CHAPTER 20
Compared to the excitement of the previous few days, the next day went off more or less without a hitch. Fingal was
awake but in a foul mood because he was hungry. He only stopped whining when I served him a generous portion of
oatcakes.
Now that he was wide awake, it became even clearer that Fingal McLean was a born leader. I saw strength, courage, and
firm resolve in his eyes, and while I well remembered Duncan and Dougal’s sarcasm from earlier, this man’s natural
authority demanded that he be met with the utmost respect. Compared to Ross’s brothers, he was a different caliber of
man altogether. The twins might walk around with big chips on their shoulders, but they only won people’s respect by
threatening violence.
After Fingal had taken a few bites, he gave me a friendly look.
“Thank you, lassie. I swear to you—I am famished.”
“You should slow down, sir. Your stomach has been empty for several days, and—”
“Och, nothing!” he replied, munching away happily.
I raised my eyebrows. As far as I was concerned, I couldn’t care less. He was old enough to do as he pleased, and it
wasn’t as if I could stop him. So I left him to his meal and turned my attention to my old housedress. Thanks to the
fire going in the cottage, the dress was almost dry. I folded it up so I could take it with me.
“And now tell me who you really are. You have healing hands, but the sadness in your eyes makes me unwell.”
He had folded his hands in front of him on the bedcover, and he was looking at me expectantly.
“Milord, I am a prisoner. If you don’t like my eyes, then perhaps you should let me go,” I suggested.
His roaring laughter made me cringe.
“Delightful! Truly delightful, lassie.”
Fingal was a good-looking man, and the laughter making his eyes twinkle was contagious. I couldn’t stop a smile from
twitching around the edges of my mouth. The way he was calling me “lassie” made it almost sound like a pet name a
father would give to his daughter.
“All right, then, prisoner. How about you start by telling me your name so I know who to thank for treating my
injuries.”
“My name is Samantha Camer—”
“Yes, yes. Cameron, I see that. But I wonder why I’ve never heard of you before. Trust me, Samantha, for years I have
made it a habit to know my enemies better than my friends. And, even though going by your face you could be the child of
Isobel and Tomas Cameron, you don’t seem to be. You are too old. They have not been married that long. Besides, you
wouldn’t be wearing a simple dress like that if you were the laird’s child.” He pointed at the neatly folded dress
and gave me a questioning look.
I picked at my fingernails, not knowing what to say. This man had only been awake for a few hours, and already he was
seeing right through my disguise—or whatever you want to call this makeshift identity I had created for myself.
What should I say? I actually was Isobel and Tomas’s direct descendant, but there were at least ten generations between
us. Why I would show such a close physical resemblance to my ancestors, I did not know.
Because I didn’t respond, Fingal nodded good-naturedly.
“Very well, Samantha Cameron. I will return to this topic a little later since it seems we will be enjoying each other
’s company for quite some time. And now go check on my useless sons who are no doubt sleeping off their hangovers. Ask
them when they intend to take me to Burragh. I am an old man, and I want to die in my home.”
“You’re not going to die, sir. You’re a lot better already. The fever has broken,” I reassured him.
He shooed me to the door, grumbling: “Oh, I know, but these little scoundrels don’t seem to know that. Let them worry
a bit about their old father. Go now. I need to take a piss, and unless you want to watch, you had better do what I tell
you.”
I slipped out the door and shook my head, thinking about Payton’s dad. I liked him. He had a sense of humor, and he was
boisterous and alert at the same time. Spending more time with him should prove interesting.
The cold early-morning air blew under my skirts, and I rubbed my arms. Before long, we would get the first night of
frost. By that time, I hoped, I’d be back in my own era, watching a movie in my favorite yoga pants while eating
microwave popcorn. Anything but the old Highlander movies, I thought. If these people here only knew what they were
missing…
“Madain mhath,” Kyle greeted me, wishing me a good morning. “Is he still alive?” he asked, nodding toward the
cottage door.
I smiled as always when Kyle looked at me. He was such a breath of fresh air.
“Yes, he’s alive, but he wants that to be our little secret. I wouldn’t be surprised if he burst out wailing and
whining as soon as you enter the cottage.”
Kyle chuckled. “Yes, that sounds like him. But don’t worry! I will offer him a generous dose of sympathy and try to
cheer him up with this.” He held up one of the smoked sausages from the previous night and then walked past me toward
his father’s cottage.
I headed off in the direction of the stables. If the men were preparing for our departure, that was where I would find
them. I ran into Sean. Literally. I turned a corner and bumped right into him, banging my knee into his shin.
“Ouch, sorry!” I said, massaging my knee.
“Thoir an aire! Careful! Easy does it,” he cautioned. “If you want to get up close with me, all you have to do is
ask.” He gave me a teasing wink, and much to my embarrassment, I blushed. How did he always manage to come up with a
clever line to flirt with a girl, no matter the situation? Ryan Baker, my high school’s Prince Charming—and a former
major crush of mine—still had a lot to learn.
I ignored Sean’s remark so I wouldn’t embarrass myself again in the same way I had embarrassed myself in the presence
of heartbreaker Ryan.
“Your father wants to know when we’re leaving.”
“We’re ready. As soon as Ross is done strapping the oxen to the cart, we will head out. Payton and Blair already left.
A villager spotted redcoats in the area, and we should try to avoid them if possible.”
“Redcoats? Why?”
I racked my brain, but I had never paid enough attention in history class. What was the story again between the English
and the Scots?
Did this have anything to do with the uprising Payton had mentioned on our first day together? Didn’t that happen in
1745? But Vanora would speak her curse in 1740, five years prior, banning the McLeans to a life without emotions. I was
absolutely certain that this day hadn’t come yet.
“Because they’re redcoats.” Sean winked at me. “Camerons and Sassenachs can all go jump in the lake together, if you
know what I mean. I hope you will forgive me.”
“The cart is ready, and we can go,” said Ross, interrupting this strange moment.
My skin crawled as I looked at him in the early-morning light. He smiled, but it didn’t get through to me because all I
could see were his eyes as I’d seen them in my dream. Eyes that had lost their spark.
For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine what might possibly go wrong enough for me to attack and kill him.
Except for our initial encounter, Ross had been nothing but nice to me. I liked him. I even pitied him a little. The way
everyone treated him wasn’t right. So why would I do such an awful thing? I could never kill anyone, I was sure of
that. But that vision…
Completely engrossed in thought, I went through the motions of all the tasks I had been assigned. It was only after we’
d been traveling for a good while that I remembered that I no longer carried a weapon. It was as Payton had said: I
wouldn’t kill anyone any time soon.
What a relief. Satisfied, I turned my head toward the coach box, and when Ross smiled at me over his shoulder, I smiled
back.