Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“You mean that they went to greet him after he arrived this evening?” Eleanor asked, now lazing in the window seat with Treasure asleep on her lap. “The kittens like him?”
“I think we both already knew that,” Margo giggled. “Miss Crusoe earned her name because she decided she enjoyed his presence enough to go on an adventure.”
“Maybe so,” her sister hummed, scratching Treasure’s chin. The kitten’s purr seemed to fill the entire room, the sound seemed much too strong for its tiny body. “But the idea of it is just so ridiculous to me that I cannot believe it.”
“Had I not seen it, I would not have believed it myself,” Margo admitted as she rose from her seat and walked over to where Spirit was stretched in front of the fire. As she stroked her soft black fur, she said, “But what was even more unbelievable was that he greeted them.”
Eleanor tilted her head to the side, pressing her lips together as she looked at Treasure. It was almost as if she expected the animal to either confirm or deny Margo’s claim. Finally, Eleanor met her eyes and said, “Perhaps he is more confusing than I thought.”
“I’ve been telling you, Eleanor!” Margo exclaimed with a laugh, scooping up Spirit. As she stood and crossed the room to her sister, she continued, “I used to think that I was good at puzzles. He has proved I am not.”
Eleanor’s laughter was a balm to the lingering soreness of discovering the letter from their father and Cameron’s strange behavior this evening.
Since she could not discuss the details and the horrifying truth of their marriage, she was grateful for the distraction.
Her sister was a breath of normalcy, something she could always rely on.
Though I pray that if she ever faces hardship like this, she’ll speak with me.
Just as a strange sort of guilt attempted to thread through her mind, there were three sharp knocks at the door.
Margo’s stomach dropped when she met Eleanor’s eyes.
Though her sister had quickly stifled it, fear had flashed over her features.
Even now, acute terror was etched into the wrinkle of her brow.
“Who is it?” Margo called after a beat, though she was sure she already knew who was on the other side of the door.
“I would like to speak with ye briefly, Lady MacLeod,” Cameron said, his voice stilted, formal, and subdued in a way that was not befitting of him.
Why does he sound so… formal? Restrained?
“You may enter,” Margo replied, dropping Spirit onto her sister’s lap. The kitten made an undignified noise before settling in against her sibling.
The door opened slowly, and when Cameron stepped through, he still carried with him his imposing energy and intimidating height.
His hair was pushed away from his face, and the fire cast delicious shadows over the sharp line of his jaw.
For a moment, she nearly forgot their circumstances and saw only the handsome man she was bound to.
When he spoke, it became clear that he was profoundly uncomfortable.
“I’ve come to inform ye that we will be leavin’ in a week,” he said, seemingly struggling to balance between authority and politeness.
“And where will we be travelling to?” Margo asked. She was not yet sure if she was amused or deeply concerned for her well-being.
“North. To stay at Glen Carrick,” Cameron replied, clearing his throat. Margo heard Eleanor stifle what might have been a laugh behind her. “Me cousin Lachlan and his wife Marian are hostin’ a ceilidh in our honor.”
An almost awkward silence descended upon the three of them. Margo was not quite sure how to respond. Certainly, she was excited to be experiencing a ceilidh in person rather than hearing about one, but she was thrown off by his behavior. She wondered if laughing would be an appropriate reaction.
No, no, that would offend him.
Cameron was the one to break the silence first, shifting as though he were already preparing for his retreat. “Nay only will ye get to spend time with Lady Marian, but Lady Anna McDonald will also be in attendance.”
Margo could still do nothing more than stare. The names meant nothing to her, though he said them as if they should. Before she could ask after their identities, Cameron spoke again.
“They’re… yer kind,” he said, gesturing at Margo and Eleanor.
“My kind?” Margo asked, no longer able to hide her confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.”
“They’re yer kind,” Cameron repeated, sounding frustrated that she didn’t understand him. “English.”
“I… see,” Margo said, the corners of her mouth pulling up without her permission. It took all of her strength to keep from laughing in his face.
With a final nod, Cameron turned and opened the door once more. He stopped before slipping through it, meeting Margo’s gaze. “I will take care of the preparations. Ye just have to attend.”
He left then, not giving her the chance to say anything else, though, she didn’t think she could. She felt as if she had whiplash from this short interaction with the man.
Two beats passed where she simply stared at the door. Then, coming on as suddenly as a coughing fit, she doubled over with laughter. Eleanor’s own guffaws joined hers a second later.
It took the two of them nearly a full minute to get their breathing under control once more.
Her sides aching from the episode, she finally turned around to face Eleanor once more.
The kittens had vacated her lap, looking between Margo and Eleanor as if they were trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Putting on her best approximation of his accent, her voice gravely and absolutely ridiculous, Eleanor parroted, “Yer kind?”
Margo’s laughter started all over again. With her arms wrapped around her waist, she fell into the seat she had vacated earlier. Everything felt so absurd, and she could not help but think that she would not have it any other way.
Oh… How I missed this.
“Ye’re nae goin’ to leave me be today, are ye?” Cameron asked Miss Crusoe. “At least get off of me papers, ye wee tyrant.”
Miss Crusoe meowed, loud and unrepentant, without moving her round little body from the stack of missives that had accumulated in his absence. There was one in particular he had not dealt with before his trip.
It is his way of askin’ if we have proof for him.
“Go to the basket, Miss Crusoe,” he said, the order falling on deaf or - more likely - uncaring ears.
Aware that he could no longer put off the issue, he picked up the kitten, settling her in his lap before grabbing the stack.
As he flipped through the envelopes, he muttered, “These have been rearranged.”
He lifted his gaze from the unopened missives, scanning the room properly for the first time since he had returned.
The morning sun fell across the neatly stacked crates in the corner of the room.
There, lying on top, was the letter he had been looking for.
With a scoff, he stood up taking the kitten with him.
“Stay in the basket,” he told her as he deposited her onto the stack of linens. “Did someone change these?”
“I did.”
Cameron straightened quickly, his back going rigid at the sound of Margo’s voice. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he turned around. He hadn’t even heard the door open.
“Ye were in me study?” he asked, taking control of the situation in the most effective way he knew.
“You cannot invite the kittens inside and not expect me to come and check on them,” she replied with a sly grin.
After a moment, she let it fall away. “But, if you must know, I was assisting Mrs. Campbell with organizing the records and correspondence. One of the kittens had caught a mouse and ate it inside the basket. The linens needed to be changed.”
“I suppose that I should thank ye then,” Cameroon said, though his mind was currently drawing a thread between the misplaced letter and Margo’s probable intervention.
“You’re welcome,” she said. Her gaze shifted to Miss Crusoe. “I came looking for her. Eleanor was worried. We have not seen her since last night.”
“She’s been with me,” he said, gesturing at the gray kitten’s smug little face. “I woke up with her on me pillow. She hasnae left me side since.”
“Then all is well,” Margo said. She then looked around the room, seemingly deep in thought.
He realized with startling heaviness that if Margo had been in this room, she would have seen the letter he had received from her father.
It had been moved and shoved back in the envelope in a way that suggested someone had opened it.
Something that felt like guilt settled on his shoulders, and a sharp pang of defensive anger shot through him at the idea that doubt could have been planted in her mind.
“I assume ye saw the—”
“I would rather not talk about your poor organization skills right now,” Margo said, though she looked as if it pained her to put off the conversation.
It must hurt to see evidence that her father would lie so boldly.
“Of course,” Cameron said. For a moment, the two were quiet, though he could practically hear the hum of her mind working. Finally, he asked, “Would ye like to take Miss Crusoe to Eleanor? I am sure she’s missin’ her.”
“No, she looks quite comfortable in the basket you made for her,” Margo said, a soft and genuine smile settling on her face.
“Perhaps I should make one for Eleanor’s chambers,” he said, unsure of where the offer had come from. “Then the cats willnae have to spend the day with me to use it.”
A surprised giggle fluttered from Margo’s lips. She pulled it back almost immediately, schooling her face back into a careful seriousness. With a huff, she said, “I’m sure that Eleanor would love that. She’s often annoyed that they will not sleep in her chambers the entire evening.”
“Then I will get to work on it,” Cameron said, his tone final, though not dismissive.
The air around them seemed to warm up. He felt it slip through the new barricades he had put up around himself to keep his own savage desires at bay. His hands clenched, his body stiffening with the effort to keep him from stepping any closer.
It doesnae matter what I do. She is always goin’ to test me control.
“I will keep it a secret from Eleanor,” she said finally, taking a step back toward the door without turning her eyes from him. “You truly do not have to if you have other duties to attend to. She would appreciate it, but I do not want to trouble you.”
“It’s nae trouble,” Cameron said. He welcomed the task. Having something to do with his hands, an activity that kept both his mind engaged and his hands full, was the kind of project he craved for. “Doin’ somethin’ for me people is never trouble.”
He heard Margo’s breath hitch; he saw the way she faltered. Then, as her face turned a brilliant shade of pink, she said, “Then thank you. In advance. For that.”
When she turned and practically fled from the room, Cameron let out a huff.
Something about the way she had left sat wrong with him.
Though he assumed she knew about her father’s sneaky ways, he could not help but feel the seed of doubt had not just been sewn, but had already taken root in her mind.
Perhaps she dinnae read it.
Even as the thought flashed through his mind, he knew that it was not true. Bending down to pick up Miss Crusoe, he let out a breath that sounded more like a growl than an exhale. Stroking the creature’s soft fur did nothing to calm the choppy tide of his uncertainty.
Does she think the worst of me now?