Forget Me Not, My Scottish Love by Allie Palomino

Chapter Thirty-Four

Two weeks later

“Are the men ready?” Cameron asked.  His voice held all the warmth of a Highland winter. 

He hugged his son closer to him, who was busy playing with Cameron’s long beard.  In the previous two weeks, when he wasn’t pushing his warriors into the ground with training, he was carrying Trystan on him with the use of plaid wrapped around his body.  Trystan was never too far away from his father.

Cameron had developed a specific routine.  Waking up with the rising sun, he’d take care of his and his son’s needs- food, calls of nature, and the like.  His son, whom slept next to his father, rarely went hours without his father’s presence.  Cameron would leave his son in Alice’s care while he went outside to vigorously train.  He’d been committed to regaining his full health.  The work and time spent on that goal had been successful- he was massively built now- even bigger than he had been before his injury.  Not one ounce of fat was on his muscular frame.  His larger muscles rolled as he prowled through the castle, through his land.

After Cameron trained for a couple of hours, he’d go inside to get his son, only to return outside to allow his son to breathe “fresh Scottish air,” as he’d stated it.  In wrapping Trystan on his body while riding the large beast, Cameron was slowly getting him accustomed to his large warhorse.  He’d also take Owen outside, finding that Trystan’s cousin taught his son things in their own baby language that Cameron had yet to understand.

After the sun peaked in the sky, he’d leave his son with Alice again, and stalk outside to spar with his men.  He was training and readying them.

For war. 

And still, even after the hours training in the morning and the hours spent in the evening with his men, Cameron worked himself hard after his men had ended their day.  He was a man possessed and obsessed, or so his family had described him. 

Cameron ate his meals alone or with his son.  He’d distanced himself from his family, preferring solitude or the company of his son, to the company of others.

They’d just try to convince him that he was delusional and that his wife was dead.

He knew better, though. 

The knowledge that she was alive was in his veins, in his heart, and in his soul. 

Admittedly, some doubt wanted to enter into his mind, but he’d quickly quash it.

“Aye.  They’ve their weapons and are eager.  The air around them hums with vitality and determination.  They’re prepared and anxious to begin,” Keith responded.  His mechanical, lifeless brother nodded his approval.

Cameron looked at Trystan, who smiled up at his father and pulled the long beard Cameron refused to cut until he laid eyes on his beautiful wife again.  Trystan’s green eyes had grown more vibrant and showed more of Abby’s soul everyday. 

“Ma-ma,” Trystan said and laughed, clapping.

Cameron’s eyes caressed his son’s face.  Trystan had begun to say the word two months ago.  No one understood how he’d learned the word, since he’d been much younger when he’d lost his mother.  They certainly hadn’t taught him to say it, fearing it would add salt to Cameron’s wound.

“Mama is gone, Trystan, but we will find her and bring her home.  Until then, she lives in here,” Cameron said touching the baby’s small, but growing chest.  The baby giggled and Cameron smiled.  The only time he ever smiled was when he was with his son.

Alice approached Cameron with hands extended towards her grandson.  She’d grown concerned at her son’s change but was powerless to console him.  He rarely spoke to anyone.  If it wasn’t a clan or familial concern, he didn’t speak.  He’d rarely let Trystan out of his sight, and if Trystan was not within reach, he only stayed away for small spans of time.

Alice knew it wasn’t that he was angry with his family, he was just focused on his task.  She knew that he blamed himself for not listening to her or Abby.  If he had listened to them and waited as they’d wanted him to, then it may have resulted differently.  And while nothing or no one could comfort him during this dark time, there was only one who could offer Cameron’s soul the solace it yearned for- Trystan- who held a part of Abby within his little body.

He kissed Trystan on his head. 

“Be good for Gran-Gran, Trystan.  Papa will return soon with Mama,” he said, choked with emotions as Abby’s eyes looked back at him from his son’s chubby face.

“Ye’re not going to lecture?” Cameron asked his mother.

Alice gave him a sad smile.  “For what?  Even if I thought it was a foolish plot, ye wouldna listen to me.”  She nodded when his eyes showed his surprise.  “All of me hopes ye’re correct, but part of me believes ye are wrong.”  Her eyes showed her deep sadness and regret.  “I love ye son and I understand yer hurt and pain.  I recognize it as having been my own when yer father died.  While it willna vanish overnight, one day ye will begin to live again.  She would have wanted that, Cameron.  She loved ye so much, and if she knew how ye punished yerself everyday, she would sob her heart out.”

“Well, she isna dead.  ‘Tis time she returns to us where she belongs.”

Alice stopped and kissed her son’s cheek.  “Godspeed to ye, son.  At the very least, the earth will be rid of that bastard.  I’ll see ye when ye come home, for I know that ye shall be the victor,” she said, taking an already crying Trystan away from his father.

Cameron nodded, too overwhelmed by emotion to do anything more.  He looked at his son, who was reaching out to him, and kissed him tenderly on his head.  With one last look into his son’s precious eyes to fortify him for the days ahead, he nodded to Alice.  She took him back to the keep.

Cameron felt the sun’s warmth on his skin, replenishing his will and determination.  He felt the familiar bloodlust run through his veins, and flow through his body.  He clenched and unclenched his massive hands.

He was ready to kill the bastard.