it were a curse, " will be here soon. Whatever it is you need to know, you can learn it from him. "
Without giving him time to answer, she fled, leaving Cameron with the uncomfortable feeling that she ' d taken the sunshine with her.
*****
"I dinna know what it is, Aimil, but he is no' the same." Marjory raised the linen to her lips and snapped the embroidery thread.
Aimil frowned. "Not with yer teeth. Ye were raised to be a lady no' a stable boy. And change or no' , the mon is still a Cameron and in my books that makes him the enemy. Have ye forgotten so quickly then what his family did to yours?"
Marjory bit her lip in concentration as she tried to thread the small needle. Finally, in frustration, she handed it to Aimil who deftly threaded it and handed it back. Marjory sighed, failing to see the importance of being able to thread a needle. There were far more critical things to worry about. And best she could tell, there was no one at Crannag Mhór who cared at all if she could embroider tapestry. Well, no one except Aimil.
She picked up the piece and earnestly began to stitch. "Of course I haven't forgotten, Aimil. I live with that legacy every day of my life. I was only saying that I think Ewen has changed." Her body fairly sang at the thought of the physical changes. But that wasn ' t all of it. There was something more, something she couldn ' t put her finger on. Something she was hesitant to even think about, let alone believe.
" Ye sound as if yer taking an interest in the man. " Aimil shot her a concerned look over the top of her tapestry frame.
" I couldna do such a thing. " Marjory felt heat rising in her cheeks. She bent her head to her work, hoping Aimil wouldn ' t notice. " No ' with all that lies between us. " And she meant the words. At least on most levels. Still, she couldn ' t deny that there was something about Ewen now that was more than what he ' d been before. Something that called to her in the age old way of men and women.
If she'd felt anything at all for the old Ewen, it was revulsion, but try as she might she couldn't seem to recapture that feeling. It was almost as if he truly was another man. Saints preserve her, now she was one who was daft.
"Marjory Macpherson, I've known ye since ye were a bairn and I know when yer no' telling me the truth. Ye are feeling something fer him."
Marjory met Aimil's eyes, her own gaze clear and strong. "Only pity, Aimil. Ewen has clearly gone a wee bit soft in the head. And the least I can do is make sure he's well taken care of until Torcall Cameron comes to take him home."
"And what if Torcall Cameron doesna want him the way he is?"
"Then he'll just have to stay here at Crannag Mhór." Aimil was silent, but Marjory knew she was holding her tongue. "Out with it, Aimil. I know you've something to say to me."
Aimil smiled. "Ah, child, ye know me too well. 'Tis just that I dinna want ye to get any more involved with the man than ye already are."
Marjory laughed, but the sound held little humor. "I married him. I dinna know how much more involved I can get."
"Aye, but when ye married him, he wasna injured and he didna want to be here. He only came now and again in the hopes o' getting ye with child, and when that failed, he hightailed it back to his father's house and his mistress."
Marjory opened her mouth to speak, but Aimil cut her off with a wave of her hand. "Nay, I'll no' dance around the fact that he has a mistress, maybe scores of them for all we know. And it'll do ye good to remember the fact. A cat canna change his ways, Marjory. He will always roam, and this one is worse than most. He's a Cameron. Dinna let yerself care fer him, child. It canna bring ye anything but heartache. And more than likely, it'll bring ye harm."
They sat in silence, sewing almost in rhythm. Aimil was right. Marjory knew it in her mind and her heart had
Without giving him time to answer, she fled, leaving Cameron with the uncomfortable feeling that she ' d taken the sunshine with her.
*****
"I dinna know what it is, Aimil, but he is no' the same." Marjory raised the linen to her lips and snapped the embroidery thread.
Aimil frowned. "Not with yer teeth. Ye were raised to be a lady no' a stable boy. And change or no' , the mon is still a Cameron and in my books that makes him the enemy. Have ye forgotten so quickly then what his family did to yours?"
Marjory bit her lip in concentration as she tried to thread the small needle. Finally, in frustration, she handed it to Aimil who deftly threaded it and handed it back. Marjory sighed, failing to see the importance of being able to thread a needle. There were far more critical things to worry about. And best she could tell, there was no one at Crannag Mhór who cared at all if she could embroider tapestry. Well, no one except Aimil.
She picked up the piece and earnestly began to stitch. "Of course I haven't forgotten, Aimil. I live with that legacy every day of my life. I was only saying that I think Ewen has changed." Her body fairly sang at the thought of the physical changes. But that wasn ' t all of it. There was something more, something she couldn ' t put her finger on. Something she was hesitant to even think about, let alone believe.
" Ye sound as if yer taking an interest in the man. " Aimil shot her a concerned look over the top of her tapestry frame.
" I couldna do such a thing. " Marjory felt heat rising in her cheeks. She bent her head to her work, hoping Aimil wouldn ' t notice. " No ' with all that lies between us. " And she meant the words. At least on most levels. Still, she couldn ' t deny that there was something about Ewen now that was more than what he ' d been before. Something that called to her in the age old way of men and women.
If she'd felt anything at all for the old Ewen, it was revulsion, but try as she might she couldn't seem to recapture that feeling. It was almost as if he truly was another man. Saints preserve her, now she was one who was daft.
"Marjory Macpherson, I've known ye since ye were a bairn and I know when yer no' telling me the truth. Ye are feeling something fer him."
Marjory met Aimil's eyes, her own gaze clear and strong. "Only pity, Aimil. Ewen has clearly gone a wee bit soft in the head. And the least I can do is make sure he's well taken care of until Torcall Cameron comes to take him home."
"And what if Torcall Cameron doesna want him the way he is?"
"Then he'll just have to stay here at Crannag Mhór." Aimil was silent, but Marjory knew she was holding her tongue. "Out with it, Aimil. I know you've something to say to me."
Aimil smiled. "Ah, child, ye know me too well. 'Tis just that I dinna want ye to get any more involved with the man than ye already are."
Marjory laughed, but the sound held little humor. "I married him. I dinna know how much more involved I can get."
"Aye, but when ye married him, he wasna injured and he didna want to be here. He only came now and again in the hopes o' getting ye with child, and when that failed, he hightailed it back to his father's house and his mistress."
Marjory opened her mouth to speak, but Aimil cut her off with a wave of her hand. "Nay, I'll no' dance around the fact that he has a mistress, maybe scores of them for all we know. And it'll do ye good to remember the fact. A cat canna change his ways, Marjory. He will always roam, and this one is worse than most. He's a Cameron. Dinna let yerself care fer him, child. It canna bring ye anything but heartache. And more than likely, it'll bring ye harm."
They sat in silence, sewing almost in rhythm. Aimil was right. Marjory knew it in her mind and her heart had
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