Wild Highland Rose (Time Travel Trilogy, Book 2) (45 page)

"Aye, you just startled me a wee bit.  I'm fine."  She shook off his arm and rounded the end of the wall.

The shore was nearer on this side, the strip of land marking the causeway widening a bit.  She scanned the area, looking for any signs of activity, but the causeway was empty.  Assured that, for the moment at least, they were safe, she began to make her way toward the shore, leaving Cameron to bring up the rear.

Stepping out of the frigid water, she stood for a moment, simply enjoying the feel of solid ground beneath her feet.  Another cry rang out from behind the tower walls, this one a scream.  Marjory turned around, searching for Cameron, panic rising.  He was just behind her, struggling to shore, shaking water off his body.

"We must hurry."  Her voice sounded strained and she forced herself to take deep calming breaths.  It wouldn't help anyone if she lost her head now.

Cameron squeezed her shoulder, reassuringly.  "Show me where the passageway is."

She nodded, grateful for something concrete to do.  The causeway was short.  The far end, like the gate side, was bounded by a stone wall jutting out from the tower's northern ramparts.  It too, extended out into the water, protecting the little strip of land from the loch side.

Reaching the corner, Cameron released a frustrated sigh.  There appeared to be nothing but grass and stone.  "It's a dead end."  He turned to look at her, his expression bordering on mutinous.  "Hell, this was just a waste of time."

"Appearances are deceiving."  With a faint smile she moved forward.  "There are actually two walls here."  She demonstrated the fact by walking to an outcropping of brush, which at first glance it appeared to be growing out of the wall.  In actuality, the brush was behind a shorter wall whose masonry was designed to blend into the taller battlement behind it.  The foliage added to the illusion, making it look, at least to the casual observer, like one solid, impenetrable wall.

Marjory walked around the shorter wall, relieved to see that the narrow stairs descending into the rocky ground were still
intact
.  If the passageway was in a similar condition, they'd soon be safe inside the tower.  She started to walk down the steps, but stopped short when Cameron closed a hand around her arm and pulled her back around the wall.

She glared at him, jerking her arm away.  "What are you doing?  We've no time to waste."

"I know, but we can't just go charging down there.  We don
'
t know what we're going to find.  For all we know, Torcall's men are still in the passageway."  He reached for her hand again.  This time she let him take it.  "I know you're worried, but we have to move cautiously."

She nodded, biting her lip.  "You
'
re right.  I wasna thinking."

He gave her hand a squeeze and she wondered why it was that this man's touch affected her so dramatically.  Even under conditions as dire as these, she felt her body respond.  Gritting her teeth, she shook off the distraction.  "How do you want to proceed?"

"I'll go first."  She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand to silence her.  "I've got the claymore, remember?  Wouldn't you rather it be leading the way if we run into any of Torcall's thugs?"

She didn't recognize the word he used, but she gathered it was not a complimentary term.  She rather liked the sound of it. 
"
Fine, I'll leave the handling of
thugs
to you.
"

The passageway was dank and dark, but fortunately it wasn't long.  There was a faint light at the end, its pale glow at least partially illuminating the path.  Cameron made his way forward, claymore drawn.

Marjory followed just behind him, her hand resting against the small of his back.  A shadow flickered across the patch of light.  Cameron stopped abruptly, pushing Marjory back against the earthen wall.  "I think I saw someone."  He peered at the open doorway.  It was actually slightly above them, the path slanting steeply upward towards the storage room.  Nothing moved except the faint waver of light.

"
'
Twas naught but the torch light.
"

Cameron shook his head. 
"
It was more than that."  As if to substantiate his words, the shadow moved across the opening again, and this time they were close enough to make out its distinctly human form.  "Looks like Torcall left a guard.  Stay here."

Cameron waited until the shadow disappeared again and started inching forward, his sword gripped tightly in his hand.  He wondered, briefly, how he had managed to get himself into this position, but the memory of Grania's battered body immediately reminded him and he clenched his jaw in determination.  He would not let her death go unpunished.

Reaching the entrance to the tower, he was relieved to find the doorway empty.  He crouched low in the corner of the passage, holding his breath, waiting.  A slight movement in the still air surrounding him warned him he was not alone.  "I told you to stay put."

"I thought you might have need for me."

He sighed with resignation.  She was a willful woman.  "Well, at least stay here until I dispatch Torcall's henchman."

"The thug."

Cameron could detect the smile in her voice.  She was actually enjoying this.  Or whistling in the dark.  He turned back to the light, as the man stepped into the doorway, his back to them.  It was one of Torcall
'
s soldiers; Cameron recognized the plaid.  With one swift movement, he swung upward, claymore flashing in the torch light.

The Scotsman died with a look of astonishment on his face.  His lips moved, as though he were trying to say something, but instead, he crumpled to the floor of the storage room, his mouth open, his eyes lifeless.

One down.

Cameron grimly stepped over the body, eyes scanning for other intruders.  The room was a replica of the solars on the two floors above, except that it had only tiny slits for windows.

"He's dead."  Marjory announced matter-of-factly, stepping gingerly into the room.

Cameron was already in place against the wall abutting the door leading into the kitchen.  Holding a finger to his lips, he motioned her to the opposite wall.  They waited in silence, Cameron straining to hear noise.

The kitchen, usually a busy place, full of people, was ominously quiet.  Keeping his claymore ready, he swung into the room.  Releasing a breath, he relaxed his sword arm.  The kitchen was empty.

A fire burned at the hearth, licking at the bottom of a large iron pot.  The smell of stewing meat filled the room.  Marjory edged around the transom behind him.  "Where is everyone?"

"Hiding, I assume.  I think it's a good sign that there aren't any bodies."  Cameron heard her sharp intake of breath.  "Let's check the other rooms."  The sleeping quarters adjacent to the kitchen were empty, no sign of any occupants, living or dead.  The same was true of the pantry.  It was as deserted as the kitchen.  Abandoned trenchers were lined up on a table ready to be filled with food.

The thick stone walls and ceiling insulated the ground floor from the rooms above.  It was impossible to tell what might be happening upstairs.  "Where next?"

Marjory pointed to a connecting door between the pantry and another room.  "The buttery, and there's another storage room."

They cautiously stepped into the buttery.  Like the other rooms, there were signs of recent activity, an open keg of ale and several pitchers clustered around it, but the room was silent and empty.  A door at the end of the buttery was closed, a heavy bar in place across its wooden door.

"Is that the storage room?"

Marjory nodded.  "Aye, 'tis."  She stared at it, her eyes wide with concern.  "I've ne'er seen it barred before."

Cameron frowned and moved cautiously toward the door.  Handing his weapon to Marjory, he struggled to remove the bar.  It creaked loudly as he lifted it from its brackets.  Seeing Marjory's nod of encouragement, he swung open the door.  The room was tiny, and jammed full of chests and crates.

Taking the claymore from Marjory, he edged cautiously into the room.  She followed closely behind, her breath tickling the back of his neck.  "There's no one here."  Marjory's softly whispered comment seemed loud in the silence.

A woman's wail suddenly filled the room.  Cameron raised his sword, stepping.

"He's got our Marjory."  The fierce
-
faced figure of Crannag Mhór's cook emerged from the shadows, holding what looked like a rolling pin threateningly in one large hand.  The other was planted firmly on her more than ample hip.  "Let her go, ye fiend."

Cameron tipped back his head and laughed, as much from relief as from humor.  Marjory shot him a look that clearly indicated she thought he'd gone
'
round the bend.  Pushing him aside, she rushed over to the agitated woman.  "I'm fine.  Cameron is here to help us, no' cause us further harm."

The woman lowered her arm, but her narrow-eyed gaze never left Cameron, and she didn't release her grip on the rolling pin.  Evidently as far as she was concerned, once Torcall's son, always Torcall's son.

"Are you alone in here?"

The woman glared at him, then softened her gaze as she turned to address Marjory.  "Nay, most o' the lasses who work in the tower are here as well."  Several women, two holding small children, emerged from behind the crates.  Their faces were pinched with fear.

"How many altogether?"

"There's nine o' us, no' counting the bairns."  Cook looked over her shoulder at the gathered women, sending a terse nod in the direction of a shadowy corner.  Four children emerged from behind a large chest.

Cameron frowned.  "So fifteen counting the babies?"

"Aye."  This time she met his gaze and he noted that some of the hostility had been replaced by guarded hope.

He nodded.  "Are there other women in the tower?"

"There's only us.  We're
shorthanded
today.  Some o' the girls stayed home."  Cook ducked her head, avoiding Marjory's eyes, her cheeks stained a deep red.  "'Twas a late night and there was so much excitement, I told some of them to take the day fer rest."

"Dinna fash yerself.  If I had thought o' it, I'd have sent them home myself."

"We've got to get them out of here."  Cameron spoke to Marjory, but there was a titter of relief from the assembled women.  "Do you think you can get them through the passageway and around the wall?"

"Aye, but dinna you think I'd be o' more value here with you?"  She looked up at him with an expression he was beginning to recognize as mutinous.

He chose his words carefully.  "Of course I'd rather have you here."  Actually he'd rather have her safe somewhere on the other side of Scotland, but to say that was a sure invitation for trouble.  "But right now, it's far more important to get these ladies to safety."  He glanced at the group.  They were silent, hanging on his words as if their lives depended on them.  Which, he sighed, they probably did.

Marjory chewed on her lip, and then, obviously coming to a decision, nodded.  "All right then.  I'll lead them out o' here.  What are you going to do?"

Cameron grimaced, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.  "I'm going to find Allen and Torcall.
"

*****

Cameron leaned against the cold stone of the tower wall, listening to the sound of sword play in the great hall.  The women were on their way out of the tower.  Hopefully, they would soon be safely outside the walls and away from danger.

He inched toward the opening of the service passage.  It was just as Marjory described, a tunnel from the pantry to the great hall.  He wasn
'
t sure what he expected to do.  It wasn
'
t as if he had training for this kind of thing.  But his desire to avenge Grania burned brightly, and if he could help Marjory in the process, then so much the better.  He
'
d spent his life taking the high road, avoiding emotional commitment of any kind.  But all that had changed.

With a deep breath, he tightened his grip on his claymore and cautiously stepped into the great room.  A great carved screen kept him hidden from view, but allowed him to see.

There were men everywhere.  The noise from their weapons was almost deafening.  They battled fiercely, standing on tables and benches as well as the floor.  Across the room, Fingal, bandage and all, was twisting expertly to and fro, avoiding the sharp blade of a huge man with bright red hair.  Fingal faked a lunge to the left and when the man followed the lead, shifted right, and brought his sword in for the kill.  His opponent died instantly.

With a grimace of satisfaction, Marjory
'
s captain turned to help another man who had been backed into a corner.  It was hard to tell who was who, but it looked like the Macphersons had the upper hand, at least for the moment.

Cameron searched the room for Allen and Torcall.  There was no sign of either of them.  Fingal had moved to engage Dougall in front of the fireplace.  Even with his injury, the man was more than holding his own. The two Scottsmen danced around the edge of the room, coming within a few yards of the screen.  Dougall resembled some prehistoric reptile, his big head bobbing slightly with each jab and thrust, his body programmed to fight.