Page 27 of Wild Highland Rose (Time After Time #4)

Today, it had been Torcall Cameron. He'd been sprawled across a bench in the main solar, bellowing for his son.

Aida had been there, too, sitting beside him, wrapped around his arm like an eel Marjory had seen once at Cluny, all slippery and evil smelling.

Once out of their sight, it had been easy enough to sneak back up the stairs and out the front entry.

Now she was safely away, but still no nearer to discovering where Ewen had gone.

A splashing noise off to her left caught her attention.

Someone was struggling to get a curach into the loch.

The man held the boat over his head with both arms. He had waded a short way into the loch and presently was trying to turn the boat over and drop it into the water, without tumbling in himself.

After watching for a few minutes, Marjory realized he wasn't having much success.

Curiosity aroused, she stood, and hurried down the beach just as the man managed to flip the curach into the water.

He made a wild grab for it, snagging the edge before it could drift out into the loch.

As he straightened and pulled the craft partway onto the shore, her heart began to race. The man was Ewen.

"Wait," she called, beginning to run. He was loading something into the boat. He didn't hear her and began to push the curach out into the water again. She hiked up her skirts so that she could move faster, driven by an overpowering urge to get to him.

"Ewen, wait," she yelled again, breathlessly. He paused and looked up, shading his eyes with his hand. She skidded to a stop within a few yards of him. No sense in letting him know how anxious she was. She released her skirts and patted her hair, trying to appear nonchalant.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to sound surprised.

He raised his eyebrows. "Watching you tear across the meadow-like a madwoman."

Marjory dipped her head, embarrassment heating her cheeks. "I was afraid you were going to leave."

"I am leaving."

"What?" Her head snapped up.

"Not forever, princess, just for a little while. I'm going fishing."

Relief washed through her. He wasn't leaving her permanently. "Fishing? Whatever for?"

He shot her an exasperated look. "For fun. Why is it you people don't know anything about fishing? You live on a lake for God's sake."

"We know about fish." She tipped her chin up. How dare he insult her people? "They live in the loch, and sometimes, when there is a shortage of game, we actually eat fish, but I canna imagine going out in that," she pointed at the curach, "for enjoyment."

"Well, you may be right on that count. This thing does look a little rickety to me, but both Fingal and Aimil assure me its sound." He tapped the boat, illustrating his point.

"You talked with Aimil?" Marjory felt the color rising again.

"Yeah. She had quite a bit to say." He looked at her pointedly.

"About me?"

He nodded. "She basically told me that if I ever got near you again there'd be hell to pay."

"Oh." She studied her slippers.

"Marjory?"

She looked up, her heart skipping a beat as she met his eyes.

"I'm sorry about what happened this morning. I know it was awful for you, but I didn't invite her to my room. I swear it. If you'd given me a chance I could have explained."

"You don't have to explain. 'Twas nothing." She looked down again, afraid he'd see through the lie.

He lifted her chin with his fingers. "That's not true. It hurt you. I know it did. And if I could have waved a magic wand and made it all disappear, I would have. You have to believe me when I tell you, I did not ask Aida to come to my room."

He brushed a strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "In fact, when you came in, I was telling her to leave. Unfortunately, she isn't good at taking no for an answer." His gaze met hers and held. "I really am sorry."

Looking into his eyes, she saw nothing but concern and sincerity.

"I believe you." And she was surprised to find that she actually did.

Which was confusing considering who she was talking to.

But then the truth was, for whatever reason, the man he was now was a far cry from the Ewen Cameron she had married.

And she prayed to God that the change was permanent, and that he would stay at Crannag Mhor.

At least, until his father took his cohorts and went home.

Beyond that she did not dare imagine. It was too new, and there were too many things that could upset the fragile feelings that were building inside of her.

For now at least, she'd do best to keep them at bay, locked away in some safe corner of her heart.

"Do you want to come with me?"

She broke from her reverie. "In that?"

"Well, if we're going to go out on the lake, its best to take a boat, don't you think?"

"Aye, but I still dinna see the purpose o' going at all."

"Marjory," he sighed, "sometimes it's good to do things for no reason at all. Come on. Let go. Live a little."

What was it Grania had said? Listen with your heart? Maybe she did let her head rule too much. "All right," she said, the decision made. "I'll go. What do I do?"

"Give me your hand."

She placed it in his, shivering at the warmth of the contact. The man definitely had an effect on her. She sat on the bench in the center of the curach.

"All settled?"

She nodded and he pushed the little boat clear of the shore. Then almost effortlessly, he jumped over the side and settled beside her on the bench. The curach rocked back and forth, but held strong.

The bench was small, with barely enough room for the two of them. She settled comfortably against his side, thinking that maybe fishing wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Are you sure you're doing it right?" Marjory peered over the side of the curach into the murky water where his line disappeared.

Cameron smiled. "Yes, I'm sure."

"But you haven't caught any fish. Isn't that the whole point of fishing?"

Cameron sighed. There was simply no explaining the art of doing nothing to someone who probably thought tossing a caber was recreational. "Just be patient, we'll catch something."

"Do you really think the fishes will eat pieces of oatcake?"

Better them than him. "I'm not sure really, but they were plentiful and the cook didn't seem to mind my having them."

Marjory laughed. "I'll wager you didn't tell her what you were wanting them for."

"No, I didn't." He grinned sheepishly. "She probably thinks I've developed a taste for them."

They sat in companionable silence, watching the fishing pole, waiting for something to happen.

A brisk breeze had come up and the little boat rocked back and forth.

Suddenly, the pole jerked and the line pulled tight.

Cameron drew back on the stick, feeling the line pull in the opposite direction. "I think we've got something."

Marjory leaned over the side, trying to see. "What do we do now?"

"Good question. Normally, you use a reel to help you pull it in, but I didn't have time to figure out how to make one. So, I guess we'll just have to do it manually."

"Manually?" She looked at him in confusion.

Hell, everything they did was manual. "On our own, without the aid of the reel," he explained. She really didn't look any less confused, but at least she nodded as if she understood.

He handed her the stick. "Here, you hold on to the pole.

" She grasped it in both hands. "Great, now with a little luck, I'll bring this guy in.

" He started to pull the fishing line in hand over hand.

Fortunately, the fish wasn't very big, or it wasn't putting up much of a fight.

Marjory was leaning out over the water, pole in hand.

"Where is he? I canna see him."

"Keep watching, I've almost got him here." The line hadn't seemed very long when it was empty, but now that he wanted to get to its end, it seemed to stretch on forever.

"Wait a minute, I think I see him." Marjory pointed to a flicker of silver just over the side.

Cameron leaned over the edge, allowing his line of vision to follow her pointing finger. Sure enough, there was a flash of fin. He yanked on the last of the line, sending a spray of water over Marjory and the fish flying through the air. It landed in the boat with a flop.

"You've caught him." Marjory's voice held a note of awe. Cameron felt as though he had just slain a dragon. She peered at the fish. "It looked bigger in the water." Okay, a very tiny dragon. "I think 'tis a wee babe. It looks so helpless."

Great, so much for the conquering hero stuff. "Shall we let it go?"

"Aye." She shot him a smile that warmed him all over. Back to king for a day.

"No problem." He picked up the little fish and worked the hook from its mouth. "All right, fish, this is your lucky day." With a grin at Marjory, he tossed it over the side. The fish hit the water with a smack and quickly disappeared from sight.

"Well, that's it then. We've fished."

Cameron threw back his head and laughed. "That we have, Marjory Macpherson, that we have."

The little boat rocked on the water, the motion soothing, the silence around them comfortable.

Marjory seemed content for the moment to simply trail her hand through the water and watch him fish.

There was something so domestic about this: The perfect way to spend the day. The perfect woman to spend it with.

The thought brought him up short, surprising him with its tenacity.

He liked Marjory—most of the time. But surely his feelings didn't go beyond that.

After all they were practically strangers.

An image of their bodies tangled together filled his mind, the memory of their passion crescendoing until he actually felt the heat between them as if it were happening now.

"Where have you gone?"

"Beg pardon?" Her words jerked him back to reality, embarrassment replacing other emotions. "I was thinking about what a wonderful day it is."

She studied him for a moment, as if questioning the truth of his statement, then nodded in acceptance with a smile. "I was thinking how happy I am, too. How much I like being with you."

His stomach sank as the reality of her words hit him hard. They were heading down a dangerous path. One he shouldn't—couldn't—pursue.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in his expression. "Did I say something wrong?"

He reached for her hand, taking it firmly in his, wishing away his riotous thoughts. "No, not at all."

"Then why, may I ask, are you frowning?" she asked, worry creasing the line of her brow.

"I'm not really. See?" He grinned, praying that it was convincing, but knowing from the look on her face, it was not.

"Dinna lie to me, Ewen. Tell me what's wrong."

He chewed on his upper lip a minute, trying to formulate his words. "It's hard to explain. But I guess the truth of it is that I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"Taking advantage? How?"

He blew out a long breath, not certain if this was the right time or place for confessions, but convinced that it was important she know. Important that he tell her. He wanted no secrets between them. No matter the cost.

The loch was still peaceful, the storm on the far side forming a spectacular backdrop.

The dark angry clouds seemed at odds with the gently lapping water.

Somehow it seemed to mirror his predicament.

The peace he felt here with Marjory was a lie, nothing more than a precursor to the storm that would follow.

He was so tired of being alone. Of trusting no one. His gaze met hers, his heart heavy. "I'm not who you think I am, Marjory. I'm not Ewen Cameron."