Wild Highland Rose (Time Travel Trilogy, Book 2) (40 page)

Within minutes, his even breathing signaled his descent into slumber, and she lay in silence, staring at the ceiling, reveling in the warmth of his body against hers, agonizing over the fact that he loved someone else.

The words bit into her heart, cutting deeply.  She had to accept the fact that he had a covenant with Lindsey, and she knew, without a doubt, that Cameron was the kind of man who would honor his promises.

She swallowed back tears.  He'd never made promises to her.  In fact, he'd been clear from the beginning that there could never be anything permanent between them.  He was going back, back to Lindsey, back to where he belonged.

It was for the best.  He
'
d no doubt be safer there as well.

She tightened her arms around him, fe
eling the warmth of his breath against her hair
, and shivered.  At least for tonight, for this moment,
he belonged to her.  Tomorrow…
She sighed.  Tomorrow, she'd have to let him go.

Cameron groaned, trying to block the shaft of sunlight stabbing into his eyes.  He'd forgotten to shut the bed curtains again.  He rolled over, dragging the pillow over his head.  Surely, it couldn't be morning, it felt as if he'd only just fallen asleep.

Last night had been a doozy, and the memory of it made him reach out for Marjory, only to find the bed beside him empty.  They
'
d said so much last night, yet neither had spoken the words that really mattered.  He supposed it was all for the best.  He needed to move forward, to think of Lindsey and his life with her.

He saw her again, standing in the rain, reaching for him.  Blood everywhere.  She needed him.  He was certain of it.  And nothing else could be allowed to matter.  He had to make things right.

"Come on then, lad, are ye going to sleep the day away?  I've been sitting here for a quite a time, and I tell ye, I've had enough o' waiting."

The voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he rolled over to find Aimil hovering over him with a tray.  He closed his eyes again, certain that he was dreaming.  Aimil would never come to his bedroom, and if she did, she'd much more likely be carrying a knife than a tray.

He frowned.  On second thought, maybe a tray could be used as a weapon.  Something along the lines of Mrs. Aimil doing it in the bedroom with the tray.  Not exactly the lead pipe, but it would probably do in a pinch.

He opened his eyes to find the smiling woman still in the room.  She'd moved away from the bed and was busy arranging the tray on the bedside table.  "I've brought ye food to break yer fast."

He sat up blearily, eyeing her with suspicion.  "Aimil, why are you here?" he asked, deciding the direct approach would be best.

She smiled cheerily.  She was actually quite pretty when she wasn't scowling.
 
"I just told ye, I've brung yer meal."

He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw.  "I know that.  But
why
have you brought it?"  This was not an easy conversation.  It was like trying to do bypass surgery with tweezers.

"Because ye were bound to be hungry.  And, look, no oats."  She removed a square of linen with a flourish.  "Barley bannocks, sweetened with honey, just the way ye like them."  She fidgeted with the tray.

"Aimil, why don't you sit down and tell me why you're really here.  We both know it's got nothing to with food."

She sank down onto the chair by the bed, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.  "Well, truth be told, I came to thank ye."

"For what?"

"For saving my brother."

He reached for the mug of ale on the tray and took a long swallow.  Wishing, as he did most every morning, that it would magically turn itself into a strong cup of coffee.  "It was nothing, Aimil."

Maybe in his world, but, here, it ranked as a miracle.  He immediately regretted his choice of words.

She shifted uneasily in her chair.  "Ye know that it was far more than nothing.  Without ye, my brother would likely have died.  I've no notion where ye learned to do what ye did, and I'm no' likely to be asking, but I thank ye just the same."

"Well, you're welcome."  She made no move to leave.  So, Cameron reached for the tray.

He was hungry and the bannocks smelled delicious.  Then, remembering his thoughts about Aimil and arsenic, he hesitated, the food halfway to his mouth, another thought pushing itself front and center.  The landslide, the curach…

"Ye know."  She met his gaze, shifting uncomfortably on the chair.

"I guessed."  Just now.  But he didn
'
t tell her that.

She motioned to the bannock still halfway to his mouth.  "'Tis all right.  I've done naught to yer food."

He hesitated a moment more, then bit off a piece and chewed.  It was delicious.  He swallowed then put the bannock back on the tray.
 
"So you
'
re the one who caused the landslide."

"
Aye.  'Twas easy enough to do.  I thought I
'
d kilt ye.
"
  She twisted her hands nervously, but held his gaze.  "I came to apologize, and to beg yer forgiveness."

Cameron had no problem forgiving her for the landslide, after all, it was Ewen she
'
d wanted dead, but there was still the issue of the curach.  "What about the boat?"

She lowered her head and stammered in the direction of her lap.  "When ye told me that ye were going out on the loch in the wee curach, it seemed an ideal time to…to…"  She broke off, her eyes welling with tears.

"Kill me?"

She swallowed uncomfortably.  "Aye."

"But Marjory could have been killed."

Tears slipped down her weathered cheeks.  "I dinna know that Marjory would be on the curach.  I thought 'twould just be you.  I would ne'er do anything to harm her.  Ye have to know that."

"It's all right, Aimil.
"
  The woman's obvious misery deflated his anger. 
"
It was brave of you to come and tell me this."

"I had to do it.  'Twas only right.  Ye saved Fingal and Marjory.  I dinna know who ye are, but yer certainly no' a Cameron."

"Well, I am sort of a Cameron.  I mean, that is my name, but I'm not related to Torcall, if that's what you're getting at."

She breathed a sigh of relief.  "I think yer an angel sent to watch o'er us all."  She peeked at him through her lashes.  "Especially Marjory."

The thought sobered him.  He didn
'
t want to be anybody's angel.  In fact, based on his actions over the last few days, he wasn't even certain he'd qualify for the job.  But the thought once presented could not be pushed away.  And he remembered something Grania had said about having a purpose here.

He shook his head, unwilling to go there, to allow for anything beyond what he knew he had to do.  "Aimil, I appreciate your confession and your apology."  He held out his hand.  She looked at it, unsure of what to do.

He reached over and clasped her trembling hand in his.  "Why don't we start over?"  She nodded, pullin
g her hand back from his grasp.
  "How's your brother this morning?"

Her eyes brightened.  "He's doing much better.  He slept well last night and this morning ate a little broth.  His throat's bothering him a wee bit, but I told him that was to be expected.  Grania's already been in to check on him and seems to think with a little rest that he'll be right as rain."

Cameron smiled.  "I'd trust her diagnosis any day."

Aimil frowned at his choice of words, but then smiled, obviously getting the gist.  "You'll see him yerself?"

"Yeah, I'll check on him as soon as I'm dressed."  He gave her a pointed look and she sprang up from the chair.

"I'd best be off then.  I'll just leave the tray until yer finished."  She headed for the door, and he watched her leave, then reached for his plaid.

It was time to go.  Of course there was still the problem of finding the way back to the landslide, and even if he found it, there was the very real possibility that he still wouldn
'
t be able to get back to his own time, but he had to try.  Lindsey needed him.  Surely that was the point of his dreams.

Again he saw the blood, her terrified eyes beseeching him.
 
He threaded his fingers through his hair, knowing he was missing something.  But what?  His memory seemed to be
intact
, but he still wasn't seeing the whole picture.  He struggled to remember, but his mind remained stubbornly blank.

The only way to find out the truth was to try and get home again.  To find the door to the future.  His future.  Maybe he
'
d been sent here to learn about himself.  To realize that there was more to life than achievements and success.
 
Maybe now he
'
d be the kind of husband Lindsey deserved.

Just for a moment he allowed himself to think of Marjory.  He remembered the feel of her wrapped in his arms, their bodies moving together as one.  Heart to heart, soul to soul…

With a curse, he cleared his thoughts.  He had obligations to fulfill and they weren't here, no matter how tempting a certain Scotswoman might be.  He jumped out of bed, swallowing the last of the bannocks.  It was time to go home.

*****

Cameron stood at the gate to the garden, watching as Grania dug her hands into the warm, moist soil.  The smell of the earth filled the air, the scent soothing
in some intrinsic sort of way.
  Grania felt carefully along a row of plants, her hands stopping when she reached a dark green, long-leafed one, then with deft hands, she harvested stems and leaves, placing them in a basket by her side.

It was peaceful watching her work, the drone of the nearby bees a musical accompaniment.  It would be easy to stay here, to forget about honor and doing what was right, but he was knew he couldn
'
t.  So he walked into the garden preparing to say good-bye.

Grania must have recognized the sound of  his footsteps because she looked up, her wrinkled face creasing into a smile.  "You're an early riser.  I thought fer sure ye'd sleep the day away after all ye went through last night."

"I could say the same thing about you."  He came closer, squatting down on the dirt beside her.

"I dinna sleep much anymore.  One of the privileges of age.
"

"
Are these herbs for healing?
"
  He was fairly certain of the answer, but he couldn
'
t bring himself to move to heavier topics.

"
Aye.  I
'
ve got quite a few of them growing here, although there are some I can only find in the woods.  I thought I
'
d make a poultice for Fingal.  Have ye seen him?"

"Yeah, I just left him.  He's healing nicely.  Hasn't quite got the hang of covering the stoma before he talks, but he's getting there.  I imagine, in a few more days, he'll be talking non-stop."

"Probably."  She stopped awkwardly, as if she already knew what he was here to say.

"I've come to say goodbye."

"Ye've made up yer mind, then?"  She broke off another plant, adding it to the basket, a slight tremble in her hand the only evidence that his announcement had affected her.

"
Once I remembered there was never really anything to decide.  I belong in the twenty-first century, Grania.  My life is there."

"Ye have a life here, too."

"No, Ewen had a life.  I've just been prolonging it for him."

"And what about Marjory?"  She looked up at him, her expression so intense, that for a moment he forgot she couldn
'
t see.

He sighed, his heart twisting inside him.  "She'll find someone new.  Someone who can love her the way she deserves to be loved.
"

Grania reached over and tentatively touched his hand.  "I know that, but I canna be as sure that she knows it.  She
'
s given her heart to you, lad, and it
'
ll no
'
be easy for her to give it to another.
"

He pulled away. 
"
I wish it could be different, Grania.  I
'
d do anything to keep from hurting her.  But I have a fiancée and she needs me, too.  If my dreams are to be believed her very life might depend on it.
"

"
Surely an overstatement.
"

"
Maybe, but there
'
s only one way to know for sure.
"

She rubbed a leaf absently and the sharp scent of thyme filled the air. 
"
Have ye told Marjory, then?
"