Page 48 of Wild Highland Rose
"Look, Marjory," Ewen was saying, his voice sincere, his eyes begging her to listen. "My name is Cameron. That's all I remember. But I know it isn't Ewen." He took a deep breath, and she felt herself mimicking him as she drew in her own breath, waiting for his next revelation.
"When I woke up after the fall…" He paused as if searching for the right words.
She released her breath, and pulled her hand from his, waiting for him to continue. A look of pain washed across his face as she moved away. He looked so lost and alone. But she was confused and afraid, herself.
Her heart urged her to take his hand again, to keep contact, but her head was yelling that distance was much better. Herhead won out. It was much easier to think clearly when they were not touching.
"God, this is difficult." He buried his face in his hands, and then as if thinking better of it, raised it again to look at her. "I think that Ewen, your Ewen, died, Marjory. At least I'm pretty sure of it."
"But you're here."
"No. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Ewen isn't here. He died in the landslide, and I woke up in his place. I know it sounds insane on the surface, but if you'll think about it. Think about me, you'll see that I'm speaking the truth."
She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to tell her he was speaking in jest. He shifted uncomfortably, the little boat bobbing with the motion, but his gaze was steady and he didn't look away. Merciful heaven, he wasn't jesting.
"Look, I know it sounds insane. Especially since I don't remember much about before, but, Marjory, what I do know for certain is that I'm not Ewen Cameron."
"Aye, you've made that abundantly clear. And I canna argue with the fact that you're different now than before." She paused, feeling her cheeks grow hot. "The old Ewen Cameron would never have done what you did…last night." She finished, mortified that she'd said it out loud. "But that doesna mean you're no' him. Only that the knock on your head changed you."
Ewen shook his head. "It goes deeper than that and you know it. How many times have you told me that a man can't change that much? Think about it, Marjory."
"Maybe I want it to be so." She could admit that much, but anything beyond that was simply more than she could fathom.
"But you can't handle the implications." He paused, burying his face in his hands again. "Well neither can I, but unfortunately, that doesn't change the facts."
She waited, her brain numb.
He looked up again, his amber gaze meeting hers. "There's something I haven't told you." He blew out a breath. "I do have memories, Marjory. They're disjointed and out sequence, but they are clear on one thing. My memories are of things that haven't happened yet, of things that haven't even been invented yet."
"What are you saying to me?" She felt her heart skip a beat. This was not what she'd expected at all.
"I'm saying that I think I've traveled back in time, Marjory. From my century to yours."
"And what century would that be?" She tried to keep the skepticism out of her voice, but it was difficult.
"The twenty-first."
"But that's…that's…"
"Five hundred years from now." He reached for her hand, but she jerked it away.
"That canna be. People dinna go about hopping in and out of bodies and dashing about through time."
He leaned forward, looking her full in the eyes. "A few weeks ago, I suspect I would have agreed with you, but now I can't argue with the fact. It has to be possible because it's happened to me."
"I'm no' saying I believe you, but for the sake of argument, what memories exactly do you have that support this daft notion of yours?"
He bit his lip again, contemplating her question. She waited for his answer, outwardly composed, inwardly reeling.
"Well, there was the mirror for one."
"Mirror?"
"The shield."
"My father's shield? What has it got to do with any of this?" Her heart pounded. Next thing he'd be telling her it was a magic shield.
"I wanted to see what I looked like, remember?"
