“But the man who'd almost skewered Fingal was a stranger. As were the other giants standing watch over the old man. Marjory had rushed to Fingal, her face, blanched of all color, making her eyes seem unusually large. Fingal was brushing her aside, his claymore still drawn, the blood on his arm apparently only a scratch. Tension in the room was tight enough to sever an artery without a scalpel, and Cameron felt as if he was the unintentional vortex of the whole thing. Or Ewen Cameron w...as. He wished desperately that the door—or whatever the hell it had been that had transported him here—would open and send him home, leaving these people and their feud behind. Except that he didn't like the idea of anyone hurting Marjory. "Ye know me?" Torcall asked, his words pulling Cameron from his rambling thoughts. "They said ye dinna remember anything. But ye know me." The old man smiled, and despite everything Cameron had heard, he smiled back. Whatever Torcall Cameron's faults, he clearly loved his son. Unfortunately, his son was most likely dead. It was only his body that lived on with someone else in it.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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