Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
As Margo stepped outside, the crickets sang. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sweet scent of the night-blooming flowers dotting the space. The stars twinkled overhead, the half-moon gleaming brighter than usual, somehow.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She told herself that it was excitement, that she was seeing her husband and that his whispered promise was making her pulse race. But there was a skip in the beat that felt almost sinister.
Something about this isn’t right… I should go back inside.
Nearly at the center of the empty courtyard, Margo stopped in her tracks. She should have trusted her gut in the Great Hall. She should not have let her desire to see Cameron overrule her self-preservation. As she turned, a sudden movement caught her eye and her entire body froze in place.
No.
“My love,” a deep, familiar, English voice said. Margo whirled around just in time to see her father stepping out from the bushes that were making the air fragrant. “It has been such a long time.”
“You did not come here to offer your congratulations,” she said, backing away. Her eyes darted around, hoping to find anyone. Yet, it seemed that they were truly alone.
“How could you think that?” Lord Abbott said, putting on a false tone of hurt. “I am looking forward to meeting my grandchild.”
“You were not invited to this ceilidh.” Margo could not believe a word out of his mouth.
She knew now that he was a liar, that he would twist phrases or posture as something he was not to get what he wanted.
She took another step back. “It would be best if you left. If you wish to speak with Laird MacLeod, you should arrange a visit.”
“We are family,” her father said, walking toward her at a steady pace, eliminating the distance she had put between them.
“I would welcome you and your sister back at the manor at any time.” His hand shot forward, his fingers encircling her wrist and trapping her in place.
“In fact, I think that you should come back with me now.”
“I would rather not,” she said, her voice rising as she attempted to pull herself free.
Her father acted fast, grabbing onto her upper arm hard enough to bruise as he positioned his mouth right next to her ear.
“Do not make a fuss, Margo,” he growled, sounding like a complete stranger, so much more dangerous than she had ever known him to be before.
“I am not alone here. You just cannot see my men.”
She gulped, the sound deafening to her own ears. Taking a long, steadying breath, she nodded. There was no telling what he might do to her. No longer was she being treated like his daughter, but like an asset. She was being stolen back, for whatever reason she could not yet tell.
“You do not have to do this,” she said, airy with fear and anxiety. “Cameron is a reasonable man. Whatever it is that you are trying to accomplish, I am sure he will be open to negotiations.”
“Women will simply never understand the way business works,” Lord Abbott said with a sneer.
“Your mother was the same way. Always with the insistence upon negotiations.” Roughly, he dragged her away, straight toward the gardens.
“What you, and her, do not understand is that sometimes you need leverage when you are negotiating.”
Margo did not respond, twisting in his hold in an attempt to get free.
Grunting, he grabbed onto her other arm, forcing her to walk in front of him.
Just as she was considering taking the risk of screaming for help, she caught sight of one of her father’s guards tucked away.
The sharp edge of his blade glinted in the moonlight.
The sight was enough to stifle any urges to resist. She knew the hell of Abbott Manor. There were worse places she could go, surely. And Eleanor was safe with Cameron or Gavin.
“You will not be away from your husband for long, I am sure,” her father said, entirely unconvincing. “It would be in everyone’s best interest if he signs the updated agreement.”
“The what?” Margo demanded, digging her heels into the ground when she spotted a carriage she had only ever seen in England. The rear was large enough to stand on, and once she and Eleanor had convinced their father to let them ride upon it. “An updated agreement?”
“I will not be discussing the details with you,” he said, forcing her toward the door as one of his men held it open. “All you need to know is that new information has been discovered, and our agreement must be reworked. Now, get in the carriage.”
“What information?” she demanded, twisting out of his grasp, only to be captured again by the man holding the carriage door. “You are bargaining with my life! I deserve to know what is happening to me.”
“You are going home,” Lord Abbott said, grabbing onto her hips and forcing her into the cabin. “And your husband and I will renegotiate our contract.”
“My home is in the Highlands!” she screamed, her voice rising for the first time. “This is where—”
Her father’s hand connected with her cheek, a sharp corrective action that she had not felt since she had been swept away nearly a month ago.
Staring at him, her mouth wide open, she tried to gather her thoughts, but it was as if her brain could not quite process the humiliation of being slapped.
He took advantage of her shock, shoving her inside with the help of his guard and climbing in after her.
It was not until the door was closed behind them that her mind started to work once more.
“You cannot do this!” she hissed at him, sliding toward the door. Her cheeks burned as she said, “Even if you are treating me as property, I do not belong to you any longer. I am married to Laird MacLeod. I am Lady MacLeod. This is kidnapping!”
“This is taking my daughter home while I ensure that my future grandchild is well taken care of,” her father replied as he grabbed hold of her and forced her to sit.
He knocked his knuckles against the top of the carriage urgently, spurring them into motion.
“And I will not hear any arguments otherwise. You will sit down and behave on the ride home. And you will stay there until Laird MacLeod does what is right for everyone.”
Biting her tongue, Margo crossed her arms and looked out the window.
They were picking up speed, going faster than they should.
It was an attempt to keep her from jumping, she was sure.
Her father had orchestrated each and every bit of this extraction.
He wouldn’t risk Margo jumping out and escaping into the woods.
Her eyes locked on the door that led to the platform on the back.
A gust of wind carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine brought on a vivid memory, she and Eleanor standing on that very platform, wind whipping through their hair as they giggled together.
Her fingers tightened on the bench, and all at once she knew what she should do.
They would not go fast enough that I would die if I jumped off. Father would not allow himself to lose his most valuable bargaining piece.
“She’s nae retired to her chambers yet,” Cameron said to himself, walking away from his quarters.
He had tucked the documents away for safekeeping. If he were dealing with Lord Abbott once again, his mind needed to be sharp. The man was sneaky and underhanded. Cameron would not allow the Englishman to get the better of him.
His stride long and purposeful, Cameron arrived at the Great Hall in only a handful of minutes. Most of the guests had retired to their rooms. The musicians were beginning to pack their instruments away, a lone violinist playing a warm, almost intimate melody.
She’s nae here either.
As all of Cameron’s senses awakened, he scanned the scattered couples still on the dance floor and the small groups of guests huddled together near the fires.
There was not a single sign of Margo, nor the women that she had been spending most of her evening with.
Just as he was convincing himself that they had likely gone out together for a bit of air, he saw Eleanor, swaying to the music in a chair in the corner.
“They wouldnae have left her in the Great Hall if they were going out together,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself not to run over to Eleanor and demand to know where her sister went.
Eleanor seemed to sense his approach. Before Cameron had a chance to say anything or even announce himself, she looked away from the musicians. When she met his eye, a flicker of confusion reminding him so much of Margo flashed across her delicate features. She sat up a little straighter.
“I thought you were with Margo in the courtyard,” Eleanor said, answering the question on the tip of his tongue before he even had the chance to ask.
“I havenae made it there yet,” Cameron said, careful not to reveal too much. The last thing he wanted was work the girl into a frenzy. “How long ago did the servant come to retrieve her?”
Eleanor’s nose scrunched up as she seemed to count the minutes. Finally, she said, “Nearly half an hour ago if I remember correctly.”
Cameron grunted, the burgeoning panic in his chest threatening to take control of his actions.
Taking a step back, preparing to go straight to the courtyard, he said, “Ye should go back to yer room, Eleanor. We are set to travel all day tomorrow. Ye will want to be rested.” He turned around then, already leaving the room.
Over his shoulder he added, “Lock yer door. Daenae open it for anyone but me or yer sister.”
He heard Elanor’s soft, mumbled reply, but he did not stop to listen. He could not. For half an hour Margo had been alone with someone whose intentions Cameron knew could not be good.
Lord Abbott. I daenae ken what he has planned, but Margo is in danger. And he will go after Eleanor next.
As Cameron was leaving the Great Hall, he spotted Gavin.
His man-at-arms was leaning against the wall of an alcove while he spoke to a maid.
When he glanced away from her, he became aware of Cameron’s presence.
Instantly grasping the seriousness of the situation in Cameron’s eyes, his entire stance hardened, and he dismissed the girl, swiftly covering the distance to meet him.
“I need ye to get Eleanor to her chambers. I was contacted by Lord Abbott,” he said, glancing at Gavin to ensure he understood. “I am goin’ to find Margo.”
“I will keep Eleanor safe,” Gavin said, nodding once before pulling away and heading toward the Great Hall with a deadly purpose in his step.
With the assurance that his right-hand man had things under control at Glen Carrick, Cameron walked out into the courtyard like a storm battering the cliffs.
The air outside was still; too quiet for the excitement of the evening and the panic that was rapidly growing in his chest. There was not a single trace of Margo, nor the servant that had called for her, nor the person that had asked her to leave the castle.
They cannae have gotten far.
Taking off, Cameron ran toward the gardens. Using the years of visiting his cousin to his advantage, he checked each place someone could be tucked away. There was nothing there, no one. Not even a couple that had snuck away for a moment alone beneath the clear, starry sky.
“Bastards,” he cursed as he stepped out near the stables.
There was still no sign of anyone else. It seemed the ceilidh had drained the energy of everyone in the Carrick.
With a sickening sense of fury, Cameron realized this had been planned.
Somehow, someone had gotten wind of the ceilidh and reported it to Lord Abbott.
Or, more likely, the man had been watching them all along, scheming and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Then, just as Cameron was beginning to consider burning the whole of the Highlands down to find Margo, a groom came running out of the stables, waving his hands wildly when he spotted Cameron.
“Me Laird!” he said, his voice carrying over the quiet evening. “I have just spotted a carriage I daenae recognize leavin’ the grounds. I was comin’ to report it to Laird Carrick.”
Cameron’s focus sharpened; a blade that had finally been given a direction to point. “Where?” he demanded. “Which direction are they goin’?”
“To the south,” the boy said. He pointed back at the stables. “There is a horse that is already prepared. The stableboy is preparin’ others.”
Cameron grunted, already running toward the stables. If they were travelling by carriage, they would not be able to go fast. He could catch up before they even left the Carrick lands.
He willnae take me wife away!