Chapter 32 #2
Patrick laughed. “Sunny, I only did what I thought was necessary. And of course none of it was revenge for that night I spent in your loo in Seattle, puking my guts out thanks to braving dessert at your table.”
“You shouldn’t have had three pieces of chocolate cake,” she rasped. “Gluttony’s a sin.”
“So is lobelia frosting.” Patrick looked at Cameron. “Best make her taste your dessert, Cameron, if you’ve irritated her.”
“You hurt my sister,” Sunny said weakly. “I owed you for the two weeks she spent bawling on my couch over you.” She forced herself up so she was leaning on Cameron’s chest. “You didn’t have to put lobelia in that tea you made me. Unnecessarily vindictive.”
“I knew you were going to throw up anyway,” Patrick said. “No sense in not hurrying things along. It will cheer you to know that your beloved has already threatened to do damage to me— repeatedly. I was, as you might imagine, not overly troubled by the thought.”
Cameron snorted as he put his arms around his love. “Why is it every MacLeod ever spawned is so full of misplaced arrogance?”
“Because we’re eternally charged with the task of bettering our Cameron neighbors.”
“Are you two going to come to blows soon?” Madelyn said with a laugh, coming to stand in the doorway.
Patrick flashed his wife a quick smile. “Just keeping ourselves amused. Cam can take it.” He looked at Cameron. “Sunny calls you that. Mind if we do, too?”
Cameron shook his head, though he was a little winded. “My youngest brother used to.”
“Hate to tell you, laddie, but we’re all older than you are.” Patrick shrugged. “Perhaps you can count us as brothers just the same.”
Cameron would have plunged a knife into his own chest before he let on how affected he was, but it took a moment or two before he could muster up a frown.
It had been that sort of day. “I daresay I could.” He cleared his throat roughly.
“I appreciate the aid today, as well. I’m not too proud to say I needed it. ”
Patrick rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “It was a pleasure, truly. If my sister’s life hadn’t hung in the balance, I would have been enjoying myself. I don’t have much call these days for chasing down ruffians.”
“Thank heavens,” Madelyn called from the kitchen.
“You’ll return the favor at some point,” Patrick added with a smile. “Anything for family, aye?”
“Aye,” Cameron managed. “Though I may have a hard time repaying you for your service to my bride today.” He looked down at Sunny to find her watching him with one eye. He smiled reflexively. “Aye, beloved?”
“Tell me that isn’t your idea of a proposal,” she said. “Here in my loo?”
He shook his head with a smile. “Now that I’m free to do so, I’ll choose a more romantic setting—”
She clapped her hand over her mouth suddenly. “Get out.”
“Sunny—”
“Out!”
He didn’t want to go, but she was surprisingly strong and Madelyn was suddenly at her side. He was thrust out of the bathroom, Hope was shoved into Patrick’s arms, and the door was shut and locked—all before he could protest. He looked at Patrick.
“I think we’ve been dismissed.”
“I daresay,” Patrick said with a grunt. He put Hope into Cameron’s arms. “Hold my wee one whilst I finish supper.”
Cameron looked down into big, bright green eyes, and found himself almost pushed to the edge of his ability to endure any more.
Hope MacLeod didn’t look terrified, or weepy, or as if she prepared to rear back and let loose a shout.
She merely stared up at him for a moment, then popped her thumb in her mouth and began to stroke his arm with her other hand.
Astonishing.
“Your lad Derrick is pacing outside,” Patrick said, standing and stirring at Sunny’s stove. “Perhaps you’d best let him know his lady fair will survive.” He looked over his shoulder. “Does he know anything about you?”
“Not as much as he’d like,” Cameron said, “though I have the feeling that is about to change.” He started to walk away, then frowned. “Is that the shower running? She shouldn’t—”
“Well, ’tisn’t as if you can help her, is it?” Patrick said with a snort. “Be off with you, lad, and let Madelyn see to her. Wrap Hope up before you go outside, though. ’Tis chilly today.”
Cameron found a soft pink blanket, wrapped it around Hope, then sighed again as she burrowed against his neck and worked on her thumb. She smelled delightful and he couldn’t help a brief feeling of contentment.
By the saints, when would he stop being so off balance with all these MacLeod females?
He took a deep breath, then opened Moraig’s front door. He crossed Moraig’s threshold with hardly a flicker of unease, then stopped when he saw Derrick leaning against the driver’s side of Patrick’s Range Rover, watching him.
“Very domestic,” Derrick said with a smile.
Cameron shot him a disgruntled look, then walked over to lean against Patrick’s car as well. A pity it wasn’t the man’s Vanquish. He might have had to sit rather firmly upon the bonnet in repayment for what he was certain would be an excruciatingly expensive repair of his own.
“You could have come in, you know,” Cameron said.
Derrick shrugged. “I’ve been on the phone and I didn’t want to disturb our lady. How is she?”
“Herself, finally, though I came close to killing Patrick MacLeod more than once until she was conscious. How does Peter fare?”
“Not well. Ewan says the docs believe he’ll be there for quite some time to come.”
“I wouldn’t have admitted this earlier,” Cameron said slowly, “but I think I would sooner trust Patrick than the physicians in Inverness. Perhaps you and I should endeavor to free the lad tomorrow and see what Patrick can do for him. Now, what of Nathan’s lads?”
“As you know, we rounded them up before he entered the hall. I left them there in a heap.” Derrick paused. “I apologize for not having stopped Nathan himself, though at the time I assumed you would want to see to him. I had no idea he had a gun, else I would have taken it away.”
Cameron shook his head. “It worked out for the best, so don’t think on it further. Handy that Penelope was there, wasn’t it?”
“Very,” Derrick agreed. “Oliver tailed her tailing Nathan, as I imagine you’ve surmised. He said she showed promise as a spy, but I don’t imagine she’ll make a career of it.”
Cameron smiled in spite of himself. “I daresay not. Now, what of the others?”
“I promised young Jim a bonus for being so good in school and sent him back on his way before Hamish Fergusson arrived. Nathan’s head lad was rounded up with the ones in the castle. Rufus is still tailing his chauffeur in London.”
“And what of Nathan himself?”
“In hospital, under guard. He’s conscious, but barely.
” He paused. “Oliver overheard him babbling about, well . . .” He stopped, then shifted.
“Well, about traveling through time, or some such rot.” He shot Cameron a look.
“A little like what that unhinged woman was spouting inside the castle, actually.”
“Rubbish,” Cameron said without hesitation. He pressed on before Derrick could say aught. “What of you? What is your plan?”
“Now that you don’t need me watching your back round the clock?” He shrugged. “I could fly back to London tonight, if you like, and see if I could be of some use to Rufus. Or I could stand guard here.” He paused. “I could be fairly unobtrusive in a corner.”
Cameron smiled. “I don’t imagine Sunny would mind.”
“Mate, our Sunny won’t have a clue I’m there.”
“Derrick, my lad, how many times do I have to tell you she’s my Sunshine and not yours?”
“Another few, at least,” Derrick said with a smile. He studied Cameron for a moment, then chewed on his words for a moment or two. “Have I ever asked you any personal questions, Cameron?”
Well, apparently he wasn’t going to escape as neatly as he’d hoped. “Never,” he said heavily, “in spite of all the times you’ve no doubt wanted to.” He sighed. “Why is it I already know where this is going?”
Derrick shrugged casually. “I’m curious about that woman, the one who drugged our lady. Who was she?”
Cameron shoved his hands in his pockets. “My brother’s wife.”
“You don’t have any brothers.”
“I had two, at one point.”
Derrick looked at him, clear-eyed. “When were you born?”
Cameron snorted. “What, haven’t you read that big tome containing Cameron genealogy that lies in my solar?”
“I might have,” Derrick said slowly. “I just thought there had been a mistake.”
Cameron only shook his head slowly.
“Who are you?” Derrick asked faintly.
“You tell me.”
Derrick took a deep breath. “You are Robert Francis Cameron . . . mac Cameron,” he said with a shiver. “Born 1346.”
“Who were my brothers?” Cameron asked calmly.
Derrick swallowed, hard. “Breac and Sim?”
Cameron smiled, then reached out and clapped a hand on Derrick’s shoulder. “Spread any of that about, and I’ll kill you slowly. But you can speak freely in front of Patrick MacLeod. He was born quite a bit earlier than I was.”
Derrick swayed just a bit. “I don’t believe it.” He looked at Cameron in shock. “Time travel. What rot.”
“Highland magic, my friend. Never doubt it.”
Derrick shook his head. “I don’t believe it.” He paused. “At least I think I don’t believe it.” He shot Cameron a look. “It would explain quite a bit, though, wouldn’t it?”
“I daresay it would.”
Derrick rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I would like to talk to you about this in depth at some point. If you would be willing.”
“I might,” Cameron conceded. “I think I owe you that, at least.”
“Mate, you don’t owe me anything,” Derrick said with a faint smile, “but you could humor me because I’ve been such a loyal vassal for so long. You could also teach me how to use a sword.”
“Done,” Cameron said without hesitation. Then he shot Derrick a look. “Loyal vassal, my arse.” He pushed away from the car and walked toward the door. “Come in and hold on, lad. I think it will be a long night.”
“As you will, my laird. Oh, and Cameron? You dropped something in the Fergusson hall.”
Cameron saw the pendant in Derrick’s hand and shifted Hope in his arms so he could take it.
He looked down at it for a moment or two in the shadows and thought about it.
Gilly had given it to Breac on their wedding day as a charm to ward off evil.
Breac had never worn it, saying it bothered him somehow.
He wasn’t surprised that Tavish should have been oblivious enough to have felt nothing.
It was even more abhorrent to him now that he knew what part Gilly had played in the battle that had resulted in Breac’s death. Cameron handed it back to Derrick.
“Put it in my car, if you would, and I’ll take it back to Tavish tomorrow. I don’t want it on my land, though, and neither will the MacLeods.”
Derrick shuddered as he touched it. “It belonged to that woman, didn’t it? Was she a witch?”
“A Fergusson.”
“Close enough,” Derrick said, straight-faced.
Cameron nodded grimly. “I daresay. Let’s go eat, before the thought overwhelms us.”
Derrick only smiled, then accepted Cameron’s keys.
Cameron waited for him, then followed him inside Moraig’s house, making sure he focused on getting himself over the threshold in the right time.
There was no sense in taking chances when he was so close to having what he wanted.
He probably should have argued with Patrick about bringing Sunny to Moraig’s in the first place, but Patrick had insisted that Moraig’s was the proper place to heal.
Cameron hadn’t been able to disagree.
Half an hour later, he had finished combing out Sunny’s hair for her and eaten a marvelous meal that Patrick had made from things thankfully not found in Sunny’s refrigerator.
He sat in one of the comfortable chairs near the fire and held Sunshine Phillips, dressed in Cameron plaid pajamas, on his lap.
He listened to the conversation going on around him with only half an ear, preferring to concentrate on the woman in his arms. She wasn’t nearly as interested in him, apparently, because she was sound asleep.
He didn’t blame her for it. It had been a long day.
He supposed there would come a time when he needed to digest what he’d learned that afternoon, but that would come later, as would an inquest into the events of the day. For the moment, however, perhaps it wasn’t unreasonable to let himself enjoy the evening and leave the rest for the morrow.
He heard a knock on the door behind him and sighed in resignation as Ewan was invited in. Ewan made himself at home, as was his habit, and managed to win a bit of supper as well. Cameron watched as his cousin pulled up a stool in front of the hearth and sat down opposite him.
“Heard something interesting down at the pub,” he said without preamble.
“Did you indeed,” Cameron said sourly.
“Aye,” Ewan said, his eyes already twinkling. “It was the fascinating tale of a medieval laird who let nothing, nay, not even time, stand in the way of his winning his ladylove. Care to hear it?”
“Can I stop you?”
Patrick and Madelyn laughed and told him to go on. Cameron sighed. Perhaps he would correct Ewan on the finer points of the story later on, when Sunny was awake and could help him. For the moment, he had his ladylove in his arms and time had deigned to wrap itself around them in the same place.
He wasn’t going to complain.