“There ye are, lass,”Agnes said as she stood up, resting her hands on her hips as she admired her work. “I admit, it’s nae perfect, but ye look much better now. And I’ll get a rush on yer new gowns.”
“Thank you, Agnes,”Margaret said, glancing down at the patches that the seamstress added. She noted that most of the repairs were nearly invisible. “You’re quite talented.”
“Ye daenae need to flatter me,”she replied though the smile on her face betrayed her joy of receiving the praise. “This is me job, after all.”
“It’s notflattery if it’s the truth,” Margaret insisted, stepping off the raised platform.
Agnes waved the statement away.She gathered the bolts of fabric they’d chosen and grinned at Margaret.
“Now,I work fast, but I willnae have yer gowns finished for a few days,” she said. “Do ye have a place to stay?”
“I don’t,”Margaret admitted. “This was my first stop when I got here. I suppose I value my clothing more than where I’ll sleep.”
The lookthat Agnes gave her was nearly enough to make Margaret wither away. But after a long moment, she shook her head and said, “Ah, I suppose that’s the English sense of humor. Well, if ye need a place, ye can pop into the inn down the road. Let them ken I sent ye.”
“Thank you again,”Margaret replied, tension leaving her shoulders. “You’ve been more help than you could possibly know.”
“I wouldnae wantto give ye the wrong impression of us,” Agnes said. “Now go on, lass. Ye look like ye need a warm bed and a hot meal.”
Margaret gaveher a parting curtsey before hustling out the door. As she walked to the inn, she felt bolstered by the formation of her plan. Once she was well-rested and had a dress that hadn’t been worn out by travel, she’d find a way to approach Laird McGhee.
Though perhaps shecould have asked Agnes if she knew why the Laird hadn’t yet chosen a woman to marry.
3
“Oh, what am I doing?” Margaret asked herself as she approached the gates of Castle McGhee.
Regret roiled in her stomach.She’d been taught her entire life never to trust a Highlander, yet she was preparing to offer herself up to one as his wife. Her aunt’s words thrummed in her head.
They were savages,she’d said. Pictures of ruthless, vicious men flashed behind her eyelids each time she blinked. They were supposed to be cruel.
Couldthis Laird be crueler than Duke Cunningham? Am I trading one evil for another?
Taking a deep breath,Margaret soldiered on. It was too late for doubts. Regardless of the kind of man this Laird may be, she couldn’t turn back now.
The castle was imposing,a large and well-protected building. A stone wall surrounded the main structure, and lookout towers stood at each corner. As she drew closer, two men materialized, one on either side of the gate.
“And who’sthis bonnie wee thing?” one guard called to her as soon as she was close enough to hear him.
“Never seenye around here before, lass,” the other said. “What brings ye to Castle McGhee?”
“I’m Margaret Sutton,and I’m here to meet with the Laird of this castle,” she said, holding her head high and tightening her hands into fists at her side.
“Ah, she’s a wee Sassenach,”the first guard laughed.
“An English lasshas come for our Laird?” the other said with a sneer. “How novel.”
Her face burned with shame,the insults burrowing into her skin like barbs. The guards weren’t even looking at her anymore, jesting with one another. She opened her mouth, intending to tell them that this was no way to treat a lady, regardless of where she hailed from, when a strong voice cut through the air.
“Enough!”
It was commanding, and the guards’laughter ceased instantly. Even Margaret felt as though she should obey the demand. She searched for the man who had issued it.
He steppedfrom behind the gate, his cold brown eyes locked onto her. An odd sort of unease ran through her as she was being scrutinized.
The man was handsome,his face clean-shaven, revealing the sharp cut of his jaw. His mouth was set tight, as if at any moment he could open it to release that voice again. And his muscles…
Well,Margaret had never seen someone who looked as strong as he did.