True Heart by Arnette Lamb Read Free Book Online Page B

MacGowan’s ship. She’d believed his lie about taking her to France and Cameron.
    Sparing her friends and family grief was also within Virginia’s power. She had changed. Would they recognize her? Would they pity her?
    As other questions rose in her mind, she watched the dockmen moor Cameron’s ship. The Maiden Virginia rested at her doorstep. How many times in the early years had she pictured his ship sailing around the bend, her knight come to rescue her? Too many times, and that fanciful notion sobered her to the reality of the moment.
    When the gangplank was secured, she strained to better see the two men and one woman who moved to disembark. The woman wore a yellow gown and matching gloves. Fair and light on her feet, she came first. She couldn’t be Cameron’s sister; Sibeal had red hair. Had Cameron married? Virginia had often imagined that. The knowledge would hurt more now, for it would prove that he’d forgotten her, but not by any fault of his own. He’d take her to her family and go home to his own. Virginia would embark on a new life.
    But as God was her witness, she would not allow Cameron or anyone else to pity her.
    Next onto the quay was a man she remembered well. MacAdoo Dundas’s flaxen hair was unmistakable. An instant later, Cameron Cunningham stepped into view. Virginia drank in the sight of him. Beneath a tricorn hat with a red plume, his blond hair was tied with a cord at the nape, and he carried the tobacco cask she’d branded.
    Tall and slender, he wore the lively red, black, and white tartan of his mother’s people, the Lochiel Camerons. Only in portraits in his family home had Virginia seen the colors of his clan. Worn in the old style, the tartan was pleated and belted at his waist, with one end of the cloth thrown over his shoulder and pinned there with a brooch. Virginia knew the story of his mother’s sacrifice to save the plaids. But wearing—even possessing the tartans or their patterns—was outlawed as a treasonous offense. Did Cameron defy an order of the crown, or had England forgiven the Jacobites?
    Where was Papa? Her gaze flew back to the ship. Ordinary seamen roamed the deck. Lachian MacKenzie had not come. Her mother had not come. What if they were dead?
    The cruelty cut too deeply, and she turned her attention to the woman beside Cameron. She couldn’t be Sarah, for Sarah had always been tall like Cameron. They moved onto the brick path leading to the front door, which faced the river. With energetic strides, the woman easily kept pace with her male companions.
    â€œWho is she?” asked Mrs. Parker-Jones.
    Virginia’s childhood had been surrounded with females. Faces she could no longer recall. Cora’s hair had been fair. Lily’s too. And Sarah and Agnes. But this woman didn’t look seven and twenty, the age Agnes and her sisters would be. It was so long ago, and this woman could be Cameron’s wife. “I do not know.”
    â€œShe’s beautiful, and if that man carrying the cask is Cameron Cunningham, you are lucky indeed. He’s very handsome.”
    Virginia’s heart swelled with pride. “He’s Cam.”
    â€œThen we’d better greet them.”
    Pain squeezed Virginia’s chest. Assuming Cameron had taken a wife, he’d probably feel guilty. All of Virginia’s family would, especially if they knew the truth about her life the last ten years. She’d spoken of that often with Mrs. Parker-Jones during the days of waiting.
    Virginia forced herself to chose a course of action. “Tell them what we discussed yesterday at supper.” They had discussed so many possibilities, Virginia had grown weary.
    Resignation saddened Mrs. Parker-Jones. “If you are sure that is what you want me to say to them.”
    If poor choices were wealth, Virginia was rich beyond the counting. “They must not know the truth, not the whole of it. Will you go along with