Page 94 of Wild Highland Rose
Marjory followed just behind him, her hand resting against the small of his back. A shadow flickered across the patch of light. Cameron stopped abruptly, pushing Marjory back against the earthen wall. "I think I saw someone." He peered at the open doorway. It was actually slightly above them, the path slanting steeply upward towards the storage room. Nothing moved except the faint waver of light.
"'Twas naught but the torch light."
Cameron shook his head. "It was more than that." As if to substantiate his words, the shadow moved across the opening again, and this time they were close enough to make out its distinctly human form. "Looks like Torcall left a guard. Stay here."
Cameron waited until the shadow disappeared again and started inching forward, his sword gripped tightly in his hand. He wondered, briefly, how he had managed to gethimself into this position, but the memory of Grania's battered body immediately reminded him and he clenched his jaw in determination. He would not let her death go unpunished.
Reaching the entrance to the tower, he was relieved to find the doorway empty. He crouched low in the corner of the passage, holding his breath, waiting. A slight movement in the still air surrounding him warned him he was not alone. "I told you to stay put."
"I thought you might have need for me."
He sighed with resignation. She was a willful woman. "Well, at least stay here until I dispatch Torcall's henchman."
"The thug."
Cameron could detect the smile in her voice. She was actually enjoying this. Or whistling in the dark. He turned back to the light, as the man stepped into the doorway, his back to them. It was one of Torcall's soldiers; Cameron recognized the plaid. With one swift movement, he swung upward, claymore flashing in the torch light.
The Scotsman died with a look of astonishment on his face. His lips moved, as though he were trying to say something, but instead, he crumpled to the floor of the storage room, his mouth open, his eyes lifeless.
One down.
Cameron grimly stepped over the body, eyes scanning for other intruders. The room was a replica of the solars on the two floors above, except that it had only tiny slits for windows.
"He's dead." Marjory announced matter-of-factly, stepping gingerly into the room.
Cameron was already in place against the wall abutting the door leading into the kitchen. Holding a finger to his lips, he motioned her to the opposite wall. They waited in silence, Cameron straining to hear noise.
The kitchen, usually a busy place, full of people, was ominously quiet. Keeping his claymore ready, he swung into the room. Releasing a breath, he relaxed his sword arm. The kitchen was empty.
A fire burned at the hearth, licking at the bottom of a large iron pot. The smell of stewing meat filled the room. Marjory edged around the transom behind him. "Where is everyone?"
"Hiding, I assume. I think it's a good sign that there aren't any bodies." Cameron heard her sharp intake of breath. "Let's check the other rooms." The sleeping quarters adjacent to the kitchen were empty, no sign of any occupants, living or dead. The same was true of the pantry. It was as deserted as the kitchen. Abandoned trenchers were lined up on a table ready to be filled with food.
The thick stone walls and ceiling insulated the ground floor from the rooms above. It was impossible to tell what might be happening upstairs. "Where next?"
Marjory pointed to a connecting door between the pantry and another room. "The buttery, and there's another storage room."
They cautiously stepped into the buttery. Like the other rooms, there were signs of recent activity, an open keg of ale and several pitchers clustered around it, but the room was silent and empty. A door at the end of the buttery was closed, a heavy bar in place across its wooden door.
"Is that the storage room?"
Marjory nodded. "Aye, 'tis." She stared at it, her eyes wide with concern. "I've ne'er seen it barred before."
Cameron frowned and moved cautiously toward the door. Handing his weapon to Marjory, he struggled to remove the bar. It creaked loudly as he lifted it from its brackets. Seeing Marjory's nod of encouragement, he swung open the door. The room was tiny, and jammed full of chests and crates.
Taking the claymore from Marjory, he edged cautiously into the room. She followed closely behind, her breath tickling the back of his neck. "There's no one here." Marjory's softly whispered comment seemed loud in the silence.
A woman's wail suddenly filled the room. Cameron raised his sword, stepping.
"He's got our Marjory." The fierce-faced figure of Crannag Mhór's cook emerged from the shadows, holding what looked like a rolling pin threateningly in one large hand. The other was planted firmly on her more than ample hip. "Let her go, ye fiend."
Cameron tipped back his head and laughed, as much from relief as from humor. Marjory shot him a look that clearly indicated she thought he'd gone 'round the bend. Pushing him aside, she rushed over to the agitated woman. "I'm fine. Cameron is here to help us, no' cause us further harm."
The woman lowered her arm, but her narrow-eyed gaze never left Cameron, and she didn't release her grip on the rolling pin. Evidently as far as she was concerned, once Torcall's son, always Torcall's son.
"Are you alone in here?"
The woman glared at him, then softened her gaze as she turned to address Marjory. "Nay, most o' the lasses who work in the tower are here as well." Several women, two holding small children, emerged from behind the crates. Their faces were pinched with fear.
