CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

Next morning Camilla and Ross were up with the lark, taking turns to shower and dress in the bathroom, with never a reference to last night Evidently they were both agreed that it was a foolish lapse, best forgotten.

By the time they crossed over to the farmhouse, looking for breakfast, Davie was already out in the fields and Katharine was down in the back garden, hanging a gargantuan load of washing on the line, while three of her boisterous brood played cops and robbers among the chickens. At the sight of her two guests she immediately abandoned her task and, beaming, ushered them into her kitchen.

'Sit you down,' she commanded. 'I’ll make you fresh porridge and toast.'

And there was no arguing with her, either. As Camilla started to protest that there was no need for Katharine to put herself out that she was perfectly capable of preparing breakfast for Ross and herself, Kate waved her protestations aside. 'If you want to make yourself useful,' she smiled, 'you can keep an eye on the bairns for me.'

Ross was already doing a good job of that The two smallest of the youngsters, Robbie and baby Kirsty, had followed the grown-ups indoors and were now clustering excitedly around 'Uncle Ross', chattering and laughing and vying for his attention as he lifted Kirsty on to his knee.

As Katharine busied herself at the Aga at the far end of the kitchen, Camilla watched the scene with interest, greatly impressed, as she had been last night, by how totally at ease Ross appeared to be with the children. And they with him. Impressed, too, by the way he seemed to become almost like a different person in their company. Relaxed and gentle, of infinite patience, so unlike his usual self.

Dressed in his customary jeans and, today, a plain black roll-neck sweater that echoed the darkness of his hair and brought into dramatic sharp relief the strong, handsome lines of his deeply tanned face, Ross's tall, powerful, ultra-masculine frame, that could at times appear almost threatening, seemed miraculously transformed into the guise of gentle protector. It was a role, she knew instinctively, that he would perform both diligently and well. He would be as fierce and unrelenting in defence of those he cared about as he was capable of being when he chose to attack.

The thought brought an unexpected tightness to the back of Camilla's throat. The enemies of Ross McKeown had reason to lie sleepless in their beds, but blessed indeed would be those he loved. For a fleeting second she felt a shaft of regret that she would never know such a privilege—and a flash of envy for the girl who one day would. Then, suddenly feeling his eyes on her, she glanced away, hot with confusion.

'So, what do you think? Will I make a good father?' With almost uncanny precision he had read into her thoughts again. Smiling, he gently loosened the little girl's embrace around his neck and went on to enlighten Camilla, 'I intend having quite a brood myself. At least as many as Davie and Kate.'

'Always supposing, of course, that you manage to find that ideal love of yours!' There was a hint of resentment in Camilla's voice as she shot the challenge across at him. She resented his calm assumptions regarding his own future—but, much more, she resented the way he had made her feel.

'Oh, I shall find her. Have no fear about that' He narrowed his grey eyes momentarily and, suddenly serious, looked her straight in the face. 'In spite of what I said before, I don't really plan to spend my life alone. So I have to find her. Remember, unlike you, I shall settle for nothing less.'

Camilla let her gaze slide away, wincing beneath the bitter bite of his words. What could he, who had been brought up to believe that his every desire was attainable, possibly begin to understand of the need to make do and compromise? In her struggle out of the mire she had learned not to set her sights too high. She flicked an angry glance across at him. Not everyone could hold out for what they desired. Some simply had to settle for what they needed.

He caught her glance and held it his dark eyes taunting. 'No doubt you and Eric plan on conforming to the regulation two point two offspring once you're married? Eric definitely wouldn't want any more than that.'

Suddenly genuinely at a loss for an answer, Camilla observed with a sense of relief that Katharine was bearing down on them with two large, steaming plates. Beaming that luminous smile that seemed to hover constantly round her lips, she laid the plates down in front of her guests. 'Good Highland porridge. There's nothing to beat it,' she announced, pushing a jug of fresh milk towards them and drawing up a chair. 'And now, I'll join you for a cup of coffee before I get on with my chores.'

The porridge was delicious, creamy and smooth, and a million light years away from the tasteless instant variety that was all Camilla had ever known. She put her head down and ate, grateful for the distraction, and tried to shut out the niggling revelation that Ross's remark had brought home to her.

The truth was that she and Eric had never discussed their views on children, nor ever once raised the subject of how many they would have. For the very first time that struck her as odd—though, she told herself firmly, it was a meaningless omission. They had plenty of time to discuss such matters and, she felt sure, Eric's views would coincide with her own.

It was simply irritating to discover that, while she was ignorant of the views of her future fiancé, she was now fully apprised of, and in perfect concord with, those of the arrogant Ross McKeown!

After breakfast they set out on their search.

'I suggest we start off at the old keep where the jewels used to be kept If this benevolent thief you so firmly believe in really does exist it seems the most logical place for him to have put them.'

Camilla could find no fault with his logic, though she knew he only half-believed in her theory. 'Let's go, then,' she agreed, as she hoisted her camera-bag into the back of the Land Rover and climbed into the passenger seat. The sooner they got started, the sooner they would be done—and the sooner they would be able to return to the mainland and end this uneasy alliance of theirs.

The old keep was on the other side of the island and Ross took the rocky coast-road, past spectacular beaches and cliffs, following the inland curves of the hills, purple with heather. Camilla gazed out at the unfolding scenery, then darted a secret glance at the man at her side. What must it feel like, she wondered, to know that one would one day inherit all of this, not to mention Castle Crannach and the enormous estate that went with it as well? To be so securely rooted in, and such an essential part of, the historical continuum of life? Perhaps, in one who knew so securely his unequivocal place in the scheme of things, a little arrogance could sometimes be forgiven.

With a little wistful sigh of understanding she turned her attention back to the road. It was strange. In spite of their almost constant squabbling there was a growing sense of ease between them—like the unexpected sense of warm familiarity she had come to feel for this wild place.

Yet both the place and the man, in spite of their strange pull on her, possessed a danger she was growing increasingly aware of. They posed too many questions she could not answer and threatened to strike at the very foundations of everything she had ever believed in.

After three hours' meticulous search through the semi-ruined clifftop keep, it was beginning to look as though their trip to the island had been a waste of time. They had been through every one of the rooms, hunting through every nook and cranny, but there was no sign of the Ceo do dh’or.

Still Camilla remained unshakeable in her belief that it was there. 'It has to be,' she insisted, not caring how irrational she sounded. ‘There's no other explanation for the way you escaped with your life from that accident.'

Ross shrugged indulgently, hiding his scepticism. 'So, let's go on looking, if you're so sure.'

Half an hour later, they were glad they had.

It was Camilla who had the first suspicion of success. Having searched in all the obvious places, like cupboards and fireplaces and under stairs, she had decided to look in some less likely, and less salubrious spots. Like the old open drains, long dried up, that ran from the kitchens to a ditch outside. With an effort, she had removed the heavy iron grille and was crouching down on the flagstone floor, reaching down into the darkness where her eyes could not see.

At first her fingers waved emptily in the air. There appeared to be nothing there. Determinedly, she stretched a little further. It was as though something was telling her this was the place. Then a moment later her heart nearly stopped as her fingers made contact with something solid. It felt like a box, she thought with rising excitement, but, as she stretched further, struggling to grasp it with her fingers, infuriatingly it slid further away.

She leapt to her feet. 'Ross! Ross! Come quickly!' she called. 'I think I've found them! I think they're here!'

Instantly, he appeared from the next room. 'Where?’ he demanded.

'In there!' Camilla pointed at the open drain, her face alive with anticipation. 'I felt something, but I couldn't get a grip on it. I couldn't quite reach, my arm wasn't long enough.'

'Let me.' At once he was down on his knees, bending over the open drain, one sleeve of his black cashmere sweater pushed back as he stretched his long, muscular arm inside. Camilla stood over him, anxiously watching, feeling the silence almost unbearable as she waited for his response. Then his face broke into a slow, soft smile. He nodded. 'I think you're right.'

The next moment, with a bit of delicate manoeuvring, he lifted the object from the gaping drain. It was covered in dust, but instantly recognisable as the little carved wooden box that contained the Ceo do dh’or. Or had. Her heart in her mouth, Camilla watched as, rising slowly to his feet, Ross carefully turned the silver key. Without a word, he lifted the lid, then turned the box round for her to see. And there, on their bed of deep blue velvet, unharmed, lay the precious jewels.

'I knew it!' She could have jumped for joy. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck. Her blue eyes sparkled with happy triumph. 'Somehow, I just knew they were here!"

Ross was grinning from ear to ear, evidently as thrilled as she. 'I suppose that's what they mean by woman's intuition. I'm glad that, for once, I paid it heed.' The dark grey eyes sought hers then held them for a moment. Thanks. Camilla.' he offered sincerely. 'I don't mind saying that if it hadn't been for you I would never have thought of looking here.'

'But how did they get here? Who brought them? We still don't know that. Or why.' Camilla's smile broke into a frown. 'It must have been that young man that Davie spoke about. But who on earth could he have been?'

Ross shook his head and smiled at her, as, carefully, he closed the box. 'Right now I'm not naming any names, but let's just say I have my suspicions. Well find out if I'm right all in good time. The important thing is, we've got the jewels back—and the one I have to thank is you.'

He paused, the dark eyes scanning her face, then, taking her totally by surprise, he stepped towards her suddenly and caught her jaw in the cup of his hand. The grey eyes twinkled into hers. 'Accept this as a token of my gratitude,' he murmured with a smile as, deliberately and quite unhurriedly, he reached down to plant a kiss on her lips.

It was quite the nicest kiss she had ever received. Soft and warm and gently lingering. But its gentleness concealed a fiery sensuality that quite literally, took her breath away. As his fingers slid round to the back of her head, trailing through the silky strands of hair, she felt the blood grow warm in her veins and her heart begin to beat against her ribs.

Then, as his lips grew firm and moved against hers and the warmth of his hard male body pressed close, she closed her eyes, with a little sigh, lost in the sweetness of the moment. For somehow, here and now, this shared kiss between them seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

As they drew apart, he looked down at her tenderly. 'I suggest you do your photographs while we're here. We're leaving the island tomorrow, remember. You won't get another opportunity to photograph the Ceo do dh'or in its original setting.'

Camilla nodded. 'I was thinking the same.' Though that was not really strictly true, she admitted with a secret smile to herself, as she went off to collect her camera-bag. What she had really been thinking was that she wished that kiss could go on forever!

The light and the setting were perfect. These photographs promised to be quite spectacular, Camilla realised with quiet pleasure as, up on the battlements of the old keep, she shot roll after roll of film. They would definitely be the high spot of the book. Quite possibly the high spot of her whole career.

From a discreet distance, Ross watched, his grey eyes filled with fascination as he observed the intent, graceful movements of the blonde-haired girl. Camilla could feel his eyes on her, but for once the dark gaze didn't bother her. Oddly, she found his presence soothing, even encouraging, in a way. Strange, she found herself thinking in passing. Usually, when she was working, she disliked an audience.

It was well after lunchtime by the time she had finished. Ross glanced at his watch as she packed her cameras away. 'I suggest we go back to Kate and Davie's now and see if we can rustle up some lunch. I don't know about you, but I could eat a horse.'

'Me too,' Camilla agreed. Then she giggled and met his eyes. 'Let's just keep our fingers crossed that Kate's got a couple of horses in the freezer.'

'If she hasn't, we’ll send her down to the supermarket to buy some.' Ross was smiling, holding her eyes. Then, as she started to swing the camera-bag over her shoulder, he reached out and caught it with his hand. 'I’ll carry this,' he insisted. 'It's far too heavy for you.'

At the brush of his fingers against her arm, Camilla felt an involuntary shiver, and the oddly intense look in his eyes sent fingers of excitement down her spine. Still, she managed to look back at him levelly. ‘There's really no need, you know. I carry it about all the time.'

He swung the bag easily over his shoulder, tucking the Ceo do dh'or box under his arm. 'Not today you don't, young lady.' His free hand went round her shoulder as he led her across the battlements towards the stone stairs. Today you're going to be given the royal treatment. It's no more than you deserve.'

Camilla smiled to herself. Such a display of chivalry—so unexpected and, frankly, so pleasing! Enjoy it while you can, she told herself wryly. This good humour of his may not last.

In that prediction she was to be proved right though she could never have guessed how his humour would change.

It was as they were climbing into the car, her camera-bag and the Ceo do dh'or stowed away in the back, that a sudden thought occurred to her. 'What are you going to do with the jewels now that you've found them again?' she asked.

He revved the engine and slipped into first 'Why, I'm taking them back to Castle Crannach, of course.'

It was not the answer she had been expecting and, quite frankly, it appalled her. 'But how can you think of doing that after what almost happened?'

He glanced across to meet her eyes. 'What happened, Camilla, was coincidence. I told you before, I don't believe in curses and still don't believe in them now.'

'But why take the chance?' she insisted, aware that his answer bothered her perhaps more than it should. 'Why not leave the jewels in some safe place on the island? You don't need to have them at the castle.'

'I want them at the castle, and that's where they're going.' There was a sudden impatient edge to his tone. ‘They've been kept at the castle since long before I was born. I can see no reason to change that now.'

'But look at what happened to your father! Do you want the same thing to happen to you? At least leave them on the island till your thirty-fifth birthday. Surely a few months wouldn't do any harm!'

This time he did not look at her, though she could see his irritation in the set of his jaw. 'You're wasting your breath, Camilla. Just drop the subject. Please.'

But she could not. He was putting himself in pointless danger and, somehow, she had to make him see sense. To his silent annoyance, she was still arguing her case as they drew up outside the McLeod farmhouse.

There appeared to be no one at home. Katharine had evidently taken the kids and gone out Stiff-legged, Ross led the way round to the but'n'ben at the back. 'Well just drop off your bag and the jewels, then see about fixing ourselves something to eat.'

Camilla followed him, seething with frustration. She had the distinct impression that throughout the latter part of their journey he hadn't been listening to a word she'd said. As he laid down her bag and locked the Ceo do dh’or in a cupboard in a corner of the room, she remained standing in the doorway, glaring at his tall, impassive frame.

Angrily, she addressed his broad back. 'Are you always so damned pig-headed about everything? Don't you ever listen to anyone's opinion but your own?'

He turned and looked through her, heading for the door. 'I'm hungry, Camilla. Let's go and eat.'

But as he made to come past her she stood her ground in the doorway, like a mouse attempting to block the path of a lion. 'Why do you have to be so damned stubborn? Can't you see it's for your own good?'

He was standing over her, the dark eyes like lasers. 'Camilla, kindly let me past I'm starting to get sick and tired of all this nonsense.'

His attitude was infuriatingly condescending, as though he were dealing with a blameless but tiresome child. And his next move, she anticipated, would be to gently but firmly remove her from the doorway, like some inanimate object that had got in his way. Angry resentment welled up inside her. She would not simply be brushed aside! On a sudden impulse, she raised her fists and began to beat her forearms against his chest.

'Damn you, Ross McKeown!' she shrilled. 'Won't you listen to what I'm trying to say?'

He caught her wrists and held them securely. 'My dear Camilla, I've already listened enough. And I can assure you that physical violence isn't going to succeed where irrational argument has already failed.' He paused for a moment, looking down at her, and, through the irritation of before, another emotion seemed to flicker in his face. 'As I said, I suggest we forget all this nonsense and go and fix ourselves something to eat.'

'But it's not nonsense!' She struggled to free herself. 'How can you be so sure?'

Still he held her. 'It is nonsense, Camilla. Your concern, though flattering, is misplaced.'

As he looked down into her eyes, she glanced away, suddenly embarrassed and confused by the depth of that concern. Defensively, she told him in a quiet murmur, 'I just think you're being foolish, that's all.'

'Foolish? You may be right' He continued to look down at her, still holding her lightly by the wrists, and again there was a flash of that other emotion deep down in his eyes. He smiled strangely and leaned towards her. 'And tell me about this, Camilla. Is this foolish, too?'

Then there was a moment, a long, endless moment, before his lips came down to cover hers.

As his mouth claimed hers, he released her wrists so that she was free to escape if she wished. But instead, as his arms slid round her waist, drawing her more firmly against him, Camilla felt her body melt against him, hungry for his touch.

His kiss, at first, was soft and gentle, a teasing whisper of sensation. Yet Camilla was instantly aroused, sweet shivers of longing sweeping through her. Then the pressure of his mouth grew firm and hungry, and she could feel the passion rise in him as he prised her trembling lips apart and entered her sweetness with his tongue.

A shudder went through her then as, already half inebriated with the conquering heat of his mouth on hers, she felt his hand push beneath her sweater and slide upwards to cup her breast In one impatient movement he had pushed the lacy bra aside, so that the swollen firmness of her breast fell naked and eager into his hand.

His body was hard against her own, making her moan with growing anguish, then she gasped aloud as with wicked precision his fingers squeezed the tight hard nipple.

That was the moment she realised later, as a sweet sharp ecstasy went shooting through her and an urgent longing gripped her soul, that she knew in her heart that there was no turning back The wild emotions that ravaged her senses could not be tamed and pushed aside. It was too late for that. She was in their thrall. As with a human cannonball being shot out of a cannon, the touch-paper of her desire had been ignited and she had crossed the point of no return.

Ross seemed to sense the half-conscious decision. He drew back for a moment and looked into her face. 'Are you sure, Camilla?' he asked.

She nodded and leaned against him, longing to feel the naked touch of his flesh. 'Absolutely sure,' she confirmed resolutely. She had never felt more sure of anything in her life.

Without another word, then, he led her through to the other room and the bed where she had slept alone last night Now, with a sigh, she let him lay her down, his fingers caressing her hair, her face, as he began to peel her clothes away. And she, compliant and eager, shrugging impatiently out of the thick grey sweater, wriggling free from the restricting grey wool trousers. She could not be rid of them quickly enough.

How odd, she thought fleetingly, mildly bemused, as her underclothes joined the heap on the floor, that this should all happen so easily, so naturally, when I have never been naked with a man before.

Then he was lying alongside her, his hard, naked body pressed close to her own, and she could feel her senses singing as his warm lips pressed kisses against her flesh. He kissed her temples, her cheek, her chin, the warm, scented hollow of her throat then swept round to her shoulder and back to her earlobe, making her sigh and shiver deliciously as he nuzzled against the crook of her neck.

'My sweet thing,' he murmured against her ear, his voice low and grainy, thick with the need in him. 'Finally, you're going to be mine.'

His hands swept urgently over her flesh, her shoulders, her neck, the dip of her waist, pausing to caress the curve of her belly before scooping upwards to claim her breasts.

Camilla gasped with fierce, sweet pleasure as his palms brushed the pink, erect peaks of her nipples, making the blood bum in her loins and her body tremble and arch against him. Instinctively her own hands reached for him, boldly, without inhibition, her fingers tracing the broad, muscular shoulders, the hard, flat planes of his belly and chest, matching caress for caress, pleasure for pleasure.

'Oh, Camilla, I want you. I want you so badly.'

Hotly, burningly, his lips moved over her, her throat, her collarbone, her shoulders, her breasts, then she gasped, sensation exploding right through her, as he paused to draw one nipple into his mouth. The pleasure was excruciating as he tugged hungrily at the aroused, aching flesh, his tongue flickering wickedly, like a serpent's, making her moan deep in her throat.

'Ross! Ross!' She had never burned like this before, never longed so desperately for any man. Nor known before that any man could respond so passionately to her.

When at last he came to her, their bodies seemed to slip together like silk. At once, her heart and her body were filled with him. With his power, his passion, his fierceness, his strength.

And through the agony and the ecstasy of this joining of their bodies, as he carried her on magic wings towards release, in one secret, barely conscious corner of her mind, wonderingly, half-disbelievingly, it occurred to Camilla in a flash of pure joy that this was how she had always dreamed it would be, yet never really dared to hope.

Next morning Ross and Camilla were down at the little jetty, waiting for the ferry, in plenty of time. They had not spoken a civil word to each other since they had left the McLeods'. The air between them was electric.

Resolutely Camilla stared straight ahead, avoiding even a flicker of a glance in Ross's direction as they drove up the narrow metal ramp and parked the Land Rover on the port side of the ferry. She longed desperately for this voyage to be over, to be back in safe seclusion at the Stag Hotel, with Ross out of sight and, hopefully, out of mind up at Castle Crannach.

Her heart ached with a pain she could not even define—yet which was fierce and numbing, for all that. The magic between them that had flared so unexpectedly had turned to bitter cinders long before nightfall.

For one thing, despite her pleas, Ross had remained immovable on the question of the Ceo do dh'or. In callous disregard of her protestations, it was with them now, in the car, on its way back to Castle Crannach. But that particular difference of opinion, hotly disputed though it had been, was not the real reason that she had gone to bed with the taste of bitter bile in her mouth.

Camilla felt her stomach tighten, remembering what had passed between them last night, and put up a silent prayer that, for the remainder of the journey, the subject would not be raised again. But, as she had feared, her prayer fell unheard.

They had almost reached Gairloch on the mainland and were standing uneasily together by the guard rail, ostensibly looking out to sea, when suddenly, in a cool, hard tone, Ross remarked without preamble, 'So that's the end of that, I take it?'

His words were like a skewer driving into her heart Yesterday, when they had made love, had felt like a beginning that could never end. But in a cool tone, that masked the pain in her soul, she answered now without a quaver 'I told you, what happened was a foolish mistake. I lost my head. I didn't know what I was doing.' With difficulty, she focused on the hard grey eyes. 'So, as I told you before, you're fooling yourself if you think for one minute that there'll be any repetition.'

She had made that clear to him last night when he had so shamelessly tried to talk her into an affair, wounding her terribly and bursting the bubble between them. Yet the expression that now shone from his eyes was as cool and unrepentant as it had been then.

'So, you didn't know what you were doing? I rather got the impression you did. Never mind.' His gaze twisted sharply. 'At least now you'll have a real experience to compare with all those passionless nights that lie ahead for you with Eric.'

His harsh words fell upon her like a curse, and her heart seemed to shrink with the chill wind of their truth. Yesterday would live for ever inside her, a constant pain, an unforgettable pleasure. Yet defensively, vindictively, she heard herself answer, 'Don't flatter yourself! I've practically forgotten yesterday already.'

In stony silence they drove up to the castle, a wall like a glacier rising between them, both totally unprepared for the latest surprise that fate had waiting in store for them.

For, standing on the castle steps, looking incongruous in a grey City suit waiting for them, stood Eric.

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