Chapter 10
Cameron
The Strangest Sheep in the World
“Where do you think you're going?”
I stop dead with my hand on the castle door handle and glance over my shoulder.
Connor is standing in the front hall, his travel bag at his feet and a smirk on his face that promises absolutely nothing good.
My twin got home earlier than expected.
“Nowhere important,” I say, pulling the door open.
“Cameron.”
“What?”
“We're twins. I know when you're lying.”
I sigh.
“I've got a work meeting.”
“On a Sunday morning?”
“Yes.”
Connor raises an eyebrow.
“With who?”
“Clementine Fraser.”
“The French woman everyone keeps talking about?”
“Yes.”
“The one Maggie is desperate to invite to dinner?”
“Yes.”
“The one you've been having drinks with at the pub?”
I shoot him a glare.
“Callum should learn how to keep his mouth shut.”
Connor laughs.
“Callum doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. You should know that by now.”
I walk out of the castle without another word.
Behind me, Connor calls out:
“Have fun with your French girl!”
I slam the car door harder than necessary.
My French girl.
What nonsense.
I start the engine and head toward Fraser Manor. The road is empty. The sky is gray.
Typical Highlands weather.
As I pass Old Angus's field, I spot a large white figure crossing the road ahead. Familiar enough that I recognize it immediately.
Hamish.
My family's sheep.
I'm forced to stop when he walks directly into the middle of the road and comes to a halt. Through the windshield, he stares straight at me.
I've stopped only a few yards away from him.
“No,” I say out loud. “Not you. Not today.”
Hamish doesn't move.
I honk the horn.
Nothing.
I roll down the window and lean out.
“Hamish, move!”
He remains exactly where he is, perfectly still, as though he's waiting for something.
I consider my options.
I could try driving around him, but it rained last night and I have no desire to get my truck stuck in the mud. Turning around isn't an option either since this is the only road leading to the manor.
No.
My only choice is convincing Hamish to clear the road.
With a deep sigh, I get out and walk toward him.
“Come on. Move. I don't have time for your nonsense today.”
Hamish looks at me.
Then he starts walking.
Toward me.
Toward my truck.
“No. No, no, no. You're not coming with me.”
Hamish picks up speed.
I climb back into the truck and start the engine, hoping he'll eventually get bored with his little game.
He doesn't.
He stays planted right in front of the hood.
For God's sake.
With a resigned groan, I climb back out.
Apparently Hamish is more intuitive than he looks because the moment I open the tailgate, he understands exactly what's happening. He trots over and, with surprising agility, jumps into the truck.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter as I climb back behind the wheel.
I glance in the rearview mirror and meet Hamish's gaze.
I swear he looks incredibly pleased with himself.
Honestly, he should be.
He just talked his way into a free ride.
“Well, I've officially seen everything.”
I arrive at the manor, park, and get out.
I let Hamish out and assume I've finally gotten rid of him.
That assumption lasts about ten seconds.
The moment I head toward the front steps, the sheep follows right behind me.
“You've got to be kidding me.”
He keeps walking after me as though this was his plan all along.
I look toward the sky.
“You can go wherever you want,” I tell him, “except inside the manor.”
I knock on the door.
Clementine opens it almost immediately.
She's smiling.
“Hey.”
“Good morning.”
She glances behind me and her eyes widen.
“You brought your sheep?”
“Technically, he's not my sheep. And actually, he... followed me.”
Thinking about Hamish riding in the back of my truck, I add:
“Well. Sort of.”
She stares at me in disbelief.
“He followed you all the way here from the castle?”
“Yes.”
Clementine bursts out laughing.
“He's the strangest sheep in the world.”
“That's Hamish. And yes, he's definitely strange.”
She walks over, crouches down, and scratches him behind the ears.
Hamish closes his eyes with an expression of pure bliss.
“He's adorable,” Clementine declares.
“He's invasive.”
“Why does he follow you?”
“No idea. He's been doing it for a while. He appears out of nowhere, follows me around, and refuses to leave.”
She smiles.
“That's cute.”
“Trust me. It's incredibly annoying.”
She stands and looks at me with amusement sparkling in her eyes.
“Well. Come in. And your sheep friend too, if he wants.”
“No. He stays outside.”
“Cameron...”
I shrug.
“He's a sheep. He has wool. He won't get cold if that's what you're worried about.”
“He looks sad.”
I glance at Hamish.
He does not look sad.
If anything, he looks delighted.
“He's a very talented actor.”
“Come on. Let him in.”
I sigh.
“If you let him in, he'll never leave.”
“So?”
“So... he's a sheep, Clementine.”
She smiles.
“I know. But look at him. He's so cute.”
“Don't be fooled. He's manipulative.”
“I'm letting him in.”
I surrender.
“Fine. You're the one who lives here. But I'm warning you right now—I take no responsibility for any damage he causes.”
“Noted!”
Then she turns to Hamish.
“You can come in.”
Hamish lifts his head and strolls into the manor as though he's lived there his entire life. He crosses the entrance hall, heads straight for the kitchen, and settles in.
Clementine watches him with a grin.
“Well, it's official. This sheep is more comfortable here than I am.”
I shake my head, but I can't stop myself from smiling.
We sit down at the kitchen table.
Clementine pours me a coffee.
Hamish snores softly beside the fireplace.
“So,” she says, “what did you want to talk about?”
“Strategy.”
“For dealing with Maggie?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, right. The strategy.”
“You have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this, do you?” I guess.
She shakes her head, smiling, and once again I catch myself thinking she's genuinely adorable.
“Not the slightest. But I'm listening.”
I start explaining the basics: the unspoken rules of dinners at Maggie's house, the topics to avoid, the trick questions she likes to ask.
“Are you sure this is just dinner?” she asks after a few minutes. “Because it sounds more like a CIA interrogation.”
“It's Maggie. There's always an interrogation sooner or later.”
She groans.
“Fantastic. I can hardly wait.”
Silence settles between us for a few moments.
“Why are you doing all this for me, Cameron?”
I frown.
“What?”
“All of it. Helping me. Giving me advice. Playing messenger with Maggie. Why?”
I think about it for a second.
“Because... you're Ewan's cousin. And Ewan's a friend.”
“Really? That's the only reason?”
I look at her without answering.
A faint smile curves her lips.
“You know, Cameron, you don't always need a rational reason for doing something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe you're doing this simply because you want to. No hidden agenda. No mission from Maggie.”
I remain silent.
Maybe she's right.
Maybe I'm here because I want to be.
Not because Maggie asked me.
Not because Ewan is my friend.
Just because...
I want to be here.
It's a deeply unsettling thought.
Clementine stands and opens the refrigerator.
“Are you staying for lunch?”
“I... I don't want to impose.”
“You aren't imposing. I made too much stew yesterday. Someone has to help me finish it.”
Despite myself, I smile.
“Okay. I'll stay.”
She pulls out a pot, sets it on the stove, and starts preparing lunch.
I watch her work.
Her movements are precise.
Efficient.
She clearly knows exactly what she's doing.
“Do you cook often?” I ask.
“Every day.”
“You enjoy it?”
“Yes. A lot. It's... calming.”
“How so?”
“When I'm cooking, I don't think about anything else. Just the ingredients. The flavors. The proportions. It clears my mind.”
I nod.
“I get that.”
“And you? Do you cook?”
“Not really. I know the basics. Nothing impressive.”
She smiles.
“The basics are already pretty good.”
She ladles the stew into two bowls, slices some bread, and sits across from me.
We eat in silence for several minutes.
The food is incredible.
“This is excellent,” I finally say.
“Thank you.”
“Seriously. You could open a restaurant.”
She laughs.
“Ailsa told me the same thing.”
“Ailsa is right.”
“Maybe. But that's not really my plan.”
“Why not?”
She shrugs.
“Because I don't live here. My life is in Paris.”
“Yes. You've mentioned that.”
“And I keep repeating it because everyone around here seems to forget.”
I smile.
“No one forgets. We're just trying to convince you otherwise.”
She gives me a look that's equal parts amusement and exasperation.
“Why?”
“Because this is Glenfield. We like keeping people.”
“Even the ones who don't want to stay?”
“Especially those.”
She shakes her head, but I catch the small smile tugging at her lips.
Hamish suddenly sneezes loudly beside the fireplace.
We both jump and then burst out laughing.
“We really need to get him outside,” I say.
“Why? He's perfectly happy here.”
“Because he's a sheep, Clementine. Sheep don't live inside houses. Why am I the only reasonable adult in this village?”
I get up and walk toward Hamish.
“Come on. Outside.”
He looks at me.
Doesn't move.
“Hamish. Outside.”
He yawns.
Clementine laughs behind me.
“I think he's decided to stay.”
“No. He's not staying.”
I try nudging him toward the door.
He resists.
“Hamish. Seriously.”
He slowly lowers himself all the way onto the floor.
Clementine laughs so hard she has to sit down.
“He's... he's the most stubborn sheep in the world!”
I give up and return to the table.
“You know what? If Hamish acts like this, it's not by accident.”
Clementine bites her lip, and I'm pretty sure she's trying not to laugh.
“If he thinks he can get away with anything, it's because nobody ever tells him no. My grandmother indulges every whim he has, and so does everyone else in our clan.”
We fall silent for a few moments.
The kitchen feels warm and welcoming.
Hamish has resumed softly snoring.
And suddenly I realize something.
I'm happy here.
In this kitchen.
With Clementine.
Even with Hamish.
It's a strange feeling.
Almost unsettling.
Clementine looks at me.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“You're a terrible liar.”
I smile.
“My brother said the same thing today.”
“I don't know him, but he sounds like a man full of common sense.”
Suddenly, I find myself wondering what Clementine would think of Connor. Whether she'd like him better than me.
The thought sends an unpleasant feeling through my chest.
I shake my head, trying to get my thoughts back in order.
“I was just thinking that... this is nice. Being here.”
She smiles too.
“Yeah. It is.”
We sit there without speaking.
The silence isn't awkward.
It's comfortable.
Eventually, I stand.
“I should go.”
“Already?”
“Yeah. I have things to do.”
She rises as well.
“Okay. Thanks for the advice about Maggie.”
“You're welcome.”
We walk toward the front door.
Hamish still hasn't moved.
“You're not taking him back?” Clementine asks.
“No. He's yours now.”
She laughs.
“Cameron. I can't keep a sheep.”
“Why not? You've got a manor. A huge garden. He'll be very happy here.”
She lightly smacks my shoulder, and I immediately find myself wishing she'd leave her hand there.
“What would Maggie say?”
“Hamish always does whatever he wants. He'll go home when he feels like it.”
She shakes her head, amused.
“Fine. But if anyone asks questions, I'll tell them you're the one who brought him. The last thing I need is people thinking I'm a sheep thief.”
“Honestly, I'd pay someone to take that animal off my hands for a while. He's been even worse than usual lately.”
I step out onto the front porch.
The air is cool.
The sky is still gray.
Clementine remains standing in the doorway.
“Cameron?”
“Yeah?”
“You're welcome here anytime.”
I go silent for a second.
“Thank you.”
She smiles.
“You're welcome.”
Then she closes the door.
I get into my truck.
Start the engine.
And drive slowly back toward the castle.
The entire way home, I keep thinking about what she said.
That I'm welcome at Fraser Manor.
And I realize that's exactly what I wanted to hear.
Damn.