Samantha James by His Wicked Ways Page B

from his heart. With a venomous snarl on his face, he wrenched his weapon from his boot and hurtled forward.
    But Cameron did not see. He had just begun to turn. “Nay!” came a strangled cry.
    It all happened in a blur. He caught just a glimpse of slender, outstretched arms flinging high…of long silken hair streaming like a glorious copper pennon…
    There was a vicious, upward arc of the dagger.
    A gasp…and then nothing.
    Meredith had stopped dead in her tracks. Her form wavered, like a frail willow in the wind.
    Monty stepped back. His gaze went from his bloodied blade to Cameron’s face. But one glimpse of fiercely glowing eyes was enough to start him blubbering.
    “Christ, man! I—I did not see her! ’Twas meant for you, not h—”
    He never had the chance to finish. Monty died with his eyes wide open, his own dagger buried to the hilt in his throat.

Six
    Cameron whirled. Meredith was staring at him, her expression both puzzled and dismayed. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. A crimson stain bloomed on the front of her gown, a stain that spread sticky and wet.
    An awful dread shot through him, like the shaft of an arrow. Sweet Mother of God! Had the swine killed her?
    Her knees gave way. She began to crumple. Cameron reached her just before she hit the ground. Catching her beneath the knees, he bore her high in his arms. “ Jesu ,” he breathed.
    “Why do you carry me? You—you said that you would not.”
    Her voice was but a breath.
    By the Virgin, what a time for the remembrance! “I said I would not carry you when you faltered or stumbled, and you’ve done neither.”
    She turned her face against his throat. “But I did stumble. And you saw—you saw but you said nothing!”
    What was this? Was she ashamed? He was awash in amazement, frustration, and desperation—and all at once! Trying to hurry, yet not wishing to jostle herfurther, he started back toward their camp. Judging from Meredith’s limp pliancy, Cameron was certain she’d lost consciousness.
    He was wrong. He eased her to the soft, mossy ground beneath the tree. Her eyes snapped open, then sought his. Small fingers wound into the front of his tunic with surprising strength.
    “I pray you…do not…let me die…”
    His throat tightened oddly. Her eyes fixed him with a desperate entreaty.
    “I won’t let you die,” he said almost fiercely. He swallowed her hand with his own. “Do you hear me, Meredith? I won’t let you die.”
    His heart hammering, he bent over her. A bruise already rose on her temple. The front of her gown was soaked through with blood. Without hesitation, he slid the gaping neckline clear of her shoulders, all the way to her waist.
    Her eyes flew wide. “Wh-what are you doing?” she gasped.
    His smile was faint. Ah, but she was ever prim, ever righteous! “If I am to save you, lass, I must first see the wound.” Grimly he noted that even had she so desired, she didn’t have the strength to deny him. One hand fluttered upward, as if to shield herself, only to fall back weakly.
    Her lashes swept down. Her gaze veered away and her lashes fell shut. Had she lost consciousness? It would be easier for them both if she had.
    He paid no heed to the soft round curves now open to his scrutiny, but concentrated solely on his task. Had the wound been but two fingers’ width to her left, her heart would surely have been pierced. The blade had slashed upward toward her shoulder; it penetrated the flesh at the very underside of her breast,there where that tender mound swelled upward. Snatching a linen cloth and his one spare tunic from his pouch, he wiped away the blood. The edges of the wound were clean, not jagged and torn, but he couldn’t tell how deep; blood continued to well bright and scarlet. Though Cameron did not consider himself skilled in the arts of healing, he’d helped tend those injured in skirmishes before, and he knew the bleeding must be stopped. Damn. Damn ! He had no way to close the wound but