Wild Highland Rose (Time Travel Trilogy, Book 2) (12 page)

Marjory nodded absently, already moving away toward the gate.  She'd feel better after a walk.

Marjory headed toward the pool.  It was a good place for thinking.  And at the moment that
'
s just what she needed to do.  She cut across the meadow, trying to keep her mind off the fact that Torcall Cameron was out here somewhere.  Tomorrow he'd be at Crannag Mhór.  Tomorrow, she would have to face him.  And tomorrow, he would probably take Ewen back to Tyndrum.

Her stomach tightened at the thought.  What in heaven's name had happened to her?  She couldn't get him off of her mind.  It wasn't as if he hadn't touched her before.  He certainly had.  She shuddered at the memory.  But that had been different, a stubborn little voice reminded her.

The old Ewen had been rough and uncaring and had smelled like a cess pit.  Revulsion washed over her at the recollection of his hands ripping her clothing as he forced her back against a wall.  It had been a mating, an unwilling and painful mating
, n
othing more.  Certainly not like it would be now.

She stopped dead in her tracks.  Saints preserve her, what was she thinking?  The man was still the same no matter how different he smelled, and she'd do well to remember the fact.

What was it Aimil said?  A cat cannot change its ways.  True enough.  And even if Ewen had changed, he was still Torcall
'
s son, and no amount of change could negate that fact.

She had sworn never again to allow Torcall to set foot on Crannag Mhór land, and now, here she was contemplating that very thing.  Greeting the whoreson as if they were old friends.  Letting him take his
blathering
blethering
son back to Tyndrum
without
so much as whimper of protest.  What she ought to do was slay the both of them.  Now, that would be a fine vengeance.

But even as the thought entered her head, she could hear her father rattling on about honor. 
"'Tis a special kind of man who can face an enemy with honor, lass.  Ye'll do well in this life if ye can remember that.  Hold on to yer honor, Margie, my girl, and ye'll always be strong." 
What good was honor, she wondered, if it kept you from avenging the people you loved?

Frustrated, she began walking again, curving up away from the bubbling burn, heading for an all but invisible path through the trees.  She left the open grassland and stepped into the
sun shaded
sun-shaded
cover of the wood.  It was quiet and she walked along
,
lost in her thoughts, her feet automatically following the faint trail.

"
Well, well, well, if it isna Marjory Macpherson.
"
  Allen Cameron stepped into the path, blocking her way. 
"
Out for a wee bit of a walk, are ye?
"

Marjory started to back away, but his hand snaked out, grabbing her firmly by the wrist.

"No' so fast, me girl.  My brother may be too addled to see ye for what ye are, but I
'
m no
'
as easily fooled."  Allen tilted her chin with his other hand. 
"
And I
'
ll no
'
stand by and watch ye get away with murder.
"

"
I
'
ve no idea what you
'
re talking about.
"
  Marjory flinched at his touch and struggled to escape his hold.

"Ach, but ye've got fire in ye.  I like a woman with a bit o' spunk."  He leered at her, his breath foul as it grazed her cheek.

She froze at his words, memory overwhelming her.  The face had changed, aged and obscured by whiskers, but the voice was the same.  And she still hated him. 
"
Unhand me, Allen,
"
she whispered.

"I think no
'
."  His hand moved downward, caressing her
neck and shoulder.
 
"
It
'
s time
ye learned yer place, and since my brother hasna the stomach for it, I might as well be the one to do it.
"

His fingers brushed across her breast.  Marjory tried to clamp down on the fear rising inside her.  She wasn't a helpless child anymore.  Gritting her teeth, she kicked Allen as hard as she could.  "Let go of me, you bastard.  I'll no' have the likes of you touching me."

Allen swore vigorously, releasing his hold on her arm.

Marjory stepped back, turning to run into the shelter of the trees, but Allen was faster.  His arms closed around her from behind like two iron bands.  She struggled against his hold, letting out a blood curdling scream.

Allen laughed, rubbing his lower body against hers.  "There's no one to hear ye, girl.  We're all alone.  Didn't yer parents warn ye that it was dangerous to go walking alone in the woods?"

Marjory swallowed back tears, still fighting against his hold. 
"
You killed my parents, remember?
"

"
Nay.  You know as well as I, it was my father who had that honor.  But make no mistake, I
'
d have done it had I the chance.
"

"
Well you should have killed me, too.
"
  She spat the words at him, her hatred momentarily overcoming her fear.

"
And miss the chance to fill ye to the brim?
"
  He tugged her closer, his
hardness
, pressing against her thigh. 
"
I think no
'
.
"

She looked frantically around the clearing, praying for help.  But of course there was none.  Fingal had warned her to take someone with her.  She
had landed herself in this awful mess.  Now she had to use her head and figure out a way to escape.

With one hand circling her wrists, Allen jerked her around to face him, pushing her back against the rough bark of a tree trunk.  He licked his lips as though contemplating a morsel of food, and Marjory felt her stomach lurch in revulsion.

"I dinna take kindly to a
lady
," he spat the word like a curse, "trying to run from me.  If ye know what's good fer you, ye'll no' try it again."  To emphasize his point, he twisted her wrists with one hand and fondled her breast with the other.  "I intend on having ye, girl.  So ye can decide now how ye want it to be.  Willing or unwilling, either way 'twill pleasure me.
"

His sneered at her, his eyes glinting with more than just lust.  This was a man who enjoyed causing others pain.

Marjory swallowed a scream, her blood running cold.

*****

Cameron followed the stream bed as it curled upward.  Rocks jutted out haphazardly, occasionally blocking his access to the water, forcing him into the undergrowth.  Branches pulled at his kilt, scratching his legs, and he alternated between swearing and swatting at what seemed to be the world's most persistent mosquitoes.

He had stopped several times along the way, giving serious thought to throwing in the towel and going back to the tower.  Determination kept winning the day, however, and he continued hacking a path through seemingly impassable vegetation.

All he had to do was find the pool.  It should be simple to backtrack from there and find the place where he had arrived, so to speak.  He grimaced and slapped at a particularly obnoxious insect.  He figured his best bet for getting out of this insanity was where it had begun.  All he wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up safely in the twenty-first century.

A nagging voice inside his head reminded him of the darkness and the beeping.  He angrily pushed the thought aside.  The darkness would be preferable to the animosity and confusion he faced here.

Even if there
hadn
'
t been a plot against his life, there was still the fact that his supposed bride was a piece of work.
 
One minute all honey and sugar, the next pure venom.  Given her obvious dislike for anything Cameron, it wasn
'
t a far stretch to imagine she wanted Ewen dead.  But wanting and acting on that desire were two separate matters.

It
wasn
'
t important
anyway. 
Whatever
Marjory Macpherson did or didn
'
t want, it had nothing to do with him.  He had a place in his own world.  He just had to find a way back to it.  Pushing
aside
a tangle of vine laden branches, he moved back in line with the stream.  Where was that damn pool?  Surely if he could find it, he could find the rockslide.  He knew it was probably naive to think that traveling through time was as simple as a place or location, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment, and a plan was a plan.  He was nothing if not a man of action.

He forged ahead, ignoring the brush scraping his skin, his mind reviewing the few facts he knew about himself.  Bits and pieces had been coming to him.  Nothing concrete, mainly just random pictures.  Visions from his past.  Some places and things, a few people.

The blonde was a big part of it all.  He felt a connection to her.  She was important in his life.  He was certain of it. He concentrated, trying to pull something more from the blank void of his memory.

A birch sapling slapped him in the face, forcing him to abandon his thoughts and slow his pace.  Passing a level rock hanging out over the stream, he stopped and gingerly sat down, rubbing his stinging cheek.

This was a nightmare
, a
nd
,
best he could tell, there was no waking up.  Which only made him all the more determined to find a way back
—or
forward
,
depending on how you looked at it.  With a sigh, he stood up, ignoring the aching protest of his muscles, but before he could start off again, a scream rang out from the woods behind him.

Startled, he splashed into the stream, crossing it in two strides, breaking into a run once he reached the other side.

Someone was in trouble.

The undergrowth soon gave way to trees and he slid to a quick stop.  Narrowing his eyes, he could just make out two figures.  From this distance, it was hard to tell, but it looked like one of the two was struggling.  Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he moved slowly, using the trees for cover.  Drawing closer, he could now clearly make out the couple, a man and a woman.

The man
had
pushed the woman back against a tree, one arm holding her wrists, the other intent on exploring her body.  From the look of things, the woman was not enjoying his attentions.  The man shifted slightly, his back still turned to Cameron, but the woman came clearly into view, her frightened blue eyed gaze colliding with his.

Marjory
.

Stunned, Cameron signaled her to be quiet and tried to think what to do.  He needed a weapon.  Fumbling with the closure of his sporran, he felt inside for the little knife he'd found by the river.  With relief, his hand closed over the horn handle.  Not exactly a weapon inspiring great fear, but a weapon nevertheless.

He grasped the knife, amazed at how comfortable he felt holding it, almost as if it were a part of him, an extension of his hand.  He was obviously no stranger to a dagger.  Memory flashed.  Startled, he forced himself to let it go.  No time now for reminiscing.  He'd deal with his memories after he'd rescued Marjory.

If
he rescued Marjory.

Time was of the essence.  Surprise was his single advantage.  He tensed himself, preparing to launch an attack.

Everything seemed to happen at once.  He sprang into the clearing, and Marjory gasped in surprise, hope flaring and then dying in her eyes.  Her assailant turned, and Cameron raised the knife, praying that it would stand him in good stead.

But before he had a chance to advance, light hit his opponent
'
s face, and Cameron felt everything tilt off kilter. 
"
Allen.
"

His brother whirled, still holding Marjory. 
"
Who
'
s there?
"

"
Let her go, Allen.
"
  Cameron stepped into the dappled light of the clearing, still holding the knife.

"
Or what?
"
  Allen laughed. 
"
You
'
ll gut me with the wee knife?
"
  He relaxed his hold, but didn
'
t release Marjory. 
"
I was only having a bit o
'
sport with her.  Ye canna deny me a little fun.  Especially no
'
when the bitch tried to kill ye.
"