CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

THE plane rose up above the early-morning mists, circled briefly, then headed south. In approximately one hour’s time it was due to land in London.

From her window seat Camilla gazed down, sudden emptiness flooding her heart. So, it was goodbye forever, after all. She should be feeling relieved, but she did not

Last night she had scarcely slept at all. Thoughts of Ross had crowded her brain, scaring off sleep, cruelly tormenting her. Even when at last she had finally drifted off, he had refused to let her be, coming to her in her dreams, filling her unconsciousness.

She had dreamed that she was pregnant and happy to be so, with Ross's child. And so sharp and vivid had been the dream that she had awakened with a start, for the very first time since that afternoon on Mhoire facing this very real possibility. Until that moment it had never crossed her mind that those hours of love making in the little but'n'ben could have resulted in the creation of a child In her mind they had been hours suspended fantasy hours, detached from reality, the whole thing a passing, barely real event that had no power to touch her everyday life.

Oddly, the realisation that this was not so had soothed her as much as it alarmed her. Emotionally exhausted, she had closed her eyes then and had slept dreamlessly till dawn.

This morning, however, she had awakened to discover that all was normal. She was not with child. Wryly she had checked the dates in her diary. She was two days early. In the cold, clear, rational light of day, she had suddenly felt immensely relieved.

For some strange, illogical reason, however, her mood had changed as they had left the hotel. All the way to Inverness, feigning tiredness as her excuse, she had barely spoken a word. By the time they had arrived at the airport she had felt herself grow even more withdrawn. Then, as the plane had taken off, an icy numbness had settled in her soul. She had known then, without a doubt, that she was leaving something immeasurably precious behind.

Feeling Eric's eyes on her, she gave herself a mental shake and turned towards him with a smile.

'Are you all right?' His face wore a frown. The light blue eyes were full of concern.

Camilla kept her smile pinned tight and rested one hand on his sleeve. 'Sure I'm all right' she assured him breezily. 'Just a little tired, that's all.'

The frown never lifted. 'You've been so quiet. I've never known you to be like this before.'

With a stab of guilt she patted his arm. 'It's nothing. Believe me. I'm just tired.'

Eric nodded. 'If you say so.' He seemed to consider in silence for a moment. Then the blue eyes narrowed as he turned towards her. 'But it's not just today I've noticed it Camilla. You've been acting strangely since I arrived.'

'Strangely?' She felt a warm flush touch her cheeks as she forced a dismissive little laugh. ‘That's a funny thing to say. What on earth do you mean by that?'

'I don't know exactly.' Eric paused. He seemed to think deeply for a moment, carefully selecting his words. Then his hand closed lightly over hers as he continued, his voice strangely detached, 'I somehow couldn't help suspecting that something was going on between you and Ross.'

Almost simultaneously, the colour ebbed then rose again in Camilla's guilty face. She swallowed, feeling her mouth go dry. 'But Eric,' she protested, 'that's preposterous!'

His gaze didn't flicker. He held her eyes. 'Is it?' he wanted to know.

'But of course it is! Ross and me? Why, we can barely stand the sight of one another!'

Thoughtfully, Eric pursed his lips. He sighed and glanced down at his shoes. ‘That was what I thought at first and then I wasn't sure. I could sense there was an antagonism between you, but it wasn't the antagonism of hate. It seemed to me more like the antagonism between two people who are fighting something within themselves. Two incredibly like-minded people unable to get to grips with their feelings.'

He paused and glanced across at Camilla, who had frozen in her seat. In a bleak and faintly horrified way, she felt mesmerised by what he was saying.

With another small sigh he carried on. 'I came rushing up here because I was worried about you. When I got that garbled message about you having gone off to the Hebrides, I felt I had to come up and find out what was going on. Then, as soon as I saw you with Ross, I had a nasty feeling that I knew.' He paused and smiled a doleful smile. 'Did you notice that over the past few days I never once brought up the subject of my proposal? The omission was deliberate. I was rather hoping you might.'

Hot colour rushed to Camilla's face. Suddenly, she could not meet his gaze. For all her insistence to Ross that Eric was the man she was going to marry, it was days since she had thought seriously about his marriage proposal. Since his arrival, it had rarely crossed her mind. She opened her mouth to offer an apology, perhaps even a rickety explanation, but before she could speak, Eric cut in, his tone even and faintly self-deprecating.

'You know, I'm not the tunnel-visioned City professional that some people take me for. I see things—and I understand you perhaps a great deal better than you think I do. I know very well the reasons why you would have married me. What I have to offer you is what one part of you very badly needs. Security, stability, a family of your own. But I also happen to know, Camilla, that there's a great deal more to you than that.'

He held up his hand to silence her as she started to protest. ‘You have a wild, artistic side, a need for freedom, adventure, romance. And, deep in my heart, I've always feared that that was a side of you I could never satisfy. Which was why I deliberately gave you time to think about my proposal before you gave me your answer. I thought a week alone up in the Highlands would give you the time and space you needed.' He grimaced wryly and shook his head 'Needless to say, I hadn't reckoned on Ross McKeown coming on the scene.'

His words had shocked her into silence—for each syllable of them was true. Though she cared for Eric, perhaps she had always known, somewhere deep down in her soul, that she wanted more from life than he could give her. She had tried to smother her doubts—and might well have succeeded if only Ross had not come along. The sudden realisation shamed her. She glanced away guiltily.

Kindly, without rancour, he took her hand. ‘The only reason I say all this is because I love you, Camilla. But I fear I could never make you happy, and that would make me unhappy too.' He took a deep breath. ‘Though I hope that we can always remain friends, I'm not the man that you should many. I think, if we're honest, we both know that the man for you is Ross McKeown.'

Camilla's heart turned over in her breast 'Ross McKeown?' she whispered painfully. Just the sound of his name made her weak inside.

Eric smiled and kissed her cheek. 'Well—you're in love with him, aren't you?'

She stared at him foolishly. Oh, yes! she longed to answer. Hopelessly, helplessly, utterly, shamelessly! But he doesn't love me, she mumbled inwardly. All he wants of me is my body.

'Whatever differences exist between you, I feel sure that they can be sorted out,' Eric was glancing at his watch as he spoke. ‘We're due to land in about ten minutes' time. If you want my advice, you'll catch the first plane back to Inverness.'

She was on it heading northwards through a clear blue sky, just over an hour later.

In spite of her nervousness, her heart bubbled over. It was possible that he would not want to see her, that this whole crazy mission was a foolish mistake. But, right or wrong, she had to make this journey, and if his offer was still open she intended to accept it.

The hour-long journey seemed to take forever, but at last they were touching down again. She stared eagerly out at the mountainous landscape, once so strange and threatening, now so close to her heart, then impatiently made her way down the aisle, then down the gangway on to the tarmac. Already she could smell him in the clear, clean air. Her heart gave a jubilant little lift .

The hire car she had booked from London was ready and waiting for her at the airport. Without even so much as a glance at her map, she threw her few things into the back and headed straight for Castle Crannach. This time, she sensed, there would be no wrong turnings. Her heart and her instincts would show her the way.

It was just after eleven o'clock when she drew up in the castle forecourt, pleased and relieved to observe the dusty Land Rover parked to one side. On legs that seemed to float above the ground, she strode up the stone steps to the front door, knocked twice and waited, her pulses racing.

The door opened and Maggie was standing there—and for the very first time in Camilla's presence the stern face broke into a smile. 'Miss Holden, what a surprise! I thought you'd gone back to London.'

'I had.' Camilla made a face. 'But I've come back again/ As Maggie stepped aside, Camilla walked into the hall. ‘I’ve come to see the Honourable Ross McKeown.'

Maggie glanced up at her and frowned. Tm afraid Mr Ross isn't here. He's gone off on that noisy great machine of his to some motorbike race at Crannach Head.'

Camilla faltered. In all the turmoil of the past twelve hours, she had completely forgotten about the race. But, as she hesitated, momentarily thrown, wondering what to do next, a stooped and grey-haired figure appeared at the far end of the hall. He was smiling broadly, like a schoolboy, as he came towards her.

'Down die road, about five miles, turn left at the church, then follow the road.' Angus McKeown rattled off the directions with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. He seemed pleased and not at all surprised to see her standing once more in his hall. 'You can't miss it,' he urged her. 'Off you go. Be the first to congratulate the new local champion.'

Camilla needed no second bidding. Already she was racing back down the steps, diving behind the wheel of her car and screeching off in the direction the old Laird had said But now a new emotion tugged at her heart, along with the eagerness she felt A knife-like twist of apprehension for the danger she sensed Ross might be in.

Angus had been right She could not miss it Already, a couple of miles away from the track where the races were being held she could smell the petrol fumes and the stench of scorched rubber, and hear the roar and whine of the huge machines. Heart thudding anxiously, she parked her car in the car park and hurried through the milling crowd, forcing her way towards the front, neck craning impatiently for a glimpse of Ross.

A score of helmeted, leather-clad riders were lining up along the track with their bikes for the start of a new race, but Camilla's eyes homed in instantly on the tall figure in black at the end of the line. The arrogant broad shoulders and the powerful thighs that hugged the dark metal of his machine could belong to no other man but Ross.

Unaware of her presence, he half turned towards her, so that she caught a fleeting glimpse of the forceful, rugged lines of his face before he snapped down the visor of his helmet, pulled on his gauntlets and kicked his machine into life. But in that tiny fraction of a second Camilla knew that she had been right to come.

Suddenly, through her fear, her heart was dancing, overcome by the warm and fierce emotion that seemed to fill her very soul. 'I love you,' she murmured, 'and I'll love you on your terms—for never in my life will I love like this again.'

But before she could present him with her change of heart, there was the ordeal of the race to get through. With a flash of black fear she thought of the curse and felt a shiver down her spine. 'If anything should happen to him now,' she murmured, 'I know that I would never survive.'

As the flag came down and the riders roared off, she could scarcely bear to keep her eyes on them. At every bend and on every corner she seemed to die a thousand deaths. With every acceleration, her heart stood still and a silent prayer escaped her lips. Anxious perspiration beaded her brow and glistened on her upper lip, and her fists were clenched so ferociously tight that the nails dug like talons into her flesh.

And there was one terrible moment One rider who had been tailing Ross, who for the past two laps had been in the lead, suddenly made an all-out effort to overtake him on the inside bend But the move was badly calculated The rider momentarily lost control of his bike—and for one hideous, nauseating second it seemed the two bikes might collide. By the time Camilla dared breathe again, Ross had extricated himself from the danger with one almighty acceleration.

Still half stunned by that moment of fear and her overwhelming sense of relief, she almost failed to register the lowering of the chequered flag. Then a mighty roar went up from the crowd and pride jostled with love and relief in her heart. Without thinking, Camilla began to barge her way through the crowd tears in her eyes, towards the champion.

He saw her just a fraction of a second before she threw herself into his arms. In one movement the helmet was tossed aside and his arms were about her, pulling her close. And he only had time to murmur throatily before his lips swooped down on hers, 'You've come back! Oh, thank heavens! This time I’ll never let you leave.'

Wide-eyed with wonder and delight, Camilla gazed down at the bundle in her arms. Could this tiny, exquisite creature with his unruly tufts of silky black hair really belong to herself and Ross? Was it possible that their love had made him? Could they truly have been so blessed?

Her heart aching with happiness, she glanced round at the flower-festooned drawing-room in which she sat, then let her eyes slide lovingly to the dark-haired man at her side. She held the baby up to him. 'Do you want to hold him?' she smiled.

Gently, proudly, Ross lifted his son and held him softly against his broad chest, his movements confident and unselfconscious, as though he'd been handling babies all his life. Camilla watched him and smiled, feeling the quickening of love deep in her heart It seemed impossible now to believe that she could ever have doubted her future lay with him.

A lot had happened since that day at the racetrack, just over a year ago, though, like the day of their wedding and the birth of their son, it was a day that she would never forget.

She remembered how he had dragged her away as soon as the presentation of the cups was over, his dark eyes burning and intense as he'd demanded to know the reason for her return.

'You,' she had told him simply. 'I'm not going to many Eric, after all.'

The relief had been vivid in his face, though he had at once demanded a fuller explanation. 'How come?' he had wanted to know. 'What happened between here and London?'

She had looked into his eyes, loving him, adoring him, and knowing that the feeling would last forever. He might only consent to give her a little of his time—maybe only a few months, maybe a year—but to have him, even for so short a time, would be worth any sacrifice in the world

'I had a little chat with Eric,' she confessed. 'Or rather, he had a little chat with me. He convinced me that we were wrong for each other, that it would be a big mistake for us to marry.'

To her mild surprise, Ross didn't crow. He didn't even say, I told you so. Instead, he murmured softly, 'Good for Eric. I had him figured for a man with some sense.'

Camilla couldn't resist giving his ribs a little poke. 'After all the cruel things you've said about Eric! You've never had a single good word to say for him!'

His eyes remained sober as he caught her in his arms and looked down intently into her face. The things I said about Eric, my love, were never intended to diminish him. I have enormous respect for men like Eric. They're decent, honest and upright men.' The wide mouth pursed, as his grip on her tightened. 'But that didn't stop me from knowing from the start that the man he is is not the man for you.' As he kissed her nose, his expression lightened. 'What you need is a wild reprobate like me.'

Camilla laughed and leaned against him. Never had he spoken a truer word!

'If I seemed to come down a bit hard on Eric at times,' Ross assured her, nuzzling her hair, 'it was simply because I had to find a way to convince you that marriage to him would be a terrible mistake.' He kissed her temple, making her shiver. 'Drastic situations call for drastic measures.'

Then, with firm, gentle fingers, he eased her away from him to look down directly into her eyes. 'But that's only half the answer you've given me so far. You've told me why you've finished with Eric, but you've still to explain why you came to me.'

How could she explain it? Sudden shyness surged through her, making her cheeks glow pinkly and her eyes falter from his.

She could feel him standing over her, waiting for her answer, one inquisitive dark eyebrow raised—and she could not say 'love', dared not speak of such emotions, could not bring herself to open up her heart to him. For the first time since she had boarded the plane in London, she felt a tiny dart of pain. The reason she could not reveal the love that burned within her was because no answering flame of love burned within him.

Silently she chastised herself. She had known that, and accepted it, before she came. Resolutely, she looked up at him and gave him her-answer.

'I came,' she said, 'because some force inside me—a force I cannot and no longer wish to resist—has been drawing me to you since first we met.'

There! It was not a lie, just a slight diminution of the truth.

Ross kissed her. 'Oh, Camilla. Then you feel it, too?' But as he held her close she asked a question of her own—though she knew, all too well, in advance, the answer.

'And you? Why did you ask me to stay?'

There was a pause that made her heart stand still as he brushed back her hair and looked hard into her eyes, and for a moment she was tempted to withdraw the question, wondering if she could bear to the hear the truth out loud. Would it not be wiser, her anguished heart was crying, to shut out the truth and just pretend? But it was too late for that. Already he was saying, 'Remember what I told you about my being an impossible romantic that day on the ferry to Mhoire?'

She nodded bleakly. 'I remember.' And she steeled herself to hear what she must hear.

His hand had remained tangled in her hair, his fingers pressing warmly against her scalp. And he was forcing her to look at him, as though to ensure there could be no misunderstandings with what he was about to say.

'I told you I believed in a very special love and that I would settle for nothing less.'

Camilla nodded. 'Yes, I remember that.'

'I also told you—' He paused.

Camilla swallowed. This was the bit she dreaded to hear.

'I also told you—' He paused again, the dark eyes unrelentingly fixed on her face. 'I told you I would know who the girl for me was just by looking into her eyes.'

Camilla frowned. This was not what she had been expecting.

'Well—' He took a deep breath. 'I omitted to tell you I already knew who she was—and that I happened to be looking straight at her at the time.'

As his eyes smiled a softly quizzical smile, Camilla stared back at him in mute astonishment He was talking in riddles. What did this mean?

'What I'm trying to tell you, Camilla darling, is that I'd already decided you were the girl for me. I suspected it the first moment I saw you, and I knew it for sure that night with the deer. Seeing you crouched by its side in tears, I finally saw behind that brave, brittle mask of yours. That was when I knew I loved you. That was when I decided you had to be my wife.'

It was too much for Camilla to take in. Her brain was reeling as she heard herself protest, 'But I thought all you wanted was an affair!'

'An affair!' Almost ferociously, he gripped her arm. 'Is that what you want? An affair!'

'No, of course not.' Startled, she blinked up at him. ‘That was why I went away. But I couldn't stay away.' She bit her lip. 'So I came back to—' She broke off, embarrassed, suddenly unable to carry on.

'Camilla, Camilla, what have I done to you? How could I have made you believe such a thing?' Real anguish settled on his handsome face as he pulled her roughly into his arms. 'When I told you on Mhoire that I wanted to make love to you morning, noon and night I did not for one moment mean for you to be my mistress. What I wanted then and what I want now is to make love to you forever as my wife!'

As she sighed, all the hurt and fear leaving her body, he pulled her even closer still. 'Forgive me, Camilla, for explaining myself so badly. It's just that I felt so close to you that day that I foolishly felt explanations weren't really necessary. I felt we understood each other without the need for words.'

She had felt that too, but her old insecurities had intruded, clouding and marring the magic between them. She looked up at him now and told him truly, 'I had never felt so close to anyone in my life.'

He kissed her face. 'My love, my love. Let there never be another misunderstanding between us all our lives.' As she kissed him back a smile crept into his eyes. 'And there was me thinking that our trip to Mhoire, after all, had been a waste of time.'

Camilla frowned, uncomprehending. 'But we found the jewels. That's what we went for.'

'It's not what I went for, my sweet I didn't think for one moment that we'd find the jewels there—though, happily, I was proved wrong. I took you to the island because I was hoping that if I could get you to myself for a while, I might manage to persuade you not to marry Eric.'

‘You devious creature!' She prodded him playfully— though inwardly she blessed his deviousness. For it was undoubtedly during those two days on Mhoire that her love for him had crystallised.

But his eyes had grown serious again. He gave her a gentle little shake. 'It may have slipped your mind young lady, but I haven't had my answer yet I have just made a very unambiguous proposal of marriage—and unlike your previous patient suitors, I demand an answer right away!'

She'd looked up at him then, her eyes and mind clear, without a fraction of doubt or hesitation in her mind. ‘’I’ll be your wife,' she had told him simply. 'I'll love you and cherish you for all of my life.'

'And I you for all of mine.' Fiercely, he'd looked down into her eyes. ‘I’ll make you happy, Camilla,' he had promised. 'Never doubt it I know I can.'

She knew it too. And over the past twelve months he had proved it true in at least a thousand ways. Camilla had never before suspected that there were so many different ways of being happy.

There had been the sheer, extravagant happiness of their wedding day on Ross's thirty-fifth birthday, the happiness of discovering she was pregnant, the simple day-to-day happiness of just being together. And the thrill of deep and sensuous happiness she felt each time he reached for her in the night. In the sometimes languorous, sometimes frenzied joining of their bodies all the love and joy of their union seemed magically expressed.

And she had a lifetime of such happiness to look forward to, she thought with an immense sense of wonder. It was all so much more than she had ever dared to dream.

The door of the drawing-room where they sat now opened and Maggie came in. Smiling, she crossed the room and gently took the baby from Ross. 'I’ll take him off your hands for a while. Give you both a bit of a rest.'

Camilla smiled 'You can bathe him, if you like. I’ll be up to feed him in half an hour.' Then she watched as, beaming, Maggie left the room. Already, the good woman was as fiercely protective of the tiny week-old infant as she had once been of Ross.

Ross slipped an arm round Camilla's shoulder as she glanced up at the cards on the mantelpiece. Cards of congratulation from friends and relatives—including one from Anni and Sue of Focus, with whom, though she had relinquished her share of the company, she still kept in touch, and one particularly cherished one from Eric and his new wife.

She leaned her cheek against Ross's chin and glanced up into the dark grey eyes. She had a great deal to be grateful to Eric for, and she was glad that he and Ross had become friends.

He kissed her now. 'I have a surprise.' He rose from the sofa and crossed over to a bureau by the window. Then, throwing her a tantalising wink over his shoulder, he carefully opened the drawer.

Just for a moment Camilla's heart stilled as he \ drew out a carved wooden box with a silver lock and key.

'Don't worry.' He smiled at her, anticipating her reaction. 'It's not the Ceo do dh'or. That's still safely back on Mhoire, where it belongs and where it will stay.'

Camilla smiled and breathed again as he came to sit beside her once more, remembering how Ross himself, as soon as her pregnancy had been confirmed, had insisted that the jewels be returned to a safe place on the island. 'One day our son will be the heir, and although I don't mind taking risks on my own behalf there's no way I’ll endanger him. Besides,' he had added, holding her close, 'I know that you'll rest easier if the jewels are returned to Mhoire.'

That she knew, had been the real reason, for she still entertained a slight lingering doubt as to whether the curse existed or not The accident with the tractor, it had been proved, had indeed been caused by an electrical fault just as Ross had claimed from the start And Ross had reached his thirty-fifth birthday safely, without further incident despite the jewels being at Castle Crannach.

Maybe the whole thing really was hokum, after all. But who knows? she'd insisted superstitiously, and to please her Ross had returned them to the island—just one of the countless thoughtful gestures that he had made to her over the past blissful year. For all his wild impetuosity^ she had rapidly come to recognise that her husband was a caring and responsible man. Beneath that unconventional exterior he was as solid and dependable as a rock.

Her rock. She could count on that.

Now she waited as he turned the key of the box and, tantalisingly slowly, lifted the lid. The grey eyes sparkled as her own eyes widened. 'It's a replica! You've had them copied!' she gasped. For there, on a bed of deep blue velvet lay three exquisite, identical copies of the ring, the necklace and the bracelet that had once belonged to Queen Margaret of Scotland.

First Ross lifted out the bracelet, flashing with garnets and lapis lazuli, and slid it on to her wrist Then, brushing back her shiny blonde hair, he fastened the necklace around her throat 'Come to the mirror and see how it looks,' he told her as he slipped on the ring.

He led her to die huge gilt-framed mirror that hung against the silk-covered wall, but just as last time when she had worn the real things, looking back at her she could see only his handsome face. She turned to him and looked up into his eyes, feeling her poor heart burst with love for him.

Thank you.' She kissed him. Thank you, Ross, for everything.'

With a sigh, Ross gathered her into his arms. 'Never thank me,' he told her. 'Just love me.'

'I do, I do. You know I do.'

'And I love you.' He kissed her hair. 'Love of my life. My impossible dream.'

For a long moment they stood together, wrapped blissfully in each other's arms. Then they went upstairs together, to the nursery, to see their son.

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