Page 34 of Wild Highland Rose
Marjory stared in open mouthed wonder. She'd never seen Aimil angry.
"I tell ye, ye'd both do well to remember that only a few nights ago he was Ewen Cameron and you counted him as an enemy. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. No one changes that much." With a thump, she set a full jug of ale on the table. "Now get back out there and replenish the jug. Enemies or no', I willna have it said that I'm no' hospitable to guests."
Marjory watched as Fingal picked up the jug and marched out of the kitchen without another word.
Aimil turned to her, shaking a finger. "Ye mark my words, girl, you watch yer back tonight. 'Tis a bedding Torcall Cameron wants, and Ewen has always complied with his father's wishes."
"If I have to bed him to hold on to Crannag Mhór, then so be it." The words were out before Marjory could think about them, and she realized with dismay that a part of her actually wanted to share a bed with Ewen—the new Ewen. She felt heat rushing to her cheeks.
"Dinna be daft, girl. Once ye produce a bairn, yer life isna worth a dram o' whiskey."
"You dinna know that. Perhaps he'd protect me."
"Yer a fool if ye think a Cameron is capable of anything but deceit. Believe me when I tell ye that." Two bright spots of color marked the centers of Aimil's cheeks, and Marjory knew they were no longer talking about Ewen. "I love ye like ye were my own, Marjory Macpherson, and I'll no' let the likes o' Ewen Cameron make a fool o' ye."
"He's no' going to do that, Aimil." She couldn't for the life of her imagine why she was defending the man. But here she was doing it just the same. And the truth was, she believed it. Believed that she could trust him. Just like that, her heart had made the decision without even consulting her brain.
"'Tis too late, then," Aimil mumbled under her breath, scrubbing furiously at an iron pot.
"What did you say?"
Aimil looked up defiantly. "I said yer more of a fool than I thought. And I predict this night will mark the end of Crannag Mhór."
Cameron shifted,trying to edge away from Aida's grasp. The woman was leechlike. She hadn't left his side all day, which meant he hadn't been able to find time alone with Marjory.
Torcall, too, had become a permanent fixture. Cameron had to admit Ewen's family loved him. But it was a smothering love. As if he couldn't be trusted to breathe on his own.
To add to the confusion, Allen had become downright surly. When Ewen was present, as far as Torcall was concerned, his youngest didn't exist. At least it explained the hints of anger and the veiled hostility. Allen had no love for his brother, but thankfully, he was too afraid of his father to do anything about it.
Dysfunctional at best, still it was a family. Something Cameron had never known. Again his memories threatened to reveal themselves, only to pull away again like the tide from the shore.
Cameron looked up as Marjory stepped through a small door near the fireplace. Accompanied by Aimil, she walked to the dais and sat down, reaching for a platter of meat. Despite the tension running through the room, she seemed calm, smiling at something Fingal said, the dimples in her cheeks making her seem softer. It occurred to him that Marjory didn't laugh enough, and unfortunately he was sitting with the people who were the cause of it.
Following his gaze, Torcall glanced at the dais. "She's comely enough fer a Macpherson. At least yer job will no' be as odious as if she were ugly."
Cameron frowned. "It's not a job, I relish for any reason."
Torcall shook his head. "Yer talking daft, boy. 'Tis no' about what ye want, 'tis about what's best fer the Camerons. That and avenging yer mother." His eyes narrowed in remembered hatred.
"My mother." He said the words without any emotion accompanying them. No picture, no memory at all. Whoever his mother had been, she was lost in the black chasm of neurons and gray matter, no longer a part of his conscious mind.
"Ye canna remember." Torcall's eyes were sad.
Cameron shook his head.
"Ye look just like her. Yer hair, yer eyes. She was the most beautiful woman that ever lived. And I loved her with every breath in my body."
"But she died." Cameron whispered, afraid to break the spell. Torcall was different somehow when he spoke of Cait, as if time had rolled backward and taken away the pain etched in the lines of his face.
"Aye. At the hand of Manus Macpherson." He nodded toward the dais, his expression darkening again.
"Allen told me some of it. But not how it happened."
Torcall pulled his attention back to Cameron, searching his face, as if trying to reassure himself he was truly looking at his son. "'Tis hard to fathom ye could forget such a thing. But then ye weren't present that day." He reached for his ale cup and drained it. "We were out riding. Yer mother always loved to ride." He smiled lost in his past. ""Twas a beautiful day, and the world was ours, until we rounded a bend and found the reivers."
"Reivers?"
Torcall shot him a quizzical look, and Cameron cursed his stupidity. "Cattle thieves. Macphersons, they were. Wild in their lust to capture the herd. We tried to pull back out of sight, but 'twas too late. They'd seen us. In a moment, we weresurrounded, outnumbered and defenseless." His fist tightened at the memory. And Cameron felt his pain.
