Wild Highland Rose (Time Travel Trilogy, Book 2) (42 page)

"I think you'd be better off if I took you."  She stood up, brushing off her skirts and looking out over the valley.

With a shrug, he rose to stand beside her.  He could see the tower, its walls white against the blue-black waters of the lake.  It looked like a John Constable painting, peaceful and serene.  This was the way he would remember Crannag Mhór.  "It's beautiful from here."

There was no response from Marjory.  He turned and was surprised to find her frowning, her eyes riveted not on the valley below, but on something off to their right.

Cameron scanned the terrain.  "What is it?  What do you see?

"Look, o'er there."  She pointed to a small expanse of green off to southwest.  The trees played out into a small meadow almost at the base of a craggy arm of the mountain protecting Crannag Mhór.  The little clearing was a good distance away, lower down the mountain, but still well above the floor of the valley.  He couldn't see anything except the crooked expanse of green against the brownish gray of the rocky peak.

He narrowed his eyes, searching for something in the pastoral scene that might have alarmed her.  "What am I looking for?"  As he finished the sentence, a flicker of movement at the edge of the clearing caught his eye.

"Did you see that?"

"Yeah, I did."

She lifted a hand, shading her eyes from the sun.  "I think there's someone at the edge of the woods."

Watching intently, Cameron began to discern shadows moving along the
tree line
.  Riders.  He glanced over at Marjory.  Her brows were drawn together in a worried frown.  She'd seen them, too.  "Do you recognize them?"

"Nay, they're still too much in the trees, but I dinna think they've come from the pass."  She kept her eyes on the riders.

"How can you tell?"

"I canna fer sure, but they're too far into the valley to have come through the pass this morning.  And if they came through yesterday, we'd have had word o' some kind.  I canna shake the feeling that something is verra wrong."

As if in emphasis of her statement, the riders broke free of the trees, riding slowly into the clearing.  The sun beat down upon them, highlighting the colors of their plaids.

"Holy Mother of God."  The words came out in a painful whisper.  Marjory had gone rigid, her eyes riveted on meadow.  "Camerons."

For the first time since spotting the riders, Cameron felt a tug of worry.  "Are you sure?"

"Aye, there's no mistaking the colors o' the plaid."

He watched as the riders relentlessly moved across the clearing.  There were quite a few of them, enough to qualify as a small army.  "Can they get down the mountain from there?"

"Aye, faster than we can."  The thought seemed to agitate her.  "I dinna know what Torcall is up to, but it canna be anything good."

Cameron took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him.  "I'll admit it doesn
'
t look good, but it still doesn't make sense to me.  There's just no good reason for Torcall to cause trouble."

"I pray that you have the right o' it."

"Of course I'm right."  He tried to issue the statement with more enthusiasm than he felt.  "He believes I'm Ewen, and he thinks I'm working overtime to get you pregnant.  Which, for whatever twisted reason, seems to be his overriding goal at the moment.  As long as he believes that, you're safe."

"Then why is he riding back to Crannag Mhór?"

"I don't know."

They watched the riders in silence, their march across the clearing seeming more ominous by the minute.  Cameron raked a hand through his hair.  It just didn't make any sense.  One minute, the man was hell bent on getting back to Tyndrum, and the next, he was making his way back to Crannag Mhór.  He struggled, trying to find logic where there seemingly wasn't any.

Marjory sucked in a breath, grabbing his arm, her eyes wide with alarm.  "It must be Aida."

"Aida?"

"
Aye.
'
Tis the only explanation.  Cameron, she saw what happened last night with Fingal.  And we sent her away.  You rejected her and I humiliated her.  You heard her.  She threatened us both."  Her eyes turned back to meadow, the riders were disappearing once more into the trees.  "It would no' take much to convince Torcall to destroy Crannag Mhór once and for all, if he believes his son bewitched…"  She trailed off, her hand tightening on his arm.

"He'll be out for vengeance."

Marjory nodded.  "I canna let him destroy my home again."  She released his arm.  "I have to go."  She jumped down from the rock, starting to walk away almost before her feet hit the ground.

"Marjory, wait," he called after her, his heart beating furiously in his chest.  He had to stop her.  She'd be walking into certain death.

She turned back to him, and with a half hearted gesture, pointed to a large tree.  "You'll find the site o' the landslide just over there, beyond the tree.  'Tis only the best I wish for you, Cameron."  She swung away, already intent on reaching the tower.

He sprinted across the clearing and whirled her around to face him.  "Are you crazy?  You can't go down there.  If he is out for revenge, he'll be waiting for you."

She pulled out of his grasp.  "I have to go.  If it
'
s to my death, then so be it, but I will no' lay down and let him take Crannag Mhór without a fight."  She started to walk away again.

"Wait."

She stopped, her back rigid with determination.

He let out a sigh, his mind split.  Lindsey needed him.  But so did Marjory.  And standing here on the side of a mountain, he knew what he had to do.  If he lived to tell the tale, then maybe he could still help Lindsey.  But in this moment.  Now.  He wanted to help Marjory, to stand by her side and face whatever Torcall Cameron intended.

"If you're going, then so am I.  After all, I'm the one with the sword."

She turned with a faint smile.  "I believe there are two trees over there who'd bear witness to that, but, Cameron, you dinna belong here.  This is no' your fight.  'Tis time for you to go home."

His anger peaked.  "Damn it, woman, I'm not going to let you face them alone.  I'm coming with you.
"

She searched his face, the questions in her eyes going well beyond Torcall Cameron, then with a sigh, she nodded.

Cameron reached for her hand, attempting a smile.  "I don
'
t suppose you know a shortcut?"

Her lips quirked upward in response, her fingers tightening around his, and together they began the trek back down the mountain.

*****

Birch trees loomed on either side of them, like sentries guarding the meadow beyond.  Marjory leaned against a tree trunk, trying to catch her breath.  They had run most of the way, fear and urgency driving them.  Now, it was important to pause and consider their options before leaving the shelter of the woods for open ground.

"What next, princess?"

He stood next to her, looking every inch a Scottish warrior.  She bit back a stab of concern.  He wasn't a warrior, no matter how he looked, and she was taking him into what could very well be a battle for their lives.  Still, despite her feelings of guilt, she was glad to have him with her.

"I'm no' sure.  We canna see the tower from here.  But I
'
m fairly certain Torcall is still somewhere between it and us.  Which means we can't safely leave the shelter o' the trees without risking discovery."

"Is there some place in the woods where we can get a good look at the tower?"

She frowned, her mind spinning with worry, and she fought to calm herself.  There was no time for panic.  She had to think clearly.  "There's a ridge no' far from here.  'Tis no' in the woods, but I think we can safely climb to the top without being seen."

"All right then we have a plan."  He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. 
"
We'll find a way to stop them.  I promise."

"Dinna make promises you canna keep."  She pulled her hand free, and wearily pushed back a strand of hair that kept stubbornly falling in her face.  "We'll follow the line o' the trees to the north until we're almost to the ridge, and then we'll break cover.  The ridge itself ought to keep us out of view."

Cameron surveyed the
tree line
.  "Fine.  What do you say we get moving?"

She nodded, trying to focus on the task at hand.  It wouldn't help if she let her imagination run free.  No matter what was happening inside the walls of Crannag Mhór, she had to keep her wits about her.  She'd not be able to help her people if she let her fears overtake her.

They moved cautiously through the trees, trying to keep their speed without making too much noise.  To their right the open meadowland beckoned.  Everything was quiet, but there was no sense in taking unnecessary chances.

"Wait."  The single word was whispered, but it had all the power of a shouted command.  Marjory pulled up sharply, almost running into Cameron's broad back.

"What is it?"  Her heart thudded as she scanned the area for danger.  "What do you see?"

"Over there."  He bit the words out, jerking his head in the direction of a large birch.  Marjory let her eyes drift down the tree.  There was a splash of white lying at the base.  She started forward, only to find her progress stopped, Cameron's big hand closing on her shoulder.

"It could be a trap."  His whispered words drifted past her ear, no louder than a breath of air.  He yanked her back behind a rhododendron bush, its glossy leaves providing them cover.  They crouched there, waiting and watching.  Nothing moved.

Finally, convinced that no threat awaited them by the tree, they left the shelter of the bush, walking cautiously toward the patch of white.  As they neared the birch, what had been abstract color began to take shape.  They stopped a short distance away and Marjory felt bile rising in her throat.

Aida Macvail lay sprawled across the exposed roots of the tree, her eyes open, staring at the branches waving dreamily in the wind.  Her mouth was frozen in a scream, her golden hair tangled with leaves and twigs.  Her throat had been slit and her skirts were bunched haphazardly around her waist.

Cameron moved forward, taking Aida
'
s wrist, feeling for signs of life.  He turned, meeting Marjory's horrified gaze, shaking his head in response to her unasked question.  Turning back to the body, he carefully lifted her, pulling her shift back into place and then, with gentle fingers, reached to close her sightless eyes.

Marjory crossed herself, trying to swallow back the need to be sick.  Cameron reached her side, enclosing her in the circle of his strong arms.  She buried her head in his chest, allowing herself the moment of comfort.  Finally, feeling calmer, she pushed away from him.

"I can only think of one person that could have done something like this."

Marjory nodded, forcing herself to spit out the name.  "Allen Cameron."

"But why Aida?"

Marjory shook her head slowly in denial.  "I don
'
t know.  It doesna make sense.
"
She tried to pull out of the lethargy of shock and force herself to think.

"There
'
s a basket over here.
"
  Cameron bent to examine it. 
"
It
'
s full of herbs.
"

Marjory felt fear clutch at her heart as she recognized the basket.  It didn
'
t belong to Aida, it belonged to Grania.

They found her a few yards from Aida.  She was lying on her back, one arm draped across her abdomen.  Cameron dropped to his knees, his mind sending fervent prayers to heaven.  Marjory, knelt, too, cradling Grania's head in her lap.

Heart pounding with fear, Cameron reached for her wrist.  The skin was warm to the touch and to his relief he felt the faint flutter of a heartbeat.  "She's alive."

Marjory looked up, tears filling her eyes.  "Is she going to be all right?"

"I won't know until I can see the extent of her injuries."  His eyes raked over her.  There was a gash above her right eye, but despite the blood, it appeared superficial.  Her left arm was bent across her body at an odd angle.  Probing gently, he was relieved to discover that nothing was broken, but her shoulder was dislocated.  It was already quite swollen and beginning to show color.  "Nothing here life threatening."

"She's no' awake."  Marjory stroked the hair back from her face and wiped away some of the blood with the hem of her skirt.

"I know, and it worries me."  Help me roll her onto her side.  Maybe we're missing something."  Still holding her head, Marjory placed her other hand behind Grania's injured shoulder.  Cameron put his hands behind her hip and lower back.  "Okay
—
on three.  One, two,
three
.
"

They carefully rolled her up onto her side, exposing her back.  "Merciful God."  Marjory's position afforded her an immediate look at Grania's back.  Cameron sat back on his heels, steeling himself for the worst.