Highlander’s Bewitched Soul Page 12

  Cameron could have steadfastly stayed there forever with her. With every passing moment, he felt stronger, even as she got weaker. He knew that the night would be rough, and he wanted to be beside her, not hiding away in his own tent.

  It was with that knowledge that he gathered the strength he had left and went to see his father. He did not ask Jacob to come, and he did not inquire as to what Jacob was doing at the hour that he wanted to see him.

  Cameron had been brought up to respect his father, and he did not intend to disrespect him, even now. However, he did intend to tell Jacob exactly what he was thinking about Isla and pay the price, whatever it may be.

  “Cameron,” Jacob said when he walked into the tent. “You look well. I did not expect you to—”

  “To survive?” Cameron asked.

  Jacob looked guilty. “No, I did not say that. But I am glad that you are well, and are able to walk around.”

  "As am I, Father,” Cameron said. “It has been a harsh recovery, but I feel that we can finally speak face-to-face, as two men on a battlefield.”

  “A father and son,” Jacob suggested. “Or perhaps commander and—”

  “As two men,” Cameron said, looking him right in the eye. “Who chooses their own fate.”

  Jacob said nothing to that, and he sank into the chair that was within his grand tent. He seemed to be content to listen to what Cameron had to say for the moment.

  Cameron took a deep breath and thought of Isla’s silver hair, blowing in the breeze. He wanted to see her every day of his life, regardless of how smooth her skin or what color her hair was. He needed to see her, and it was with that motivation that he pushed his thought forward.

  “Father,” he said, “I intend to marry Isla.”

  Jacob said nothing for so long that Cameron was afraid that he hadn’t heard him.

  “Father?” Cameron repeated and Jacob finally choked out words of shock.

  “Marry her?” he asked. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Perhaps,” Cameron said. “But I am telling you as a courtesy rather than asking permission.”

  “You do not get to tell me anything, Cameron,” he said. “You are my son and my subcommander. You are not—”

  “I have been those things, yes,” Cameron said. “And I have faithfully served you and listened to you for many years. However, in those years, I have disagreed with you often. I have always kept silent on this, for the matters that I disagreed with you on did not seem to affect me. There has only been one other time we had a disagreement so large that I spoke up, and that was the choice of my religion.”

  “Yes,” Jacob said. “And I admit that when you announced your choice...I hesitated because I did not understand.”

  Those words surprised Cameron. “Do you understand now?” he asked his father.

  Jacob shook his head with a laugh. “No,” he admitted. “I do not. And I do not think that I will ever understand the choice to worship a single god instead of many of them. But I do not have to understand such a choice, Cameron, because you are the one who worships that god, not I. You are the one who gets up early to attend a ceremony and then works a full day. Such things should not bother me, aside from worrying where my son’s eternal soul will be when he dies.”

  “Did you think I was going to die?” Cameron asked.

  “Yes,” Jacob said, without a shadow of a doubt. “I truly did. I knew that you needed time to recover, but it was also part of the reason that I did not come to you. I could not bear to see you in such pain.”

  Cameron put a hand over the wound that was just knitting on his stomach.

  “It’s just a flesh wound, Father,” he said with a smile, even though it was not.

  “It almost killed you,” he said. “And I thank the gods every day that you're still here.”

  “So if it is the gods that you thank, why is there an issue with me marrying a pagan girl?”

  “You don’t know what she is,” Jacob replied and Cameron raised an eyebrow with a smile.

  “I think I am the only one who knows what she is,” he answered. “I am the only one who knows her soul, in this camp where some run from her, and others bow to her.”

  “And what kind of marriage will it be?” his father asked. “What god will you swear to?”

  “All of them, I suppose,” Cameron said, with a shrug. “Provided she says yes.”

  “You have not asked her yet?” Jacob asked.

  “Well, I have,” Cameron said. “But I want to ask properly when the time is right. She is ill now, and I want...I want to make sure that we are both strong and well before I ask her.”

  “She is ill?” Jacob said in alarm. “How can a demigoddess fall ill?”

  “Perhaps when she is denied syrup from a man who no longer lives,” Cameron replied. “David is gone, and with him, the shackles that he held Isla captive in. She did say...Father...she said that you were her captor, as much as David.”

  His father actually had the decency to look ashamed over such a comment.

  “I was,” he said. “I knew what I was buying when I handed over the coin pouch to David. We had to win, Cameron.”

  “If she died, you would have felt no remorse?”

  “No,” he said. “I would have, especially if I had known that I robbed my son of his future wife.”

  Cameron froze at that.

  “You...huh?” He was worried that perhaps his fever had returned, or that he was not hearing his father correctly. Jacob, however, had a smile on his face.

  “If you want to marry her, and you are certain of your choice, I do not want to stop you. You have proven yourself to me, Cameron, and you have certainly been through enough pain for one day.”

  “Are you of the belief that she will perish, and that is why you are giving me permission?” Cameron asked.

  Jacob shook his head. “No. You will not hear me say this often, Son...but I made a mistake.”

  “I’m sorry?” Cameron teased him and put his hand to his ear. “I didn't quite hear you, Father.”

  “I made a mistake,” Jacob repeated, for Cameron’s sake. “And I do not wish to make another mistake like that. I owe you this much, Cameron.”

  “She is not the bride that you wanted for me?” Cameron asked.

  “There was a time when I did not think you would ever come to me with a bride,” he said, smiling. “I was almost grateful when the war came because I knew I would not have to argue with you about brides, then.”

  “I see,” Cameron said. “I would not...I do not think I would have done that to you, Father. I know that I am the last chance to carry the bloodline.”

  “No, you would have,” Jacob said. “And you would not have meant it meretriciously if you had chosen a monk's life.”

  “She will be a good mother to our future children,” he said. “And you will be proud to call her the mother of your grandchildren.”

  “What do you need?” Jacob asked. “To make sure that she is well?”

  “I do not know,” Cameron admitted. “I do not know if there is anything that will help. I suppose I will just...stay with her…”

  “Good luck,” Jacob said. “And congratulations.”

  He embraced his son then, which surprised Cameron. His father was rarely one for embracing another person unless he was overwhelmed with emotions. It had only happened three times in Cameron's memory, and each time was connected to extreme sadness rather than extreme happiness. This was the first time Cameron remembered a smile on his father’s face with an embrace, rather than a frown.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I hope that my marriage is always as happy as yours and mother’s was.”

  Jacob pulled back to look him in the eye.

  “Ah, your mother,” he said, and touched his son’s face. “You have her eyes, you know that?”

  “I remember her eyes,” Cameron said. “She always made me feel safe as a child, as if nothing could get me.”

  “Nothing can,” Jacob said. “
You’ve grown into an heir that I would be proud of.”

  “Thank you,” Cameron said. “I should get back to Isla.”

  “Please send a messenger if you need anything at all,” Jacob said, and Cameron agreed. His father had never offered him help with anything that wasn’t warfare, and he knew that meant things had changed. His father saw him as a man, rather than his son. His father had finally shown him the respect that Cameron had always shown him. Something had changed.

  He left his father’s tent feeling much different than when he walked in. He had thought that he would be in the middle of a screaming match at this point in time, but to his surprise, he felt like he was walking on a cloud.

  He had his father’s permission. He had a plan. Now, all he had to do was make sure that Isla lived through the night, and all would be well. He said a quick prayer as he went back to her tent.

  18

  It had been the longest two nights of Cameron’s life. His stomach ached with the rapidly healing wound, and from holding Isla through her nightmares, through the shivers and sweats of the syrup finally leaving her body.

  Neither of them had really left the tent for two days. He had requested that they move to the edge of the camp, where they could not be heard or seen unless they wanted to be. He had held her through the worst of it, saying nothing when the oyster dye rubbed off in his hands, or when her face turned the shade of a white winter’s day. There were times he wasn’t sure whether she would survive, and those were the times that he looked up to the sky, praying to every god that was up there.

  On the morning of the third day, when she rolled over to look at him, her eyes were clear and her voice sounded smooth.

  “Good morning,” she said softly.

  They had slept just inches apart for the past few nights, and neither had been tempted because of the circumstances within the tent. Now, though, Cameron felt alive and his body tingled as he looked at her.

  “Good morning,” he said to her. “You look much better.”

  “I feel better,” she said. “I feel as if I may survive after all.”

  He laughed and put a hand to her forehead. She had run a dangerous fever, but she had told him it was all part of the syrup and she would be alright. He didn’t quite believe her, but as always, she seemed to be right.

  “You will survive,” he promised her. “Even now, you seem as if you could walk out of here, and all would be well.”

  “Perhaps,” she said and looked up at the canvas of the tent above them. “But why would I want to?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, as he rolled over, lazily. If he was honest with himself, he did not want to leave the tent either. Outside, the world was different. They would face judgment and questions, and he would face shouldering the responsibilities that he wanted to leave behind. Here, he was alone with her, and his only job was to care for her. That was what he wanted, more than anything. He did not want to be a soldier anymore. He did not want to take any men's lives. He did not want to wield a sword and train men to fight. All he wanted was to find a way to survive, alongside her.

  “You did speak to your father, didn’t you?” she asked him. “I don’t remember.”

  He chilled at that and rolled towards her. He brushed a lock of hair off her face. The silver dye had given way to a beautiful blonde that made her look even younger and more angelic. He thought it looked stunning, and he would be proud to have her on his arm.

  “Yes,” he said. “I did.”

  “And what did he say?” Isla asked. “Do we have to run away?”

  He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about that now,” he said, as he gazed into her eyes. “My goodness, you are beautiful.”

  She blushed. “How could you think that?” she asked. “After all that you have seen me do? I must look a mess.”

  “Not to me,” he said. “To me, you look like the woman I want to marry.”

  He moved a little bit closer and leaned down to kiss her lips.

  She did not resist, and he knew that this was a moment that could change everything. He should not be alone in the tent with her because temptation would break them both.

  Isla kissed him back and her eyes lit up as she pulled back.

  “I should thank you,” she said, at last.

  “For what?” he replied. It took a great deal of effort to try and keep his voice even. He felt like every part of his body was fighting to be with her.

  A good man would leave, he thought. A Christian man would leave, and a man who wanted to make sure his bride was intact on his wedding day would leave.

  But Cameron felt like he could not go. Cameron felt so connected to her that he did not want to leave her, for even a moment.

  “For taking care of me,” she said. “There were moments when I did not think I would make it through. But every time I felt that way, I would simply look into your eyes, and I felt as if everything was fine.”

  “I did not do anything that anyone wouldn’t have done for you,” he whispered. She began to touch his collarbone and then snaked her arms lower. She sucked in a breath and then looked up to him.

  “I can make you feel very good,” she said. “If you want me to?”

  “I…” He did not know exactly what she was offering, but he was pretty sure that he had an idea. He nodded because his words escaped his throat, and she began to kiss lower down. She kept kissing until she reached his breeches, and then pulled them down.

  Cameron did not move a muscle as he watched her perfect head begin to bob up and down. She had sprung his member free, and she put her mouth on it before he could say another word.

  “Oh my,” he said when she started moving her mouth.

  He knew this was wrong. He knew the priest who left them the boat would disapprove.

  But at the same time, he had never felt anything more amazing in his whole life. He had dreamed of such a thing, of course, but he never dared say anything to the effect of suggesting she do it. He felt like he could reach the heavens himself, just from what she was doing.

  “How does that feel?” she asked him, as she bobbed her head up.

  “Uh...” He couldn't even form proper words.

  She reached back down and began to stroke his member with her hand. He moaned, and his hips began to buck.

  “Oh…oh…” he said, as he felt a knot start to form at the base of his member. He wasn’t sure he would be able to take much more, and he tried to make sure that she knew it was going to happen. “Isla...Isla...oh…”

  “Mmm...” The vibration of her mouth against his member was too much.

  He had only ever done such a thing to himself and felt guilty about it. Now, he did not have time to feel guilty. He only had time to feel amazing. He had never felt so good in all of his life. He felt like he might explode there and then, and he let out a giant yell as he came.

  Isla kept her mouth on his member until he was finished, and then looked up at him and swallowed. He had never seen anything more attractive in his life, and he could not take his eyes off her while she did such a thing.

  “You,” he said, as his chest heaved, “are truly amazing.”

  “It was nothing,” she said. “At least, nothing compared to what you have done for me.”

  “I have only done what is best for you,” he said. “And I will do it for the rest of your life.”

  She leaned in to kiss him and he felt his body shiver.

  “Isla,” he said, softly in her ear. “May I return the favor?”

  “Yes,” she said. “If you know how.”

  "I do not know how,” he admitted. “Will you teach me?”

  “Oh,” she said, as she smiled at him. “You have never had anyone tell you what worked for them?”

  “No,” he said. “I have never had...I have never even kissed a woman before you. I never wanted to do that unless there was a promise that I was going to marry them.”

  “Perhaps we are not compatible,” she teased him. “Perhaps I do not want to
marry you unless you show me...how amazing I can feel.”

  She laid back and parted her legs slightly. He watched her with fascination as she took his hand and guided it up her thigh

  “All you do,” she whispered, “is imagine that your fingers are...something more.”

  “How do you like it?” he asked her, as he met her eyes.

  “Any way you can do it,” she said. “As long as it is your eyes I am looking into, everything will be fine.”

  His fingers crawled up her leg and under her shift. He had never done anything similar, but he did know that he wanted her to feel as good as he did.

  He crawled his fingers farther up her leg until he found her wet mound. She moaned as he inserted a finger inside of her. She was dripping wet and he knew enough to know that was a good thing.

  “In and out,” she coaxed him. “In and out, please.”

  “In and out,” he repeated, as he began to thrust. He took her advice to imagine that his fingers were his member, and he began to move in a way that he could imagine he was doing the actual deed with her.

  Isla began to moan and he thought he was doing it right. She indicated that she was content, begging him to do more.

  He moved on and she moaned and started to arch her hips. Cameron briefly wondered if someone was going to hear them, but he also realized that he didn’t care. They were outcasts, and they would likely always be outcasts. It didn’t really bother him anymore, the way it would when they first met. He loved her so much that he didn't care what anyone else would be thinking.

  “Cameron,” she said, and gripped his forearm. “Cameron, I’m going to...I’m going to...oh...oh…”

  He felt her squeeze around him and he almost reached another level of pleasure himself. He had never felt so amazing just by looking at someone, but her spasms made him want to go farther.

  “Oh, Cameron,” she moaned, as she rolled onto her side, shivering. He smiled and removed his hand to stroke her side.

  “Was that alright?” he asked.

  “That was amazing,” she said. “I have never felt so good.”

  He leaned down to kiss her and then lie beside her.