by Davis, Dee
"Surely an overstatement."
"Maybe, but there's only one way to know for sure."
She rubbed a leaf absently and the sharp scent of thyme filled the air. "Have ye told Marjory, then?"
"She knows I'm leaving. But I didn't tell her when. It's better this way. Really."
She nodded, but he knew she wasn't any more convinced than he was. "Yer truly sure this is what ye want?"
"It's the only choice I have. I have to do what's right."
She sighed. "Everything is not always as it seems, Cameron. And sometimes we dinna know what it is we have until we've lost it."
"Grania, I came to say goodbye, not listen to your riddles." He hadn't meant for the words to sound so sharp, but he was tired of thinking. Tired of trying to figure out who and what he was. He needed the comfort of choosing a course of action and sticking to it. Still, he hadn't meant to hurt her. She was his friend. "Come with me."
"What?" She turned toward the sound of his voice.
"Come with me." With repetition the idea seemed plausible. "You're not from here. Maybe if you're with me, we could both get back."
She paused, as if considering, then shook her head with a smile. "I thank ye for asking me, but my life is here now. I'd no' fit in that time anymore. I've found a peace here that canna be duplicated. And I've a purpose as well. I care for these people and they care for me. I wouldn't want it any other way."
"Well then, I guess this is it." He stood up, a twig of lemon balm clinging to his hand.
She stood also, and with a trembling hand reached out to grasp his hand firmly. They stood facing each other for a moment and then, with a mumbled oath, he drew her into his arms.
"Thank you for everything," he said, stepping back. "You've been a true friend, and I'll never forget you."
Grania reached out to touch his face. "Nor I you…"
He stood for a moment more, smiling down at her, then turned to walk from the garden, content for the moment to know that Grania at least had finally found her way home.
*****
"If he's decided to go, then I say good riddance." Marjory stabbed the piece of linen she was trying to embroider.
"Now child, ye know ye dinna mean that." Grania's voice was patient, but somehow still managed to set Marjory's teeth on edge.
"I do mean it. Ever since he arrived here, there's been nothing but trouble. First, he brought Torcall Cameron down on our heads."
"I think ye'll have to admit that was far more yer doing then Cameron's," Grania said.
"Well, I'd no' have had to call for Torcall if Cameron hadn't gone and gotten himself killed."
"Now, Marjory, if ye'll recall he wasn't precisely dead, and if yer going to lay the blame fer that at anyone's feet, I'm afraid it will have to be mine. It was, after all, me who caused the landslide." Aimil looked up placidly from her needlework.
Marjory was still reeling from that revelation. Aimil had admitted it all to her that morning. She hadn't known whether to laugh or cry.
"Well, he did lure me out on the curach."
"Aye, but it was me, again, that caused the mishap." Aimil offered banally.
"True enough, and if ye hadn't been capsized, ye might ne'er have fallen in love with the man," Grania added cheerfully.
"I am no' in love with him." She jabbed her thumb with the needle and sucked at it angrily. "What about the banquet?" She knew she was being perverse, but she couldn't seem to help herself.
"What about the banquet?" Grania asked.
"Well, if Cameron hadn't come here, there'd have been no need for a banquet and nothing would have happened to Fingal." She pulled the thread through the linen with a sharp tug, only to realize she'd come up in the wrong place.
"Ah, but the truth is that we did have the banquet, and had Cameron no' been there, my brother would most likely have died."
Marjory looked up, glaring. "Since when are you taking his side in things, Aimil. I thought you couldna stand the man."
Aimil colored. "Well, I've changed my mind, and I think Grania's right. Ye should go and find him. Say goodbye properly." She looked to Grania for support. "Or better yet, convince the man Crannag Mhór is where he belongs."
"I canna make him do something he doesna wish to do. Besides, Grania, you said yourself that he left hours ago. How am I supposed to catch up with him? Why he's probably taking tea with Lindsey at this very moment."
Aimil looked confused. Marjory had tried to explain things to her, but the woman was having none of it. She was convinced that Cameron was an angel and nothing Marjory or Grania could say could alter her opinion. Marjory sighed. Cameron was certainly not an angel. No angel would make her feel blissful one moment and furious the next.
She couldn't believe he had left without so much as a word in parting. Had she meant absolutely nothing to him? She pricked her finger again. Curse the man.
"Marjory." Aimil reached for her needle work. "If ye keep this up, ye'll ruin the wee thing."
She sat back, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. "The man is gone and that's that."
"Well, now, I dinna know that that's precisely true." Aimil bit her lip, looking something between gleeful and guilty.
"What are ye saying, Aimil?" Marjory leaned forward, trying to ignore the erratic leap of her heart.
"Well, ye see, I happened to run into Cameron as he was leaving the tower." She ducked her head.
"And…"
"And, he happened to ask if I knew the shortcut to the pool."
"And…" The hope began to spread outward, warming her entire middle.
Aimil shifted uncomfortably on her stool. "And, I told him he had to follow the loch and then head toward the black rock."
"But that would…" She felt her eyes widen in amazement.
"Take him twice as long, I figure." Aimil smiled hesitantly. "I didna think ye wanted him to go. 'Twas all I could think to do on the spur o' the moment."
"I say well done." Grania was grinning broadly.
Marjory sighed. She felt slightly overwhelmed, definitely outmaneuvered, and unexpectedly joyful. "I thank you for your concern, Aimil, but I'm still no' going after him."
"Marjory, there are only so many chances in life. I canna promise that something good will come o' yer going after him. But can ye honestly tell me ye'll no' regret it fer the rest o' yer life if ye dinna go?" Grania tipped her head in Marjory's direction, waiting for her answer.
She looked at Grania and then over at Aimil who was placidly sewing as if she didn't have a care in the world. With an exaggerated sigh, she stood up. "Fine, I'll go, but only so that the two of you will leave me alone."
*****
Cameron struggled up the rocky side of an embankment, cursing Aimil Macgillivray all the way. She obviously still had it in for him. Shortcut, his Aunt Fanny. How was he to have known the damn stream wandered all over the mountainside?
And if that wasn't bad enough, it was also nestled so close to the rocks and trees in places that the only way he could be certain he didn't lose it, was to walk down the icy, frigid, toe-numbing middle of it.
He stumbled on a rock and cursed softly, his eyes searching for something he recognized. With a sigh, he squinted into the sunlight, realizing that the rocks here had formed a sort of natural dam. The pool. Relief surged through him, and he splashed through the water intent on the opposite bank.
If memory served, the landslide as just around the corner.
What seemed like hours later, he wasn't as certain. Truth was, the pool might as well have been located in a different country from the landslide for all the good it had done him to find it. He'd been walking in circles and there was no landslide in sight. No pile of rocks, no great tree, no embankment, nothing. It was as if the whole thing had never existed.
He moved through the brush, wearily pushing aside a clump of tall grass, and let out a groan. He was back at the pool. This place was worse than a Pavlovian maze. He started into the small clearing, heading for the
rock. He needed a break.
Something moved across the stream, and he froze, visions of claymore-welding wild men filling his mind. The bank across from the rock was shadowed and it was hard to make anything out, but he was positive he'd seen movement. Groping for the sword he'd brought, he sent a silent prayer heavenward, grateful that Aimil had insisted he take it.
Holding the thing at his side, he took a hesitant step forward, still staring at the far bank. The bushes along its edge were waving ominously. Using both hands, he lifted the claymore, relieved when his muscles took the weight. His efforts to practice hadn't made him a pro, but he was definitely better. Thank God for muscle memory.
Taking a deep breath, he waved the weapon in front of him, eyeing the bushes, listening for the telltale rustle. When the noise repeated itself, he reacted instantly, swinging the weapon in a downward arc, swiping the tops off two small saplings.
Ignoring the saplings, he held his stance, trying to convince himself he was ready for anything. Anything except the pair of cobalt eyes that met his across the pool, their orbs reflecting suppressed laughter.
"You can rest easy, Cameron. I think the wee trees are dead."
CHAPTER 24
"I thought… Ah, hell, never mind what I thought. What are you doing here?" He sheathed his sword, watching as Marjory picked her way across the stream, using the rocks that dammed the pool for stepping stones.
"Well, 'tis glad I am to be seeing you, too." She hopped lightly onto the bank, letting her skirts fall back into place. "I thought you'd be gone by now."
He scowled at her, feeling his temper rise. "I would have been, but it seems Aimil's up to her old tricks. I have absolutely no idea what possessed me to trust her. She promised me she was giving me a short cut. A wilderness survival hike would have been a more accurate description."
"She meant you no ill will. In fact, quite the opposite. She has it in her head that you should stay at Crannag Mhór. She thinks you're our resident angel."
"I'm well aware of Aimil's notions." He sat down on the rock.
"Well, you can't blame a body for trying." Marjory sat next to him, her eyebrows lifting.
"You mean, she wanted me to get lost?"
"Aye, that she did, but you're here now, so, all's well that ends well."
"Hardly. I can't find the damned landslide. I've been all over this area and there's no sign of it."
"You must have overlooked it. 'Tis no' far, just beyond that tree." She lifted an arm, pointing in the direction he'd swear he'd just come from.
"And why, may I ask, should I trust you?"
"Because if I had wanted to prevent you from leaving, I'd have thought up a better plan than simply misdirecting you."
"So if you don't care if I go, why are you here?"
She winced, and he wished his words back. "I dinna say I wanted you to go. Only that I'd do nothing to prevent it. I only came to say good-bye."
Their gazes met and held, his breath catching in his throat. "I shouldn't have run away."
"It doesna matter." She shrugged as if she didn't care, but he knew that she did. They stood in awkward silence, neither knowing what to say.
Finally Marjory sighed, forcing a smile. "'Tis just as well I came, had I no' you'd no doubt have spent the rest o' your days wandering about in search o' the landslide."
"I would have found it." He tried to sound wounded by her lack of faith, but only managed to sound defensive.
"I'm more than sure you would, given enough time, but since I happened to come along, would you like me to show you the way?"
"You don't have to come with me. Just pointing me in the right direction should be enough."
"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 h
ome 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.