Wild Highland Rose (Time Travel Trilogy, Book 2) (48 page)

Marjory
.  Just thinking her name was painful.  He didn't even know if she really existed.  Maybe she was just a coma induced hallucination.  He'd read of such things before.  His heart cried out at the thought, insisting that she was real
—
more real than anything he'd ever had in his life.

And he'd let her go.

The realization hit him like a brick.  He'd had had everything he'd ever wanted and he'd let it all slip through his hands.  He
'
d tried to do the honorable thing, but in reality he
'
d simply refused to listen to his heart.  Grania had told him, but he
'
d refused to listen.

He wondered what had happened.  Had he died in the fifteenth century?  Had Marjory survived?  Had she mourned his loss?  Suddenly, he longed to go back
—
to go home.  The word surprised him, and he whispered it out loud.  "Home.
"
 
Crannag Mhór
.  It felt right, more right than anything else in his life.  But it was too late.

His brain was getting foggy, the pain killer doing its job.  With a sigh, he let his eyes drift shut allowing the darkness to take him.

*****

Marjory sat up with a start, excitement making her pulse quicken.  "I think he's breathing."  She laid her head back on his chest.  She could definitely feel a shallow up and down movement.  "Holy Mary of God.  He's alive."

Cook materialized from nowhere, the kindly woman kneeling by her side,  doubt written across her ample face.  "Nay, Marjory 'tis just your imagination.  The man is dead."

"'Tis no' true."  She grabbed the woman
'
s hand and forced it down on Cameron's chest.  "Feel for yourself."

Cook frowned her, then slowly smiled.  "Dear God, ye speak the truth.  The man is breathing."  Her smile faded.  "You canna get your hopes up, lass.  Just because he's breathing now, doesna mean he'll ever wake up.  He took a bad blow to the head, and there's all this blood.  That canna bode well for his recovery."

Marjory ignored the woman
'
s gloom.  She had hope.  Hadn
'
t Cameron first come to her through just such an injury?  She placed an arm under Cameron's shoulder.  "Help me get him up.  He needs to be in bed."

"Fine.  I
'
ll help ye get him to bed.  But I dinna want ye getting yer hopes up."

"I'll think what I want.
"
  Marjory cried, surprised at the vehemence in her voice. 
"
The man has risen from the dead before."  Her heart soared.

She leaned over Cameron, whispering in his ear.  "Come back to me, you stubborn
oaf
.  I've need of you here.  You belong to me and no one else.  Come back to me."

*****

"Come back to me."
The voice echoed in his head, pulling him from sleep, darkness surrounding him.  He listened to the darkness.  The beeping was incessant, pounding out a steady beat. 
But instead, he
concentrated on the voice.  Marjory
'
s voice.  Had he dreamed it, or was he still linked with her time?

He tried to open his eyes, but couldn't.  Hope shot through him.  It had been like this before.  He willed himself back to Crannag Mhór, to Marjory, but nothing happened.  There was only the darkness and the syncopated beeping.  He struggled to see something, anything, in the dark
, frustration consuming
him.

"Rest easy, child."

Grania.

He relaxed at the sound of her voice, and immediately, the white door appeared.  He felt his heartbeat accelerate, whether from excitement or fear he couldn't say, probably a bit of both.

"Dinna be afraid, I'm with ye."

He felt the warmth of her love surrounding him.  "I can't see you."  He spoke and yet he knew he hadn't truly vocalized the words.

"I'm here.  Feel me with yer heart."

Again, he felt the warmth of her love embrace him.

"'Tis time fer you to make a decision, Cameron.  Ye must decide what it is ye want, lad.  Yer old identity or a new life with Marjory.  Ye canna have both, and I canna hold the door open much longer."

As he watched the white door dimmed a little. 
"
Why are you here?
"

He felt her laughter. 
"
'
Tis my job to watch o
'
er ye.  What I couldna do in life, God has allowed me to do in death.  I want only your happiness.  But the decision must be yer own.
"

The light faded a little more, and he wondered suddenly how he could have ever thought anything was more important than love.  For he loved Marjory Macpherson with all of his soul.  He belonged with her, no matter what century, no matter what body.

"Ye have chosen wisely, my son, I'm proud o' you.  Remember a part o' me is always with you."

Grania's voice faded away with the door, and the darkness shifted, black to gray.  The beeping was gone.  Afraid to hope, he slowly opened his eyes.

*****

Marjory sat on a chair, resting her head on the edge of the bed coverings, her hand entwined with
Cameron
'
s
.  With Cook
'
s help, she'd managed to clean and bind his wound.  Once the congealed blood had been washed away, the gash had seemed less nasty.  He did have a large knot on the back of his head, but in truth, it didn't seem any worse than any he'd had before.

But he hadn't awakened, hadn't even made a sound.  Once, she'd thought she heard him say her name, but then she'd decided she'd only imagined it.  With a sigh, she raised her head, quickly sucking in a breath, as
she looked into his
amber
eyes
.

"Marjory, mine."  The words were weak, but she'd never heard anything more beautiful in her life.

"I'm here, love, I'm here."

Marjory let the merriment of the wedding feast surround her.  Camerons and Macphersons alike danced and drank and toasted to the
newly
wed
couple.  It was perhaps a bit odd to repeat the vows, but her folk accepted it without question, glad enough to have peace in the valley again.

Fingal sat slightly apart from the others.  His wound had healed, but his face was still lined with grief.  Aimil
'
s death had hit them all hard, but life continued, and with time she knew that Fingal would recover.  The hatred that had run their lives was gone.  It died with Torcall and Allen and Aimil
—
and with Ewen.

Not many knew of Cameron
'
s true identity, but even those who still thought him Ewen Cameron knew that he was not the same man, and because of that they were here to celebrate the joining of the clans.

Cameron reached for her hand, pulling her close against
him
, and Marjory leaned back into his embrace, delighting in the even rise and fall of his breathing.
 
It had been touch and go for a while, but he was finally completely healed.

It would take a while before Crannag Mhór did the same, but on the whole her people were recovering.  Her grandfather had made certain that there was peace between the Camerons and Macphersons.  Accomplished in no small part because so many believed Cameron was in fact the resurrected Ewen, and it was simpler to let people think what they would.

"
Penny for your thoughts.
"
  Cameron
'
s voice echoed through his chest, and she felt the words as much as heard them.

"
I was thinking about you.
"
  She tipped her head to look up at him.

He smiled down at her, his hand running softly along her back.  "I love you, Marjory Macpherson."

The look in his eyes, made her heart turn over, and she felt tears well up inside her.  He reached for her hand again, his fingers entwining with hers. 
"
I love you too, Cameron Even. And even though the world will know me as Ewen Cameron
'
s wife. 
'
Tis your wife I am, and always will be.
"

"
Once and forever mine?" he whispered, his breath sending shivers of desire chasing though her.

"
Once and forever yours,
"
she repeated. 
"
Body, heart and soul.
"
  She stood on tiptoe to brush her lips against his, sealing the covenant. 
"
And you, my love, are mine.
"

With a sigh, she settled back against him, allowing his warmth to seep into her soul, filling her with bliss, and as he pulled her tighter, she glanced out the window.  A small star twinkled high in the night sky, and she smiled, certain that after all her mother had been right about the angels.

"Thank you, Grania," she whispered.  "Thank you."

And Now A Sneak Peek at the The Promise,

the third novel in Dee Davis’s

Time Travel Trilogy!

San Juan Mountains, Colorado

"I don't believe I've ever been this happy." Cara Reynolds hugged herself in the backseat of the car. "It's been an incredible day."

"Well, you're the only daughter we have." Her father's voice was teasing, filled with love. "Besides, you're only going to be sixteen once."

"Probably just as well. I'm not certain I could take this kind of excitement every day. First you give me the new foal, then dinner at the Bristol, and now this." She held up the pendant hanging around her neck. "It's a wonder I'm not spoiled rotten."

"Who says you aren't?" Her father laughed, and Cara thought again how incredibly lucky she was. Not everyone had the family she did. A mother and father who doted not only on her, but on each other. A grandfather who loved them all. She sighed with contentment. Life was practically perfect.

"Do you really like the necklace?" Her mother shot a smile over her shoulder.

Cara caressed the smooth silver, her fingers memorizing each line of carving. "It's wonderful. It even feels old."

"Almost a hundred years." Her father squinted suddenly as a blinding light appeared over the top of a hill. "Come on fellow, cut your damn brights."

"Jim. There's no need to use profanity." Her mother's voice was gentle but firm.

Cara watched, mesmerized as the light came closer and closer, its beam filling the car with clear white light, throwing everything into relief. Her vision intensified, her mother and father etched in her brain like a photograph.

There was an odd grinding noise, and she thought she heard her father curse again. Then, against the sound of metal on metal and shattering glass, the world spun totally out of control. She was thrown forward and then whipped backward again, her head slamming into something hard. Light exploded in her brain, then vanished, pain crescendoing and then dissipating, blackness rushing up to meet her, engulfing her…

The world was amazingly quiet. And cold. Something soft and wet was tickling her nose. And her head hurt. Not just run of the mill hurt, but threatening to explode hurt. She tried to remember where she was, but her brain could barely function over the power of the pain. With a deep breath, she forced her eyes open.

Snow.

She was lying in the snow.

Which made absolutely no sense at all.

Gritting her teeth, she slowly pulled herself up on her elbows, trying to remember where she was. The ground was bathed in an eerie light. Flickering.
Firelight
. In a rush everything came back.

There'd been a wreck. 

Her vision cleared and she focused on the burning wreckage. A pick-up was balanced precariously on two wheels, its frame resting against something solid. She fought against a wave of nausea, narrowing her eyes.
Their car
.

Her brain kicked in with a rush, overriding the pain to send a terrifying message.

Her parents. Oh God, where were her parents?

Biting back a sob, she screamed out their names. When her attempts to stand failed, she crawled forward, inch by inch, still calling for them, her eyes searching the wreckage, her heart slamming against her ribs, the blood pounding to her brain.

The truck shifted, slamming down on the sedan underneath. She opened her mouth to scream, but before the sound could leave her body, both cars suddenly exploded, hot flames shooting into the air, the falling snow doing nothing to dampen the fury.