A Laird and a Gentleman (All the King's Men #4) - Gerri Russell Page 0,6

he wanted an apology for how she had acted at the tribunal. But she remained as silent as she had there. Only the distant conversation of his guests could be heard in the heavy silence.

She was about to speak when he said, “I will not send you away.” His words were flat, devoid of either anger or comfort.

Mariam’s heart lurched with relief. “I am grateful.”

“You may not be so grateful when I tell you what your silence has cost you.”

Mariam straightened. She was entirely at his mercy if she wanted to remain at Ravenscraig, but she still had a small amount of pride she refused to surrender. “What penance would you have me do?”

“For the moment, you will tend our guests. On the morrow they will depart on one of my ships for Spain with very valuable cargo. There will be much risk to them during their journey. For tonight, I’d like them to forget all except contentment.”

Mariam gaped at him. “You’ll make me stew over what tomorrow will bring?”

“I said I would not cast you out. That should be comforting enough.”

Mariam looked away. “I should have expected that you would serve me back what I have given to others. I deserve as much.”

Cameron grasped her chin and pulled her gaze back to his. “Nay, you do not.” A torrent of wild emotions shadowed his lean and elegant features—anger, disappointment, then pity.

His anger she had prepared herself for, but pity . . . that emotion took her completely off guard. No one had ever cared enough about her to pity her before. Her throat tightened.

“No one deserves either mental or physical torture, but I want you to experience just a hint of the distress you put Lachlan through,” Cameron continued. “I want you to think about what you did to him so you will never do such a thing again. Understood?”

She knew exactly what such torment was like. Had he forgotten who her father was? Instead of arguing, Mariam nodded, then before she could catch her response, hot tears sprang to her eyes. As quickly as they came, she forced the tears deep into the recesses of her soul where her father had driven them years ago.

Mariam Swinton never cried.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Nay, Mariam Swinton never gave in. She might be mean, and self-serving, but she never, ever cried.

*

Cameron found himself experiencing a multitude of wild emotions that brought down his usual defenses. He’d only been away for a week, yet in that time the woman before him had greatly altered.

She had always been a ravishing creature, but one he’d always kept at a distance. Yet, the difficulties of the last week had somehow refined her otherworldly features even more—her high cheekbones, the angular jut of her jaw, her smooth and fair skin with a smattering of freckles across her nose, her luminous, green eyes. Her mouth was full and soft, and her glorious red hair fell unrestrained, against all dictates, across her shoulders and down her back.

Had the burden placed upon her during Lachlan’s trial transformed her, like a precious gem, from one state to another? He ran his thumb over the edge of her jaw. It would be so easy to lose himself in her eyes.

A shudder trembled through her.

He abruptly released Mariam’s chin. Mercy’s sake, what was wrong with him? Mariam was his ward. She’d been placed in his care . . . for him to protect. Over the past year he’d had to work at keeping his attraction to her in check, and for the most part he had succeeded. But in this moment, all of his willpower seemed to vanish. Protecting her was the last thing on his mind. He wanted to throttle her. He wanted to kiss her. And so much more. “I apologize. I did not mean to—”

“You didn’t,” she broke in. “What would you have me do with your guests? Entertain them with a song?”

He frowned. “Nothing so flamboyant as that. These are simple men. I would ask that you help Mistress MacInnes set out the evening meal and then make certain there is plenty of bedding for the sailors in the great hall after their meal.”

A flash of temper flared in her eyes before she turned abruptly away to do as he’d asked. He watched her go—something he found himself doing far more frequently in the past few months than was advisable, or so his conscience warned him. He had pondered the question about what to