Page 11 of Wild Highland Rose
He turned then, almost as if he'd known she was there, his eyes locking with hers, their bodies communicating on a level she'd no idea even existed before this moment—this man. She froze, her hand tightening on the door handle, her mind trying to make sense where there was obviously none.
This was her enemy.
"So ye've come to see my patient." Grania materialized from the far side of the room, the movement startling Marjory back to reality.
She forced a smile, turning her gaze toward the old woman. "I'd no' intended to interrupt. And obviously," she gestured towards Ewen without daring to glance again in his direction, "I've come at the wrong time."
All she wanted now was to escape, to avoid the man and the strange feelings the sight of him evoked. A strong chest and a clean shaven face were only surface changes. Nothing could change the man that he was, or his kinship to her parents' killer.
"Nonsense, child. I've all but finished here. And the man is no' going to bite."
"I wouldn't be so certain." There were all kinds of ways to torture someone and Ewen Cameron was no stranger to any of them. "I really just came to make certain he was well cared for." Despite herself she shot a glance in his direction, surprised to see amusement twinkling in his eyes. Jerking her gaze back to Grania, she felt herself grow hot, although she took comfort in the fact that the sensation was more than likely caused as much by anger as embarrassment. Ogling a Cameron was something less than acceptable and the mere thought that she'd fallen prey to his masculinity set her blood to boiling.
"Yer husband has need of ye, child." Grania's voice was soft, her words as usual enigmatic. Sometimes Marjory wondered if the woman was fey. "'Twill do you good to have a talk."
Marjory couldn't think of a thing she wanted to talk to Ewen about, but there was steel in the old woman's voice, and Marjory knew from long experience that arguing was worthless. Better to give in. Truth was, Grania Macpherson always got her way.
Grania moved closer, her hand on Marjory's arm, her voice almost a whisper. "He remembers nothing of his past. Nothing at all."
She stared at the old woman, trying to digest her words. "He's addled then?"
"Nay," Grania shook her head. "He's no' simple. But the fall seems to have robbed him of his identity. He'll need someone to put things right."
"Well, it canna be me." Marjory spoke louder than she'd intended, and Ewen's eyes narrowed, his features sharpening with the gesture. All sign of vulnerability vanished, cloaked in an instant, his face a blank mask.
"I can speak for myself, you know." His voice was hoarse, the cadence of his speech different. As if he had trouble with the words. She shot a questioning look at Grania.
"He'll be right as rain in no time. And I suspect his memory will return, eventually. But until then, he's got questions, and I told him that ye were the best one to answer them."
"I've no desire to help him with anything." Marjory hissed, dismayed to find that, in fact, that's exactly what she wanted.
"WellIwant to talk toyou," he said. "So come over here. Grania's right, I won't bite." Ewen was still frowning, exasperation coloring his voice.
She wouldn't put it past him to bite. Especially if it helped get him what he wanted. But at the moment he looked somewhat harmless, and Grania seemed determined for the two of them to talk. So ignoring the flutter in her stomach, she moved closer.
"You canna remember anything?" She tried but couldn't keep the disbelief from her voice. She'd never heard of such a thing. Except perhaps from someone very old, and Ewen was anything but frail.
He shook his head, then settled back into the bed as Grania bustled around him, straightening the bedclothes and fluffing his pillows. She was pampering him, and the idea of it rankled.
"There now, you just rest." Grania crooned, her hand caressing Ewen's brow.
Marjory felt warm inside, as if she was watching something she shouldn't. Her hand involuntarily rose, as if to smooth his cheek. The motion pulled her from her thoughts and she felt hot color wash across her face again. She deliberately slowed her breathing. By the saints, she was growing as dimwitted as her husband.
She pulled herself back to reality, only to find Ewen staring at her, eyebrows raised in amusement. Grania was nowhere in sight. She'd been so far gone, she hadn't even noticed the old woman leave. Narrowing her eyes in what she hoped was a haughty glare, she prayed silently for deliverance.
Ewen motioned her to the side of the bed, his gaze intense. She shook her head, but her feet, obviously with a mind of their own, moved forward and then deserted her, forcing her to sit on the edge of the bed, beside the odious man.
"Your name is Marjory." It was a statement, but his inflection made it clear that he wasn't convinced of the fact.
"Has been since I was born, and well you know it. You may have fooled Grania, but I'll have none of your games."
Something she would have sworn was disappointment washed across his face, but it disappeared before she could be certain. "This is far from a game. I have no idea who any of you are. Hell, I'm not even certain who I am." There was a hint of fear in his voice.
She'd never seen Ewen vulnerable. It touched her. Without thinking, she reached over to cover his hand. "'Twill come right soon enough. In the meantime, you must rest."
"I've had enough coddling to last a lifetime." He pulled his hand away, frustration cresting in his eyes. It was amazing how easy it was to read emotion in his face. She told herself it was only because the beard was gone, but some part of her insisted that it was something more. "What I need right now is a telephone."
Marjory studied his face. He seemed sane enough, disregarding his new penchant for cleanliness, but she had no idea what a telephone was. Perhaps Grania was wrong and he had gone simple. "I dinna ken what you're speaking of. I think that perhaps this fall has left you a bit weak in the head, husband." She wasn't quite sure what had made her add the last word. It was just that he looked so different. A far cry from the man she despised.
