Wild Highland Rose (Time Travel Trilogy, Book 2) (31 page)

Fingal obviously believed Marjory
'
s story.  Which meant that he accepted the fact that Cameron had swum them both to safety.  But if Ewen Cameron couldn
'
t swim, then that also meant that Fingal must realize he wasn
'
t Ewen.  Which meant that Fingal might
accept
him as a potential ally.  Just like that.  Cameron marveled at the ability of these people to accept the seemingly impossible without batting an eye.

Fingal was right though, Torcall Cameron was a different story.  He wanted his son, not a twenty-first century surrogate.
 
Telling their tale would only put them in danger.  At all costs, Torcall must be made to believe that Ewen lived.  Memory or no.

Marjory interrupted his thoughts.  "We could tell him that the curach washed us ashore during the storm."

"Nay, he'd ne'er believe that,
"
Fingal said. 
"
We found the curach this afternoon.  'Twas smashed to bits."

Cameron frowned.  "Maybe it could have happened after we were safely ashore."

"
'Tis possible, I suppose.  But whatever you tell him, be careful.
"
  He turned his attention to Marjory.  "And no talk of heroes."

Marjory gave him a mutinous look, then sighed.  "Fine."

Cameron reached for her hands.  "Thanks for the vote of confidence, princess, but Fingal
'
s right."  Their eyes met.  He gently squeezed her hands.

"Fingal Macgillivray, I swear, if yer up to more of your tricks…"  Torcall's voice rang through the woods.

Marjory tightened her grip on Cameron's hands.

"It's show time."  Cameron watched as Torcall came into view and then stopped at the sight of the group on the path.  His craggy face broke into a grin, and he strode toward what he believed to be his son, a look of relief lighting his fierce countenance.  Cameron drew in a breath, preparing for the inevitable.

*****

"So the two o' ye were washed to shore?"  Torcall frowned at Cameron, his eyes skeptical.

"Yeah, we were lucky.  It dumped us in shallow water.  All we had to do was make our way to dry land."  Cameron paused, sizing up his audience.  Allen sat across the fire, a sullen expression on his face, lost in his own thoughts.  Dougall had disappeared into the woods, presumably to heed the call of nature and Marjory was sitting by a second fire, surrounded by her kin, leaving him on his own with Torcall.

"But you canna swim."

Cameron sighed.  This preoccupation with Ewen's water skills was getting on his nerves.  Not to mention the fact that he hated lying.  But in his heart he also knew that this all was necessary to protect Marjory.  "I told you, all we had to do was walk to the shore.  Crawl actually.  We were pretty tired.  There was no need for swimming."

Torcall grunted, obviously unsatisfied with his answers.  "Even if I accept your account of your landing that still doesna explain what you were doing in the curach in the first place."

"I wanted to see what it was like to be in a boat.  I never even thought about the need to swim."  Weak, but plausible.

But Torcall wasn
'
t a fool. 
"
Ewen, you canna even ford a stream without finding the narrowest place to cross.  Now yer expecting me to believe that you suddenly had an urge to go out on the loch in a boat no bigger than a man?"  Torcall's voice rose in frustration.

Allen had pulled out of his lethargy and was staring intently at Cameron.  "Yer no' telling us the truth o' it.  I tell you, Father, there's more here than he's willing to explain."

"Look, I'm not lying to anyone.  I just wanted to go out in the damn boat.  I had no idea Marjory would decide to come along and I certainly had no idea there was going to be a storm.  That's all there is to it."  He took a deep breath, his anger rising.  Enough was enough.  "Would you rather I tell you that Ewen is dead and that I'm a traveler from another time occupying his body and that I know how to swim?"

Silence filled the campsite.  Allen sat frozen in place, his mouth open, his chin resting on his chest.  Marjory and her kin had obviously heard his outburst.  Fingal looked bemused.  Marjory looked terrified.  His anger slowly drained from his body, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.  What the hell was he doing?

Blowing out a breath, he turned to face Torcall.  The man stared at him, in shock, his eyes narrowed as he tried to process the import of Cameron's outburst.  The two men glared at each other in silence.  Then, suddenly, Torcall threw back his head and laughed.

"You jest."  He pounded Cameron on the back, the power of the blow nearly knocking him forward into the fire.  Torcall continued to laugh, finally calming enough to wipe his eyes with a sleeve.  Still breathing hard, he threw a heavy arm around Cameron's shoulders.  "I've missed ye, boy.  'Tis glad I am that ye've survived, yet again.  And I trust that, now, ye'll know better than to head out on the loch on your own."

He nodded, relieved that Torcall seemed to have let the matter of the curach drop.

"A time traveler, did you hear that
,
Allen?"  He looked at his son and dissolved into laughter again.  Cameron ducked to the side to avoid the already flying arm, his gaze meeting Allen's.

Allen wasn't laughing.  He was staring at Cameron, with speculative eyes.  He offered no response, nor did it seem that Torcall expected one.  Cameron suppressed a shiver.  Brother or not, this man was his enemy.

*****

Cameron idly threw sticks into the fire and looked around the campsite.  Men were sprawled in every direction, some sleeping, others tossing about trying to find a comfortable position.  It almost looked like someone had drawn a line across the encampment, Camerons sleeping on one side, Macphersons on the other.

Marjory was somewhere across the way, sleeping securely within the Macpherson ranks.  It reminded him of something out of Romeo and Juliet.  The Montagues and Capulets.  Not that he was much of a Romeo.  Hell, he wasn't even a Montague.

Disturbed by the turn of his thoughts, he concentrated on the glow of the campfire.  It had burned low, only shooting flames when he flicked a twig into the coals.

"Cameron?"

He turned at the sound of his name and smiled.  Not exactly 'wherefore art thou Romeo', but it would have to do.  Marjory emerged from the shadows, her mouth opening to speak again.  He put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to come and sit by the fire.

"I couldna sleep," she whispered.

"Neither could I."

They sat for a minute in companionable silence.  He could feel the warmth of her body next to his and curbed the desire to pull her into his arms.  The time for intimacy of that sort was long past.

"What did you tell him?"  She shot him an inquisitive look.

"Torcall?"

She nodded, the movement making her dark hair dance in the firelight.

"You mean besides the fact that I'm from the future?"  She'd heard that part loud and clear.  Hell, probably everybody in the valley had been able to hear his outburst.

"Aye."

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.  It wasn't like Marjory to miss a chance to go for the jugular.  "I told him I wanted to see what it was like in a boat, and that it never occurred to me that I might need to swim."

She nodded again, this time drawing her brows together in a frown.  "Do you think he believed you?"

"I don
'
t know.  Possibly."  It had been a lame explanation.

"'Twould have been nice if you could have invented a more plausible tale."

"Well, it was the best I could come up with.  Next time, you be the one to try and pacify him."

Marjory flinched.

He reached out to touch her hand.  A mistake.  Sparks flew between them.  He withdrew his hand.  "I was just joking.  I would never leave you alone to face him."

She relaxed.  "Well, at least he thought your outburst was merely a jest.  Whatever possessed you to tell him the truth?"

It was his turn to flinch.  "It was crazy, I know.  It's just that I was so sick of the inquisition about my, or should I say Ewen's, inability to swim.  Anyway, you're right, he thought the whole thing was a joke of some kind.  Frankly, I think Torcall is willing to believe whatever I say.  He wants Ewen alive so badly, he'll buy into almost anything."

"Maybe, but I dinna like the way he was looking at you.  I think 'tis possible that there's a seed o' doubt now, that wasna there before."

"Possibly."

"And then there's the wee matter o' Allen.  He definitely dinna find your explanation humorous."

He thought again about the look of animosity Allen had leveled on him.  "I know.  It seems we're stuck between a rock and a hard place."

"A what?"  Her eyes widened in confusion.

"It's just a phrase.  It means that we're in a difficult situation.  We've got to figure out how to get Torcall back to Tyndrum and Allen with him."

She nodded, chewing on her lip, a sure sign she was worried.

"Look, I know that won't solve all your problems, but at least it will buy some time for you and Fingal to figure out what to do."

She met his gaze. 
"
Time is just exactly what I need.  After the landslide I sent word to my grandfather, asking for reinforcements against Torcall
'
s coming.  But he
'
s with the king and so didna receive my message.
 
Given a little more time, he
'
ll be home, and then I
'
ve no doubt he
'
ll come to help me put Torcall Cameron in his place.
"

"So as long as we can get Torcall to go home, you
'
ll be all right?"

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

"
Then why are you crying?
"

"
You.
"
  She angrily brushed her tears on the linen of her sleeve.

'Me?"

"Dinna act daft, man.  Of course I'm worried about you.  You've got the here and now of Allen to deal with and then you've got to find…"  She stuttered over the last words, tears filling her beautiful eyes.  He resisted the urge to kiss them away.  She took a deep breath, regaining her control.  "You've got to find your way home.  It may no' be as easy as you think. It may no
'
even be possible."

He hoped she was wrong, that Grania would be able to help him, but he had to admit there was truth in what she said.  "I'll find my way.  I have to believe that."

"So you can find yourself."

"Right."  Somehow when she said it, it sounded trite, but knowing who he was was important.  Somewhere out there he already had a life, and he couldn
'
t just desert it because he
'
d landed somewhere else.  Surely he owed himself better than that?  He simply couldn't go on living the life of another man.  He had to have answers and those answers lay in the twenty-first century.

"I understand."  She rose wrapping her arms around herself.

"Look, Marjory, if it could be any other way…"  He moved to stand behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders.

She shook him off.  "I said, I understand."  She walked away from him, her slight form fading into the night.  He watched until she disappeared and then sat back on the log, fighting the desire to go after her, to swear he'd never leave.

Shaking his head, he broke the spell.  He had no choice in the matter.  He had to remember who he was.  Had to get back to his life, to the blonde.  He
'
d had the dream for a reason.  And he simply couldn
'
t ignore the fact.  No matter how much he might want to.

Marjory shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.  They had been riding since dawn.  The sun silvered walls of Crannag Mhór gleamed in the distance.  Just an hour or so more and they would be home.  She twisted around to look behind her.

Cameron and Fingal rode
together, their heads bent close in conversation.  It seemed odd, the older man with Ewen.  But then it wasn
'
t really Ewen.  She felt an unreasonable stab of jealousy watching the two of them.  There wasn't much time left and she wanted Cameron to spend it all with her.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he looked up and grinned.  Her heart turned over and joy washed through her.  With conscious effort, she forced herself to turn around.  She was behaving like a ninny.  She was the head of her clan and she had to act accordingly.  People depended on her.  She sighed, thinking how much easier it all would be with someone to love by her side
—
but that was impossible.