Page 65 of Sighs of the Highland Wind
Ross looked at his steward closely. He had employed James twenty years previously when both of them were in theirearly thirties, and they had very quickly become friends. They were the classic attraction of opposites: James was studious, meticulous and even tempered, whereas Ross was strong-minded, stubborn, and apt to fits of rage. However, when it suited him he could be the sweetest, most charming character ever born. Occasionally however, when it suited him, he took back his role of master and imposed that of servant on James.
Today, Ross was becoming impatient. Although there had been no formal meeting with his son, he knew somehow that Cameron was coming. He was a man of the world, and considered himself a good student of human nature, and he had dangled something before his son that he considered too big to refuse. Nevertheless, although it was still morning he was becoming more and more impatient. He should have been here by now, surely? He doubted that Cameron would be stupid enough to come so late that he would have to travel by twilight or darkness. Rain clouds were closing in, and riding a mile or more in the mud could be dangerous especially at this time of year, the days were becoming shorter.
At that moment there was a knock at the door and a maidservant announced the arrival of his son, who stepped through the door bringing the scent of fresh air with him.
He met the Laird’s eyes at once in a challenging stare, and Ross Lewis held it for a moment before looking away to pour himself a glass of wine. He poured two others and offered one to Cameron, who refused with a shake of his head.
“That is the second time you have refused my wine,” the Laird observed tersely. “Is it not to your taste? It is a very fine one.” He held the glass closer to Cameron, who refused it again with a shake of his head.
“I have never tasted wine.” Cameron’s voice was frigid. “I have only ever drunk ale, milk, or water.”
“Then here is your chance to taste it,” Ross Lewis offered. He reached out and put the glass in his son’s hand, and Cameron realized that it had become a contest, a battle of wills.
Cameron put the drink down on the desk, but did not knock it over, as he had done the previous day. He simply would not touch it.
The Laird held his glass up. “Sláinte Mhath!” He was joined by James, but Cameron said nothing. “To your good health.” Ross Lewis’s blood was boiling with rage at the defiance of this so-called son of his, but his face showed nothing of what he felt inside. “I presume you have a reason to see me?”
Cameron nodded once then took a deep breath. “I have come to accept your offer,” he answered dully. “I will be your heir.”
There was a thunderous silence, during which Cameron felt his heart beating so hard that he was sure the others could hear it.
The Laird broke it first. “I knew you would see sense,” he said, with a satisfied air. “The prize was too big to refuse.”
Cameron felt a blaze of fury burn within him. “I am no’ doing this for my own gain!” he roared.
The Laird looked at him with a face that was absolutely devoid of expression. “Then why are you doing it?”
“Because I am tired of workin’ my fingers to the bone and still being hungry, an’ there are people I want to help,” Cameron growled. He knew he had said too much and was giving vent to his deepest, most pent-up frustrations, and Laird Lewis was probably laughing at him, but he could not hold his emotionsin any longer. “Ye are only acknowledgin’ me now. I don’t care about that, but I cared about my mother, who had to work her fingers to the bone to support me without any help from you! I loved her. I despise you.”
Cameron knew his face was red with rage, but he did not care. The words had been waiting to spew out of him for a long, long time. When he had finished, he turned around and made for the door. He had burned his boats, and the Laird would surely not want to give him the estate now!
“Where are you going?” the Laird asked. “Do you not want to find out about your estate?”
“I thought ye would change your mind about the estate.” Suddenly Cameron felt a little foolish.
“I have not, and I will not,” the Laird answered. “I need an heir, and you are the obvious choice. You are my son, and anyone can see it. You look like me, almost uncannily so.”
“I look like my mother too,” Cameron said, pointing to his eyes. “Why did ye send her away when she was with child? Was she just another tumble in the hay to you? How many other children like me do ye have?”
“None as far as I know,” Ross Lewis said carelessly. He looked irritated suddenly, and said, “sit down. You are annoying me.”
“Good! I like annoyin’ ye!” Cameron retorted spitefully. “You did no’ answer my question. Why did ye send my mother away?”
For the first time, to Cameron’s astonishment, the Laird looked uncomfortable. “Because my wife found out about her and told me to, otherwise she said she would leave me and take my son with her. That is all I am prepared to say on the matter.”
“You are a coward.” Cameron’s lip curled in disgust. “Like so many o’ your class.”
“And now, let me tell you what will happen next.” The Laird began to speak as though he had not heard Cameron. “There is one condition to be met before I can declare you my heir.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his hands over his stomach.
“What is the condition?” he asked. His voice was cautious. He sensed in his gut that something bad was about to happen.
“You must marry my steward’s daughter, Davina,” the Laird replied.
“Why?” Cameron’s voice was high with disbelief. This was the most stupid thing he had ever heard.
“Because I am telling you to.” The tone was flat and uncompromising. The Laird’s dark grey eyes were flinty.
“No.” The single word dropped like a stone from Cameron’s mouth. He curled his left hand into a fist and thumped it on the table, and the Laird jumped back in fright. Then, for a moment Cameron and his father sat glaring at each other.
