Page 18 of Wild Highland Rose
"I see you're up and about." Fingal Macgillivray towered over him, eyes narrowed and assessing.
Cameron struggled to remember what Grania had said about the man. A captain, she'd called him. Marjory's right-hand man. Which meant he wasn't a friend of Ewen's. "More or less." Cameron looked up at the Scotsman, holding his gaze, striving for a nonchalance he didn't feel.
To his surprise, the man sat down next to him, his expression still guarded. "Ye really dinna know me?"
"Only what Grania has told me."
The man shifted uncomfortably. "Ach, the old woman is more daft than no'. I dinna trust her ways or her wisdom."
Cameron shrugged, not willing to comment, any chance for a peaceful moment alone evaporating before it could begin.
"I honestly thought you were dead." The man's tone was neither apologetic nor gloating, neutrality sitting well with him.Fingal might be a warrior, but it seemed he had a diplomatic side as well. "I wouldna have left you there had I thought you were alive."
"Really?" Cameron studied the man opposite him. "I sort of got the feeling you would have done more than that if you hadn't thought I was dead." It was a risky thing to say, but he had a feeling honesty was the right currency with this man. Friend or foe.
Fingal's lips curled into a faint smile. "But since I thought ye were dead, the thought canna have occurred to me."
Nicely side-stepped. "Well, why don't we suffice it to agree that I'm alive and that I'm not exactly the man I was."
"I can see that yer breathing, but as to the change, I'll no' believe it until I've proof."
"That I'm different?"
"That yer not using circumstances to try and play Marjory for a fool."
Cameron laughed. "I doubt that anyone could play Marjory Macpherson."
Fingal crossed his arms over his massive chest. "Mayhap, but that wouldna stop some from trying."
There was a warning there, and Cameron wasn't fool enough to ignore it. "I've no interest in hurting her, Fingal." There was truth in that. Unless Allen's accusations proved true.
The older man looked sharply at him. "Maybe no' now. But when you remember."
The words hung between them, leaving Cameron uncomfortable. It was tempting to tell the man he wasn't Ewen Cameron, that his memories if they returned would have nothing to do with Crannag Mhór or Marjory Macpherson, but he couldn't take the chance. Not yet. Maybe never. This world was a harsh one, and they didn't suffer fools lightly. Aman claiming to be from the future would certainly not inspire confidence, let alone trust.
"Maybe I won't remember."
"Nay." Fingal shook his head slowly. "Torcall Cameron will no' allow it. Ye'll remember. Of that I'm certain. It's what ye choose to do with the memories that remain to be seen."
It seemed Grania had competition in the enigmatic department. Wonderful. Cameron leaned back against the stone wall, and they sat in silence for a while, each left to his own thoughts, until a commotion off to the left caught their attention.
"Get out of here right now you wicked beasties. Out I say. Out."
The female voice carried from around the corner of the tower, the screech followed by a caterwauling that could only come from enraged bovines.
Cameron turned to Fingal, eyebrows raised in question.
"My sister, Aimil."
Cameron inclined his head. The commotion continued.
"Angus Macpherson, come get these animals out of my garden before they destroy it completely." The disembodied voice carried through the courtyard to the man by the ladder. He yelled something up at Marjory and ran toward the voice.
Fingal and Cameron both rose from the bench, swallowing back their mirth, momentarily joined together in camaraderie.
"An-gus." The single word came out as an indignant wail.
"Sounds to me like Angus may need rescuing more than the animals."
