Chapter 7

Cameron was still furious as he made his way to Ava's cottage. All the way along the road, he had been thinking of ways to hasten his father's death and make his steward's life a misery.

Then, he thought about the estate. Given half a chance he would let it go to rack and ruin, but then he thought of all the poor people who depended on it for their livelihood. He could never do that to them. No, if it was his, he would run it to the very best of his ability, although even his best would likely never be good enough.

Anyway, all this was just fantasy, he thought angrily, since would never accept the Lairdship. Even if he was tempted to do so, he had no idea what to do with such a huge responsibility. He could only just manage to take care of his small farm, and the estate of Kilcarron was huge. What hope did he have? Even with the help of a competent steward like James Henderson he would be almost clueless, and anyway, he did not trust the man.

There was something innately dislikeable about Henderson, something which Cameron had picked up on the first time he met the man. Cameron had a sense that he would always take care of himself first and the estate second. There was something about James Henderson that made Cameron want to take his fist to him. He could not quite understand what it was, but it was as if there was an evil smell emanating from him.

He stopped by the side of the burn halfway through his journey to allow Jimmy to drink its peaty water. His mind began to wander as he laid back on the riverbank and watched the clouds scudding across the sky.

He had spent many happy hours here with his mother Emmie, watching her as she slapped their washing against the big rocks and rubbed them up and down to clean them. He remembered her hands, which were nearly always chapped and rough from hard work, so much so that they bled sometimes. She had worked so hard for him, with no help from his father, and eventually she had literally worked herself to death.

One day, when he was about six years old, here on the bank of the stream, he had asked her the question she had no doubt been dreading. "Mammy - why do I no' have a Da like all the other boys an' girls?"

He remembered that his mother had passed a hand over her forehead and avoided his eyes as she answered his question.

"Your Da is dead, son," she had replied dully. "He died just after ye were born."

"How did he die?" he had asked curiously.

"A fever took him." She looked up at him then, and he remembered that her bright blue eyes, so like his own, were filled with tears. At that time, he still had a grandmother and grandfather to live with, but they had both died when he was twelve years old. After that he and his mammy had lived wherever they could find shelter, sometimes in barns, sometimes in the forest. They were always cold and dirty and mostly hungry, but Cameron was not lacking in love. He adored his mother, and he knew that she would do anything for him.

Somehow, she had managed to scrape together enough money to buy the little piece of land and the tumbledown cottage where they lived. Cameron had no idea how, but he suspected, since she was a relatively attractive woman until the day she died, that she had sold her body for a year or so before her death.

He had not learned the true identity of his father until Emmie collapsed one day while she was trying to haul a heavy bucket of water out of the stream. He rushed to her side at once. "Mammy! Mammy! What is wrong?" he had asked fearfully, lifting her head onto his lap.

His mother looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and sadness. "Son," she said faintly. "I am leavin' ye now, but you are the best son a mother could have, an' I love ye wi' all my heart. Ye asked me once who your father was an' I told ye a lie, but now it is time for me to tell the truth." Her voice was becoming fainter. "Laird Lewis is your Da. I was a silly wee lass an' he charmed me into thinkin' he was in love wi' me. When I told him I was wi' child - he threw me out. But I regret nothing… I love ye, son. I love ye, Cameron."

She died with those words of love on her lips, and for that he would be forever grateful. He buried her in the woods behind the cottage in a simple linen shroud, and crafted a small wooden cross on which he carved her name: Emilia Dalziel. There was no-one but him to mourn her. He wanted no service. Apart from learning his letters and numbers, which his mother had insisted on, he had no real connection with the church, and had no money for a headstone or a coffin.

Thinking about all this made him burn with anger and hatred against the Laird, sitting in his comfortable palace in warmth and comfort, waited on hand and foot by people like himself and his mother.

The Laird had killed her just as surely as if he had plunged a knife in her heart. But Cameron knew that somehow he would make her proud. He had no idea yet how he would do it, but he knew he could.

To distract himself, he began to pick daisies from the grass and turn them into daisy chains as his mother had taught him to do when he was little. He was making this one for Ava, since he knew it would make her smile. The first time he had presented her with one, he had knelt down on one knee before her while her two sisters looked on, laughing.

"Your Highness," he said. "This wee crown does no' do justice to your beauty, but please accept it as a humble gift from a poor man." He stood up and draped the chain over her hair, and she smiled, entering into the spirit of the jest.

"Thank ye, loyal subject," she replied graciously. "I will treasure it till the day the daisies die." Then she stood up and kissed him on the cheek before bursting out laughing. There had been hundreds of daisy chains since then, but none had ever been as special as that first one, because that was the day he knew that he had fallen in love completely and forever. He had never looked at another woman since.

Presently, he felt Jimmy nuzzling at his neck, and chuckled as he looked at the big horse affectionately. "I know what you want, you greedy animal," he observed, looking into the animal's eyes as he rubbed his cheek. "You want your oats, hmmm? I can read your mind!"

Jimmy whickered and nodded his head as if he understood every word Cameron said. He was about to mount the horse when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching at a run along the path, and presently, he saw Ava rounding a bend and running towards him. She was weeping, her eyes streaming with tears, and as soon as she saw him she threw herself into his arms, her whole body shaking with sobs.

"My God, Ava!" he cried, shocked to the core as he drew her more tightly into his embrace as if his body could shield her from the storm of misery that was assailing her. "What is wrong, sweetheart?"

For a moment, she could not speak. There was a refuge of sorts in Cameron's arms, but it could not shield her forever, and as she looked up into his blue eyes, now clouded with anxiety, she fell apart once more. "D-Da is dead," she sobbed. "He died last night in his sleep."

Cameron felt a stab of pure sorrow pierce his own heart. Colin Struthers had been a father to him for a while, and he was one of the kindest men he had ever known. "I am so sorry, Ava," he whispered. "He was a good man an' I loved him too."

Ava nodded against his chest. She felt so right in his arms, he thought. If only he could hold her forever like this, not in sorrow, but in joy. He wanted to treasure her forever, to shelter her and protect her, but of course, he could not protect her from death.

"His sufferin' has ended," he pointed out. It was a cliché, he knew, but it was all he could think of to sayat that moment. "He is in heaven wi' the angels." Even as he said it, Cameron was raging inside. He was saying words of comfort, but he was a hypocrite, because he believed none of them.

"I know," Ava looked up at him, and he kissed her once, gently, on her soft lips, because he simply could not help himself. As soon as he felt her against him, his manhood surged, and he felt ashamed. He should not be feeling lustful at a moment like this. However, Ava did not seem to have noticed, obviously taking the kiss for what it was - a gesture of comfort. She made no response other than to snuggle a little more tightly under his chin.

They stood like that for a long time. Afterwards, Ava could not quite recall how long it was, but eventually she pulled away with a deep sigh. "Thank ye, Cam," she murmured. "Now I must go back. My poor sisters are on their own."

"Climb onto Jimmy and I will take ye," Cameron offered. "Ye are in no state to walk."

Ava nodded. She felt that a walk back to the cottage might cause her to collapse with exhaustion after the emotion of the day, and she was glad of Cameron's support. She had run to him instinctively, without thinking, but now she realized why. He was a tower of strength, both bodily and emotionally. Would he ever ask her to marry him?

She settled in front of him in the saddle and he tilted his head to rest her cheek on her hair, then began to hum a little song that they had all known and sung since childhood.

Resting against him, she heard the deep thrum of his voice against her ear, then closed her eyes and dropped off to sleep.

Cameron heard the change in her breathing, then felt her relax against him, and he smiled. At least for the next few moments, until they reached her cottage, she would be out of pain.

Colin Struthers was as pale and grey as Cameron's mother had been, and he looked completely peaceful, with all the lines of stress smoothed away from his face. Cameron had noticed that this happened with corpses, as if it was nature's way of comforting the loved ones of the dead. He bent down and kissed his cold forehead, then pulled all of the sisters into a tight hug.

"Tell me what I can do," he said gently.

Janet, always the practical one, pulled away first. "We must go to the minister in the village an' arrange a funeral." She wiped her eyes as she spoke and made her voice sound brisk.

"What about a coffin?" Rona asked.

"If the church cannot give us one, then I will make one," Cameron said firmly. "We have plenty of trees here."

"Thank ye, Cameron." Rona said through her tears. "But I think the church always keeps a spare one."

Cameron held out a hand to Ava. "I must talk to you for a moment," he said softly, then he led her outside. "I will take ye to the church an' we can arrange the funeral, but you will have to walk back, Ava. They want me at the castle for somethin' else."

He rolled his eyes heavenward and she laughed for the first time that day. He hoisted her onto Jimmy, and they rode away, but not to the church. Instead, they rode in a different direction.

"Where are we goin'?" she asked, puzzled.

"Wait an' see," he replied.

A few minutes later, she realised where he was going. It was a clearing beside the burn where they had first become aware of each other. Cameron had given Ava a tentative kiss here once, but had never repeated it. Still, it was a special place for both of them.

Cameron reached up to help her to the ground, then looked tenderly into her eyes for a moment.

"You heard me talking to the Laird's steward earlier, Ava." His voice was husky, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. "I told the Laird the same thing as I told James Henderson, that I did not want to take the Lairdship, and I did not want the estate or the castle, but that was this morning. Now I have changed my mind."

He took a deep breath, and his gaze met hers, and for one split second before he uttered the words, she knew what he was going to say.

"Ava, will you marry me?"