Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Margo stared up at him, her blood boiling. The contract she held in her hand felt humiliating, almost incriminating. To think that he would demand an heir after pulling her from her home and springing a handfasting ceremony on her was unthinkable.
Yet, he’s done it.
For a moment, she considered ripping the parchment apart and throwing it into the hearth. That would do nothing for her, though. She was already married to him. In the eyes of the law, she belonged to him, and there was not a thing she could do about it.
“I will sign,” she finally said, so quietly her voice barely carried over the crackle of the hearth.
Laird MacLeod looked genuinely surprised at her acquiescence. It was not for him, though. She would cooperate, but only to leverage her new position.
Before he could speak again, she crossed the room as she squared her shoulders. Plucking the quill from his hand, she said, “But I have one condition.”
His frown deepened, the line between his brows making him look more austere. It seemed that coming closer had unsettled him. It was almost as if he had not expected her to be just as bold as he.
Good. It serves you right.
“Speak it,” he finally said, gruff and reluctant.
Margo swallowed once. Then, keeping her eyes locked on his, she said, “I want my sister brought here. I need Eleanor away from that house. Away from that man.”
Somehow, she had gotten closer, eliminating the distance that he had put between them. She saw his mind working, processing what she had said. It was almost as if he was surprised to hear her speak of her father in this way.
Then, something in his expression changed. He was still wearing that stony frown, but his eyes flickered. It was recognition, she thought. And something else. Something she could not quite parse out.
“Aye,” Laird MacLeod said at last, his chin dipping slightly. “The lass will be brought North. I will make sure of it.”
He stepped to the side then, giving her the space to step forward to the desk. A little dazed at how quickly he had agreed, she brought both the contract and the quill forward. Then, with shaking hands, she signed her name.
“There,” she said, putting the quill down with more force than necessary. “I have done it.”
He shifted forward, his eyes scanning the pages as if looking for another place that her signature might be needed. When he found nothing on the first, he pulled the second closer. His finger tapped along a line at the bottom.
Nodding, she dipped the quill in the ink once more. Her hand was steadier as she signed the second time. It was guided by her mother, by the promise she had made to keep her little sister safe. Whatever it took to get Eleanor safe. If it meant giving MacLeod an heir, she would do so.
When she finished signing with a flourish of her wrist, she pressed the quill into MacLeod’s palm. Something like lightning passed between them. Margo wondered if there was a similarity between them she could not see; the way they were both bound to a duty they did not choose.
No. There’s nothing about us that is the same. I cannot let myself think of him as anything other than the man who agreed to take me as a payment.
The scratch of the quill against the page was almost deafening. She stared at his name, his given name. Somehow, the name Cameron did not match the imposing image of the man standing in front of her. He behaved as a Laird, not as an average man.
When he set the quill aside, he turned to face her again. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a terrible moment, she thought that he was going to demand she lie down here. But then, he took a step back, walking around to the opposite side of his desk.
“Is… is that it?” she demanded as he looked over the contract.
His eyes flicked up to her briefly before returning to the words on the page. Gruffly, he said, “Sit. Make sure ye’ve memorized everythin’.”
“And if I do not?” she said, though she could not say why she was being difficult.
“Then daenae,” he said, not looking at her again. “Ye already ken yer duties. I thought ye may like to ken what ye just signed.”
Cameron was much more focused on whether Margo would sit or not than the pages spreading in front of him.
It was more of a challenge rather than something she truly needed to do.
The only stipulation was the confirmation of an heir.
There was nothing in the contract that told her why, nothing reflecting the heated negotiations he had had with her father, and the exact timeline was hidden within complicated jargon, added specifically to obfuscate the true nature of the agreement.
Everything else was nothing more than pedantic details relating to the transfer of her dowry.
After several beats passed, she let out a huff and finally took a seat. He passed her the page he had been reading, the one dense with numbers. Dutifully, she took it, her back straight as she read through it.
Ach, she cares about that girl. And she doesnae seem to like her father, either.
“Is this all of the information about my dowry?” she asked, her genuine curiosity drawing his attention. “I’ve never seen it all written out.”
“Is it nae what ye expected it to be?” he asked, steepling his fingers on the desk in front of him. “How much did yer father share with ye?”
“It’s…” she frowned, shaking her head. “I was expecting it to be more. I suppose my father may have made certain adjustments without my knowledge. I know that most daughters do not know the details of their dowry settlement.”
“And most wouldnae be given the option of readin’ through this contract either,” Cameron pointed out, raising an eyebrow when she lifted her head away from the page.
“Then why are you insisting I read it?” she asked stiffly. “I do not need to know all of this, do I?”
“Nay,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But ye did obey me, did ye nae?”
“You… I cannot… Why…” she stuttered, her cheeks turning a bright pink. She blinked a few times, seeming to force her thoughts back into order. Then, she said, “It would do you well to keep from testing me.”
“Is that so, lass?” he said, forcing his expression to flatten. He liked that she was spirited, even if it was tempting as sin. “What is it that ye will do?”
“I have not decided yet,” Margo replied stifly, standing abruptly. “If I truly do not need to read this, must I stay?”
“Nay,” Cameron said as he pushed himself to his feet. “Mrs. Campbell will see ye to the chambers.”
“The chambers,” she repeated, watching him warily as he rounded his desk and started walking toward the door. “Our chambers?”
“Ye have the day to prepare yerself,” he said, needing the day as well. “I will come tonight… for our arrangement.”
As he finished speaking, the room went still. The only sound was their breathing, somehow, unsettlingly, synchronized. Whatever bit of lightness the slight teasing had created was gone, replaced by the dawning realization of what must transpire between them.
“Of course,” she said quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor. It seemed as if all of the confidence she’d maintained had completely faded in the face of duty.
He went to the door and kept it open for her without another word. She shuffled out, not giving him another glance. The wind shifted, and again his mind betrayed him with thoughts of what her body would feel like pressed against his. It was almost painful to let her leave.
Ach, but I’ll be seein’ her tonight.
Letting the door close with a soft click, he exhaled heavily. As he walked back to the chair behind his desk, he ran his hand through his hair, working through the mess of tangles from the ride. He ha not taken a moment to consider just how savage he might look.
It was no wonder the ladies of the clan had looked at him as if he were possessed. None of them had been informed of the handfasting, that much was obvious from their reactions. It seemed that even the minister had not been informed of his purpose.
“It’s all strange,” he grumbled, carefully gathering the contract and reading through it once more.
The stipulation was impossible. He had argued over it endlessly, but to no avail. At the time, he was sure that he would be able to find a solution. Now though, with Margo in the castle, it felt as if everything had tilted.
She was in the corridors, moving through them, being led to the chambers she would now occupy. It was not just hers, though. He would share the room, and the bed.
Saints, give me strength to keep meself from tearin’ her apart.