The images and dreams floated away in the cold dawn light, birds coming awake outside in the yard. Cameron’s eyes were sandy, but he felt strangely alert and rested.
“Was that meant to be my breakfast?” he asked.
Ainsley turned beautiful gray eyes to him. “That’s what I told your cook. My brother Patrick’s horse always loved bannocks when she grew ill. It seems far more effective than any draught in a black bottle.”
“She does seem to be perking up, Dad.” Daniel stuffed another bannock into Jasmine’s mouth, and Jasmine ate it greedily. Her nose still dripped mucus, but her miserable look had gone.
Horses were maddening. They could be right as rain in the morning and drop dead that night, or be as near death’s door as a horse could get and then make a full recovery a few hours later.
Jasmine couldn’t not feel better with Ainsley hand- feeding her. The horse crunched the next oatcake as Cameron got to his feet.
“You’re awake then,” Ainsley said. “You were twitching a bit when we came in. Bad dreams?”
“Nothing important.” Cameron heaved himself to his feet and went to stand next to her, absorbing her warmth. He couldn’t very well tell her, I’m sorry I didn’t come to your room and finish our debauch, in front of his son, Angelo, and the other men, but the look she gave him told him he didn’t need to say a word.
“Are the letters safe?” she whispered to him.
He nipped her earlobe as he answered. “Locked in my room, and no one, but no one is allowed in there but Angelo, and he’s incorruptible.” He gave her a pointed look. “Remember that.”
Ainsley sent him a cheeky grin. “I’ll consider it.”
Jasmine ran her horsy nose across Ainsley’s placket and closed her teeth over one of Ainsley’s buttons. Ainsley squeaked as Jasmine jerked off the button. Cameron swiftly took it out of Jasmine’s mouth before she could swallow it and pulled Ainsley back as Jasmine reached for more.
“You see?” Cameron said, lacing his arms around Ainsley from behind. “She knows exactly what should be done with all those buttons.”
Ainsley and Daniel went inside for breakfast soon after that, but Cameron remained. Training needed to begin, sick horses or no. The routine never stopped, and Cameron had the other racers to consider.
But he felt good. His crazed dreams had dissolved like mist in the sunlight, and he was back to remembering being inside Ainsley. Jasmine seemed to have passed her crisis, and if she were truly better, Cameron would arrange to spend that night with Ainsley. And the next night, and the next. All winter, in fact. He’d send telegrams to his man of business in Paris to begin the lease of his usual house and to hire a lady’s maid for Ainsley.
He hoped that Ainsley would return to the stables while he worked, but she didn’t. Cameron rode with Angelo and the others and didn’t see her among the guests that turned up to watch the training. She’d likely been pressed into service by Isabella again.
When Cameron returned to the house hours later to wash and change, he nearly ran into Beth coming in through the front door in bonnet and gloves. The house was quiet, the guests nowhere in sight.
“Is Ainsley with Isabella?” Cameron asked Beth.
Beth blinked at him in surprise. “With Isabella? No, Ainsley’s gone. I’ve just come back from putting her on the train.”
Chapter 16
Cameron stared at Beth while the color drained from his world. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”
“Back to Balmoral. She had a telegram from the queen this morning.” Her voice softened. “I’m sorry, Cam. You didn’t know?”
“No, I bloody well didn’t know.” No good-bye, no bothering to send him a message.
“She didn’t even have time to pack,” Beth said, tugging off her gloves. “She took a few things with her and asked me to send everything else on.”
“And you let her go?” Cameron’s voice thundered.
Beth’s dark blue gaze burrowed past his anger. “It was a summons from the queen. She couldn’t refuse.” She hesitated. “Do you remember when you taught me how to ride a horse?”
“What the devil does that have to do with anything?” The world had dropped from under Cameron’s feet, and he was falling, falling.
“You were so patient with me, even though I was completely ignorant about horses. You found me a horse that would be gentle and easy to ride, and you went slowly. I learned to trust that you wouldn’t let me fall. And not only because Ian would throttle you if you did.”
“I remember.”
“Then trust me when I say that you will see Ainsley again. And everything will be as it should be.”
Beth looked wise, but this was wrong, all wrong. “Did she leave any message for me?”
“No.” Beth looked apologetic. “She barely had time to say good-bye to Isabella and ask me to kiss the babies for her.”
No good-bye for Cameron, no answer to his pathetic plea. Ainsley, you have to come with me. Say you will. Promise me.
“Damnation.”
Beth touched his arm. “Cameron, I am so sorry.”
Cameron looked down at Beth, the kind but resilient sister-in-law who’d made Ian so happy. He started to answer but just then his jumbled thoughts clarified into a single one.
The letters.
The exasperating Ainsley would never have rushed off to Balmoral without the letters. If Angelo had given them to her . . . Cameron should have remembered that she’d already swayed Angelo to her side.
Without another word, Cameron strode to his wing of the house, took the stairs two at a time, and stormed into his bedchamber. Everything looked as Cam had left it the night before, including the dog-haired impression McNab had left on the bed. The dog in question now padded back into the room.
Cameron slammed across the room to his bedside table. A painting of a cheerful tart hung above it, she sitting on the edge of her bed in her chemise, grinning while she pulled on her stockings. Mac had painted the picture for him a long time ago. Though Cameron had never met the model Mac had used, he liked the way the woman’s cheeky smile beamed at him every morning.
She laughed at him now as Cameron yanked open the drawer. Cameron had locked the drawer, but the little lock was no match for Ainsley’s skill.
The stack of letters had gone.
“Damn it,” Cameron said. McNab sat down next to him. “Bloody rotten guard dog you are.”
McNab thumped his tail.
Cameron drew out a scrap of paper from the drawer that hadn’t been there the night before. Unfolding it, he found Ainsley’s clear handwriting.
On the train, after the St. Leger. I will give you my answer.
She hadn’t signed it.
“Dad!” The outraged cry had McNab’s tail going faster. Cameron slid the note into his pocket.
“Dad!”
“I heard you the first time.” Cameron shoved the drawer closed and faced his son, who’d been running, his kilt dirty as usual.
“Dad, Mrs. Douglas is gone.”
“I know that.”
“Well, go after her. Bring her back!”
Cameron glared, and Daniel took a worried step back. Cameron checked his rage, not liking the frustrated violence boiling up inside him.
“She went to the queen,” he said as calmly as he could. “She had to go.”
“Why? What does the bloody queen need with her anyway? She’s got enough people to look after her without Ainsley.”
Cameron agreed. The beast inside him wanted to rush to Balmoral and damn anyone who got in his way. “I know.”
“This is your fault,” Daniel snarled. “She’s gone, we’ll never see her again, and it’s all your fault.”