Page 47 of In the Highlander's Bed

The leather flap on the tent was lifted.

Both Constance and Fiona expected to see Gordon enter. Instead, a slim woman with curling black hair and vivid blue eyes stuck her head in. Tad growled a warning. The woman looked at Fiona. “Call off the dog.” Her Scot accent was as refined as Fiona’s.

“No one asked you here, Grace,” Fiona responded with even more coldness than she’d shown Constance.

Grace ignored her. “Are the two of you going to come to blows?” she asked in her soft lilting voice. “Because if you are, the other women and I gathered outside would like to see the fight. There’s little entertainment in this camp.”

Annoyed at the interruption, Constance asked, “Who are you?” And what right did she have to put her nose in other people’s business?

“Grace McEachin, the camp whore,” Fiona answered. “She believes she can do and say as she pleases because she has Thomas eating out of her hand. But not around me.” She didn’t wait for a response. “Come, Tad,” she said, and with her shawl still pulled tightly around her shoulders, pushed past Grace, then stopped at the door. “You can come or go, whatever you please, Miss Constance Cameron. I tried to help. You have yourself to blame for your foolishness.”

When Fiona left the tent, Tad followed right at her heels.

Grace released a long sigh. “Every time she adopts that manner, I feel like I’ve just left an audience with the queen.”

“Perhaps she has good reason for being the way she is?” Constance suggested, wanting Grace to be charitable.

The whore would have none of it. “A woman must learn to toughen up to survive. You understand that, don’t you? My impression is that you are a survivor.”

“I’m not dishonest with myself,” Constance replied, “if that is what you are asking.”

Grace cocked her head as if reevaluating her. “So, are you going to leave?”

“How much did you hear?” Constance asked.

“Enough to know” was the cryptic answer.

“No, I’m not leaving,” Constance said, and was pleased to wipe the smug assurance off the other woman’s face.

“Why not?” Grace asked.

Constance bent down to pick up the bundle of food. She had to eat to maintain her strength for what lay ahead. “Because I’ve decided to join your fight,” she said, untying the bundle. There was bread and a hardened piece of cheese in it. She took a bite of the bread.

“Join us?” Grace repeated, no less surprised than Fiona had been.

“Yes. Let’s go out and meet the others.” She started toward the door, but Grace didn’t budge.

“Why would you want to join us?” Grace’s gaze grew speculative. “It’s the Lachlan, isn’t it? He’s caught your eye.”

For the briefest second, Constance wanted to deny it…then changed her mind. “Aye, itisthe Lachlan. A more noble man I have never met. And a more disreputable group of followers I have never seen.” She crossed to stand toe-to-toe with Grace. “Do you think because you are a willing woman, it gives you airs over the likes of Fiona?”

Grace pulled back. Apparently no one had ever challenged her before.

“It doesn’t,” Constance said, answering herself. “You are just as afraid as she is. All of you are. You don’t believe in this fight. Not truly. And so you’re biding your time, not putting a great deal of effort into the Cause or the men who will fight it. Well, I’m not so namby-pamby.” She moved toward the tent flap.

“What does that mean?” Grace demanded.

Constance paused. “Lacking in character. Being afraid because fear is comfortable. Are the others outside? Are they listening?” She didn’t wait for a response but flipped open the flap.

Sure enough, it appeared as if every woman in the camp was gathered around Gordon’s tent, unabashedly eavesdropping. Constance came to face them.

They actually took a step back. Some of them held babies in their arms. Others had small children clinging to their skirts. They returned her stare with undisguised hostility.

Well, that was fine with her. The only onesnotpaying attention seemed to be Mad Maggie, who stood off the side rocking her “Patty,” and Fiona, who was nowhere to be seen.

Grace came out of the tent behind her. Constance didn’t wait for an introduction, but decided to charge right in with her opinions.Charlotte would be proud. No one had ever accused a Cameron of being shy.

“You heard what was said in there?” she asked.