Page 81 of Wild Highland Rose
He sat up blearily, eyeing her with suspicion. "Aimil, why are you here?" he asked, deciding the direct approach would be best.
She smiled cheerily. She was actually quite pretty when she wasn't scowling. "I just told ye, I've brung yer meal."
He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. "I know that. Butwhyhave you brought it?" This was not an easy conversation. It was like trying to do bypass surgery with tweezers.
"Because ye were bound to be hungry. And, look, no oats." She removed a square of linen with a flourish. "Barley bannocks, sweetened with honey, just the way ye like them." She fidgeted with the tray.
"Aimil, why don't you sit down and tell me why you're really here. We both know it's got nothing to with food."
She sank down onto the chair by the bed, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "Well, truth be told, I came to thank ye."
"For what?"
"For saving my brother."
He reached for the mug of ale on the tray and took a long swallow. Wishing, as he did most every morning, that it would magically turn itself into a strong cup of coffee. "It was nothing, Aimil."
Maybe in his world, but, here, it ranked as a miracle. He immediately regretted his choice of words.
She shifted uneasily in her chair. "Ye know that it was far more than nothing. Without ye, my brother would likely have died. I've no notion where ye learned to do what ye did, and I'm no' likely to be asking, but I thank ye just the same."
"Well, you're welcome." She made no move to leave. So, Cameron reached for the tray.
He was hungry and the bannocks smelled delicious. Then, remembering his thoughts about Aimil and arsenic, he hesitated, the food halfway to his mouth, another thought pushing itself front and center. The landslide, the curach…
"Ye know." She met his gaze, shifting uncomfortably on the chair.
"I guessed." Just now. But he didn't tell her that.
She motioned to the bannock still halfway to his mouth. "'Tis all right. I've done naught to yer food."
He hesitated a moment more, then bit off a piece and chewed. It was delicious. He swallowed then put the bannock back on the tray. "So you're the one who caused the landslide."
"Aye. 'Twas easy enough to do. I thought I'd kilt ye." She twisted her hands nervously, but held his gaze. "I came to apologize, and to beg yer forgiveness."
Cameron had no problem forgiving her for the landslide, after all, it was Ewen she'd wanted dead, but there was still the issue of the curach. "What about the boat?"
She lowered her head and stammered in the direction of her lap. "When ye told me that ye were going out on the loch in the wee curach, it seemed an ideal time to…to…" She broke off, her eyes welling with tears.
"Kill me?"
She swallowed uncomfortably. "Aye."
"But Marjory could have been killed."
Tears slipped down her weathered cheeks. "I dinna know that Marjory would be on the curach. I thought 'twould just be you. I would ne'er do anything to harm her. Ye have to know that."
"It's all right, Aimil." The woman's obvious misery deflated his anger. "It was brave of you to come and tell me this."
"I had to do it. 'Twas only right. Ye saved Fingal and Marjory. I dinna know who ye are, but yer certainly no' a Cameron."
"Well, I am sort of a Cameron. I mean, that is my name, but I'm not related to Torcall, if that's what you're getting at."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "I think yer an angel sent to watch o'er us all." She peeked at him through her lashes. "Especially Marjory."
The thought sobered him. He didn't want to be anybody's angel. In fact, based on his actions over the last few days, he wasn't even certain he'd qualify for the job. But the thought once presented could not be pushed away. And he remembered something Grania had said about having a purpose here.
He shook his head, unwilling to go there, to allow for anything beyond what he knew he had to do. "Aimil, I appreciate your confession and your apology." He held out his hand. She looked at it, unsure of what to do.
