Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Morning broke cold and clear over Inveraray, with Domhnall standing along the upper battlements.
His hands were resting on the stone, while his eyes were busy tracking the slow stir of the courtyard below.
Men moved in deliberate patterns changing watches, checking tack and greeting one another with brief nods.
Order held… for now.
At that moment, footsteps approached behind him, familiar in their weight and rhythm.
Cameron joined him without ceremony, resting his forearms on the wall beside him. “The house is awake,” he mentioned instead of a morning greeting. “Word’s spread farther than we’d like.”
“It always daes,” Domhnall replied.
They stood in silence for a moment, the loch below them dark and still, and the hills beyond half-lost in mist.
“The Masquerade will be talked about for months,” Cameron pointed out. “But MacGregor willnae waste time on talk.”
Domhnall’s jaw tightened. “Nay. He’ll look fer redress.”
“Aye. And nae the sort the Crown can scold away.” Cameron glanced down into the courtyard. “Men remember what he did last time.”
So did Domhnall.
“He willnae challenge the marriage openly,” Cameron continued. “Nae with the Crown’s seal on it. But he’ll test the edges. The roads, messengers, allies who think themselves unobserved.”
“And the household,” Domhnall said quietly.
Cameron did not deny it. “Especially now.”
Domhnall’s gaze moved to the stone beneath his hands. “Double the night watch. Rotate the inner guard more often. I want nay patterns that can be learned.”
“It’s already begun,” Cameron said. “And the lairds?”
“They’ll come,” Domhnall replied. “MacKenzie, Gordon, MacLean. Their presence will slow him.”
“But nae stop him.”
“Nay.”
Cameron’s gaze lingered on the courtyard below, then lifted toward the inner keep. “That leaves us with the obvious truth,” he mused. “Lady Margaret is now the most vulnerable target within these walls.”
Domhnall did not argue. He had already reached the same conclusion and resented it.
“Aye,” he said. “She is.”
“Kenneth MacGregor willnae strike at ye directly,” Cameron went on. “Nae yet. He’ll look fer what can be taken, frightened, or broken without banners raised. And right now, she is new, visible, and nae yet surrounded by loyalty.”
Domhnall’s hand tightened on the stone. “She will be.”
“But until then,” Cameron advised, “her movements need watching. They need tae be limited.”
The word tasted foul.
Domhnall exhaled slowly, the way he did before giving an order he disliked but knew to be necessary. “She willnae be confined like a prisoner in her own home.”
For that was what this was for her: a home. And he wanted her to see it as such.
“Nay,” Cameron agreed. “But she cannae wander the grounds alone as long as we’re under danger, me friend. She must have escorts, always, her chambers secured and nay unscheduled visitors.”
“And nay messages in or out without review,” Domhnall added quietly.
Cameron nodded. “Until we ken where MacGregor’s eyes are.”
Domhnall’s thoughts flicked unbidden to her standing at the window the previous night. He remembered how firelight caught in her hair. He remembered her desire to show him how good she was on a horse, good enough to almost beat him.
He sighed. He knew she would not welcome this. He hoped she would understand it, but she would not welcome it.
“I’ll speak tae her meself,” he said.
“That would be wise.”
Domhnall straightened, feeling decision settling into resolve. “This is temporary.”
“It always is,” Cameron replied. “Until it isnae.”
Domhnall did not respond to that. He turned from the battlements and toward the stairs, already bracing himself for the conversation ahead, one that would test not law or loyalty, but trust.
Margaret followed Annabel, who moved through Inveraray with the ease of someone who knew every draft and echo of it.
“This way leads down toward the east gardens,” she said cheerfully, gesturing along a stone corridor brightened by tall, narrow windows. “They’re nae much tae look at in winter, but in spring, oh, they’re lovely! The laird’s maither planted the hawthorns herself, they say.”
Margaret listened, grateful for the ordinary cadence of Annabel’s voice.
It grounded her in the vastness of the castle that still felt like half-dream and half-trap.
She walked slowly, taking in carved doorways, worn stair treads, and the quiet dignity of a place shaped by centuries rather than fashion.
But she became aware of them at once. She glanced back casually, as though admiring a tapestry. Two guards followed at a respectable distance, with their eyes forward and their hands easy near their weapons. They did not hurry when she slowed. They lingered when she paused.
They were there for her. The realization tightened her chest.
Annabel noticed her look and lowered her voice without breaking stride. “It’s only fer now, me lady,” she said gently. “The laird gave strict orders this morning.”
Margaret nodded. “I ken.”
She did know. Intellectually, at least. After Falkland, after the river, after the Council’s wary glances, it would have been foolish to expect otherwise. Danger had not vanished simply because she had crossed a threshold.
Still, being followed, however politely, set her teeth on edge.
She folded her hands together to still them. “It’s good tae ken this is nae… permanent.”
“Oh, nay,” Annabel was quick to assure her. “Nae once things settle. It is just caution.”
Just caution. Just survival.
Margaret breathed out slowly and turned her attention forward again. She would not resent the men for doing what was asked of them. Nor would she pretend she did not feel safer for their presence, unwelcome as the reminder was. She had chosen this path with open eyes.
As they reached a balcony overlooking the loch, Margaret paused, resting her hands on the cold stone rail. The water below was calm, almost deceptively so, reflecting the pale morning sky.
Freedom, she thought, had many shapes.
And thinking of freedom, she couldn’t help but think, for the millionth time, of her sister. She couldn’t stop thinking of the moment when they would meet again. She could already imagine Eleonor’s relief, and then, the horror.
Margaret almost smiled at the thought. She had little patience for the lecture she knew would follow. Eleonor would scold her fiercely and then, inevitably, she would weep.
Ye should never have done that, she would say.
I ken, Margaret would reply. But I would dae it again.
Annabel hesitated beside her, then spoke gently. “Ye’ve gone quiet, me lady.”
Margaret did not answer at once. The loch breeze tugged at her sleeves, cool and steady. Finally, she sighed.
“I was thinking of me sister, Eleonor. How I wish I could see her…” She didn’t want to mention their plan yet, for she didn’t know whom she could trust to such an extent.
Annabel glanced back down the corridor, toward the guards who waited. “That would prove… difficult.”
“I cannae pretend it willnae be done,” Margaret whispered.
Annabel looked at her more closely now, and there was concern edging into her features. “Me lady…”
“I ken,” Margaret said, turning to face her. “I ken the danger. But we promised. I willnae leave her tae wonder whether I am safe or worse, tae think she has ruined me life by fleeing when I told her tae.”
Annabel’s lips parted, but Margaret pressed on. Her words were spilling now that she had begun.
“She was promised without being asked. She was told that her heart was a foolish thing and duty was a far greater one. And when she came tae me, she was terrified, in love and certain she would be broken if she stayed. I kent I had tae see her safe.” This was where her fingers tightened around the bracelet at her wrist. “If I dinnae go tae her, she will think she has destroyed me life. I will nae allow that.”
Annabel swallowed, and something told Margaret that this was a woman who understood her.
“Ye love her dearly.”
“With all that I am,” Margaret nodded.
Annabel then glanced back, as if to make sure that no one would overhear them. “The laird wouldnae permit—”
“I am nae asking permission, Annabel,” Margaret said softly, taking her maid’s hands into her own. “I am asking fer help.”
The words hung between them.
Annabel’s first instinct was written plainly across her face. There was fear, reluctance, and finally, the weight of consequence. She shook her head faintly. “I cannae help ye disappear, me lady. I willnae be the reason harm comes tae ye.”
Margaret nodded. “Nor would I ask ye tae be.”
They stood in silence a moment longer, listening to the loch murmuring below.
Annabel drew a breath. “There is… another way.”
Margaret looked up sharply.
“Me husband,” Annabel continued, in a voice that was down to a barely audible whisper. “He’s one of the inner guards, trusted and quiet. If anyone were tae accompany ye beyond the walls without raising suspicion, it would be him.”
“A guard?” Margaret repeated.
“Tae keep ye safe,” Annabel said firmly. “I willnae agree tae anything else.”
Margaret considered it. The thought of being watched even in flight chafed, but the alternative was worse.
At last, she nodded. “All right.”
Annabel let out a breath she had clearly been holding. “Then we dae this properly. Carefully.”
Margaret looked back out over the loch, feeling resolve settling into place. “Thank ye.”
Annabel smiled. If she were relieved, she did not show it. “I suppose that if one is tae aid a future lady of the house, it may as well be fer love rather than scandal.”
Margaret laughed softly.
Aye, she thought. Love and loyalty.
Those were freedoms she would not surrender.