Page 47 of Wild Highland Rose
Hell, everything they did was manual. "On our own, without the aid of the reel," he explained. She really didn't look any less confused, but at least she nodded as if she understood.
He handed her the stick. "Here, you hold on to the pole." She grasped it in both hands. "Great, now with a little luck, I'll bring this guy in." He started to pull the fishing line in hand over hand. Fortunately, the fish wasn't very big, or it wasn't putting up much of a fight. Marjory was leaning out over the water, pole in hand.
"Where is he? I canna see him."
"Keep watching, I've almost got him here." The line hadn't seemed very long when it was empty, but now that he wanted to get to its end, it seemed to stretch on forever.
"Wait a minute, I think I see him." Marjory pointed to a flicker of silver just over the side.
Cameron leaned over the edge, allowing his line of vision to follow her pointing finger. Sure enough, there was a flash of fin. He yanked on the last of the line, sending a spray of water overMarjory and the fish flying through the air. It landed in the boat with a flop.
"You've caught him." Marjory's voice held a note of awe. Cameron felt as though he had just slain a dragon. She peered at the fish. "It looked bigger in the water." Okay, a very tiny dragon. "I think 'tis a wee babe. It looks so helpless."
Great, so much for the conquering hero stuff. "Shall we let it go?"
"Aye." She shot him a smile that warmed him all over. Back to king for a day.
"No problem." He picked up the little fish and worked the hook from its mouth. "All right, fish, this is your lucky day." With a grin at Marjory, he tossed it over the side. The fish hit the water with a smack and quickly disappeared from sight.
"Well, that's it then. We've fished."
Cameron threw back his head and laughed. "That we have, Marjory Macpherson, that we have."
The little boat rocked on the water, the motion soothing, the silence around them comfortable. Marjory seemed content for the moment to simply trail her hand through the water and watch him fish. There was something so domestic about this: The perfect way to spend the day. The perfect woman to spend it with.
The thought brought him up short, surprising him with its tenacity. He liked Marjory—most of the time. But surely his feelings didn't go beyond that. After all they were practically strangers. An image of their bodies tangled together filled his mind, the memory of their passion crescendoing until he actually felt the heat between them as if it were happening now.
"Where have you gone?"
"Beg pardon?" Her words jerked him back to reality, embarrassment replacing other emotions. "I was thinking about what a wonderful day it is."
She studied him for a moment, as if questioning the truth of his statement, then nodded in acceptance with a smile. "I was thinking how happy I am, too. How much I like being with you."
His stomach sank as the reality of her words hit him hard. They were heading down a dangerous path. One he shouldn't—couldn't—pursue.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in his expression. "Did I say something wrong?"
He reached for her hand, taking it firmly in his, wishing away his riotous thoughts. "No, not at all."
"Then why, may I ask, are you frowning?" she asked, worry creasing the line of her brow.
"I'm not really. See?" He grinned, praying that it was convincing, but knowing from the look on her face, it was not.
"Dinna lie to me, Ewen. Tell me what's wrong."
He chewed on his upper lip a minute, trying to formulate his words. "It's hard to explain. But I guess the truth of it is that I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
"Taking advantage? How?"
He blew out a long breath, not certain if this was the right time or place for confessions, but convinced that it was important she know. Important that he tell her. He wanted no secrets between them. No matter the cost.
The loch was still peaceful, the storm on the far side forming a spectacular backdrop. The dark angry clouds seemed at odds with the gently lapping water. Somehow it seemed to mirror his predicament. The peace he felt here with Marjory was a lie, nothing more than a precursor to the storm that would follow.
He was so tired of being alone. Of trusting no one. His gaze met hers, his heart heavy. "I'm not who you think I am, Marjory. I'm not Ewen Cameron."
13
"Idinna understand. Of course you're Ewen Cameron. You just dinna remember that's all." She fought to make sense of his words. If he wasn't Ewen Cameron, then who was he? The little voice in her head insisted his words were true. That she'd known it all along. But she brushed them aside, not willing to examine the possible implications.
