Page 20 of Wild Highland Rose
Marjory frowned. She'd expected this, but the knowledge that Torcall Cameron was actually on Crannag Mhór land again was almost more that she could bear. She felt Fingal's hand on her shoulder and was glad of the connection.
"Thomas, there's gingerbread in the kitchen. Maybe Cook will give you some milk to go with it."
The boy's face split into an ear to ear grin. Without further conversation, he loped off in pursuit of the promised treat.
"Well, lass, ye knew he was coming. At least now ye know when."
Marjory stared at the tower gate almost as if she expected to see Torcall Cameron come roaring through it, claymore raised for battle. "Aye, now I do."
"I canna imagine he'll want to stay long. I suspect he'll want nothing more than to take his boy home to Tyndrum. Dinna fash yerself about it. 'Twill be over before ye know it."
"I'm sure you're right." She smiled reassuringly at Fingal. "I just need some time to get used to the idea. I think I'll take a walk."
"Do ye want me to go with you?"
"Nay, I've a need to be alone."
Fingal turned to go and then stopped, calling back to her over his shoulder. "Dinna go outside the walls without one of the lads. Ye canna be too careful with Camerons afoot."
Marjory nodded absently, already moving away toward the gate. She'd feel better after a walk.
6
Marjory headed toward the pool. It was a good place for thinking. And at the moment that's just what she needed to do. She cut across the meadow, trying to keep her mind off the fact that Torcall Cameron was out here somewhere. Tomorrow he'd be at Crannag Mhór. Tomorrow, she would have to face him. And tomorrow, he would probably take Ewen back to Tyndrum.
Her stomach tightened at the thought. What in heaven's name had happened to her? She couldn't get him off of her mind. It wasn't as if he hadn't touched her before. He certainly had. She shuddered at the memory. But that had been different, a stubborn little voice reminded her.
The old Ewen had been rough and uncaring and had smelled like a cess pit. Revulsion washed over her at the recollection of his hands ripping her clothing as he forced her back against a wall. It had been a mating, an unwilling and painful mating, nothing more. Certainly not like it would be now.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Saints preserve her, what was she thinking? The man was still the same no matter how different he smelled, and she'd do well to remember the fact.
What was it Aimil said? A cat cannot change its ways. True enough. And even if Ewen had changed, he was still Torcall's son, and no amount of change could negate that fact.
She had sworn never again to allow Torcall to set foot on Crannag Mhór land, and now, here she was contemplating that very thing. Greeting the whoreson as if they were old friends. Letting him take his blethering son back to Tyndrum without so much as whimper of protest. What she ought to do was slay the both of them. Now, that would be a fine vengeance.
But even as the thought entered her head, she could hear her father rattling on about honor."'Tis a special kind of man who can face an enemy with honor, lass. Ye'll do well in this life if ye can remember that. Hold on to yer honor, Margie, my girl, and ye'll always be strong."What good was honor, she wondered, if it kept you from avenging the people you loved?
Frustrated, she began walking again, curving up away from the bubbling burn, heading for an all but invisible path through the trees. She left the open grassland and stepped into the sun-shaded cover of the wood. It was quiet and she walked along, lost in her thoughts, her feet automatically following the faint trail.
"Well, well, well, if it isna Marjory Macpherson." Allen Cameron stepped into the path, blocking her way. "Out for a wee bit of a walk, are ye?"
Marjory started to back away, but his hand snaked out, grabbing her firmly by the wrist.
"No' so fast, me girl. My brother may be too addled to see ye for what ye are, but I'm no' as easily fooled." Allen tilted her chin with his other hand. "And I'll no' stand by and watch ye get away with murder."
"I've no idea what you're talking about." Marjory flinched at his touch and struggled to escape his hold.
"Ach, but ye've got fire in ye. I like a woman with a bit o' spunk." He leered at her, his breath foul as it grazed her cheek.
She froze at his words, memory overwhelming her. The face had changed, aged and obscured by whiskers, but the voice was the same. And she still hated him. "Unhand me, Allen," she whispered.
"I think no'." His hand moved downward, caressing her neck and shoulder. "It's time ye learned yer place, and since my brother hasna the stomach for it, I might as well be the one to do it."
His fingers brushed across her breast. Marjory tried to clamp down on the fear rising inside her. She wasn't a helpless child anymore. Gritting her teeth, she kicked Allen as hard as she could. "Let go of me, you bastard. I'll no' have the likes of you touching me."
Allen swore vigorously, releasing his hold on her arm.
Marjory stepped back, turning to run into the shelter of the trees, but Allen was faster. His arms closed around her from behind like two iron bands. She struggled against his hold, letting out a blood curdling scream.
