Page 87 of Wild Highland Rose
His anger peaked. "Damn it, woman, I'm not going to let you face them alone. I'm coming with you."
She searched his face, the questions in her eyes going well beyond Torcall Cameron, then with a sigh, she nodded.
Cameron reached for her hand, attempting a smile. "I don't suppose you know a shortcut?"
Her lips quirked upward in response, her fingers tightening around his, and together they began the trek back down the mountain.
Birch trees loomedon either side of them, like sentries guarding the meadow beyond. Marjory leaned against a tree trunk, trying to catch her breath. They had run most of the way, fear and urgency driving them. Now, it was important to pause and consider their options before leaving the shelter of the woods for open ground.
"What next, princess?"
He stood next to her, looking every inch a Scottish warrior. She bit back a stab of concern. He wasn't a warrior, no matter how he looked, and she was taking him into what could very wellbe a battle for their lives. Still, despite her feelings of guilt, she was glad to have him with her.
"I'm no' sure. We canna see the tower from here. But I'm fairly certain Torcall is still somewhere between it and us. Which means we can't safely leave the shelter o' the trees without risking discovery."
"Is there some place in the woods where we can get a good look at the tower?"
She frowned, her mind spinning with worry, and she fought to calm herself. There was no time for panic. She had to think clearly. "There's a ridge no' far from here. 'Tis no' in the woods, but I think we can safely climb to the top without being seen."
"All right then we have a plan." He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. "We'll find a way to stop them. I promise."
"Dinna make promises you canna keep." She pulled her hand free, and wearily pushed back a strand of hair that kept stubbornly falling in her face. "We'll follow the line o' the trees to the north until we're almost to the ridge, and then we'll break cover. The ridge itself ought to keep us out of view."
Cameron surveyed the tree line. "Fine. What do you say we get moving?"
She nodded, trying to focus on the task at hand. It wouldn't help if she let her imagination run free. No matter what was happening inside the walls of Crannag Mhór, she had to keep her wits about her. She'd not be able to help her people if she let her fears overtake her.
They moved cautiously through the trees, trying to keep their speed without making too much noise. To their right the open meadowland beckoned. Everything was quiet, but there was no sense in taking unnecessary chances.
"Wait." The single word was whispered, but it had all the power of a shouted command. Marjory pulled up sharply, almost running into Cameron's broad back.
"What is it?" Her heart thudded as she scanned the area for danger. "What do you see?"
"Over there." He bit the words out, jerking his head in the direction of a large birch. Marjory let her eyes drift down the tree. There was a splash of white lying at the base. She started forward, only to find her progress stopped, Cameron's big hand closing on her shoulder.
"It could be a trap." His whispered words drifted past her ear, no louder than a breath of air. He yanked her back behind a rhododendron bush, its glossy leaves providing them cover. They crouched there, waiting and watching. Nothing moved.
Finally, convinced that no threat awaited them by the tree, they left the shelter of the bush, walking cautiously toward the patch of white. As they neared the birch, what had been abstract color began to take shape. They stopped a short distance away and Marjory felt bile rising in her throat.
Aida Macvail lay sprawled across the exposed roots of the tree, her eyes open, staring at the branches waving dreamily in the wind. Her mouth was frozen in a scream, her golden hair tangled with leaves and twigs. Her throat had been slit and her skirts were bunched haphazardly around her waist.
Cameron moved forward, taking Aida's wrist, feeling for signs of life. He turned, meeting Marjory's horrified gaze, shaking his head in response to her unasked question. Turning back to the body, he carefully lifted her, pulling her shift back into place and then, with gentle fingers, reached to close her sightless eyes.
Marjory crossed herself, trying to swallow back the need to be sick. Cameron reached her side, enclosing her in the circle of his strong arms. She buried her head in his chest, allowing herself the moment of comfort. Finally, feeling calmer, she pushed away from him.
"I can only think of one person that could have done something like this."
Marjory nodded, forcing herself to spit out the name. "Allen Cameron."
"But why Aida?"
Marjory shook her head slowly in denial. "I don't know. It doesna make sense." She tried to pull out of the lethargy of shock and force herself to think.
"There's a basket over here." Cameron bent to examine it. "It's full of herbs."
Marjory felt fear clutch at her heart as she recognized the basket. It didn't belong to Aida, it belonged to Grania.
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