Page 50 of Wild Highland Rose
Somehow, the knowledge helped to calm her. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment of regret. Then summoning all the strength she had, she sat back, squaring her shoulders. "When will you go?"
"Not until we deal with Torcall. I won't leave you alone with him."
"I've handled him before. I'll handle him this time as well." Brave words, but she knew that there was no truth in them. If Ewen disappeared, there would be hell to pay.
He reached for her hand again, his gaze steady. His eyes Ewen's, yet not. "I won't let you face him on your own."
She nodded, absurdly relieved, not so much because she feared Torcall, although she certainly did, but more because it meant that she still had time with him. Her practical mind whispered that the longer she was with him, the harder it would be to have him go, but her heart rejoiced in the knowledge that they still had time.
"I canna take it all in now, perhaps later when I've had the chance to chew on it a bit." She forced a smile she didn't feel. "Right now, if you dinna mind, I think I'd like to try this fishing for myself."
With every passingminute Cameron admired Marjory more. He'd just told her a story that would have flummoxed the best of men, even the most educated, and here she was fishing as if she didn't have a care in the world.
It was an act of course. Her way of whistling in the dark. But he admired her nevertheless. She was an amazing woman. And in a different time or place, he'd have been the first in line to win her heart.
But he was here, now. And the truth stood between them as surely as if it were made of stone, separating them with more than just centuries. He sighed, wishing that things were different, accepting that they were not.
Marjory lowered her pole, studying the floor of the curach. "Should we be having this much water in the boat?"
Lost in his melancholy thoughts, he glanced at the bottom, but dismissed it. "It's just from the fish."
Marjory nodded, not meeting his gaze, and sat back on the bench. "There's rain coming." She pointed to the east at the now rapidly building thunderheads. "We should be getting back."
Cameron looked up at the storm clouds. "You're right." Grabbing an oar, he started to row, but was surprised at how much heavier the boat seemed to be. Looking down, he realized that the floor of the curach was indeed awash with water. It lapped at his feet.
Marjory was watching the water, too. "There's more than before, I'd swear to it."
Crouching down in the hull, Cameron scanned for holes. Nothing appeared to be amiss, but Marjory was right, the water level was definitely rising. Sticking his hand into the icy water,he felt along the bottom of the boat. The skin seemed solid enough. Marjory turned and, following his lead, began to search the back of the curach.
With the water level still rising, Cameron sat up. "I can't find anything."
Marjory joined him on the bench. "Nor can I. But the water is definitely getting higher."
"Okay, hang on, we'll just have to try and make it to shore." A crack of thunder sounded overhead. Cameron could feel Marjory shivering next to him. He slipped an arm around her in a brief embrace. "We'll be all right."
He shifted and grasped the oar with both hands, paddling furiously. The boat, having lost some of its buoyancy, responded slowly, twirling in circles rather than going forward, the tower beckoned enticingly in the distance.
A drop of rain landed on his forehead with a splat, and then another. The boat was about a third of the way full now, almost impossible to control. The rain had strengthened, coming in a steady, icy downpour. The only thing colder than the rain was the lake water rushing over their feet. Cameron wondered, briefly, how long it took to get hypothermia in the icy waters of a Scottish loch.
He turned to Marjory. Her hair was plastered around her face and rivulets of rain ran down her neck. She gave him a weak smile. "Is this part of fishing, then?" Cameron grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. Any other girl, in any century, would be screaming or complaining, but not Marjory.
He looked toward the tower, it was partially obliterated by the rain, but he could see enough to know that they had no chance of making it back in the boat. The opposite shore was much closer, but still too far for him to manage the already listing curach.
"Marjory." He lifted her chin with a finger, his eyes meeting hers. "It's time to abandon ship. We'll have to swim for the shore." There was a flash of lightning, followed quickly by the loud rumble of thunder. Not even time for one, one hundred. The storm was upon them.
"Ewen?" Her voice was tiny, almost lost in the force of the storm. He looked down at her, his heart constricting at the fear he saw. "I canna do this."
"Sure you can. I'll help you. There's no other choice." He was already unbuckling the belt at her waist. The weight of her skirts alone would carry her straight to the bottom. The belt dropped and the plaid of her skirt unwound falling to the floor of the boat. She stood there in her linen shift looking small and fragile. He took her hand in his. "There's nothing to be afraid of." He tried to smile reassuringly.
The water in the boat was almost to the halfway mark. The front was already tipping forward. Marjory placed her hand in his, looking up at him, her gaze steady. What had ever made him think this woman fragile?
"Cameron, you dinna understand what I'm trying to tell you." She bit her lower lip and then released it. "I canna do this because I canna swim."
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"All right then, I'll just have to swim for both of us."
Marjory's eyes widened for an instant, but she didn't say anything. Water sloshed around their legs. The boat was sinking fast. Cameron looked down at his plaid. There simply wasn't time to remove it. He'd just have to drag its sodden weight along with them. He released the pin at his shoulder and secured the loose end around his waist. At least that would leave his arm free. The wind immediately bit through his shirt. He shivered with cold and anticipation.
