Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Mistress, are ye awake?”
The sound of gentle knocking carried through her chambers, causing Eleanor to open her eyes as she blinked back into reality.
Where am I?
Her chest constricted with pain and fear as the events of the past two weeks came flooding back to her. She was in Fraser Castle, covertly betrothed to a laird who had made her feel things she had never imagined.
Images of his naked body flooded her mind.
His tanned skin had shimmered with the oil that had been rubbed in.
The chiseled lines of his abdomen and the hard V leading to the section beneath the hide.
She had not wanted to stare, yet her eyes had wandered over his unconscious figure, devouring each muscle and contour.
“Mistress? I am sorry to bother ye,” Marion called out again, rapping her knuckles a little sharper against the wood.
Feeling panic set in, Eleanor sat up straight, her cheeks filling with heat. She had a brother to find and an ailing father who needed her home. The last thing she needed was the distraction of a gruff, albeit handsome man.
“Ye may come in, Marion!” she called out, quickly flinging the sheets from her legs before she swung them over the side. The stone floor was cold beneath her feet as she inhaled sharply and drew them back.
The door to her chambers swung open with a loud creak, revealing a bright-eyed Marion with a tray on her hip.
“Good mornin’, Mistress. I am sorry to wake ye.
Ye must be ever so tired, but His Lairdship has requested yer presence in his study.
” She used her foot to push the door shut before making her way across the room and setting the tray on the already full desk.
“Did His Lairdship say what it was that he needed me for in the study?” She shook off the former thought and focused on the appetizing aroma of fresh bannocks and tea. Her stomach growled in anticipation, making her realize just how hungry she felt.
Turning to her with a smile, Marion shook her head. “His Lairdship didnae, Mistress. I was only told to bring ye breakfast and get ye ready for the day.” Her voice was almost singing as she made her way across the chambers to a set of trunks that had been brought to her chambers before bed.
Eleanor had not packed much for her trip to the North, yet Callum had been true to his word and made sure that she had everything she needed.
“Would ye care to have yer breakfast before we dress, Mistress?” Marion stopped humming long enough to speak.
“Aye, breakfast will be grand.” Eleanor braved the coldness of the stone floor and tiptoed to the desk, quickly lifting her feet once she had taken her seat.
If the bannocks and tea had smelled good, they looked even better as she tucked right in. Warm, buttery sensations filled her mouth as she bit the round of dough. It was almost like heaven to still the hunger pangs that she had not even been aware of upon waking.
Because someone else was on me mind.
Her chewing slowed as she swallowed a large bite. Why did she find the man so fascinating? It could not just be the fact that he looked like a statue chiseled by the gods themselves.
His eyes.
The image of him kneeling beside her horse flashed across her mind.
They were the darkest eyes she had ever seen, deeper than a coal mine and far more intense than the golden eagles that circle the Highland moors.
The image of a mighty golden eagle seemed to suit him perfectly.
He was strong, fierce, and independent. She sipped her tea thoughtfully, allowing the warmth to seep into her palms. She never would have met the Laird if it had not been for Andrew.
Andrew.
Her hands suddenly stilled with the cup halfway to her lips. She had almost forgotten about her brother in the mess of her sudden circumstances.
“Are ye ready to dress, Mistress?” Marion drew her attention to the side, holding up a dark green dress with a white collar and frilled sleeves beside the pleated skirt.
Nodding, Eleanor placed her cup of tea back on the tray, determined to keep her mind off of Callum and focused on her brother. She crossed her chambers and stood before the floor-length mirror, allowing Marion to lift her chemise over her head and begin to dress her.
“Ye are ever so slight, Mistress. It was a wonder that I could find dresses that would fit ye,” Marion remarked kindly, examining her slightly plumper figure beside Eleanor’s in their reflection.
Eleanor returned her smile. “Ye are beautiful, Marion. Do ye nae have a suitor? One of the castle lads, perhaps?”
Color flooded the young girl’s cheeks, making her freckles even more prominent as she averted her gaze. “I… I daenae, Mistress.”
“But ye would like to have?” Eleanor watched her closely, noting the softness in the girl’s eyes. She had not thought it possible, but Marion’s face brightened with the intensity of her embarrassment.
“I… Mistress, I…” she began to stutter, looking anywhere except for their reflections.
“You daenae need to answer, Marion. I ken that ye are very romantic at heart. Do ye like to read? That is impressive for a maid,” Eleanor said politely.
Her shoulders relaxed a little as the maid lifted a fresh shift and pulled it over Eleanor’s head with her arms raised in the air.
“When I have time, Mistress. I like to read on me rest days. I am nae sure that His Lairdship would approve of the novels, but I do enjoy them. The housekeeper taught me when she saw I was good at helpin’ her make lists.
” Her eyes shone with wonder as she pulled the corset over Eleanor’s head and began to shimmy it in place.
She reminded Eleanor so much of her younger self.
So filled with hopes, dreams, and the eager anticipation of what true love could bring.
It all seemed like so long ago now that Eleanor knew the truth; love was simply a distraction that inexperienced young girls used to escape.
She had once escaped through novels, but she had vowed never to allow herself that dangerous luxury ever again.
Not when her younger brother had lost his life.
It scared her to see just how much she had changed in comparison to Marion, but it was all for the better. Nobody could get hurt if she just kept her mind focused on keeping everyone safe.
“That should do it.” Marion stepped back and nodded once the dark green dress was in place.
Looking at her reflection, Eleanor noticed how well the dress clung to her figure.
The soft fabric highlighted the curves of her hips and exposed just enough flesh below the neckline to see the swelling of her breasts.
Her eyes appeared greener, flecked with gold, reflecting the dark hue of her dress.
She ran her hands down her sides, wondering what Callum saw when he looked at her.
Had he looked at her in the same way that she had looked at him?
Not that it mattered at all when she had sworn off romance for many years.
Her engagement to him was fiction, just as unreal as the books she had once loved.
Marion smiled at her, setting her mind at ease. “Shall we braid yer hair, Mistress?”
“Aye, that would be lovely,” Eleanor said, looking up and forcing a smile.
It only took a few moments to do her hair in a tight braid, leaving her hair hanging down her back with a few loose tendrils framing her face.
Leading the way down the hall to the study, Marion showed her inside and curtsied before leaving her alone. “Here we are, Mistress,” she announced and hurried away.
It took Eleanor a moment to take in what she was seeing as she looked around the cramped space, smelling the fire crackling in the hearth, old books, and just a hint of cigars and ale.
Every corner of the study was covered in books, rolls of parchment, ledgers, and what looked to be stacks of letters.
A large table with a map had been set in the center of the room, drawing all of her focus as she made her way over. What seemed like dozens of sewing pins had been used to mark out specific locations, while a single string of twine had been used to connect them all.
She ran the tips of her fingers along the path, realizing with a jolt that the path denoted the very roads her brother had been traveling.
He is keepin’ his word. He is lookin’ for Andrew.
Her chest clenched with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. Even if the laird was a grumpy and sarcastic bampot at times, he seemed to be a man of his word.
“Ye ken what ye are lookin’ at?” Callum’s deep voice suddenly spoke up from behind her, tinged with amusement.
Feeling startled, she raised a hand to her chest. “Me Laird!” She leaned back against the desk, almost knocking a few of the pins off the map.
Callum stood leaning against the doorframe, his lips curled into a smirk as he crossed his large arms over his chest. “Are all highborn lasses from Edinburgh this easy to scare?” His voice held the unmistakable hint of sarcasm and teasing that had come to annoy her in the cabin.
Straightening, she glared at him. “I daenae ken what me place of birth has to do with anythin’, me Laird. I am just as capable of managin’ me own affairs as any other lass in Scotland,” she said defiantly, tilting her chin up.
His smirk only grew wider as he uncrossed his arms and strode toward the table, looking from the slightly shifted pins to her face. “And, do ye ken what ye were lookin’ at?”
“I managed, me Laird,” she bit back.
“Call me Callum. Ye are me fake bride, after all,” he said gruffly.
She bristled slightly as she forced a stiff smile. “Very well, Callum, I can manage, thank ye.”
To her great surprise, he seemed utterly amused by her response. “As long as ye daenae try and manage me, lass.”