Page 65 of Wild Highland Rose
"'Tis no' your concern." She refused to look at him, but her voice was steady.
He should have been pleased that he was out of this mess—that she wasn't trying to make him stay. Hell, he should be euphoric, but he wasn't. Absurdly, he wanted to be the one to protect her and keep her safe, but of course that was impossible. He might look like a Scottish warrior, but he certainly wasn't one.
He wasn't anything. The shell of one man and the vague memories of another. The only thing he was really certain of was that he wanted this woman more than he thought possible, that and the fact that he couldn't have her.
Almost of its own volition, his hand reached for her chin, tipping her face gently upwards. Their gazes met and held. The longing in her eyes mirrored his own…longing and pain. Pain that he was responsible for.
He traced the curve of her jaw, wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms, to erase the sadness in her eyes. Instead, he dropped his hand to his side and stepped back, breaking contact. "We should get back to the others. I'd hate for them to think we'd gone missing again."
Marjory squared her shoulders, all emotion draining from her face, leaving in its place a mask of civility. "Aye, 'tis getting late." She turned to go, not waiting to see if he followed.
With one last look at the party of Camerons making their way toward the woods at the base of the mountains, Cameron turned to follow Marjory. It seemed the adventure was over.
18
"Icanna believe yer here, safe and sound. I was so sure that that devil husband of yours had harmed ye in some way." Aimil fussed over Marjory, tucking a blanket around her legs, then poking at the fire.
Marjory smiled tolerantly. Aimil really wasn't that far from the truth. Physically, she was fine, but emotionally she'd ever be the same.
"It was daft enough fer the mon to go out in a boat when he couldna swim, but to take ye with him…well, all I can say is that his fall definitely robbed him o' his senses."
"I wish everyone would quit blaming him. Ichoseto go in the boat." She paused, debating whether to say more. Aimil turned from the fire, meeting her gaze.
"You've fallen fer him haven't ye?"
"Nay. I'll admit he's changed. And that I like what I know o' the new and improved Ewen Cameron, but that's as far as the feelings go." Marjory felt the warmth of a blush belie her words.
Aimil fisted her hands on her hips. "Marjory Macpherson, dinna lie to me. I can see that ye have feelings fer the man. I only wish I could convince ye that he's up to no good."
Marjory pushed the blanket away and stood up with a sigh. "Aimil, we've covered this territory before. I know how you feel about him, but you're going to have to accept my word that he's changed." Marjory crossed restlessly to the window and pulled back a shutter. Icy wind blew through the open window, spraying her with a fine mist of rain. She shivered.
"Close the shutter, girl, ye'll catch yer death." Aimil reached around her and banged the plank of wood shut. The solar immediately felt warmer. With a firm, but gentle, shove Aimil sent her back to the bench by the fire.
Marjory held back a laugh. The woman was almost clucking, a mother hen if ever there was one. "I'm a grown woman, Aimil, I've enough sense no' to make myself ill."
The older woman sniffed and sat in a small chair, pulling a tapestry frame closer to her. With nimble fingers, she deftly began to weave the silken strands of thread into place. "I suppose ye'll wanthimat the celebration tonight."
"Of course." Marjory felt her eyes widen in exasperation. "Without him, there would be nothing to celebrate." How many times was she going to have to say it? Apparently, Aimil was not of a mind to accept Cameron on any terms, no matter what he did.
She thought, briefly, about telling her who he really was, but stopped. Aimil would no doubt confine her to bed certain she had a brain fever of some kind if she so much as breathed a word of the fanciful tale.
In fact, now that she thought on it, safely away from the sheer magnetism of her newly changed husband, she wondered how she could have accepted it as true? The man had been very convincing, but suddenly she was filled with uncertainty. What if all this was just an elaborate plot by the Camerons? Maybe she was being naive and foolish.
"Did I hear you mention a celebration?" Marjory looked up as Grania made her way into the chamber, holding a stack of folded plaid. Moving slowly, but unerringly, she made her way to the bench, and sat down, patting Marjory comfortingly on the knee.
"I did." Aimil didn't look up from her sewing. "I thought in honor of Marjory's safe return we should do something special. To that end, I've ordered Cook to prepare a feast for our evening meal."
"Well done, Aimil. We've no' had a party at Crannag Mhór in ever so long."
Marjory reached over and squeezed the blind woman's hand, and Grania turned to her, bestowing an angelic smile. Sometimes Marjory would swear the woman radiated peace and serenity. Something, at the moment, she seemed to be in short supply of.
"You're none the worse for yer little adventure?" Grania's voice was filled with concern.
"Nay, I'm right as rain. Just a wee bit tired. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure."
"Well, with Torcall Cameron gone from beneath our roof, I'd imagine we'll all sleep a bit better." Aimil continued making neat stitches in the tapestry.
"Aye, no doubt o' that." Grania nodded in Aimil's direction.
