Chapter 7
Margot watched Eileen as she sat working on a piece of embroidery that was going to become a wall hanging, and a bittersweet feeling rose in her chest. She wondered if her sister Eliza, who was almost an artist in the craft of sewing and embroidery, was safe and protected, busy sewing something at that moment.
She smiled as she remembered a beautiful deep pink dress her sister had made for her sixteenth birthday which she had embroidered all over with flowers and butterflies.
Margot had worn the dress for years until it almost fell to pieces, and Eliza had begun to work on another, but she had been snatched away from her before she could finish it.
Eileen had tried to interest her in the craft which gave her such pleasure, and Margot had tried to acquire some enthusiasm for it. However, her efforts were half-hearted at best, since she knew she could never become anywhere near as talented as her sister.
Margot’s thoughts were wandering between Eliza and Juliet, and she was very deliberately trying not to think about Callum, whose gentle kiss had so disturbed her the night before.
She stabbed the needle into her work and accidentally punctured her finger at the same time.
“Ow!” she cried as she put her finger into her mouth and sucked on it to relieve the pain.
Eileen came over to her to inspect the tiny wound. “You should use a thimble,” she advised, shaking her head.
“I’m far too clumsy,” Margot replied, frowning. “Now, Eliza never pricked her fingers.”
Eileen smiled. “Yes, you told me about her,” she said. “When I meet her, I will ask her dozens of questions—this is a craft I want to pursue quite passionately.”
“You may never meet her,” Margot admitted sadly as she put her sewing to one side. “I have no idea where she is, or if I will ever see her again.”
Eileen put an arm around her shoulders. “Have faith,” she encouraged her kindly. “You will. I know you will. Now, let’s have some tea and the cook’s famous treacle scones. I know they are your favourites.”
“You know me so well already!” Margot said, forcing a laugh.
They sat chatting amiably as they drank their tea, then Eileen said, “My goodness, look at that sun! Should we treat ourselves to a walk in the garden before the clouds come back to visit?”
Margot nodded, laughing, and they left, running down the stairs like two schoolgirls who had been let out of the schoolroom to play.
They emerged in the courtyard which Margot had seen before, where the guards practised their battle skills.
Almost at once, a guard came up behind Eileen to hold an umbrella over her to protect her from the sun.
“You should stay out of the sun or your poor pale Sassenach skin will suffer,” Eileen advised Margot, who giggled.
“I think this poor pale Scottish sun is too weak to do me any harm,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Eileen gave her a playful punch on the shoulder, then they stopped to watch two men who were practising with great broadswords.
The expression on their faces was one of pure, concentrated aggression, and Margot had the feeling that if the swords had not been blunted they might have killed each other.
One of them had cornered the other with a swipe across his throat, causing him to fall to the ground.
Yet, the winner of the duel helped him to his feet and patted his opponent’s back, then it all began again.
“I love watching the bouts,” Eileen admitted, smiling as she watched another two fighting with dirks. “I cannot even handle a knife. The closest I come to it is slicing the meat on my dinner plate! My brother tells me it’s not ladylike.” Her voice was bitter.
Margot leaned into her closely to murmur in her ear, “I was told the same. Now don’t say a word to anyone, but I practise in secret!”
Eileen’s eyes widened, and she looked at Margot in amazement.
“Really?” she whispered.
Margot nodded, then they moved on, and stopped as they saw two men indulging in a bare-knuckled bout of hand-to-hand fighting.
One of the fighters was tall and wiry with shoulder-length dark hair. He had a long reach, but his opponent, who was a much shorter man with a shock of bright red hair, was far more muscular.
“The ginger one will win,” Eileen said firmly. “He has bigger muscles!”
“No.” Margot shook her head. “The tall one. Look at the length of his arms!”
“But they look like sticks,” Eileen protested. “Let’s wager on it. If I lose, I will get down on one knee and kiss your feet. If you lose, you can do the same for me.”
She raised her eyebrows in a question and Margot, with a mock-serious look on her face, nodded and held out her hand. They shook hands, sealing the deal, then turned to watch the bout again. Both of them were trying not to laugh.
For a while, it looked as if neither would win and the contest was going to end in a draw.
The smaller man attacked the bigger one’s torso, while the taller man concentrated on the shorter one’s head.
Then, out of nowhere, the end came as the big man stumbled, and the shorter one hooked him under the chin, and he fell down, landing on his backside before lying prone on the ground.
Margot and Eileen both cried out in alarm, but it seemed there was no harm done, since the big man got to his feet at once, rubbing his rear end and grimacing. Then the two combatants grinned and patted each other on the back.
Eileen looked at Margot with raised eyebrows and Margot sighed, knelt on one knee and acted like she kissed her friend’s polished leather shoe, causing a gale of laughter around the guards and servants.
“Your turn next time!” Margot warned, giggling.
The next bet they made was on a pair of swordsmen.
“Gentlemen!” Eileen called out to the two combatants. “My friend and I have a wager on your bout, so you—” she pointed to one of the men— “had better win! My dignity depends on it.”
However, Eileen was not so lucky this time, and it was she who ended up being obliged to do the foot-kissing.
One of the men bent down and helped Eileen to her feet. As she brushed the dirt from the ground off her dress he laughed.
“Milady, this is the first time I have ever seen two ladies like yourselves playin’ like wee lassies!”
Margot answered, “We all have wee lassies inside us, no matter how old we are.”
In her smooth, soft-vowelled English accent the words sounded quite hilarious, and the guards laughed.
“Aye, especially wee Sassenach lassies!” the man replied, grinning from ear to ear.
Eileen shook her head. “Enough of this. Stop standing around! We want to be amazed,” she cried.
“Aye!” Margot shouted. “Stop being wee boys. Be big men!”
The guards were so amused by this that they began to show off for the two of them, in part to make everyone laugh, but mostly to impress the ladies with their prowess in battle. Like men the world over they were extremely proud of themselves and their achievements.
Several of the guards and servants began to make their own wagers, and soon the courtyard was abuzz with merriment and the clashing of swords.
However, the noise became much more subdued when the clatter of hooves was heard in the distance, coming closer and closer.
Presently, the noise echoed from the flagstones of the castle walls as Callum and two of his guards rode through the main gates and entered the courtyard. The guards saluted him and the whole atmosphere calmed down a little.
The thunderous look on Callum’s face immediately quietened the crowd without his having to say a word. His gaze passed over them all like a cloud crossing the sun, and his jaw was clenched tightly, giving him a fierce, slightly feral appearance.
He rode into the stable yard and leapt down from his horse, and a young stable hand approached him very cautiously, seeing the look on his face.
“Can I take the stallion, M’Laird?” he asked fearfully.
“Nay,” Callum replied. “I will see to him myself, thank you.” He gave the lad a brief pat on the shoulder and turned back to his mount, then led him to his stall and removed his saddle and bridle.
“Sometimes I think you’re far smarter than all the men here, Robbie,” Callum said to the horse as he began to rub him down. “You do your work and never argue, you accept what you are given and only complain if you really have to. You always do as you are told, and I love you.”
It has been a very long time since I said that to anyone.
He shook the thought out of his head and carried on with his self-appointed task, sighing in exasperation. What was wrong with him?
Presently, Callum heard the noise of merriment in the courtyard growing louder again.
The sound of two familiar female voices rose above the rest. Driven by curiosity, he looked outside and saw Margot and Eileen raising their arms and shouting encouragement as they watched two young men sparring in a bare-knuckled boxing match.
A spear of pure jealousy and rage, stronger than anything Callum had ever felt before, pierced him as he looked at the animated expression on the English girl’s face. He wanted to rush outside and wrench the two fighters apart, then send them on their way.
Of course, that was impossible. They were loyal members of his garrison and had done nothing wrong.
What are you doing to me? he asked himself as his thoughts again flitted on Margot—she was fast becoming his obsession.
He rested his head against his horse’s flank for a moment, then looked up and called for the stable hand.
“Tell the English lass that the Laird needs to see her,” he ordered.
The young man scurried off to do Callum’s bidding, and a moment later Margot came into the stable, looking a little apprehensive.
Margot looked around and saw him standing behind his horse. “I got your message,” she told him, frowning.
She stood still for a moment, looking into his deep, dark eyes, which were almost hypnotic in the dim light of the stable.
“Is anything—”
She was unable to finish what she was saying because Callum looped an arm around her waist and led her none too gently into a shadowed corner of the stall behind the horse.
A second later his lips were on hers, one of his arms wrapped around her, firm but gentle, while his other hand held the back of her head so that she could not escape while his mouth caressed hers.
The first time they had kissed, Margot had been the one to initiate it, and the circumstances had been less than ideal. She had been under pressure, with no time to think of what she was doing. The result had been surprisingly pleasant, but there had been no time to enjoy it.
Now, however, there was no need for haste, and Margot sank into Callum’s embrace, feeling as if she belonged there, and had always belonged there.
In his arms there was safety and peace. The earthy musk of his body filled her nostrils, and the firmness of his hard male body against hers sent her senses reeling with arousal.
She could feel Callum’s entirely male reaction to her by the hard ridge of his manhood that was pressing against her lower belly, causing her to flood with warm moisture.
Callum’s lips were firm but soft, and they caressed Margot’s with infinite tenderness, then he did something shocking, something she had never experienced before.
He gently parted her lips with his tongue and pushed it inside her mouth to stroke and tangle with hers.
Margot had never felt anything so wanton but so delightful, and she hesitated for a few seconds before she began to imitate him, and soon they were locked in a sensual dance which neither wanted to end.
Margot plunged her hands into the thick, silky mass of Callum’s hair and felt him pull her more tightly against him. She ground her hips against him and heard him give a growl of pleasure.
When Callum felt Margot’s soft, pliant body in his arms, he was lost. Every particle of common sense left him, and he sank into a sensual pool of delight the likes of which he had never felt before.
He had kissed other women—plenty of them—but those kisses had not felt like this; this was glorious. His instinct was to take her there and then, pressed against the stable wall, regardless of who saw them. In fact, the thought of the danger made the prospect all the more thrilling.
However, at last common sense prevailed, an unwelcome intrusion into the haze of passion, and they drew apart, both of them breathless.
Margot stared up into Callum’s dark eyes and tried to back away, but he would not let her go.
“You are driving me mad, lass,” he said huskily. “You are mine. From now on, you will cheer only for me.”
Margot opened her mouth to snap back a reply, but then she remembered that of course she did belong to Callum, and he had the right to give her orders. As well as that, she would easily become his slave just to enjoy more kisses like the one she had just shared with him!
She nodded, dropping her gaze from his. “I understand,” she replied softly.
Callum let her go reluctantly and watched as she walked away. He felt utterly bereft.