Wild Highland Rose (Time Travel Trilogy, Book 2) (15 page)

"You really dinna remember any of it?
"
  She searched his face, looking for answers he couldn
'
t give.

He shook his head, hoping his assurance would be enough.

She sat for a moment, absorbing the sincerity of his words.  "I see."

"
You don't believe me, do you?
"
  He couldn
'
t say he blamed her.  He didn
'
t really believe it himself.  Much easier to accept the fact that he was a murdering bastard, than to accept that he was from another place and time.  Still, at least with the latter, he kept his honor.

For all that was worth.

She pulled her hand from his and stood up, putting physical distance between them, her face purposefully blank of expression. 
"
Nay, I dinna say that.  I just find it hard to believe that your mind is so gone that you canna remember anything about your life.
"

"
I may not be able to prove what I'm saying, but that doesn
'
t mean it isn
'
t the truth.
"

"
So you've said.
"
  Her tone was dismissive.  She was obviously regretting her lapse of control, and some part of him responded with disappointment.

He stood, too, and laid a hand on her shoulder. 
"
Please don
'
t be angry.
"

She shook her head, and stepped back, watching his hand fall to his side.  "I'm no' angry.  I've just had enough soul baring for one day.
"
  She looked up through the bra
nches of the trees at the sky. 
"Whatever it is you
'
re looking for out here, I dinna think you
'
ll find it today.  Nightfall is coming and you dinna want to be out in these mountains after dark."  With that, she turned resolutely and started walking back in the direction of Crannag Mhór.

Cameron stood for a moment in the quiet of the woods, his mind still locked on visions of Marjory with her dying father, her childhood vanishing in an instant.
 
Her hatred had carried her this far
, k
eeping her breathing, helping her to face each day.

Cameron knew something about hatred.  Something important.  Only as quickly as he realized the fact, the reasoning behind it slipped away, taunting him from the dark recesses of his mind.

Hatred killed.  Of that he was certain.  And somehow the lesson pertained not just to Marjory, but to him
self
as well.

With a sigh, he turned to follow her.  There were wolves in the woods, and just for moment, he relished the safety of Crannag Mhór.  An oxymoron probably.  But for the moment he
'
d simply have to live with the illusion.

*****
.

Marjory paced the confines of her chamber replaying the events of the afternoon in her head.
 
She couldn
'
t believe she
'
d opened her heart to Ewen.  No matter how addled, he was still a Cameron, and her tale would no doubt become fodder for many an entertaining evening back at Tyndrum once Ewen shared the story with his father.

If
he shared it, a little voice whispered.

She stopped, staring out at the moonlit courtyard.  He seemed so different.  Changed somehow, as if he were a new man.  Which of course was a ridiculous notion.  No one could change like that.

Still, there was something between them, some link or connection that had surely never existed before.  She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs, fight against her confusion.  There was just so much to comprehend.

It had been so simple before Ewen
'
s accident.  Each day much like the other, filled with plans to keep the Camerons out of Crannag Mhór without breaking her grandfather
'
s hard won peace.  There were days when it seemed unfair.  As if she were nothing more than chattel to be bargained away, but thoughts like those she kept sequestered in a dark corner of her heart.

She simply couldn
'
t function if she allowed her emotions to hold sway.  Which made her reaction to Ewen all the more confusing.  She pressed her hand against the window pane, wishing for someone to confide in.  Someone who loved her.

She knew that Aimil would listen, Fingal, too, for that matter.  But they
'
d not understand.  Their world was as narrowly defined as hers, with no room in it for more than day to day existence
—
and
the
fight against the Camerons.  For the first time in a long time, Marjory wondered if there was something more out there.

Something better.

But as quickly as the thought came, she quashed it.

Life was what it was, nothing more
,
nothing less.  And to fritter away time on foolish flights of fancy was for other women.  Women without responsibility.  This was her home.  These were her people.  They depended on her.  And she would not let them down.

And not even the tingling warmth of Ewen
'
s hand against hers could be allowed to distract her.  Squaring her shoulders, she turned to go to bed, a noise from the other side of the door between her room and Ewen
'
s bringing her up short.

He was awake.

She
'
d heard him before at night.  Pacing, restless.
 
As if the demons that drove her, were torturing him as well.  Sometimes he even cried out.

As if to echo her thoughts, his anguished voice split the night.  He was caught in a dream.  She took a step forward, then stopped.  It was not her battle.  And despite his words, he was not her friend.  There was nothing she could do.

Turning her back, she moved toward her bed, trying to ignore the sounds from the next room. He did not need her help.  He did not.  And saying the mantra over and over, she settled into bed, leaving her candle burning against the demons of the night.

*****

It was the dream again.  Cameron tried to tell himself it wasn't real, but he could feel the rain sliding down his neck, seeping into the cotton of his shirt.  He fumbled with the lock, finally getting the key in and the door open.  His hands were shaking and he felt emotions battling inside him.  Slidin
g into the dark of the car, he
turned the key and reached to turn on the headlights, already knowing what came next.

The lights flashed on, illuminating the blonde.  He wanted to get out of the car, to go to her, but his movements were already choreographed and his hand reached mechanically to the stick shift, sliding the powerful car into gear.  He watched with alarm as the woman in front of him raised her hands, reaching for him, pleading with him, her mouth forming the word 'no'.

A silent scream.

He tried to make himself shift again, but he couldn't and he sat, helpless, as his foot pressed down on the gas pedal.

Cameron jerked upright in the bed, his heart racing.  He gulped air, trying to calm himself.  Each time, the dream seemed a little more detailed, almost like his memory was taunting him, dancing maliciously just out of reach.

Clutching the bedcovers, he tried to reconstruct the dream in his mind, but already reality was crowding in and the dream was fading away, slipping back into the dark recesses of his subconscious.  He groaned in frustration.

He wanted to remember.  To help the blonde.  To help himself.  He
'
d remembered other things
,
vague memories of childhood, but nothing concrete, nothing that could clarify his identity.  Or his relationship to the blonde.

Long term memory came first, the small voice in his brain whispered.  What he needed was stimuli, something to jog it all back, but that certainly wasn't going to happen here in the fifteenth century.  He had to find a way back to his own time, to his own body.

His best chance was the landslide.  He had no idea what to expect, but there had to be a door there.  Wasn
'
t there always a door in the movies, or
Star Trek
or something?
 
He sighed, running a hand through his hair.  One thing was for sure, the only way to find out was to return.

But with Torcall
'
s imminent arrival it could be hard to get away.  Ewen would be in much demand, and if his father
'
s hatred ran anywhere near as deep as Marjory
'
s, he
'
d want his son away from Crannag Mhór at all costs.  Especially once Allen started spouting his theories about the landslide.

Cameron shot a look at the door that separated him from Marjory.  He
didn
'
t
believe the woman was a killer.  Still, it was possible that someone had rigged the fall.  And whoever it was might indeed try again.  Cameron rubbed his head, confusion making it ache.  The tangle of lives at Crannag Mhór was almost epic in proportion.  The hatred the two clans shared bound them together in some sort of insane intrinsic dance, tragedy repeating and repeating in the name of revenge.

But it wasn
'
t
his
tragedy.

Yet, even as he had the thought, he knew it wasn
'
t true.  Whether he liked it or not, he was now a part of the pattern, and as much as he wanted to get home, he knew he also had to play his part, to try to avert further deterioration.

A seemingly impossible task.  One he
'
d just as soon ignore.  Again he looked at the door to Marjory
'
s room, thinking of the woman behind it.  It seemed he was uniquely equipped to protect Marjory Macpherson.  Not that she'd actually appreciate anything he did on her behalf.  The woman was really hard to figure out, one minute spilling her guts and the next retreating behind that icy façade of hers.  It was enough to drive a man in any century crazy.

He sighed, knowing he had made up his mind.  He would stay and watch over Marjory, but as soon as the Camerons made their exit, he was out of here.  The decision acknowledged, he felt better.  He was, after all, an honorable man.  At least, he assumed so.

A picture of the blonde screaming 'no', popped into his mind.  He again felt his foot pushing down on the accelerator, and he broke out in a cold sweat, his mind scrambling to erase the vision.

He forced himself to concentrate instead on the imminent arrival of the Camerons.  He'd have to try and convince Torcall that he was Ewen, and, more importantly, he had to convince him that Ewen was fine and not interested in returning to Tyndrum.  How he was going to accomplish this feat he had no idea, but he knew that both Marjory's safety and his freedom
depended on it.

"
They've arrived.
"

Marjory jerked her head up from the plaid she was mending.  "Where are they?"

Fingal strode into the chamber, a frown creasing his brow.  "Downstairs in the great hall."

Cold beads of sweat break out across her forehead.  Torcall was here.  The moment had come.  "How many are there?"

"
Four in the hall and about fifteen or so in the yard.  I have the lads seeing to their horses.
"

"
Added to Allen
'
s men it
'
s more than enough to pose a threat.  But hopefully, with Ewen well, Torcall will hold his men at abeyance.  Tell me who's in the great hall.
"

"
His man, Dougall.
"
  Fingal paused, his eyes searching her face.

Marjory raised a hand to her cheek, seeking a physical cause for his scrutiny.  "Who else is there Fingal?  'Tis best I know the worst of it."

"Ach, I suppose yer right.  Allen's there, of course."  Marjory forced an impassive expression, but Fingal saw right through it. 
"
I wish ye
'
d let me deal with the bastard.
"

She
'
d told him about the attack, and Ewen
'
s rescue.
 
Although she still wasn
'
t certain Ewen could be trusted, she
'
d felt it important to tell Fingal all of it. 
"
What
'
s done is done.  And no harm befell me. 
'
Tis best we forget it.
"