Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Miss Crusoe is missing again,” Margo said, stopping a maid who was rushing by with a tray of empty plates. “I must apologize for asking, but have you seen her?”
In the last three days, Margo had been fully committed to the kittens. While they hadn’t decided on names for the other four, she’d taken to calling the gray one Miss Crusoe. It stuck amongst all of the castle’s residents, seeing as the little escape artist had taken to exploring fearlessly.
“Ach, they’re gettin’ so big that they arenae satisfied with yer chambers, aye?” the maid said with a grin. She adjusted the tray in her arms, as she continued, “I havenae seen her meself, but I believe that Mrs. Campbell said somethin’ about the wee beast.”
“Thank you,” Margo said before she turned away. Then, as an afterthought, she asked, “Do you happen to know where Mrs. Campbell might be?”
“I believe she should be in Laird MacLeod’s study,” the maid said after a moment of contemplation. “If she’s nae there now, she should be headin’ that way soon. I think she mentioned somethin’ about needin’ to retrieve a basket of linens.”
“Right,” Margo said, heading to Cameron’s study.
She had not come near the room since the day she had gone looking for Miss Crusoe. It was quite embarrassing to remember the way she had thrown all her frustration at him. Though nothing she had said was untrue, she did not think she went about it properly.
I seemed childish and out of control.
As she continued on her path, she reasoned that it must not have been too off-putting. Cameron had gone looking for Miss Crusoe and found her. Then he came looking for her.
And when he found Margo, he had kissed her.
Pushing the thought out of her head, she let herself into his study. Standing there with her hands on her hips was Mrs. Campbell. She was looking down at the desk, shaking her head.
“There is nay way that Laird MacLeod would approve of ye bein’ here,” Mrs. Campbell tutted, stepping forward to gather the creature she was speaking to.
“Did you happen to find Miss Crusoe?” Margo asked, shuffling toward the woman.
Mrs. Campbell turned around at the sound of her voice. In her grasp was one of the tabby kittens, completely limp as if he had accepted that his plans had been foiled. Margo grinned, though she worried more about where Miss Crusoe had wandered off to.
“Nay, just this one,” Mrs. Campbell said, holding the animal up a bit higher. “I’ve been findin’ all of them all over the castle. This one seems to be attemptin’ to help out, though. He was swattin’ at the quill when I walked in.”
“Perhaps we’ll put him to work when he gets a bit bigger,” Margo said, getting the kitten and stroking his head.
“Ach, name him Treasurer,” Mrs. Campbell suggested, putting her hands on her hips. “He seems to be interested in the numbers.”
“Treasurer,” Margo hummed, holding him up. “Perhaps we simply call him Treasure. His proper name can be Treasurer.”
“And the orange one that seems so keen on followin’ around Miss Crusoe should be called Friday,” Mrs. Campbell said as she walked over to the basket of freshly folded linens sitting in the corner of the room. “After the lad that follows Robinson around as thanks for savin’ him.”
“That only leaves two of them waiting for names,” Margo said, laughing as Treasure turned around in her grasp. “I will let Eleanor and Tilly discuss the matter over.”
“We’ll have a good team of mousers when they get a wee bit older,” Mrs. Campbell said as she turned around. Then, the fabric in the basket began to wiggle. “What on earth is that?”
A weak meow answered back. The wriggling got more intense, and another panicked meow sounded from within. Sighing, Mrs. Campbell set the basket on the floor and knelt before it.
“I believe I ken why Laird MacLeod has moved this basket here, then,” she said as pulled the second tabby kitten from within the linens.
“Cameron moved it himself?” Margo asked, letting the kitten in her hands down so he could run over to his sibling.
“I assume so,” Mrs. Campbell said as she moved the basket back to its corner. “I had seen him workin’ on it in his quarters.”
Margo frowned thoughtfully, walking across the room and kneeling next to the basket. It was woven with willow and cane, and the linen inside seemed to be carefully folded and arranged. She reached out, letting her fingertips graze the intricate, careful work.
“He made it?” she asked, the words finally connecting in her mind.
“Aye,” Mrs. Campbell said, shifting away as the two kittens came rushing toward the object. “Said somethin’ about wantin’ them to have somewhere they ken is safe to hide from the storms. I thought he’d want to put it in yer chambers.”
Margo barely heard the last sentence. Not only had Cameron made this impressive basket, but he’d also made it specifically for the kittens. It seemed almost as if he had a soft spot for tiny, fragile things, and it made her heart skip a beat.
“You are sure he made it?” she finally asked, looking away from the Laird’s handiwork.
“That man is full of surprises,” Mrs. Campbell said with a maternal laugh.
“He’s quite skilled with his hands. Growin’ up, he loved helpin’ the fishermen.
He and Gavin used to disappear from the grounds for days at a time to help the men at sea.
I’m fairly certain he learned to weave from one of the men that lives near the shore. ”
“Oh,” Margo murmured, folding her arms over her knees as she kept her gaze on the kittens snuggling into their bed.
“I ken he may seem cruel or cold at times,” Mrs. Campbell said after a few long seconds of quiet, “but he isnae.”
Margo nodded. She was slowly learning the truth of that statement. Though the way he operated confused her beyond reason, she was beginning to get a better idea of the contradictions that made up Laird MacLeod.
“A few years after he inherited the Lairdship from his father, we were facin’ a hard winter,” Mrs. Campbell said, the desk creaking as she leaned against it.
“The storms had completely wrecked our ships, and we dinnae have much food stored for the clan. He made the difficult decision to sell family heirlooms to feed our people.”
“He is a good leader,” Margo said softly.
“Aye, he cares more about his people than vanity,” Mrs. Campbell agreed.
“Though he cares about more than just the clan. There are isolated villages that he watches over. During particularly harsh storms, he brings them supplies so they can rebuild their homes. And I’ve never kent him to forget a widow that was left behind by famine or war. ”
“I do not think I will ever fully understand that man,” Margo said as she struggled to put together the new information she’d been given.
When she looked at him, she still saw the savage, ruthless Highlander that bargained her life with her father. Now, a new picture was being painted around that. No matter how she looked at it, the pieces of this puzzle didn’t fit together.
“Give it time and ye will get to ken him better than ye imagined ye could,” Mrs. Campbell said, something in her tone making Margo feel as if Mrs. Campbell saw something in her thoughts that she could not.
“Perhaps,” Margo nodded, reaching her hand into the basket to stroke Treasure’s head. The kitten made a soft noise, then three other heads popped up from the bottom layers. “Well, I’ve found the rest of the kittens.”
“Ach, I wondered why the basket was so heavy,” Mrs. Campbell laughed. She pushed herself away from the desk and walked toward the door. “I was hopin’ to save some of our good linens from becomin’ cat beddin’. Seems I arrived a bit too late for that.”
“He used the good linens?” Margo asked, looking away from the kitten pile to the older woman.
“He did,” she said with a sigh, shaking her head. “I’d say that he is simply a man and doesnae ken any better.” Then, she continued on her way, saying, “I hope that his basket keeps them from gettin’ themselves lost in the castle. I found one in me washbasin last evenin’.”
“I cannot make any promises about them,” Margo shouted after her with a giggle, turning back to the tiny terrors.
The three that were hidden in the bottom of the basket moved to pile onto their siblings. It was a rare moment of calm, and Margo knew this would only last for a few hours before they were moving again. After giving them all one final stroke, she rose to her feet.
“I should tell Eleanor where you all are,” she muttered, putting her hands on her hips. Then, she smiled playfully. “And perhaps I should go and thank Laird MacLeod. He’s built you quite a nice shelter, don’t you think?”
“Ye got these repairs done quickly,” Cameron said, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed his men finishing the roof. “I’m impressed.”
“I believe we’ve gotten quite skilled at rebuildin’ things,” the cook said, who’d taken on most of the project’s coordination. “We’ll have replaced the entire castle in a few years.”
“Ach, well, we’re rebuildin’ everythin’ much stronger,” Cameron said, stepping forward to hold the ladder steady as one of the men descended. “Once we’ve finished makin’ all the repairs, we willnae ever have to do this again. The castle will still be here long after we’re gone.”
“Aye,” the cook agreed. “We are buildin’ somethin’ that the clan can be proud of. Fixin’ this place structurally, eliminatin’ scarcity… Those things will be yer legacy, me Laird.”
“I am only as good as the people I am leadin’,” Cameron said, the mention of a legacy pulling all of the worry about his heir and Margo’s dowry to the surface.
He had yet to find a solution, and their time was quickly dwindling.
Lying with her was out of the question. He refused to pressure the woman into a bed she never chose.
She was admittedly bound to him by marriage; but even if they were to conceive an heir, he doubted they would be able to produce confirmation before the deadline.
And then I will have to find another way to provide for me people.
“And we are only as good as our Laird,” the cook replied, apparently refusing to let Cameron deflect.
“I will keep that in mind,” Cameron said, waiting until one of his guards came down from the roof to step away from the ladder. “What do ye need to finish the repairs?”
“We’ve finished,” his guard reported with a grin. “I believe it was a blessin’ in disguise that the beam fell when it did. It was startin’ to rot from the inside. We wouldnae have seen it, if it werenae for the storm. It was still firm to the touch, but the center was startin’ to disintegrate.”
“Ye’re nae the first to suggest this wasnae a tragedy,” Cameron said, grabbing hold of the ladder and tucking it under his arm. He remembered the fear that had gripped him when he thought Margo was going to be hit. “Had anyone been hurt, we’d be speakin’ about the situation quite differently.”
“Aye, but ye were there to keep anyone from bein’ directly in the path of harm,” the guard replied, apparently seeing the tension that Cameron was holding in his shoulders. “It was certainly an emergency, but we are quite good in emergencies, wouldnae ye say?”
“I suppose we are,” Cameron agreed after a beat. “But I would prefer it if we avoid things collapsin’ in the future. We have enough repairs to worry about without a missin’ roof.”
“I cannae say ye’re wrong, me Laird,” he said, shifting his mallet from one hand to the other. “Should I make me way to the village?”
“I have to speak with Gavin and receive his report,” Cameron said as he began to walk toward the courtyard. “Ye’re off-duty for the rest of the day. Rest. Ye may be workin’ on the fishin’ boats tomorrow.”
“I willnae complain about goin’ to the shore,” he laughed as he waved Cameron off. “I’m nearly out of me whisky.”