Wild Highland Rose (Time Travel Trilogy, Book 2) (20 page)

And of that Cameron had no doubt.
 
But revenge came at a price, and not just to those who were on the receiving end.  The Camerons and the Macphersons were living proof.  One death had led to others and they in turn would lead to more.  It was a never ending cycle fed by hatred.

Hatred that couldn
'
t be stopped
—
unless someone with little to lose could step in and make things change.

It was a heady thought.  And one he did not want to accept.  He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.  He refused to acknowledge the idea that he might have been sent here for a reason.  He didn
'
t believe in things like cosmic intervention.

He was a man of science.

And more importantly, he was a man who wanted to go home.

Cameron had had enough toasting to last his entire life.  At least, he was pretty sure he had.  He'd know for certain when he could think clearly again.  He tried to focus on the fire in the fireplace, but its hypnotic dance made him queasy.  Best he could remember, they'd drunk their way well into the night.

The Cameron contingency that is.  Most of the Macpherson clan had skipped the festivities, and those that had attended had been stoically silent.  Marjory of course hadn
'
t stayed.  She
'
d finished her dinner and left with the frigid regality of a queen.

She hadn
'
t spared him so much as a glance, making it more than clear she thought him a defector.  Although it wasn
'
t entirely apparent why she
'
d think he
'
d do anything less.  She
'
d consistently rejected him, even when he
'
d tried to save her.  Hell, he
had
saved her, and gotten nothing but ice in return.

Damn the woman.  He burped noisily
—
which seemed to be the order of the day for Cameron men
—
and drank from his cup.  In truth, he didn
'
t need Marjory.  He had Aida.
 
No smart mouth on that one, just plain old adoration.  She was up there somewhere, right now, waiting for him.  He looked toward the stairs, surprised to see that there were two sets.

"Have some more, Ewen.  We
'
ll drink to yer health."  Torcall held up his cup, sloshing ale over the rim.

Cameron tried to shake his head, to signal that he
'
d had more than enough, but the gesture was more than he could handle.  Besides, it wouldn
'
t have stopped Torcall anyway.  The man was a bottomless pit.

"To my heir
," h
is pseudo-father called, and the Cameron crew dutifully hoisted their cups.

"
To Ewen
,
"
Dougall bellowed, seeming no worse for wear.  Which was amazing considering the amount of ale he'd personally put away.

"To my brother."  Allen's toast lacked sincerity, but Cameron had already realized that there was no love lost between them.

Like Dougall and Torcall, Allen seemed to be in no danger of succumbing to the effects of the alcohol.  For just a moment, Cameron wished for the man
'
s genes.  Or at least a stouter stomach.

His father waited expectantly.  Never one to disappoint, Cameron focused on both of his cups, concentrating until there was just the one, and, with a satisfied grin, lifted it in salute, somehow managing not to spill.

Looking around at the assembled group, he realized there was not a Macpherson left.  It was only the diehard Camerons that remained, and evidently they intended to stay until the keg ran dry.  A practice he fervently hoped was not a nightly routine.  If so he
'
d  pickle his liver before he had a chance to figure a way out of this mess.

"Are ye listening to me, boy?
"
Torcall asked,
"
I want to know when yer going to end this thing and get the woman with child.
"

Torcall wanted an heir to Crannag Mhór, and he wanted Ewen to provide one.  Which meant that Cameron had to sleep with Marjory.  But that was impossible considering the woman could barely keep a civil tongue in her head when talking to him, and if she couldn
'
t stand the sight of him, she was hardly likely to allow a seduction.

"
She doesn
'
t like me.
"
 
Cameron blinked his eyes slowly, trying to focus.  His tongue seemed thicker than usual.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but he would hazard to guess that whoever he
'
d been
,
he wasn't a drinker.  He certainly didn't have the stamina of these guys.  "Don
'
t see how I can make love to her if she
'
s not interested."  He jerked his thumb toward the stairs, dismayed to see that there were still two sets.

"Since when has a bit o
'
spite stopped a Cameron?"  Torcall asked. 
"
Sometimes a mon has to take what he wants.  Besides, all ye have to do is get the wench with child.  Allen can handle the rest.
"

The two men exchanged glances.

"Handle what, exactly?"  Cameron waited, trying to clear his mind.  He sensed that this was something important.

Allen sneered.  "Dinna fash yerself brother."  He bent close to Cameron's ear, his breath making Cameron want to puke.  "Yer part is simple, I reckon ye can do it in yer sleep."

Cameron tried to make sense of the conversation.  "What do you mean?  Do what in my sleep?"  He closed his eyes, feeling the room start to spin.  He opened them, forcing himself to focus on the nearest object, which happened to be Dougall's face.

"Plant yer seed.  That's the important thing."  Dougall's words had begun to slur, but Cameron couldn't figure out whether Dougall's mouth or his own ears were responsible.

The other men nodded in agreement.

"And I, fer one, am no' leaving until I'm sure ye've done just that."  Torcall straddled a bench, apparently prepared to wait it out right on the spot.

Cameron sobered instantly, panic rising.  Surely they weren't serious. 
"
These things take time.  You can
'
t be away from Tyndrum that long."  The minute the name of Torcall
'
s home came out of his mouth he worried that he
'
d said it wrong, but the man didn
'
t seem to notice, and Cameron sighed, relief flooding through him.

"Aye, 'tis the truth, Torcall.  Ye canna leave the holding unattended fer too long.  Yer enemies are sure to hear o' it and take advantage o' the situation," Dougall intoned seriously.

"I've an idea, Father."  Drinking had only made Allen more odious.  Cameron had the feeling he wasn't going to like what was coming next.

"All right, Allen, me boy, let's hear it."  Torcall staggered over to his son and slapped him heartily on the back.  A smaller man would have been sent sprawling.

Allen eyed Cameron, his expression veiled.  "Well now, lads, I say we make sure that Ewen is doing his best to make sure there's truly a Cameron in the Macpherson's belly."

Dougall looked confused.
 
"I dinna ken what yer saying."

"I'm saying we should watch."

"Watch what?"  Dougall's brows drew together as he tried to follow the conversation.

Cameron felt a dawning of comprehension and the curl of revulsion in the pit of his stomach.

"I say," Allen paused to make sure his father was listening, "we go with Ewen and watch him take the slut upstairs."

"Aida?"  Dougall drained his cup with a single swallow and reached for the pitcher to refill it.

Allen grabbed the earthenware jug, refilling his own cup.  "Nay, man, I mean his Macpherson wife."

Cameron tried to think of something to halt the conversation, but his ale-numbed mind was too slow.

"Tis a grand idea."  Torcall downed his ale, wiping his face with his sleeve.  "'Twould be like old times."

Cameron had no idea what that meant and, frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.  Allen reached for his cup and filled it to the top.  Cameron sipped from it absently, trying to find a way out of this new predicament.  "You know Marjory isn't going to cooperate."

"Since when do you care if she cooperates?  She'll do as she's told.  If ye canna stomach the task
,
brother, I'll be glad to serve in yer place."

The thought made Cameron choke.  No way would he let Allen touch Marjory again.  "Thanks, Allen, but I believe I can handle my wife."  He met Allen's lust
-
filled gaze.  "And I don't need witnesses."  Absolutely freaking right he didn't.  There wasn't going to be a bedding.

"All right then no witnesses.  But the least we can do is walk ye to the door."  Torcall started for the stairs, swaying slightly.

"
Now?
"
  Cameron felt bile rising.

"Seems as good a time as any."  Torcall squinted, studying him.  "Dinna worry, lad, we'll no' get in yer way.  We'll stay just outside the door.  Ye'll never know we're there."  He laughed loudly, ending with a belch.  "After all, a man deserves a little privacy does he no'?"  Torcall cuffed Cameron's cheek.

Dougall and Allen laughed heartily.  The whole group headed for the stairs.  Cameron swallowed convulsively.  Oh God, what had he gotten himself into?  Worse still, what had he gotten Marjory into?

The stairs were narrow and circular, connecting only with the family's private rooms.  Even with torches, the passageway was dark.  It was a difficult trek in the daylight, sober, but in the dark, reeling from all the beer, it was close to impossible.  Dougall made it about ten steps before he started retching.

"Leave him then.  He can follow when he's able."  Allen led the way, obviously looking forward to the coming voyeurism.

Cameron tried to still the spinning in his head long enough to come up with a way out, but his brain was on cruise control and nothing seemed to be working.  The only consolation he had was that he'd bet a fortune that his
'
equipment
'
was also on cruise control and, therefore, beyond what was expected.

They reached the top of the stairs and entered the passageway.  Cameron half hoped to find Fingal sleeping outside Marjory's door, but the hall was empty.  Allen moved back with an exaggerated bow.

"After you,
mo bhràthair
."

Cameron stepped forward.  His heart pounded in his chest, a combination of the climb and nerves.  He forced himself to calm down.  Now was not the time to panic.  He could handle this.  All he had to do was convince Marjory to go along with him and give Torcall and company a show.  Maybe if it was good enough, his pseudo-father would head back for Tyndrum and leave Cameron in peace to find the doorway out of this hellhole.

"Where is everyone?"  Dougall boomed from the top of the stairs.  Evidently, he'd regained control of his stomach.

"Quiet.  We dinna want to wake the lass.  So much better if it's a surprise,
"
Allen whispered loudly enough to wake the dead. 
"
Don't ye agree, Father?"  They reached Marjory's door, and Allen moved to open it.

"Nay, Allen, I told ye, we'll wait out here.  I'd wager, we'll be able to hear most o' it."

Allen sullenly stepped aside, and Cameron moved forward, carefully turning the heavy iron handle on the door.  Nothing happened.

"The bitch has locked us out."  Allen looked crestfallen.  Cameron fought the urge to punch him. 
"
Wait, all is no' lost, lads, there
'
s a connecting door in Ewen
'
s room."  Allen smiled triumphantly.

The three of them were acting like little boys, but they were
big
little boys and Cameron didn't want to rile them.  He moved down the hallway with a sigh, pulling open his door when he came to it.

The others pushed past into the room.  Cameron entered slowly, wishing himself anywhere but here.  He prayed that the connecting door would be locked, too, but before he could finish the thought, Allen had swung the door open on its heavy hinges.

Torcall gave Ewen a little push.  "Remember, the sooner ye get her with child, the sooner ye'll be free o' her."

Cameron paused at the doorway, looking into the black room.

"Have no fear, son, 'twill be o'er afore ye ken it.  I canna blame ye fer no' wanting to bed a Macpherson, but ye've done it afore, and 'tis fer the good o' yer clan.  Think o' it as yer duty."  He placed a heavy hand in the middle of Cameron's back and shoved him into the room.