Chapter 12
Catriona had somehow managed to procure another cloak, and later that evening, Eileen went back to Margot’s chamber to make the final preparations to their outfits for the evening.
Eileen had brought a practical warm, woollen dress in a shade of deep brown for Margot to wear, since fancy ballgowns were obviously out of the question. Margot was annoyed that she still had to borrow dresses from her friend, and missed her own clothes all the way back to England.
“This is lovely,” Margot commented as she looked at the garment. “But I wish I didn’t have to keep borrowing from you, Eileen.”
“I will have a word with Callum about your clothes,” Eileen promised. “Just a very subtle hint.”
Margot laughed. “Good luck with that! I have noticed that most men need a kick rather than anything as subtle as a hint.”
Eileen giggled. “Yes, you are so right, Margot. We will find a way!”
She went to fetch her own dress, which was of the same serviceable fabric as Margot’s, except in dark blue. No one would ever guess their true status by the way they looked, and that was just the way they wanted it.
Margot doubted if Callum gave much thought to what she wore, or if he even noticed, and for a few seconds she felt a brief sadness. He had not been to see her even once since that dreadful night. Surely, he could have spared just a single moment?
She sighed, then shook the thought out of her head.
It was true that they had been through a lot together, but he owed her nothing.
In fact, it was the other way around. Margot was sheltering under his roof when he could have cast her away without a second thought.
She could be lying freezing under a bush or in a barn, or having to do utterly despicable things in order to feed herself, and she shuddered at the notion.
Then something even worse occurred to her; she could be in the hands of that lecherous Davie Brown. The thought of being the prey of that disgusting old lecher made her feel sick.
Fortunately, her morbid thoughts were interrupted by Catriona, who plaited Margot’s hair then twisted it into a little knot at the nape of her neck.
It was the very antithesis of the usual elaborate coiffure she wore to society balls.
Yet she liked the fact that she had no need to fuss with it or worry if the pins were falling out or her curls were exactly where they should have been.
Less fuss, more pleasure, she thought contentedly.
“Time tae go, miladies!” Catriona announced. “Are ye both ready?”
Eileen and Margot exchanged glances and smiled. “As ready as we will ever be, I suppose,” Margot said. “Lead the way, Catriona. You are in charge tonight.”
Catriona laughed. “We will have tae go down the servants’ stairs, mistress,” she told her.
“I guessed that would be the case,” Margot replied. “But I have been down servants’ stairs before, Catriona, and so has Lady Eileen. We will survive!”
The stairs were made of rough stone, worn down in the middle with the pressure of thousands of feet over the years, and the passage itself was very dimly lit compared to the rest of the castle.
Margot, however, had navigated much worse during her childhood escapades, and if it had not been for her recent injury, she would have leapt down them.
Now, Catriona took her arm and guided her slowly downwards, much to Margot’s chagrin; she hated being fussed over. However, she knew that Catriona was merely doing what she must and had a kind heart, so she merely smiled.
“Thank you, Catriona.”
“My pleasure, mistress,” Catriona replied with an answering smile.
They emerged in the corridor that led to the kitchens, where they found about a dozen or so of the other servants waiting for them.
They were mostly young women, but Margot was surprised to see that there were a few men there too.
They wandered out into the courtyard just outside the kitchen to wait, and for the first time, Eileen began to look uneasy.
“What if Callum sees us?” she whispered in Margot’s ear.
Margot smiled at her and squeezed her shoulders. “It’s better if he finds out you are going to the village than going somewhere else,” she said softly.
Eileen nodded slowly, but she still did not look convinced.
At that moment, a farm cart came rattling along the cobbles towards them, and Eileen frowned.
“It is going to be a right squeeze,” she remarked, looking apprehensive.
The maids and other servants looked a little dubious as Margot and Eileen climbed into the wagon. Catriona was very careful to keep them sandwiched between her and Eileen’s maid so that none of the young men could come into contact with them.
At first, the company was very shy and shrank away from the two ladies, but then Margot introduced herself, saying: “My name is Margot Tewsbury, ladies and gentlemen, and I am a Sassenach as you say.” She looked very sad. “I am very sorry, but I’m afraid there is nothing I can do about it.”
She made a show of looking extremely penitent, which sent the entire assembly into a gale of laughter.
After that, the mood lightened, and they spent the rest of the short journey to Kilmuir becoming acquainted with the servants and finding out all the local gossip and scandals.
Catriona looked absolutely outraged when she found out that the local butcher’s daughter had become pregnant out of wedlock and would not tell anyone who the father was.
“She thinks we’re a’ stupid!” she said, laughing. “Everybody knows it’s Dougie!”
“Who is Dougie?” Margot asked curiously.
All the women around her either laughed or grumbled angrily.
“He is the Minister’s son,” Catriona replied. “He is meant tae be so good an’ holy, but he is a—”
She stopped abruptly before she uttered a fitting obscenity.
“It is quite all right, Catriona.” Margot patted her maid’s hand. “I know the type you mean. Now, I need to know a bit about the head groom. I’m told he is not to be trusted around the ladies. Wandering hands?”
Most of the women frowned and began to inform Margot of the man’s misdeeds. By the time they reached the village, Margot was cognisant of every person to trust in the castle staff, everyone to avoid if possible, and those who needed the most discipline.
“She is not scared of anyone,” Eileen informed them, laughing.
“Aye, I know!” Catriona agreed. “Dinnae mess wi’ her, lassies!”
When they arrived in Kilmuir, the village was already alive with music and dancing. A bagpiper, fiddler, and drummer were standing at one end of the square while a lively reel was in progress, the dancers whooping, cheering and singing along with the music.
“What is this dance called?” Margot asked curiously.
“The Dashing White Sergeant,” Catriona replied. “It’s a funny name—dinnae know where it came fae!”
Margot had no time to listen to any more before one of the men came up and asked her to join him in a dance, which was known as a reel.
“I have never danced before,” she told him nervously.
“Time ye learned then, lass.” Then, with no further ado, he led her to the edge of the circle. “Just dae what everybody else does.”
It was not as easy as it sounded, but Margot did as she had been instructed to do. In no time at all, she had been drawn into the dance and was performing the steps as though she had been doing them for years. She felt light, energetic and happier than she had for a long, long time.
If this is Scotland, she thought, I want this to be my home.
Margot watched Eileen carefully as she danced with one of the young village men. She looked happy enough, but Margot was sure that she was thinking about Ronan and wishing with all her heart that she could be dancing with him. Had they ever danced together before, she wondered?
She felt infinitely sorry for her friend who had to meet her beloved in secret, always having to look over her shoulder to see if she was being watched.
Still, at least she had a sweetheart, unlike Margot.
If only… she thought sadly.
Callum was exhausted, and looking at the pile of work he still had to do was making him more so.
He yawned and passed a hand over his eyes then put his face in his hands.
Usually his steward would have attended to a good portion of this paperwork, but he had given Anderson a few days off so that he could do it himself.
This was not because he was being charitable to his steward; Anderson was paid well and enjoyed plenty of free time.
No, it was so that Callum’s hours would be so filled up with work that he would have to avoid seeing Margot and the painful temptation she caused in his heart and his body every time he saw her.
And he missed her desperately. What must she think of him as she lay in bed recovering from her injury?
He was ignoring Margot, but she had no idea how painful it was for him because it was taking all his willpower to do so.
She must think him a callous monster, but there was nothing he could do; he was betrothed to another woman, and he could not shirk that responsibility.
Eileen should have been everything he wanted and needed in a wife. She was pretty, accommodating, even-tempered, and intelligent. She was accomplished in playing the piano and had a good singing voice, which made her an excellent hostess. Why was it, then, that she did absolutely nothing for him?
He could answer that question in one word: Margot.
Margot, who stirred his body and soul, made him laugh and made him furious in equal measure. His body hardened at the mere thought of her, and he growled in frustration and thumped his fist on the desk.
To add to his troubles, he was drowning in guilt, both because of his lack of love for Eileen and his neglect of Margot. He was thoroughly confused; his emotions were so tangled that he could barely think a rational thought any more.
Callum made his way to the cabinet where he kept a bottle of whisky for emergencies.
These were very few and far between: he had bought the bottle three years before, and it was still half-full.
He looked at it for a moment, wondering if he should indulge himself.
He had no intention of becoming drunk, but a little would calm him down.
He was about to fetch a glass when there was a loud knock on the door and a guard entered and handed him a letter addressed to Margot. Callum’s heart leapt. He supposed it must be from one of her sisters, and she would be delighted to receive it.
However, it would also give him an excuse to go and see her, and he was immediately filled with feelings of joy and apprehension.
He took the letter and began to make his way to Margot’s bedchamber, trying to cobble together something between an excuse and an apology that did not sound completely stupid.
He imagined that she would be lying in bed, but would get to her feet, her eyes blazing with anger when she saw him, and he would say something like, I am so sorry for leaving you alone, Margot. I had so much work to do.
But of course, she would see through that straight away because she was extremely perceptive, and he doubted if any of his half-hearted excuses would pass muster.
He sighed. It would have to be the truth, then.
When Callum arrived at the door to her bedchamber he paused to take a deep breath and compose himself before knocking firmly, then he waited to hear her voice asking him to enter.
However, when several moments had passed, he knocked again, this time more loudly. He waited again, but was met with only silence. He tutted in annoyance and tried one more time, then he opened the door.
The room was empty.
“Margot?” he called.
There was no answer.
Her bed was neatly made, and nothing was out of place in the room: it looked as though no one had been there at all.
She must have gone to see Eileen, he thought, but when he went to her chamber, Eileen was not there either.
Puzzled, he asked every servant he saw if they had seen her, but no one had. He extended his search to some of the rooms that were slightly further away from the centre of the castle. Callum had lived in Kilmuir all his life, but he could still lose himself in the maze of corridors.
He was beginning to panic. He could predict what Eileen would do in most situations, but Margot’s middle name was unpredictable, and he could not begin to guess what she could be up to. Had she left because he had avoided her? That sent a pang of fear in his heart.
As a last resort, he made for the kitchen, which was the only place he had not tried. After that, he had no idea what he would do.
He clattered down the rough steps and into the vast space where the castle’s food was prepared and looked around for assistance. The only person there was the head cook, a plump lady in her middle years whose round face took on a look of panic as she saw the Laird in her kitchen.
“Can I help ye, M’Laird?” she asked, rushing forward.
She curtsied clumsily, then looked up at him with a slightly worried smile.
“Aye,” he replied. “Have you seen any sign of Miss Margot, the English lady?”
The woman shook her head. “No, M’Laird, but there is a ceilidh in the village tonight an’ a lot o’ the lassies went tae it. She might have gone wi’ them.”
Callum’ heart skipped a beat at the news. A few unarmed maids were not going to be much of a deterrent if any other bandits wanted to get their hands on Margot. He did not waste another second.
He turned and took the stairs two at a time, then headed towards the stables, where he shouted at the stable hands to ready his stallion while he fetched his sword. He leapt up onto the horse and urged him into a gallop.
He was both furious and terrified all at once.
Margot, what are you thinking? he asked himself. You were almost taken a few nights ago, and now you are out risking your life again! Please, please don’t let anything happen to yourself. I could not bear it!