Crazy about Cameron: The Winslow Brothers #3(57)

But this? This big old barn that would host his sister’s wedding and stand firm and strong as a symbol of the days he fell in love with Margaret? This was something real. Something good. Something that made Cameron’s future look bright and feel exciting. And it occurred to him that he was finally building something. In the same way that C & C Winslow had been his father’s legacy, this place—The Five Sisters—could be his.

He turned back toward the cottage to freshen up his coffee when he heard two troubling noises: the first, a scream that ripped through his heart because Margaret’s voice was unmistakable, and the second, the sound of a motor tearing out of The Five Sisters road. Racing from the tasting room up to the dirt road, he arrived just in time to see a beat-up aqua pickup truck with Pennsylvania plates whoosh by and sail out the front gates.

Cameron sprinted back to the cottage, past the barrel shed, past the ferment shed, stopping with horror as he saw the front door of the cottage sitting wide open. Gasping for breath born of sprinting and panic, he rushed inside to find Margaret—his sweetheart, his love, his Meggie—sprawled on the floor between the kitchen and sitting room, her chestnut hair lying limp in a widening circle of her own blood.

***

Margaret’s eyes fluttered open slowly, but the small movement made her head throb so unmercifully, she couldn’t decide if it would be better to close them again. She chose to keep them open, a small whimper leaving her throat as her eyes focused.

She had no idea where she was, but through the dim light she could tell that the walls were a sea-foam green, and the steady sound of a mechanical beep somewhere near her ear reminded her of a hospital. Staring up at the ceiling, she blinked, causing another wave of pain so sharp, it made her stomach turn over.

“Baby?” whispered Cameron’s voice. “Can you hear me?”

She desperately wanted to turn her head to face him, but if blinking made a gong clang in her head, she was terrified to find out what sort of pain moving her neck would bring.

“Cam?” she murmured, the sound like the cry of a small, broken thing.

Suddenly he was standing over her, his handsome face a mask of worry.

“Don’t talk.”

She searched his face, desperate for him to tell her what had happened, where she was, and if she was going to be okay. As though he could read her mind, he nodded.

“I don’t know what happened, baby. When I left, you were asleep. I went to the tasting room to check on the building progress, and while I was there, I heard you scream, and then I saw a truck tear out of the vineyard coming from the cottage. I ran as fast as I could to get to you and found you on the floor bleeding. I picked you up, put you in my car, and raced here, to the hospital. I should have called an ambulance, but I was terrified, Meggie. It appears you were hit with something hard on the side of the head, just over your ear. Eight stitches, baby, but the doctor said it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Head wounds bleed a lot.”

She swallowed, realizing that her throat was dry and scratchy. “Water?”

He hustled to grab something, and she felt a straw pressing against her lips. She drank slowly and marveled at the feeling of the cool liquid soothing her throat. When she was finished, she let the straw pop out of her mouth, and Cameron took the cup away. A moment later, he was standing over her again.

“You have a concussion,” he said. “You’ll have to stay the night, but I’ll stay with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She struggled to follow everything he was saying, but what scared her most was that, although she understood his words, they still felt garbled somehow. Like he was speaking under water. And her head was throbbing like crazy.

“Who would . . .?” she stopped, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. “Who was it?”

Cameron shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Tears filled her eyes at the thought of someone entering her sweet little home and hurting her. “Why?”

Cameron’s jaw tightened as he touched her hand gently. She curled her fingers around his, relieved when the movement didn’t cause any pain. “I don’t know.”

She swallowed, and that did hurt. The room was spinning a little, making her feel dizzy, and the throbbing in her temple was so painful now, her eyes drifted closed. Using the last of her strength, she gripped tighter to Cameron’s hand before surrendering to darkness.

***

Cameron watched as Margaret’s eyes closed, her pulse slowing down on the monitor as she drifted back into a deep sleep. The doctor said that rest was the best thing, but it killed Cameron to see her so helpless.

Not to mention his own helplessness. It killed him that he couldn’t answer her questions. But he wouldn’t rest until he could, and God have mercy on the person who had hurt her because Cameron certainly wouldn’t.

Who had attacked her, and why? It was the same question the police had asked when they stopped by an hour ago, and all Cameron could say was that there’d been a breakin last Sunday and he’d seen an aqua pickup zooming out of the gates just after hearing Margaret’s scream this morning. Though the police seemed reluctant to connect the two incidents, Cameron felt strongly that they were related. He just didn’t know how . . . or why.

The doctor peeked his head into the room. “Anything?”

“Yeah. She woke up for a few minutes. Asked a couple of questions and drank a bit of water before falling back to sleep.”