Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“What is that?” Cameron grumbled, sitting up in his bed.
The sun had not yet crested the hills, and the world seemed to be soft and gray. At first, he thought the soft and haunting sound was a figment of his imagination. Then he realized it was still going on.
He swiftly pushed the covers back and followed the melody. He was sure now that it was a song. After holding his breath for a moment, he realized it was drifting in through the door connecting his current chambers with the one he’d given to Margo.
As he approached the thin barrier to listen in, he was surprised to make out Gaelic phrases. It reminded him of lullabies from a long time ago. The kind of tunes his mother would sing to him when he was a little older than a wee bairn.
Still half-asleep, not bothering to put anything on over his nightshirt, he followed the sound. He knocked on the door once, as politely as he could. Then, without waiting for a response, he opened it and stepped inside.
His mind was forced into wakefulness when he saw her. Margo was sitting on the floor in nothing more than a nightgown, her legs crossed. In front of her were the kittens that Gavin had told him about, and they seemed to be taking their first unsteady steps.
One of them, a small orange fur ball, was nestled in her lap. Another was at her side, reaching for the ribbon hanging from her hair, toppling over but standing once more as if unrrufled by the limitations of its small body. The other three were tumbling around, learning to play.
Margo kept singing, though her mouth was curved into a grin. Giggles escaped her between the lullaby words, but she kept trying to push through it. Cameron could do nothing but stare, completely transfixed by the scene.
She looked so free, unburdened by the sudden weight of duty placed on them both the last few weeks.
Her entire focus was on those tiny lives, and it was obvious that her care was the reason for their antics.
Even though they did not have a mother, their bellies were full, and they seemed just as strong as they would have been otherwise.
Her singing stopped abruptly when her eyes finally landed on him.
A blush settled upon her cheeks, and she nearly jumped, seeming to restrain herself at the last second when she remembered the kitten lying on her lap.
Giving Cameron an apologetic smile, she said, “My apologies. I didn’t mean to wake you. ”
Cameron grunted, watching the little fur balls roll over the ground. He felt almost as if he shouldn’t be here. These creatures were so small and fragile he could surely break them.
“The kittens were a bit restless, so I was singing to them to calm them down,” she explained, plucking the kitten that was swatting at the ribbon holding her hair back. “I used to sing it to calm Eleanor when she was little, but it seems that they don’t care for it.”
“It’s a Gaelic song,” he said after a moment, humming the words under his breath.
“Yes, I know,” Margo said as she placed the kitten on the ground. “My mother used to sing it to me.”
The statement brought forward an unbidden memory.
Cameron recalled the way his mother would pull him into her arms and softly sing the same tune.
His sister was there too, laughing along.
It was one of the rare times they’d been happy together, and his mother’s voice had been just as beautiful as Margo’s.
He turned around quickly as a smile threatened to settle on his face. There was no need for him to look like a fool here. His voice sharp to cover the flash of joy he’d just experienced, he said, “Ye should get dressed. If ye are truly Lady MacLeod, ye must learn the Clan lands.”
“Have you seen the Laird?” Margo asked Tilly as she left the Great Hall after a quick meal. “I believe he means to show me around the lands today.”
“Aye, I believe that he’s already headed to the stables,” Tilly said, carefully smoothing out Margo’s gown; one that Eleanor had brought from the manor.
“Thank you,” Margo said as she started heading toward the doors. She stopped for a moment, turning back to Tilly “Could you ensure that the kittens are fed while I am away?”
“Of course, Lady Margo,” Tilly said, giving her a little curtsey. “I hope ye have fun with Laird MacLeod.”
Margo nodded, giving her maid a tight smile. It wasn’t as if she didn’t think she’d enjoy going out on a ride; but she still didn’t know how she felt about MacLeod. Though she wanted to hate him, he had brought Eleanor to her.
It’s much too complicated.
As she parted ways with Tilly, she prepared herself to see Cameron once more. The image of him, his strong thighs exposed beneath his nightshirt, stayed in the forefront of her mind. She couldn’t push it away; her mind fixated on the strength hiding just beneath his skin.
When she spotted him next to his horse, she was not certain whether she was thankful he was wearing trews or upset that he had foregone the kilt. It was likely better for her health that she would not be riding distracted. At least, that’s what she told herself as she approached.
“Do ye ken how to ride?” he asked when he spotted her. “The groom is preparin’ a horse for ye, but ye can ride with me if ye havenae learned.”
“I know how to ride,” Margo said, relieved that she would be on her own.
“Good,” he said, looking toward the stables.
Less than a minute later, the groom appeared leading a chestnut mare. It was saddled, and a mild-mannered looking animal. Its forelock flopped over its eyes, and its muscles seemed poised and ready for the ride.
“What is this creature’s name?” Margo asked, not taking her eyes off the beast.
“We call her Velvet,” Cameron said.
“She’s beautiful,” Margo muttered to herself as the mare approached them.
With an ease that seemed to surprise the groom, Margo threw herself into the saddle. Once she had adjusted herself, she accepted the riding cane from the man. Then, she looked toward Cameron, who was watching her with an eyebrow raised.
“Ready?” he asked, waiting until she nodded before he dug his heels into his stallion’s side.
Margo urged her own horse to follow. The mare went easily, confirming her suspicion that the animal was truly well-behaved. It seemed she intuitively understood who they were meant to be following.
“Where will we be going?” Margo asked when she came to Cameron’s side.
“The fishin’ village down by the sea,” he said over the wind, which seemed to pick up as they put distance between themselves and the castle. “It is nae too far from here.”
He then went silent, pushing his horse to go faster and quietly keeping track of whether she would follow his lead.
She kept up with him easily, loving the feeling of the sun on her skin.
She had yet to understand the strange energy of the land, but she was slowly coming to realize that it was best she did not question it.
Her mother had always spoken of the Highlands as though they were alive, and now she understood exactly what she meant.
Just as he had said, the village and therefore the sea weren’t too far away. She had smelled salt in the air when they had arrived, but she had not realized just how close to the coast they were. If she wanted, she could ride down to the sea on any given day.
That feels like the most free I have ever been.
The village was not small by any means. Each and every one of the stone houses was well-kept. Women were either working on their gardens or stitching in their yards. The men were busy moving lumber or transporting fish.
“This isnae the only village under our watch,” Cameron told her as they slowed. He guided them down a small path and made sure the horses were kept somewhere safe for the duration of their visit. “But it is the closest.”
“I would love to see the others,” Margo said, dismounting as soon as a man exited a building to come and take the reins.
The village felt alive in a way Margo had never experienced in London.
Gulls wheeled overhead, children darted between cottages chasing a rag ball, and the sharp scent of salt, fish, and peat smoke mingled on the wind.
Men called to one another from half-mended boats while women laughed over baskets of shellfish set outside their doors.
I could not imagine being in charge of even one village, and he has more than this? No wonder he wanted my father to make good on his debts.
“Laird MacLeod, I must thank ye,” the man said after he tied his horse up. “That boat ye helped us fix a few days ago is back in the water already, me Laird. ”
“There is nae need for yer thanks,” Cameron said, though his tone was far from dismissive. “It is important that everyone can return to sea as quickly as possible. "But I thought I told ye to rest that shoulder."
“Only after this load, me Laird,” the man said, laughing as he grabbed hold of Margo’s horse’s reins to guide her away.
Cameron grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. Even though he sounded annoyed, Margo could tell that he appreciated the gratitude. It was strange to think that this man she couldn’t help but fear was so beloved.
No. I refuse to let one pleasant encounter confuse me. Cameron MacLeod was still Cameron MacLeod.
“I will take ye down to the sea first,” Cameron said, already walking west. “Ye can see the docks, and there are several shops along the shore as well.”
“That sounds delightful,” Margo said as she fell into step with him.
She took in the scenery, the way the sand and salt had softened the edges of the buildings that took the brunt of the wind.
Never in her life had she seen anything like it, though she recalled a book describing the phenomenon.
While it was exciting to see it in person, she couldn’t help but respect the power of the ocean and the wind.