A Laird and a Gentleman (All the King's Men #4) - Gerri Russell Page 0,34

until I take back what is mine.”

“Stand down, Swinton. You have no further obligation to your daughter nor she to you. I’ll never let you harm her.”

His face hard, his eyes catching the light from the windows and smoldering like embers in a fire, Swinton lunged with a slash of his needle.

Without much effort, Cameron blocked the attack, then his blade sliced the flesh on Swinton’s temple just above his ear. A dark ribbon of blood spilled from the wound, running down the side of his bearded face that disappeared into the dark robe covering his body. “Do you yield?”

“Never to one who harbors witches.”

Cameron shook his head. He met her father’s next forceful blow with his sword, capturing the older man’s hand more than his weapon and turning his appendage once, then twice, causing Swinton to gasp with pain. His wrist rolled, forcing the long needle from his hand. The torture device landed with a clang against the stone floor.

The instant Swinton was subdued, Cameron’s men rushed forward. They caught him by the arms to restrain him. But Swinton struggled against their grasp. “We are not done here!” he growled.

“Aye. We are.” Cameron sheathed his sword. His face remained impassive except for a tiny vein that throbbed to life in his temple. “Because you are Mariam’s father, I shall let this indiscretion pass. If you ever challenge me again in my own home, I will not be so kind.”

“The king will hear about this.” Swinton pressed his lips into a thin white line as he stared at Cameron.

Only the square ridge of Cameron’s jaw betrayed the control it took to keep his anger in check. “Aye, he will. I intend to send word to him myself. In the meanwhile, you will stay here as not necessarily a prisoner, but not quite a guest either.” Cameron addressed four of his men. “Take him to the green chamber at the top of the castle. Two of you remain outside the door. We will have a rotating watch while Swinton is here.”

Leaving the dais, Cameron retrieved the pricker’s needle from where it had fallen and handed it to one of his guardsmen. “Lock this away in the armory.” When her father was escorted away, Cameron returned to Mariam’s side. “Are you unharmed?” he asked, his tone solemn, as his hand slipped beneath her elbow.

“He cannot hurt me any more than he already has.”

Cameron’s brow furled. “He has hurt you before?”

Mariam shrugged. “I do not want to talk about my past with my father.” She looked away to the five guardsmen who remained in the great hall with them. “Your men are very protective of you.”

“And I of them. We have been through much together over the years. I would lay down my life for those whom I care for.”

Something in his voice suggested his comment was not directed entirely toward his men. She had not realized she’d moved closer to his side, or that his arm no longer cradled her elbow but was curved around the indent of her waist.

A sudden awkward silence fell between them, sending a shiver racing over her flesh. With her next heartbeat, she stepped back, forcing him to release her. “What do we do about my father?”

He brought his hand to her cheek. She held her breath, willing him to stop. He did not. He brushed his thumb along her jaw in a slow, gentle caress. “We will hold him here until I can send word to King James. Swinton is the king’s agent. The king must decide how we proceed.”

Mariam tensed. “You’ll leave King James to decide if my father’s claim of witchcraft against me is true or not? Judging by Lachlan Douglas’s trial, the outcome will most likely be disastrous for me.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Mariam shuddered. “How will you protect me? If one of the king’s own men can be accused of witchcraft, how are any of us safe?”

“The king is not an unreasonable monster. I believe Lachlan’s trial showed him this fault in his own thinking. The king is a learned man.” With exquisite tenderness, he trailed his thumb down the line of her neck. “Logic will ultimately prevail in these matters.”

With his fingers at her neck it was difficult to breathe, to think. She stepped back further, forcing him to drop his hand. “When has logic ever triumphed in a situation such as this? You heard how many of your own people were killed today as they were swept up