Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The morning mist still clung to the hills when Eleanor slipped out of the castle by the kitchen door. The great hall had been noisy at breakfast, full of arguments over tenants, cattle, and repairs to the northern border. She had endured as much of it as she could before escaping into the cool air.
Callum had not stopped her when she had stood to leave, making her wonder if his mind was still occupied with the incident from the day before. They had not said much to each other when he had walked her to her chambers. They had simply greeted each other over breakfast, and that had been that.
She needed some solitude to quiet her mind.
Castle Fraser was always quiet in the morning, something that she appreciated above the noise and bustle of Edinburgh.
She liked the solitude at the castle. No servants hovered, nobody expected her to be at a certain place at a certain time. There was nothing for her to do besides keep to herself and attempt to unravel the mysteries regarding her brother.
Choosing a path that led past the stables and to the fields below, Eleanor hummed as she tried to push Callum from her mind.
The path wound beside the curtain wall and then descended toward the lower grazing fields.
A flock of sheep dotted the hillside, pale shapes against the green.
Their bleating drifted on the breeze, bringing a calm to her mind that she had yearned to feel.
Andrew is alive. I just ken it.
She felt the breeze on her face and took a deep breath as she walked. Despite the doubt that she had seen in his eyes, she could feel in her heart that her brother was still alive. Nothing and no one would convince her otherwise until she knew for sure what had happened to him.
Halfway down the slope, a sharper cry caught her attention.
“Maaaaaaa…” It was low and drawn out, making her pause in her tracks. The sound came again, high, frantic, and unmistakably young. “Maaaa…”
“Hello?” she called out, feeling foolish the moment the word left her mouth. She could hear it was a lamb, but she had responded as if it could understand her.
The cry answered from somewhere below the path. “Maaaa…”
Carefully, she stepped off the trail and pushed through a patch of heather. The ground was damp from last night’s rain. Her boots sank into soft earth as she descended a narrow incline toward a shallow ravine.
At the bottom of the ravine stood a tiny lamb, no larger than a dog, trapped between two rocks. Its wool was muddy, one ear bent awkwardly, and its dark eyes were wide with distress as it bleated more pitifully this time.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Eleanor breathed as she raised a hand to her chest.
The lamb bleated indignantly as she approached, hanging its head while still trying to escape its stone prison.
Eleanor crouched and reached for it, her boots slipping slightly in the mud.
The animal immediately jerked away, wedging itself deeper between the stones.
“That is entirely unhelpful,” she informed it with the patience of a school marm.
She slid down a little closer, reaching out as she felt her cloak and dress damped with the mud beneath her body. Another attempt earned her a kick of surprisingly determined little hooves. The lamb’s resistance might have been amusing if it had not looked so frightened.
“If you would only cooperate…” Eleanor breathed, feeling her boots begin to slip a little faster as she slid down the embankment. With a startled gasp, Eleanor lost her balance and landed squarely in the mud. Cold water soaked through her skirts as she landed in a puddle beside the lamb.
The lamb stared at her, apparently unimpressed by her rescue attempts.
“Do not look so smug,” she muttered.
A deep chuckle sounded above her.
Eleanor froze. She turned to find Callum standing at the edge of the ravine. The laird’s broad shoulders filled the space between two wind-bent pines, and amusement lit his eyes far too openly. “I see ye’ve made a friend,” he teased.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I am rescuing it.” She defended herself as she pulled her muddied hands up and attempted to stand.
“Aye, I can see that. Though from where I’m standing, it appears that ye and the lamb now need savin’.”
She rose as gracefully as her mud-soaked skirts allowed. “If you are here only to laugh, you may leave,” she said irritably. Had he been following her? How had he known where she was headed?
Smirking, Callum shifted his stance. “I would never abandon a lady, let alone a wee lamb.”
Irritation flared in her chest as she struggled to maintain her stance. “I hesitate to remind ye, Me Liard, but I was the one who rescued ye from dyin’ beside the road.”
“Aye, and it is about time that I repaid that favor.” He unfurled his arms and began to move toward her.
Before she could answer, he slid down the slope with practiced ease. He crouched beside the trapped lamb and spoke to it in a low Gaelic murmur.
The animal quieted almost at once.
Eleanor watched, annoyed by how competent he looked.
Callum reached into the gap between the rocks, shifted one stone aside, and lifted the lamb free in a single motion. The creature squirmed against his chest, but no longer panicked. “There now,” he said. “Ye are safe.”
Eleanor brushed mud from her sleeves and skirts in a futile attempt. “I was about to do that.”
“I’m certain ye were,” Callum’s tone was light and mocking as he held the lamb under one arm. He had carried out the rescue mission with such ease that she felt impressed by his strength, yet she would never tell him that.
“Shall we go back up then, since ye have already done what I was about to do?” she said in a huff and turned toward the slope, her ego bruised from her failed rescue attempt.
They climbed back to the path together. Callum carried the lamb while Eleanor attempted to preserve what remained of her dignity. The morning breeze carried the scent of wet earth and distant peat smoke.
“Where is its mother?” she asked when they finally reached the top of the ridge.
Callum looked around as he surveyed the land. They were still within the castle boundaries, but far enough away for nobody to be around. “Likely searching the hill. We will take the wee beast to the shepherd’s cottage. He will ken where it belongs.”
Eleanor nodded, it was not as if she had any other ideas she could suggest.
Why are things always so awkward between us?
She allowed him to lead the way away from the ravine.
They walked in awkward silence for a time. The lamb occasionally bleated, and each time Callum absently scratched behind its ear until it settled again.
Eleanor glanced at him. “Ye surprisingly gentle with it.”
“Surprising?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“Ye have a reputation for being rather stern.” She lengthened her strides to try to keep up with him.
“Do I now?” His tone was still light as she walked slightly ahead.
She did her best to keep up while hiding the fact that she was getting out of breath. “Terrifying, some would say,” she huffed.
He looked scandalized as she glanced to the side. “And here I was trying so hard to seem welcoming.”
She laughed before she could stop herself.
The sound seemed to catch him off guard. His expression softened, and for a brief moment, the teasing ease between them felt unexpectedly natural.
What is it with this man?
Eleanor sobered a bit as she thought of how gruff he could seem at times, and then gentle when she least expected it. He had shown an unexpectedly kind side to his nature the night before. Different from the awkwardness between them, yet still surprising.
They reached a rise overlooking the meadow below. Sunlight finally broke through the clouds. The castle stood behind them, tall and mighty against the brightening sky.
“Thank you,” Eleanor said quietly. “For helping.” The breeze blew a loose strand of her hair across her face as she reached up and pulled it away.
“I suspect ye would have managed eventually,” he responded in a soft tone that was just as surprising as his change in attitude toward her. Had he begun to see her in a different light now that they had spent more time together?
“Perhaps. Though I might have drowned in mud first.” She smiled up at him with a sheepish look. It was true that she had been struggling; she had not wanted to admit it at the time, but she did not know how she would have gotten out of the ravine if he had not been carrying the lamb.
“Aye, that would have been difficult to explain to yer father. Can ye imagine? I am sorry, sir, but yer daughter was drawn in less than an inch of mud while trying to rescue a wee lamb.” He raised his brows in question.
Eleanor smiled. “Eleanor versus one lamb. The mud victorious, I can just hear the stories that people would tell.”
“A story that would be told for generations.” He adjusted his grip on the lamb.
The shepherd’s cottage came into view ahead, smoke curling from its chimney.
Callum adjusted the lamb in his arms. “Come along,” he said. “Let us return this troublemaker before it escapes again.”
Eleanor followed beside him, her skirts ruined, her boots muddy, and her morning unexpectedly transformed.
Somewhere along the path between the ravine and the cottage, the castle had begun to feel a little less lonely.
Almost as if she had finally found a place in all of the chaos that they had been experiencing together.
The shepherd proved grateful enough for the return of the lamb. After several apologies regarding wandering fences and adventurous livestock, he took the animal from Callum's arms and promised to return it to its mother immediately.
Eleanor watched as the little creature bleated once in protest before settling against the shepherd's side.
"There now," she said softly. "After all that trouble, ye are finally where ye belong." She looked at the lamb with an oddly fond look. It had taken them so much time to get the lamb home that she felt a strange sense of duty toward the small animal.
The shepherd chuckled as he shifted the lamb under his arm. He was a kind elderly man with salt and pepper grey hair. Yet it was his kind brown eyes that stood out the most for Eleanor. “Aye, lass. Though I suspect the lamb enjoyed the adventure more than the rest of us.”
Callum smirked beside her.
Eleanor shot him a warning look.
“Thank ye again, me Laird. It is hard enough to keep them from wanderin’, ye have done me a great service. The shepherd, thankfully oblivious, bid them farewell before disappearing around the cottage with the lamb in hand.
The moment he was gone, silence settled between them once more.
It was not as uncomfortable as it was different, almost as if something had shifted between them.
The sort of silence that seemed to exist only when two people had spent enough time together to no longer feel compelled to fill every moment with words.
They began the walk back toward the castle, side by side, and at the same pace.
The morning sun had burned away much of the mist now as golden light stretched across the hills, illuminating the heather and turning the dew upon the grass into countless tiny diamonds.
Eleanor glanced down at herself. Her skirts were still streaked with mud, and her boots were ruined. Dark stains marked the sleeve of her gown. She groaned.
Callum looked over. “What troubles ye, lass?”
“I look ridiculous.” She complained. Yet that was the least of her concerns; it would take Marion and the rest of the maids a great deal of time to return her garments to their original state. It might have even been better if they were thrown out altogether.
“Aye.” Callum agreed. “Ye do that.”
Her head snapped toward him.
He was smiling.
The rogue. How can he be so cheeky?
“I meant to rescue the lamb,” she informed him again, hating the fact that she had made such a fool of herself in his presence.
“And instead the lamb nearly rescued ye,” he chuckled deep from within his chest, a sound that resonated in his throat and made her realize just how attracted she felt toward him. Everything about him was manly and strong, even the way he laughed made her think of things that she dared not admit.
“I am beginning to regret thankin' ye,” she grumbled.
“Nay, ye are merely regrettin' that I witnessed it,” he corrected her with a triumphant smile.
Eleanor attempted to glare at him, but she found herself wanting to smile again at the teasing glint in his eyes.
Her efforts failed spectacularly again when he laughed.
The sound startled her. She had heard him chuckle before, but never had she imagined that his laugh would sound so open and free.
It transformed him in a way that she had not thought possible.
The realisation caught her off guard, and for a moment, she just stared at him.
Callum's laughter faded as he turned his head to the side, his gaze meeting hers in an overly intimate moment. The smiles slowly disappeared from both their faces as the air shifted.
Something quiet settled between them. Something that had nothing to do with lost lambs or muddy ravines.
Eleanor became suddenly aware of how close they were walking. Close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed. So close in fact, that she could see the details of his scars as the sun shone down on them. A rare moment in the highlands, but rarer still for the two of them.
“Eleanor,” he almost whispered her name.
Her heartbeat quickened.
“Aye?” she swallowed hard against the fluttering in the pit of her stomach.
For a moment, it looked as though he intended to say something important. Something that had been weighing upon him. Instead, he shook his head. “Nothin’.”
The disappointment that followed surprised her.
“Oh.” She let out a breath that she had not realized she had been holding.
A crooked smile touched his mouth. “What?”
“Nothin’,” she muttered quickly and fixed her gaze on the road ahead of them.
The corner of his mouth lifted further. “Ye are a terrible liar. Remind me nae to leave tell ye anymore clan secrets.” His tone was teasing again as he too looked ahead.
Unexpectedly, the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile.
She was not certain why, but the easy relationship that was growing between them brought her a small amount of peace.
There was still a long road ahead of them, where brother was concerned, and it would make matters a lot easier if they could be friends.