Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Ever since those kittens started roamin’ the castle, ye’ve been mopin’ around,” Mrs. Campbell said as she handed Margo a crate of old records.
Though she was using the kittens as an excuse, Margo picked up on what the woman left unspoken.
Surely, she had put together that Margo’s significant dip in energy had coincided with the news of Cameron’s absence.
The gathering the previous evening and her request for assistance in the study were both Mrs. Campbell’s way of keeping Margo’s mind occupied.
“They stopped needing us so much when they started eating fish,” Margo said, glad to have the animals to default to. She wasn’t sure if she could stomach talking about Cameron. “I must find new ways to fill my days.”
I should not miss his presence so much, but the longer he’s gone, the more I wish he were here.
“Well, I have nae shortage of tasks that need taken care of,” Mrs. Campbell said, grabbing her own box. “Now, I want ye to separate the correspondence from the records. I daenae ken who began throwin’ everythin’ in one place, but I’d like to stop that practice.”
Margo nodded before she sat on the ground and began her task. When she opened the first letter, she skimmed its contents, a secret thrill running through her at getting to read these records. She couldn’t deny that she had an insatiable curiosity about the inner workings of the clan.
“I will be respondin’ to correspondence as well,” Mrs. Campbell said as she settled in. “I will get to any missives ye find tomorrow. To be safe, separate anythin’ that we received within the last month.”
Margo nodded, her fingers dancing over the documents. Though the task was mundane, she couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at being included in clan matters. It seemed as if she’d grabbed an older box filled with mostly old ledgers and contracts. That did nothing to squash her eagerness.
Father always guarded his own records so fiercely that I wouldn’t dare to think about the cabinet he kept them in.
For the next hour, she immersed herself in all of the fine details that kept the MacLeod Clan running. She was impressed by the sheer amount of fish the village brought in. Under Cameron’s leadership, they’d nearly doubled their hauls.
“I did not realize just how many people the village supplied with seafood,” Margo said when she got to the bottom of her crate.
Mrs. Campbell looked up from the pile of parchment on her lap, giving her eyes a moment to focus on Margo.
She smiled, her body radiating a quiet pride as she said, “Aye. And they’ve kept us from goin’ hungry more than once.
” She glanced at the desk, then. “Once we sort through that one, we can start puttin’ them in chronological order. ”
“I’ve been trying to do so with what I’ve already gone through,” Margo said, tapping her fingertips against the top of the contracts.
She rose to her feet smoothly, taking a moment to stretch the stiffness from her limbs. Looking at the overflowing crate of records, she saw a page that looked much newer than the rest sitting on top. Her interest peaked, she padded over and plucked it from the pile.
Without sitting down, she turned it over in her hands. The writing was familiar. It was addressed to Cameron.
Margo’s blood ran cold, her fingers beginning to shake as she opened the envelope. Her eyes darted to the bottom of the page as soon as she unfolded the parchment. And there, written with the flourish that she’d seen her entire life, was her father’s name.
I should not read this.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she could not stop herself from devouring the words. Her stomach turned. Her fingers tightened on the edges. Each one seemed to shine more and more light on a fear that she hadn’t realized was still there.
Cameron had been the one to suggest that they provide an heir to receive her dowry.
Her father had written it plainly: he was awaiting updates, and he was glad Cameron had provided the stipulation.
It didn’t make sense to her. He had allowed her to read the contract and had acted as if he was just as inconvenienced as Margo.
He added this clause? What could the point possibly be? Was it some savage desire?
Anger bubbled in her chest; the same fury that had manifested when her fate was first being discussed. It was immediately, almost nauseatingly, tempered by confusion. He’d add the provision, yet now he seemed to be doing everything he could to stay away from her.
Why marry me and add this impossible stipulation if this is how he was planning on behaving?
Swallowing down the bile that climbed up her throat, she put the missive back in its envelope. She turned, stiffly dropping it on top of Mrs. Campbell’s pile of correspondence. Then, she took the crate from Cameron’s desk and returned to her spot on the floor.
“Ye look a bit pale,” Mrs. Campbell said, setting the parchment in her hand aside as she stood up. She walked over, pressing the back of her hand against Margo’s forehead. “Ye’re nae warm, but ye daenae look well.”
“I’m just a bit tired,” Margo said weakly, hoping that it was enough to convince the woman to drop the subject.
“Then perhaps ye should go and rest before supper,” Mrs. Campbell suggested, helping Margo to her feet before she had the chance to protest. “Ye’re of nay help to me if ye collapse over yer work, lass.”
“Of course,” Margo said, giving her a tight smile before she walked to the door.
There was a sinking sensation in her chest, and she couldn’t help but mourn the loss of a distraction; though she could not deny Mrs. Campbell may have a point.
Knowing that she’d been nothing more than a thing to be traded for made her head spin.
If she thought about it too long, she felt she could surely faint.
Didn’t I already know?
“I have been thinking,” Marian said during a lull in conversation at the table, “that since we did not get to go attend your handfasting ceremony, you should make sure to invite us to the ceilidh to celebrate your union.”
“There willnae be a ceilidh,” Cameron muttered, his voice barely audible above the drone of the Great Hall.
“I think ye have a point, Marian,” Lachlan said, choosing to ignore Cameron’s protests. “I’m sure that everyone could use a bit of rest and cheer. The storms have been relentless this year.”
“Perhaps we could have the gathering after the worst of storm season has passed,” Marian suggested, her eyes dancing as if she were already planning every detail of the event. “Lachlan informed me that you did not even have a wedding feast. Did you do anything to mark the occasion?”
“I informed her of her duties,” Cameron said flatly, deciding to focus on his plate rather than the woman whose voice reminded him of Margo.
Marian set her fork down slowly. She leaned forward, lowering her tone so that only the three of them could hear her when she said, “Every day I am surprised by how foolish some brilliant men can be.”
“I’m nae sure I ken what ye’re tryin’ to say,” Cameron said, cutting a morsel of mutton with precision. Before he brought it to his mouth, he met Marian’s gaze, then Lachlan’s. “There wasnae time for anythin’ more than tellin’ her what was expected of her in the arrangement.”
“Which is all the more reason to have a celebration now,” Lachlan said, a knowing flash crossing his features.
It made Cameron tighten his hold on his utensil, irritated that his cousin would not even attempt to sympathize with him.
“I’m sure that many clan lairds would be interested in makin’ the trip.
I daenae think I’m the only one surprised to see ye wed. ”
“You should invite Laird and Lady McDonald,” Marian said, softening her voice. She seemed to pick up on the cloud of frustration settling on Cameron’s shoulders. “I think that Margo would enjoy being in the company of English ladies.”
“Margo is nay like the English ladies that ye’d invite,” Cameron objected.
Immediately, he realized just how controlling the command was. He sounded like his father, caging the woman he was married to. That wasn’t his intention, though he wasn’t sure how to articulate his worry.
It’s because she’s more like a Scottish woman than an Englishwoman, nae because I daenae wish for her to socialize.
“I’m nay tellin’ ye that she shouldnae meet them,” Cameron amended when neither of them responded.
“But she speaks Gaelic fluently. From what I’ve seen, she kens how the Highlands work and doesnae question the way we operate.
And she’s quite comfortable with the customs here already.
I believe her mother taught her all of the old traditions before she died. ”
He knew that he’d said too much, but it seemed that his staunch refusal to think about her had backfired. Still, he held his body with the confidence of a commander.
Marian smiled, soft and disarmingly understanding.
The enthusiasm was still there, but it was gentled by her knowing tone when she said, “Even if Margo fits in well, she was still raised in English society. So, trust me. She may love Scotland and fit in well here, but she’ll still appreciate having friends that understand where she is coming from.
Society there is more ruthless than the most terrifying Highlander I know. ”
She reached over then, her hand finding Lachlan’s under the table.
He saw the subtle shift in his cousin’s shoulder that confirmed he was holding onto her.
Both of them looked at him like they were seeing right through him.
It felt like a more effective attack than anything his enemies had ever launched against him.
“As I said,” Cameron stated after a long moment, “I amnae arguin’ against her meetin’ anyone. I am sure she will be glad to ken more ladies.”
“Which is all the more reason for ye to host a ceilidh,” Lachlan said, slamming his free palm against the tabletop as if to prove his point.
“She should be properly introduced and celebrated, aye? Especially if she’s truly as used to the customs here as ye say she is.
We are welcomin’ her back to her motherland. ”
“Lachlan’s correct, Cameron,” Marian said, her grin morphing into something warmer. It was an expression that he’d only seen the woman wear around his cousin. Her eyes softened, the corners of her mouth curved up ever so slightly. “And she will get to show off her wedding gown.”
“She dinnae have a gown for the weddin’. We were married in our road clothes,” Cameron said, realizing just how transactional the event had been as soon as the words left his lips.
That is all this marriage is, though. It was better that she dinnae have any false illusions.
“Her road clothes?” Marion repeated, sounding as if she could not quite believe what she had heard. “You mean to say that in addition to having a rushed marriage, she did not even get to wear a nice gown to mark the occasion?”
“There wasnae time to wait on the seamstress,” Cameron said, the defense feeling righteous.
The contract stated that they must produce proof of an heir within a month.
Commissioning a new dress for the wedding would have pushed the event back by at least a week.
“The weddin’ had to take place promptly. ”
Though, I cannae say that hurryin’ the nuptials did anythin’ to help fulfil that.
“But ye dinnae even give her time to settle?” Lachlan said, his cousin’s surprise acting like a cool bucket of water to the face. “Ye simply brought her inside and had the priest perform the ceremony?”
“Ye make it sound as if it were the worst thing I could have done,” Cameron replied, unable to keep himself from getting defensive. “There is much more at play than a simple union. I was doin’ me best with the circumstances that I found meself in.”
For a moment, it seemed as if the entire Hall went silent. Several clan members lingering after their meal rose quickly and hurried from the room. When the thrum of conversation resumed, Marion made a thoughtful noise.
“I am quite sure you were doing what you thought was best,” she said, careful to avoid sounding as though she were passing judgment. “But it would seem you have neglected to consider Margo as more than just a piece of the puzzle. She’s putting it together with you.”
Cameron’s throat clicked around nothing, his mouth going dry.
All at once he felt too exposed, like she had identified a massive blind spot in his combat plan.
Retreat called to him, promising that he could safely lick his wounds, but that wasn’t an option here.
This was the kind of adversary that he could not run from.
“And ye believe that a ceilidh is the solution,” he said finally.
He had already agreed to it in his mind. Marion and Lachlan could be relentless when they set their mind to something. And, on a deeper level, he knew that a celebration would be good for Margo’s spirit.
I have nae patience for gatherin’s like this, but I must think of me people’s well-being.
“It’s nae a solution,” Lachlan said after a long pause, pulling Marion closer to him. “But it is the beginnin’ of one. Without even discussin’ the personal aspect of it, ye have to start with a strong foundation.”
“And that,” Marian said, cutting through the almost somber aura that had started to engulf their table, “is why we must plan the most wonderful ceilidh the Highlands have ever seen.”
Cameron scoffed, finally letting his body relax. He leaned back in his chair, dropping his fork and folding his arms over his chest. Marian took his posture as permission to begin the planning, and Lachlan seemed glad to let her take the reins.
As she chattered about the food they’d serve and which musicians should play, Cameron could not help but think this would do nothing to fix the real problem.
His clan needed Margo’s dowry. Throwing a ceilidh would not alter the fact that he didn’t know how he could convince her father they had held up their end of the contract, especially when they had not lain together.
I kent he would try to get out of this when I agreed to the terms. We must outsmart him. I must outsmart him. For the good of me people. For the good of Margo.