A salacious grin spread across his face. “Aye, it is. I’m not sure which is better, my tunic sticking to me or the sun beating down on my bare back.”
Margaret returned his grin. “Oh, the sun on yer bare back is much better.”
He laughed richly. “Ah, Margaret, I never knew ye were such a cheeky lass.”
Still a little surprised by her own boldness, Margaret canted her head and said, “Ye asked. I thought it would be rude not to answer.”
He laughed again before bending back to his work.
She could have stood and stared at him all day, but they’d still be working at midnight if she did.
Finally, when the sun was dipping low in the sky, the last sheaves were tied and stacked.
A fresh evening breeze was stirring as they gathered their things to leave. To her regret, Noah put his tunic back on.
They chatted about the harvest as they walked home.
She said, “Praise be that the entire crop was cut and stacked in dry weather. I’m glad it’s done.”
“I expect so. Ye don’t shrink from work, but after days of this, I’m certain ye’re weary.” He smiled. “I’m weary, so I hope ye are. I’d hate to be outdone.”
She chuckled and admitted, “I can barely put one foot in front of the other. A day of housework will feel like a holiday after this week.”
He laughed appreciatively. “Aye, the work never really ends, does it?”
Margaret answered, “Nay, it doesn’t.”
But until today, Margaret Grant had never known what it was like to do more than needlework. Oddly though, she found she liked it. Her back and shoulders ached terribly and she was dead on her feet. Even so, the feeling of a day well spent was satisfying. And chatting comfortably to the man at her side as they walked was more than pleasant.
When they reached her cottage, she asked him to come in for supper.
“There isn’t anything I’d like more, but I should go while there’s still some light.”
“Good night, then. God see ye safely home.”
“Thank ye, Margaret. Sleep well.”
Her grandfather had done the evening chores and Margaret was thankful for it. She ate bread and cold meat for supper. Then all she wanted to do was go to bed.
But as she lay there, sleep wouldn’t come. She couldn’t get Noah out of her mind. It would seem her first reaction to him this morning was completely normal for the other version of herself. As the day passed, she remembered many other days spent in his company. They had grown up together. He and his brothers had treated her like the sister they didn’t have. And she’d thought of them as brothers. As Margaret Grant she hadn’t had this kind a relationship with her own brother. Of course he was much older. But as she thought of them she felt a warmth and kinship she’d never experienced before.
And while she still felt this brotherly love for Noah’s brothers, it was no longer what she felt for him. A few years ago something had changed. The strong heat of attraction had begun to blaze. She wanted him as a woman wants a man. But Margaret had kept these thoughts and feelings to herself. There was no point in telling anyone. Noah wasn’t free to marry.
Still, it didn’t stop her from dreaming about him.
But as she did conjure wicked images in her mind, a thought occurred to her. I could steal him away. I could seduce him. I could get him to refuse his father’s dictate and marry me instead.
That’s what she had planned to do with Anson. She didn’t want to be told who to marry and she didn’t like not getting her way. She’d planned to sneak away with Anson and marry him regardless of what her father wanted. The consequences of breaking the betrothal contract with Laird Carr would have been terrible. It could have started a feud. But that hadn’t mattered a bit to her. Nothing as bad as that would happen if she coerced Noah into marrying her.
As she thought this a heavy weight descended on her. She recognized it instantly. Guilt.
While she was certain she could seduce him, she wouldn’t. It would be wrong. Still she argued with herself that the circumstances were different here. It might make a few folks angry for a little while, but it would probably blow over. Still, it might not be very pleasant, and Margaret was unwilling to inflict any pain on her grandfather, Noah’s family, or the lass he was destined to marry.
She didn’t like guilt.
But Nyada had been right. It helped her consider the impact of her decisions on others.
She also remembered Gertrude’s warning, that failing to learn from mistakes was perhaps the worst mistake of all. She’d admonished Margaret not to waste this opportunity, that she wouldn’t get another one.
Margaret did want her life back. She would leave Noah alone.
Damn.
Chapter 3
For Margaret, the next three days were uneventful. As Noah had predicted, the weather shifted. It was cooler and brief showers fell daily.
She had been the other version of herself now for four days. The rhythm of her life was steady and unending but she had purpose. She cleaned the cottage, baked bread and churned butter, spun wool into yarn and made hearty soups for them to eat. She’d never done any of these things as Margaret Grant and thus had never experienced the satisfaction that came from them. She loved it, which led her to believe that marrying Laird Carr and running his household would feel the same way. Maybe it wasn’t such an awful fate.
On the morning of her fifth day she woke to dark, stormy skies. Before midday the skies had opened and a steady cold rain was falling.
Although after his day of rest, her grandfather had seemed to be his normal self. Today he tired easily and had trouble doing anything. He had gone to milk Honey that morning, but he hadn’t put her out in the paddock for the day.
“Not that she minds being out in any weather,” he explained. “But this damp day is making my bones ache. I don’t want to have to fetch her back through the rain this evening.”
He had done that a few times over the last few weeks, so Margaret put it out of her head.
Just before time for the evening meal, her grandfather opened the door of the cottage to look out. A steady rain still fell, although it was tapering off a little. “I’m right glad I didn’t pasture her today. I’ll get wet enough just going to the byre.”
He looked so very weary that Margaret said, “Nay, grandfather, don’t. Let me go.”
He shook his head. “Ye’ve been working all day while I’ve spent most of my time whittling. I can do this.”
“Ye’re right, I’ve been working all day inside and now I wouldn’t mind a bit of air.”
He looked relieved and offered no more argument. “Well, if ye’re sure.”
“Of course I’m sure.” She took a plaid from where it hung on a hook near the door, covered her head, and hurried through the yard to the byre. But as soon as she reached the little building, panic set in. The latch was broken, the door was open, and Honey was gone.
The latch had been loose for weeks. Bored and preferring grass to hay, Honey must have pushed against the door until the latch gave way.
She ran back to the house. “Grandda, the latch on the door of the byre has broken and Honey is out. I’m going to look for her.”
“Oh dear, blessed Mother. I’ve been meaning to fix that for weeks. What with the harvest and all, I put it off. I’ll go with ye.”
“Nay, Grandda, there’s no need for both of us to go. Ye stay here. She won’t have gone far.”
“But it’s pouring.”
She laughed. “That’s all the more reason why both of us shouldn’t go. But it’s just a drizzle now anyway.”
He didn’t argue more. “Well at least take a lantern. With the heavy clouds, daylight is fading fast and ye’ll need it to get home.”
So with her plaid wrapped snuggly around her and a lantern in her hand, she went out into the misty, gloomy evening.
She walked through fields and woods calling for the missing cow for over an hour. Even though it was no lon
ger raining, the damp mist had penetrated every layer.
This was terrible. They needed their cow. Until last spring, they’d had three. But one had grown too old and was no longer able to come into calf. And the other died trying to bear her calf. That left Honey.
But there was nothing to do for it now. It was completely dark and there was no point continuing to search. She’d check with their neighbors tomorrow to see if the beast had wandered onto their land.
Just as she turned to go home she saw a light flickering in the distance. She watched for a moment as it grew nearer. Someone carrying a lantern was walking towards her.
For a moment she was ready to turn and run for home. This could be someone dangerous. But she chuckled even as the thought occurred to her. Anyone dangerous would not be carrying a lantern.
Or leading a cow.
She sighed with relief. It looked as if someone had found Honey and was bringing her home.
It didn’t take long for her to be even more pleased. The someone drawing near was Noah.
“Ye found her,” Margaret called, overjoyed. She ran to meet him.
“Aye, she wandered down to our pasture. But ye shouldn’t be out here alone at night.”
“It’s safe enough. I have a lantern.” Even as she said it, the Margaret Grant side of her questioned the wisdom of this. She never would have ventured outside the castle wall without an escort—day or night. But she had been a noblewoman. This Margaret had no such constraints on her. Here she was completely free—another sensation she’d never experienced.
He arched a brow at her. “I’m not sure I agree. But ye’re safe now. And since the miscreant has been found, I’ll walk ye both home.”
“Ye needn’t trouble yerself further,” said Margaret, although she really did want his company.
“It’s no trouble at all.” He started walking towards her home.
Margaret smiled broadly and fell in beside him. “Thank ye. It’s very kind of ye.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He flashed her the smile she loved, looking as if he truly was pleased to tramp through the gathering gloom of a wet evening leading a cow. “How’d she get out?”
“The latch on the barn door has loosened over time. Grandda decided not to put Honey in the pasture today so he wouldn’t have to slog through the rain to get her for the evening milking. Honey evidently had different plans.”
“Ah, the stubborn tart finished breaking the latch.”
Margaret laughed. “Aye.”
They chatted easily as they walked. Margaret didn’t care that she was damp and cold. She’d never felt this easy camaraderie with anyone. It was fun and comfortable. It made her wonder what it would be like to share her life with a man like this. If only she could.
When they reached the cottage, her grandfather met them in the yard. “I was watching for ye, but I didn’t expect ye’d find a braw lad and a wayward cow.”
She laughed. “’Twas the wayward cow who found the braw lad.”
“Thank ye for walking them home, Noah,” said her grandfather.
“Ye’re very welcome.”
“Will ye come inside and have a warm bite to eat before ye venture home?”
“I won’t tonight, thank ye. It’s getting late.”
“Ye’re sure?”
“Aye, but thanks.”
Her grandfather tilted his head as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Noah, has yer da brought his sheep down from the high pasture yet?”
“Nay. ‘Tis only yers and ours left up there. But as soon as the weather breaks, I’ll be riding up to get them.”
“Would ye mind terribly taking Margaret with ye? I just don’t think I’m up to it.”
A grin split Noah’s face. “I wouldn’t mind at all. And if Da can spare me, I’ll give ye a hand with the shearing.”
Relief flooded her grandfather’s face. “That is exceedingly kind and most appreciated. Thank ye.”
“Ye’re welcome. I’ll just secure this beastie.”
“I can do it,” Margaret insisted. “She needs to be milked anyway.”
“She can wait a little while longer,” said her grandfather. “Come inside, warm up and put on dry clothes. If ye stay in those wet ones, ye’ll catch yer death.”
“He’s right,” said Noah. “I’ll see to her.”
Margaret put her hands on her hips. “I expect ye’re none too warm or dry, and ye still have to walk home.”
He winked at her. “But I’m a braw lad. Ye said so yerself.”
She laughed.
“What’s more,” he continued, “I haven’t been wandering around in the mist for ages as ye have. Paul found her in one of our fields and brought her back to the cottage. I brought her straight here.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “Thank ye again.”
“I’ll say goodnight to ye both then,” said Noah as he headed towards the byre.
Before they were inside the cottage, Noah turned back for a moment calling, “John, I’ll take care of the latch for ye.”
“Thank ye,” her grandfather answered.
Margaret frowned. Fixing the latch would take very little effort. A year ago her grandfather wouldn’t have accepted that help. A year ago he wouldn’t have let the latch go this long without repairing it. That thought did not cheer her.
Chapter 4
Once inside, Margaret quickly changed into dry clothes then returned to the main room of the cottage. She should go milk Honey, but she’d spare a few minutes to eat something first.
She put bread and bowls of stew on the table for both her grandfather and herself.
After he asked a blessing, she started eating. Between the warm fire and the hot meal, she was beginning to thaw. But as she ate with gusto, she realized her grandfather sat, staring.
“Grandda, is something wrong?”
“I am dreadfully sorry I let this happen.”
“There’s no harm done, don’t worry yerself over it.”
“But I do worry. I’m growing weak. I get winded when I do the smallest things.”
Margaret really didn’t want him to fret over this. “It’s just all of the hard work bringing in the harvest. Ye’ll be back to normal soon, I’m sure.”
“Sweetling, I love ye with my whole heart. I know ye’re trying to keep my spirits up and hope alive.”
“Grandda—“
“Nay, lass, the time has come to listen to me and face the truth. I grow weaker every day. I’ve been drinking the dandelion root infusion and I think it helps a little. Still, it will not stave off death forever.”
“Grandda, please, ye aren’t going to die anytime soon.” She took his hands, squeezing them tightly.
“Yer lips to God’s ears. I certainly hope not. But I don’t have to die to be unable to work this farm. I’m nearly there now.” Her grandfather put up a hand to stop Margaret’s protests. “Aye, I can still do a bit, but if I hadn’t been able to hire Noah, the oats would still be standing. Or worse, beaten down by the heavy rain.”
“Fair enough. Ye aren’t able to work the farm alone anymore. But all it takes is one hired man at harvest time in the fall and perhaps to help twice a year with the shearing. And if we used some of this year’s income to buy another cow—or maybe two—we could sell more butter and cheese. I can manage that alone much easier than I can fields of oats.”
“I’m certain ye could. But the laird needs grain to be grown wherever it’s possible to do so. Pasturing cattle on flat, sunny fields is not an efficient use of the land.”
“But—”
“Nay,” he said rather sharply. “Please hear me out. Ye’re right, we might be able to keep the farm going as it is for a while, as long as we can hire someone to help. However, the laird is not convinced of this.”
“The laird? Has he spoken to ye about it?”
“He hasn’t, yet. At least not directly. He mentioned it last year about this time, and then again this past spring. I’ve heard tell that he and some of his men
are visiting all the outlying crofts. He’ll be here any day now. After this harvest, I’m certain he will not allow things to remain as they are.”
“Ye’re worrying for nothing. The harvest has gone beautifully—just a little slower than in past years.” She tried to keep her tone light so as not to worry him more. Still, the specter of an uncertain future weighed heavily on her.
“Aye. We got lucky with the long stretch of fine weather. But as sure as I’m sitting here, he will not risk it again.”
Margaret took a deep breath in an attempt to control her panic and heartbreak. “Surely, he won’t throw us out of our home. He’s a good compassionate man.”
Her grandfather gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Nay, he won’t throw us out. But since I have no male heirs, he will want to make certain there is a man here to take over when I’m gone.”
Margaret frowned as her grandfather went on. “That means he will either select a husband for ye, or move us into the village near the castle and provide me with a small stipend. Perhaps he’ll offer ye a position serving in the castle.”
Margaret was horror-struck. Becoming Lady Carr someday was one thing. Working as a serving maid in Laird Keith’s castle was entirely different.
“But Grandda, I don’t want the laird to choose my husband and I definitely don’t want to be a servant in the castle or live in the village.”
He nodded. “I know, lass. It isn’t what I want either.”
Panic coursed through her. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She was completing the task Nyada had set for her. She was learning how to love and show compassion. After just a few days, putting the needs of others before her own was becoming second nature. The ice continued to melt. She was becoming a better person. But now what should she do? Both versions of herself were shocked by this news.
A small voice inside her said, maybe this is the first test of all ye’ve learned. She needed to do what was best for her grandda. With a heavy sigh she asked, “Which option do ye want to take?”
Her grandfather laughed. “Neither, of course.”
The Lost Soul Page 4
