Chapter 5
Eileen led Margot through a maze of corridors, chatting companionably about the castle and its inhabitants, until they reached a room outside which two guards in full uniform stood at attention.
Margot noticed at once that neither their kilts nor their clan crest resembled the uniforms of the rest of the garrison. The Mackintosh tartan was predominantly red, whereas this one was mostly dark green.
“They are wearing a different tartan,” she remarked, frowning.
Eileen sighed. “Yes,” she said in an irritable tone. “These are Ferguson men of my clan, they are here to guard me until the wedding. My brother insisted on it. He does not trust the Mackintosh men.”
“Why not?” Margot asked as the guards stood aside to let them in.
“Because that is the way he is,” Eileen replied bitterly. “He trusts no one. Sometimes I don’t think he even trusts himself!”
She gave a little shake of the head, as if banishing bad thoughts, then smiled and ushered Margot into the big chamber.
Margot looked around her in surprise, for the room looked nothing like any of the others she had seen so far.
It faced south, and its huge windows gave a spectacular view over the valley, which the castle overlooked.
It was warmed by a bright fire in an elegant marble fireplace, and on every tabletop and windowsill stood a plant, giving the room the smell and appearance of a small forest.
The air was moist, perfumed with the scent of flowers and herbs, and Margot looked around her in wonder. It was so, so beautiful, and she took a deep breath to savour the heady aroma.
Eileen watched her for a moment, smiling. “This is the sun room,” she explained. “Scotland is not a place that anyone could call warm or balmy, so this is the best we can do. The healer grows some herbs in here too.”
“It’s lovely,” Margot breathed.
Eileen pulled an armchair closer to the fire for Margot to sit in, then she called for tea to be brought. While they were waiting, she pointed out some of the names of the herbs.
“She grows lavender, bergamot, and lemon balm amongst others,” she told Margot, who was always keen to learn about any subject under the sun. “I have no idea of their properties, though. I really should take time to study them.”
Margot studied the other woman surreptitiously. There was no doubt Eileen was gorgeous, with her glossy blonde hair, fine features and large pale brown eyes, but there was an unmistakable air of sadness about her.
Margot wondered why this could be, since Eileen had everything anyone could want in her life.
She was rich, beautiful, and was about to marry a handsome, titled and equally wealthy man.
She would never want for anything, but of course, Margot still knew very little about her; perhaps all was not as it seemed.
The tea arrived and Eileen poured it into delicate china cups, which Margot could see were expensive and of excellent quality. It looked so fragile, she was almost afraid to pick up the cup in case she broke it.
“Tell me about yourself, Margot,” Eileen encouraged her gently. She wore a slight, concerned frown as she looked at her.
Margot sighed and passed a hand over her eyes. No matter how many times she told her story, it never became any easier.
“It is a very long story,” she began. “My father and his brother are both utter wastrels. They inherited a sizeable fortune when my grandfather died, but between a combination of reckless gambling and risky investments, they managed to lose just about everything. When my Uncle James sold just about everything that was valuable and could think of nothing else, he sold his daughters.”
She paused for a moment, unable to go on. Eileen leaned forward and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Margot, if this is too distressing for you, I understand,” she offered.
Margot shook her head and wiped some unshed tears away from her eyes with the heels of her hands.
“No,” she replied. “It helps to talk. Fortunately, all three of my cousins are happily married to men they adore, and I am very happy for them, but it could have turned out very badly.
Of course, when my father saw this he thought it was a wonderful idea, and he did the same with my sister Eliza.
A man named Laird Sinclair came and bought her, but we have not heard from her for a while.
Father announced recently that he was going on a trip to Scotland to do some business, so I followed him, hoping he might lead me to Eliza. I think you can guess the rest.”
Eileen gazed at Margot sympathetically, then leaned over to take her hand.
“I have no wish to marry either, Margot,” she declared.
“But it is my duty. My brother is Laird Ferguson of Dunfearn. I am two years older than he is, but being a woman I could not inherit the Lairdship and now that our father is dead his word is law. He is a bully, and it sounds as if he and your father have much in common.”
Her voice was bitter, and for the first time Margot felt sorry for Eileen. She was as much a prisoner as she herself was.
She was just about to respond to Eileen when they heard a firm knock at the door.
“Enter!” Eileen called, and one of the guards who had been standing outside the door stepped inside and saluted smartly.
“I have a matter which needs your attention, Milady,” he said briskly.
Margot noticed that Eileen’s eyes widened slightly as she looked at the tall, sturdy young man, then she nodded once and turned back to Margot.
“Will you excuse us, Margot?” she asked politely. “It’s probably nothing much, so please take a walk around the castle while I am busy. If you need anything, ask one of the staff. They have orders to help you in any way they can.”
With one last quick smile at Margot, she turned her attention to the guard.
Margot left the room, frowning as she wondered what private business a titled lady and a guard had to talk about, then she reasoned that it was none of her business and put it out of her mind.
She wandered along the corridor until she came to a door that opened onto one of the turrets.
A stiff breeze blew into her face at once, but she ignored it, since she wanted to admire the magnificent landscape around the castle.
It was so different from the flat green plains of her own country that it might have been on another world entirely.
In the distance she could see the village of Kilmuir which was surrounded on every side by green fields where sheep and shaggy Highland cows grazed. A stream ran in a gleaming stripe at the bottom of the hill, and in the distance she could see a loch ringed by bulrushes and other water grasses.
Flocks of ducks and the occasional swan swam on it, and its water was dark with the shadow of bruise-coloured clouds overhead that promised a rainstorm later. Margot was becoming acclimatised to the somewhat unpredictable, uncharitable Scottish weather, but she could not say she liked it.
Directly below her were the kitchen gardens, where she guessed all the vegetables for the household were grown.
She could see gardeners turning over the soil, planting new seedlings and digging up the mature produce.
Margot envied them, laughing softly as she thought of her lack of ability to grow anything.
Her sisters said she had “brown fingers” instead of fertile green ones.
At the thought of Eliza and Juliet, Margot’s eyes began to sting with tears.
Where was Eliza now? What was she doing, and what was being done to her?
She could not bear to think of it, but the more she tried to put Eliza to the back of her mind, the more she intruded. Perhaps Juliet had news of Eliza.
Her thoughts had distracted her so much that Margot did not realise she had descended a flight of stairs and was now standing in a part of the courtyard where three pairs of men were fighting separate duels. It was obviously some kind of training for war, she realised.
Her father had employed guards too at some point, but they had never looked like these great, hefty specimens of masculinity who swiped and stabbed each other with their great broadswords.
The weapons were obviously blunt, she realised; otherwise there would have been carnage, but they still engendered an enormous amount of downright terror inside her.
As she moved on, she saw two other men indulging in a bare-knuckled boxing match, and two more wrestling on the flagstones, and she realised that in some strange way they seemed to be enjoying themselves!
Men are such strange creatures, Margot thought as she walked on, shaking her head in exasperation as she left them behind. Why do they always have to start fights and wars? Can they not just live in peace? Women do not start wars! Sometimes I think we are different kinds of beings altogether.
She wandered onwards, descended another flight of stairs then found herself in yet another yard where lines of rope were stretched between poles, sometimes crisscrossing, sometimes running parallel with each other.
Margot watched as a group of three maidservants hung washing from the lines, chattering animatedly as they went about their business.
Suddenly, one of them turned around and saw her, and her eyes went wide with fright.
She gave Margot a clumsy curtsey, which alerted the other two women, who all turned around to look at her.
Margot realised that Catriona was one of them, and although she gave Margot a bright smile, she looked a little uncertain, especially when Margot picked up a pillowcase and a pair of pegs with which to hang it up to dry.
“Mistress, ye shouldnae be daein’ that!” she told her. “This isnae work for a lady!”
Margot laughed. “I am not a lady, Catriona,” she corrected her. “And anyone who knows me will tell you I never listen to orders, so let me help you. I want to talk to you anyway.”
The three maidservants exchanged glances, then Catriona frowned. “What dae ye need tae talk about?”
Before she answered, Margot pinned the pillowcase up on the washing line. However, she made such a bad job of it that Catriona had to take it down and do it properly. Margot laughed again, then her expression changed.
“I want to learn a bit more about Lady Eileen.”
“What dae ye want tae know, mistress?” one of the others asked.
“What is she like to work for?”
“Well, she is nice enough,” Catriona replied, “but she is a bit… well, she hardly ever talks tae us.”
“Aye, distant, I think ye mean,” the other woman added. “Very beautiful, an’ never nasty or spiteful, but aye, I get the feelin’ she doesnae care much about us or this place.”
“Do you think the Laird is in love with her?” Margot asked as she pinned another piece of laundry on the line.
To her surprise, the three women all laughed.
“Well, he isnae a cruel man, mistress,” Catriona answered. “An’ I think he treats her wi’ respect, but if she walked out an’ never came back, I dinnae think he would care very much.”
“Hmm,” Margot murmured, raising her eyebrows. “Now tell me about what goes on in the castle. I need to know who is who, the ones I should be scared of and the ones I will like.”
Catriona threw her head back and laughed heartily. “Ye? Scared, mistress?” She shook her head. “I cannae imagine that at a’. Pardon me for sayin’ so, but I think people are more likely tae be scared o’ you than the other way round, eh, lassies?”
The other two grinned and agreed, and they passed the next few minutes in companionable chatter, during which time Margot found out more about the workings of the castle and the people who ran it.
A moment later, however, Margot felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to bristle, and even before she turned her head to look, she knew who that fierce gaze that was boring into her belonged to.
She looked backwards to the yard where the men had been practising their battle skills and saw Callum standing there, his dark gaze fierce and heated as he stared at her.
He had a sword in his hand, and his chest was heaving; he had obviously been involved in some kind of mock battle with one of the guards.
Margot found that despite it all, she could not look away. At that moment Callum was the vision of masculinity she had always fantasised about. She felt her body begin to thrum with awareness and a slow, sweet pulse began to throb between her legs.
He was so beautiful, but he could never be hers. And Margot had to accept that reality. Reluctantly, she turned back to the maids and the task at hand.