Page 60 of Wild Highland Rose
Marjory swung around to face him. "Dinna be starting that again. I chose to get into the curach all on my own. 'Twas no' like you forced me to do it."
"Peace, both o' you." Fingal said. "You sound like a couple of bickering children. 'Tis enough that you're safe and unharmed, lass." He ruffled Marjory's hair. "Come on then, they'll be wondering where I've gotten off to."
"Who's with you?" Cameron suspected of course, but he wanted to hear it nevertheless.
Fingal frowned. "Some of our men, along with the Camerons. Torcall and Allen and that henchman o' his, Dougall are here. We're making camp o'er there." He nodded in the direction of the cottage. "We'd just about given up hope o' finding you. Torcall has been raging about yer luring Ewen to his death. He'll be pleased to see his son still lives, but I've no doubt he'll still be thinking there's witchery afoot."
Cameron suddenly felt tired. There was no winning this war. Hatred would consume them all in end. Revenge begetting more revenge. He wished he could just escape the lot. Go home. Nothing in his old life could possibly be as complicated as all of this.
As if on cue, his mind trotted out the vision of the blonde standing in the rain. Maybe she needed him. Maybe her very life depended on his return. But then Marjory needed him, too.
At the thought, he pivoted to face her, surprised to see she and Fingal huddled together, whispering. They sprang apart, Fingal's expression guarded. Marjory's apologetic.
"Fingal was just telling me that we should be careful what we say to Torcall."
"What do you mean?" Cameron frowned.
Fingal sighed. "I mean that tales of you swimming to Marjory's rescue willna go o'er well with the mon."
"Go on. Tell him the rest o' it." Marjory poked her captain, insistent that he continue.
"Whatever is happening here," Fingal shot another speculative look in Cameron's direction, "it canna help anything to share it with Torcall. He's talked o' naught but the fact that Ewen canna swim since he discovered you took the curach. I dinna like to think how he'll react when he finds out you swam to shore with Marjory in tow."
Fingal obviously believed Marjory's story. Which meant that he accepted the fact that Cameron had swum them both to safety. But if Ewen Cameron couldn't swim, then that also meant that Fingal must realize he wasn't Ewen. Which meant that Fingal might accept him as a potential ally. Just like that. Cameron marveled at the ability of these people to accept the seemingly impossible without batting an eye.
Fingal was right though, Torcall Cameron was a different story. He wanted his son, not a twenty-first century surrogate. Telling their tale would only put them in danger. At all costs, Torcall must be made to believe that Ewen lived. Memory or no.
Marjory interrupted his thoughts. "We could tell him that the curach washed us ashore during the storm."
"Nay, he'd ne'er believe that," Fingal said. "We found the curach this afternoon. 'Twas smashed to bits."
Cameron frowned. "Maybe it could have happened after we were safely ashore."
"'Tis possible, I suppose. But whatever you tell him, be careful." He turned his attention to Marjory. "And no talk of heroes."
Marjory gave him a mutinous look, then sighed. "Fine."
Cameron reached for her hands. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, princess, but Fingal's right." Their eyes met. He gently squeezed her hands.
"Fingal Macgillivray, I swear, if yer up to more of your tricks…" Torcall's voice rang through the woods.
Marjory tightened her grip on Cameron's hands.
"It's show time." Cameron watched as Torcall came into view and then stopped at the sight of the group on the path. His craggy face broke into a grin, and he strode toward what he believed to be his son, a look of relief lighting his fierce countenance. Cameron drew in a breath, preparing for the inevitable.
"So the two o'ye were washed to shore?" Torcall frowned at Cameron, his eyes skeptical.
"Yeah, we were lucky. It dumped us in shallow water. All we had to do was make our way to dry land." Cameron paused, sizing up his audience. Allen sat across the fire, a sullen expression on his face, lost in his own thoughts. Dougall had disappeared into the woods, presumably to heed the call of nature and Marjory was sitting by a second fire, surrounded by her kin, leaving him on his own with Torcall.
"But you canna swim."
Cameron sighed. This preoccupation with Ewen's water skills was getting on his nerves. Not to mention the fact that he hated lying. But in his heart he also knew that this all was necessary to protect Marjory. "I told you, all we had to do was walk to the shore. Crawl actually. We were pretty tired. There was no need for swimming."
Torcall grunted, obviously unsatisfied with his answers. "Even if I accept your account of your landing that still doesna explain what you were doing in the curach in the first place."
"I wanted to see what it was like to be in a boat. I never even thought about the need to swim." Weak, but plausible.
But Torcall wasn't a fool. "Ewen, you canna even ford a stream without finding the narrowest place to cross. Now yer expecting me to believe that you suddenly had an urge to go out on the loch in a boat no bigger than a man?" Torcall's voice rose in frustration.
