Chapter 4

Ava and Cameron rose from the grass where they were sitting and crept towards the source of the sound. They were not seen by the horsemen since they were half-hidden by trees, but they could clearly see that there were two columns of twelve horsemen, clad in the livery of the Lewis Clan, riding abreast of each other. One of the second two riders had the limp body of a man slung over his saddle.

When they saw it, Ava gave a little squeal of fright, but Cameron froze. The figure was draped face down with its arms hanging down loosely, but even from two hundred yards away they could see that he had bright blond hair. Although the Scots had a great deal of Norse blood and were relatively fair people, there were not too many with such distinctive wheat-coloured hair. In fact, Cameron was the only man in the whole village with hair that was the same shade of blond as the corpse in the saddle.

‘My brother,'he thought. He barely knew Brian Lewis, since their father had seen to it that the two half-brothers had been kept as far apart as possible, but they had encountered each other once, when Cameron was seventeen and Brian was fifteen.

Cameron had often seen his half-brother from a distance riding with his guards or playing with his dog, but they had never come face to face with each other. In fact, for a long time he did not even know who the young man was, although he had often wondered at their resemblance to each other.

However, one day in the depth of the coldest winter Cameron could remember, when two inches of snow still coated the ground, he went down to the loch to fish for trout. He was very hungry and had virtually no food stores left, or he would never have ventured out in such weather, and he had just sat down when he heard the drumming of hoofbeats behind him.

He looked up and saw a lone figure cantering towards him on a huge grey stallion. He was wearing an expensive fur-lined cloak and stout leather boots, the likes of which Cameron had always envied, but had no hope of ever buying. He dismissed the man as just another rich lord who had no concern for the likes of him, and looked away just in time to feel the tug of a fish on the end of his line. Success!

However, success eluded his brother that day. Cameron heard the frantic neighing of the horse, then a thud and a crunch as both man and beast hit the ground. He looked around to see the horse lying on its side on the ground, neighing frantically and kicking the air. The man had fortunately been flung a few yards away, so had avoided being crushed by the animal, but he was obviously stunned and in pain.

He was moaning piteously, and Cameron rushed over to him at once to see how he could help. The stranger's face was screwed up in pain and he was clutching his knee. Cameron felt it to see if there was a break, but there was no significant injury there, as far as he could tell. He could explore no further because of the boots, which covered his legs up to the knee, but the man was moving them, so there was no serious damage there, he reasoned. Cameron suspected that there would be severe bruising on every part of his body later on, though.

"How dae ye feel?" he asked the man, frowning. His helmet had been thrown off in the fall, and it was only then that Cameron noticed the color of his hair, which was exactly the same as his own.

The stranger opened his eyes. They were dark grey, the same color as the sky on a stormy day, but there was something about his face that looked familiar. It took him a few moments to see the cleft chin that was the same as his own, and his father's, Laird Lewis. This man was his half-brother!

"Not wonderful," the young man said, then groaned. "But I will survive. Thank you for your help." His voice had the kind of cultured accent that marked him out as a member of the noble class.

Cameron nodded and helped the young man to his feet. The horse had already stood up and was shaking snow off his coat and pawing the ground irritably. "Looks as if he slipped on the snow," he remarked. When he turned to the stranger again, Cameron found the stranger gazing at him, perhaps seeing the same resemblance between them that Cameron had seen.

Neither of them spoke, however, and just then they both looked behind them as a party of four guards came galloping towards them. The Captain of the Guard looked furious. It was obvious what had happened. Neither the Laird nor his son ever traveled without at least four guards, but today he had somehow managed to give them the slip. Cameron thought he might have done the same after years of being constantly watched and accompanied everywhere he went, without any privacy or freedom.

The Laird's son sighed and frowned as the Captain of the Guard marched over to him. "M'Laird will have my guts for garters if anythin' happens tae ye, Master," he told him grimly.

"I am sorry, Captain," the man passed a hand over his forehead. He looked back at Cameron once more. "Thank you again," he said, tossing a shilling in Cameron's direction. As the other man walked over to his horse, Cameron noticed that his brother was considerably shorter and thinner than he was, and he felt a little stab of unholy glee. It was stupid, he knew, but in a man's world, it was always better to be bigger, stronger and more intimidating.

Still, because he struggled every day for the very necessities of life, he resented the fact that the Brian Lewises of this world, even though they were smaller and weaker, were handed everything on a silver platter. He looked down at the coin in his palm. It was a pitiful amount, but it would keep him in food and drink for a few weeks.

When he mounted his horse and rode away, Cameron realized that the fellow had neither introduced himself nor asked Cameron his name. Now, however, he knew for certain the identity of the man with the golden-blond hair.

Ava watched the little cavalcade as it moved around the loch, curious to know who the dead body was. When she turned to speak to Cameron, she saw that he had stood up and his gaze was following them, a stricken look on his face. "Cam? What is wrong?" she asked anxiously. She cupped his face in her hands and looked up at his shocked expression. When his eyes met hers she could see the shine of tears in them. "Who is that?"

Cameron dashed the tears away from his eyes before they could fall, cursing himself for being such a milksop. Men did not weep, for if they did, they were not true men.

"Who is he?" Ava asked again. Her heart was thumping in her chest. Cameron was so dear to her that she could not bear to see him in such distress.

"I-I think he is my brother, Brian Lewis," he replied at last.

"Oh, no!" Ava wrapped her arms around him, but he did nothing but stand with his arms at his sides. After his first tearful reaction, he felt absolutely numb.

"Were you close?" Ava had no idea if the brothers had ever had any kind of relationship, since he changed the subject every time she mentioned him or his father. "I mean, have you ever spoken to him?"

Cameron frowned deeply, suddenly furious. "I only met him once," he answered bitterly. "I helped him when he fell off his horse, and he did not even ask my name. I think he recognised me, but if he did, he never said. I have no' seen him from that day to this - until today."

"Perhaps it is no' him," she suggested hopefully. "We did not see his face."

Cameron nodded. A small flame of hope ignited in his heart, then he fought it down and asked himself why he should care. In his whole twenty-five years of life he'd had no connection with either the Laird or his son. The Laird despised him, and the feeling was mutual, so why should he want to find out about the identity of this corpse? Maybe the dead man was just a new guard he had not seen before who happened to have fair hair the same color as his own. It was possible.

Nevertheless, he was drawn by some compulsion to find out. If it was Brian Lewis, then he had been Cameron's only brother, and the only one he would ever have. That had to mean something, he told himself.

"I must find out if it is him, Ava." His voice was sorrowful, but grim. "I have no idea why, but I must."

She nodded sadly. If it concerned Cameron, it concerned her. She might never become his wife, but she would always be his friend.

They traveled in silence, with Ava sitting sideways on the saddle in front of Cameron. This time there was no silent, shivering passion between them, since both were concentrating on finding out the identity of the dead man, and their minds were elsewhere. Cameron had never had any kind of relationship with Brian Lewis, but he knew that he would mourn him, not because he was his half-brother, but because of what might have been if the situation had been different.

They would not be allowed into the castle, of course, but as they rode up to the gate, they could see that there was already a small crowd of villagers waiting outside. Word had spread quickly that there had been some sort of accident involving the Laird's son, and now everyone was hungry for a look.

Cameron rode to the edge of the little crowd, then stopped as he saw the Laird coming out of the main entrance. On horseback, he could see above the heads of all the villagers, and he watched as the limp figure of the dead man was gently lifted down from the saddle and placed on the ground. When the body descended below eye level, Cameron could not see his face, but when the Laird came out a moment later he knelt down beside the corpse and a moment later, they heard a howl of grief.

The people gasped, and moments later the soft sound of sobs and moaning could be heard amongst the crowd. They stood between Cameron and his father, Laird Lewis, and in front of them, a line of men-at-arms prevented any entry into the castle.

Cameron dismounted from his horse and Ava slid down after him. He had no trouble pushing his way through the little throng of villagers, but he did not even attempt to pass the heavily-armed guards. However, he could see through their line to the two figures on the ground. The Laird was cradling his son in his arms, weeping bitterly. They looked so alike that they could have been older and younger brothers, except that the Laird's hair was almost white.

Suddenly Laird Lewis looked up straight into Cameron's eyes. When their gazes met, the Laird's expression changed from one of utter misery to fury, but Cameron's face was so expressionless it might have been carved out of stone. When he turned and walked back through the crowd, many people stared and pointed at him, no doubt commenting on the startling likeness between him, the Laird, and his son.

Not many people knew with certainty that Cameron was the Laird's son, although there had been much speculation, but seeing them all together in one place hardened the speculation into fact. Seeing was believing, it seemed.

Ava had seen the look that passed between the two men, and the glances of the villagers as they left. Cameron looked absolutely unperturbed by the hubbub around him, but she was not fooled. His brother's death had affected him deeply, but he was not going to give the villagers of Kilcarron the satisfaction of seeing it.