A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes)

A Beautiful Lie

By Stephanie Sterling

Clan MacRae and Clan Cameron had been locked in a bitter feud since before Lachlan MacRae could remember, since before his father could remember, since before his father
’
s father could remember, and so it went on, back down the branches of the family tree.  So far back in fact that no one alive was quite sure what had started it all in the first place.  This didn
’
t do anything to lessen the hatred or stem the killings. 

MacRae children were brought up to despise the Camerons, to loathe them as if they were the very lowest of the low.  Fed on the sour milk of hatred from the time they were babies in arms, it quickly became ingrained.  It festered in their blood, taking so deep a hold on them, becoming such an integral part of them that it was impossible to purge.  Lachlan supposed the reverse was also true, which was one of the many reasons why he thought Graem
’
s idea was ludicrous.

Lachlan sighed deeply, and stared down the road ahead, keeping his bay gelding moving at a nice even pace.  There was no need to hurry.  He might be under strict instructions from Graem, his laird, to convey his mistimed, misplaced,
‘
olive branch
’
, but that didn
’
t mean, under any circumstances, that he was going to rush towards Castle Cameron. 

Or at least, that
’
s what he
’
d told himself
…
however, when Lachlan rounded the next bend in the road a rather surprising sight met his eyes.

A woman was sat at the roadside miserably prodding her ankle while a grey mare beside her ripped up clumps of grass to eat.  When she heard the clatter of the approaching horse and rider she looked up with a fearful start. 

She was uncommonly pretty.  She would probably be beautiful in fact, if she didn
’
t look such a sorry state, Lachlan admitted to himself.  As it was, it appeared that her long auburn curls had suffered a drenching in the last shower or two, and hung in a tangled mess about her shoulders, falling to more than halfway down her back.   Her clothes were in similar state of disarray.  Wet and muddied, Lachlan could hardly decipher their original colour.

He rode until he reached the woman and then stopped. 
“
You look like you
’
re in something of a fix, lass,
”
he said kindly, and then dismounted.  When he looked at the woman again she had a small dagger clasp in a trembling hand, pointing directly at him although she was still sat on the bank.

“
Don
’
t come any closer!  If you touch me I
’
ll- I
’
ll
”

She stopped speaking, looking highly affronted by the fact that Lachlan had burst into a fit of laughter.

“
You
’
ll what, lass?
”
he chuckled, taking a step towards her. 
“
Ah, I mean you no harm,
”
he assured her, in the same tone with which he might try and soothe a skittish horse.

“
Ha!  A likely story!  You
’
re wearing the MacRae tartan!
”
she said accusingly, waving the dagger in the direction of Lachlan
’
s kilt.

Lachlan glanced down absently. 
“
Aye,
”
he agreed. 
“
That
’
s true enough.
”
  He rubbed a hand over his short beard. 
“
And I assume from that reaction you
’
re a Cameron?
”

“
I am,
”
she said, hefting her chin with an arrogance that Lachlan would have struck away had she been a man. 
“
Muira Cameron.
”

“
Muira Cameron?
”
Lachlan repeated softly. 
“
Well, Miss Muira, I repeat my original observation, you seem to be in something of a fix.
”

“
I
’
m- fine,
”
Muira replied, wholly unconvincingly. 
“
I
don
’
t
need help from MacRae at any rate!
”
she added more forcibly.

Lachlan frowned harshly.  It would be easy enough to leave the troublesome wench.  Only
…
he didn
’
t like to think who might come across her out here alone, and she certainly didn
’
t seem to be going anywhere on her own.   Her mare looked lame to Lachlan, and Muira herself seemed to have suffered some injury to her ankle.

“
I
’
ll just leave you here to wait for you escort then, shall I?
”
he asked carefully. 
“
You did have an escort, didn
’
t you, lass?
”
he pressed.  Now that he was closer he could see, in spite of their current sorry state, that her clothes were those of a lady, and he couldn
’
t understand what she would be doing out on the highroad on her own.

“
Yes,
”
said Muira, after a lengthy pause. 
“
I- lost him.  My horse bolted and I-
”

“
Don
’
t
-
”
Lachlan interrupted harshly,
“
-lie to me.  If you don
’
t want to tell me the truth that
’
s your business, but I cannot abide liars,
”
he growled, advancing on Muira until he was close enough to pluck the dagger out of her unresisting hand. 

Her eyes were wide and terrified, and locked on his face.  Lachlan was just trying to decide their colour when Muira gasped:
“
What are you going to do to me?
”

After a moment
’
s silence of his own, Lachlan replied. 
“
Take you with me to Castle Cameron,
”
he said slowly.  It was really the only thing that he
could
do with the women.  He kept the dagger, but moved back slightly; scaring this poor Cameron girl senseless was not something that he meant to do.

“
Castle Cameron?
”
Muira repeated.  Her eyes widened just a fraction, and took on an uneasy expression that Lachlan found remarkably curious. 
Surely a Cameron would want to be taken home to their laird
’
s seat?
 
“
I don
’
t-
”
she began, but then seemed to think better of it. 
“
You can
’
t take me to the castle, MacRae,
”
she said instead, a haughtiness creeping into her voice that grated on Lachlan
’
s nerves.

“
I can
’
t?
”
he asked, smirking. 

“
You
’
re a
MacRae
,
”
Muira said, as if she thought he was also a simpleton for not realising what this meant.  However, she licked her lips hesitantly. 
“
But- but maybe you could help me reach the Black Bull?
”
she asked quietly.

“
You
’
re a woman, and you obviously have no idea what
’
s going on between our clans do you?
”
he snorted, earning himself a fierce glare from the lady. 
“
I will most certainly
not
take you to some local tavern and abandon you there.  You
must
have friends, family at Castle Cameron?
”
he pressed.

“
Yes, of course,
”
Muira admitted, although she sounded extremely reluctant to do so.  She lowered her eyes and gave her head a weak nod. 
“
I do, but-
”
she let her sentence trail off unfinished. 
“
Thank you, MacRae,
”
she mumbled.

Lachlan stared at her, wrong footed by this sudden, humble display. 
“
Well now, there
’
s no need to be getting all upset about it,
”
he said, clearly his throat gruffly.