a night in my bed was akin to…” She didn’t have to say the word. “And truth be told, what he did was not all that different from what that other man attempted this summer.” A single tear overflowed and traced a path down her cheek. “Will never let me forget, for one minute since I married him at fifteen, what a failure I was as a wife.”
“Clarice…” How short her childhood had been. No wonder she seemed mature beyond her years.
“That’s why I was so thrilled to be given Mary.” Her gaze strayed to where her daughter chased Anne along the shore, their giggles floating to them on the breeze. “To have a child, at last, and without having to remarry. I…I don’t know if I can go through that again.”
A strangled sound escaped his throat.
She looked back to him, her features etched with both pain and determination. “You’re young, Cameron. You have love in your heart, and land and a title to bequeath to children of your body. You shouldn’t have to force yourself on your wife to get them.”
How many times had he pictured those bairns she spoke of running around his castle, growing, working with him side by side? He wanted her for their mother. “Would you be willing to try, Clarice?”
She shrugged. “I tried a thousand times, with all my heart. I always hoped that if I tried, he wouldn’t hit me.” More tears ran down her cheeks, and he reached to brush them away, feeling a stab of hurt when she ducked away. “It never worked, and—though I might try again—it never will. Other women speak of joy, of a special bonding. I won’t deprive you of that, not even to secure my own happiness. I’m not that selfish. You deserve better.”
He knew she was wrong—she was warm, not cold, and, with patience and kindness, the right man could overcome the emotional scars of mistreatment.
She was wrong.
But what if he were wrong, instead? What if she knew of what she spoke, and he only ended up hurting her?
Could he live with that?
She rose to her knees, reaching for the goblet that had rolled away, tossing everything back in the basket. “I want you to leave, Sir Cameron.”
“What?” Would she cut out his heart?
“I want you to leave.” She shoved the basket into his hands, then tossed the blanket over it. “Now. Just leave me alone, like you should have in the first place.”
He stared at her for a long moment, until she scrambled to her feet and turned her back.
He slowly stood.
“I love you,” he said.
Her shoulders remained stiff, unyielding. The words vibrated across the chasm that stretched between them.
A chasm it seemed he couldn’t leap. But he would find a way.