She began to protest, but he held up his hand and put a finger to her lips.
“I …” she began.
“I’m sorry for how foolish I’ve been. I wanted so badly to speak these words to ye, but I couldnae find the chance. Or rather, when the chance came, I was unable to recognize it. I had the opportunity to dae so, but every time has left me without the words to tell ye how I feel for ye. The kiss we shared, that was nae just the passin’ pleasure of a moment, it meant so much more than that. I know I have spoken of lovin’ Caitlin in the past, but all that is changed. I nay longer feel in such a way for her, nae for a long time, and that is because …” he said, pausing as her face broke into a smile.
“Rory … you?” she began, and he smiled at her.
“I am so very taken by ye, Margaret. Ye are all I think of. With ye at my side, nothin’ else seems to matter. From the moment I first set eyes upon ye, this feelin’ has grown within me. If it were nae for ye, then my uncle and I would have perished upon the path to Lanercost. But since ye and I have come to know one another, I have found my heart growin’ ever fonder for ye. I have nay regard for anyone else, only for ye. Daenae think that this evenin’ I had eyes for anyone but ye, least of all Caitlin. Those other women mean nothin’ to me, tis’ only ye I care for,” he said, looking at her imploringly.
For a moment, she was silent; their eyes joined together under the moonlight. Above them, an owl hooted in a distant tree, and the stars twinkled and shone like torches in the sky. Rory longed to take her hand, to know her gentle touch, and hold her as before. His feelings for her seemed almost overwhelming, and he could not begin to describe them and longed to know that Margaret felt the same.
But it was she who reached out and took his hand, causing a shiver of delight to run through him. His senses now aroused, he moved closer, gazing into her eyes with the longing of past days and weeks. He wanted her so very badly, more than any other woman he had ever desired. She was beautiful, but more than that, she aroused in him such passions as he had never felt before, not even for Caitlin, whose memory seemed like nothing compared to Margaret.
“I have felt the same, Rory,” she whispered, her fingers playing over his hand, as though she were unsure whether or not to take it and clasp it to her with the same passion.
“And I have thought of little else since that first moment we shared. I was bold in the forest, I know that, but I can only think of bein’ bold once again,” he whispered, leaning forward, their faces almost touching.
“I have thought much about this and have thought of little else. My feelings are the same for you, and ever since I fled the forest, I have cursed myself for doing so. I had my reasons, but they seem to matter not when faced with this wonderful truth. I feel just the same for you, Rory,” she said, smiling as he breathed a deep sigh.
He could not have faced her rejection, for surely it would have broken him. She was his only desire, and now, he gazed into her eyes, leaning forward as their lips met in the gentlest of kisses. How sweet and delightful she tasted, like the scent of the evening roses upon the breeze which wafted through the castle gardens.
He let out a deep sigh, as their hands clasped together, the kiss deepening in its feeling and intensity. She leaned further forward, their passions inflamed, and let out a gasp of delight. The moment of the kiss could have lasted a lifetime, and Rory leaned back with a smile upon his face as Margaret leaned forward and kissed him again.
“I am glad that ye feel the same,” he said, still astonished by his boldness and how she had responded.
It had been a risk to declare his feelings, to make himself vulnerable to rejection once again. But how glad he was to have done so, to know that the feelings in his heart were the same in hers, feelings which could surely only grow stronger and more intense with time.
He was about to kiss her again, to give in to the temptations which he felt to possess her. How he longed to know her intimately, but were her passions equally as inflamed? Did she long for him at night as he longed for her? He was about to take her by the hand, encouraged further by his desires when footsteps and the sound of the gate in the curtain wall opening caused him to look up. There, hurrying across the gardens was Hamish, and he called out to them, as Rory and Margaret looked up in surprise.
“Rory, yer father is callin’ for ye. Ye must come now,” Hamish said.
His tone was demanding, and Rory was not about to submit to the demands of his brother in law when he had Margaret at his side, their hands still clasped together.
“What is it, Hamish? My father is Laird, is he nae? Why does he need me to return to the merriment? Has he nae got his lapdog there?” Rory replied, and Hamish shook his head.
He had a curious look in his eyes, and he glanced at Margaret, who had turned her face away.
“He is demandin’ that ye return to the great hall, Rory. Come now, hurry along,” Hamish said.
Rory respected his brother in law but did not like to be spoken to in such a manner. Kirklinton was his domain, and Hamish was not Laird of this castle, as much as he behaved so at times. Rory would not be told what to do, not by him or by anyone.
“I will dae so in my own time, Hamish. It does nae require ye to come out here and tell me what I should, and shouldnae be doin’ now, does it?” Rory replied, but his brother in law only laughed.
“Come now, Rory, stop yer stubbornness, yer father is waitin’ for ye, and he wants his son at his side. Ye are his heir after all,” he said.
But Rory was growing angry now. He wanted to be alone with Margaret, and Hamish was interrupting him. He would dearly like it if everyone in the castle disappeared, and only he and Margaret remained. That was what he wanted, though he would settle for Hamish to return inside and simply leave them alone.
“I will escort Margaret to her chambers first. The celebrations are comin’ to an end, and there is nay need for us to return to the great hall. Nay doubt my father only wishes to propose a toast to himself, whatever it is can wait until I return,” Rory said, but Hamish only laughed again.
“Ye know where my loyalties are, brother, for ye are as much a brother to me as ye are to Owen and Evie. We have come through much and proved ourselves well to one another. I shall escort Margaret to her chambers, come now, they are waitin’ for ye,” Hamish said.
At these words, Rory felt Margaret flinch. It was as though she had no desire to be escorted by Hamish, and he looked at her curiously.
“Are ye all right, Margaret?” he asked, and she nodded, smiling, though it seemed with some force.
“Yes, quite all right. You return to the great hall. I shall find my way to my chambers,” she said, and Rory nodded.
“Come now, Hamish. Let us return inside then if my father is so insistent upon it,” he replied, but Hamish shook his head.
“Darkened corridors and lonely stairways are nay the places for a lady late at night. I will join ye in a moment. Come now, yer father is waitin’, and both of us shall receive his wrath if ye daenae hurry,” Hamish replied.
Reluctantly, Rory rose from his place next to Margaret. She seemed nervous, but for what reason, he could not fathom. Hamish was nothing but a good and honorable man, and though he felt annoyed at their being disturbed, he held no fear for his brother in law’s intentions. Hamish loved Evie and had suffered much for her hand. He trusted him, and with a nod to them both, he made his way across the garden and back towards the great hall.
What is it my father wants? He has grown demandin’ in his old age, Rory thought to himself, as the sounds of revelry from the great hall echoed across the courtyard.
“Ah, he returns,” Robert McKay said, as Rory made his way along the corridor towards the great hall.
“I daenae wish to raise a toast again, Robert,” Rory said, feeling in no mood for further celebrations.
“And why ever nae? Yer father’s whiskey is excellent. We are to have a toast. Come now, toast with yer friends.”
“Nay, I will toast whe
n I have somethin’ worth toastin’ to,” Rory replied.
He slipped back into the great hall, looking around him for his father, who was standing with his mother and Hamish and Evie.
“Ah, there ye are, Rory,” Fraser said, and Rory nodded.
“Aye, and what is this toast ye want me to perform?” Rory asked as his father smiled.
Chapter Fifteen
At the approach of Hamish, Margaret turned her face away. She had spent much of the evening avoiding him, and now his standing so close unnerved her. Would he recognize her?
When he offered to escort her to her chambers, she knew there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Had he planned it? Had the laird even asked for Rory to return to the great hall? Her hands were shaking as the gate through the curtain wall clicked shut, and she found herself alone with Hamish.
“So, it is ye,” he said, placing his hand under her chin and forcing her to look up at him.
“I … I do not know what you are talking about,” she replied, desperately trying to think of some means of escape.
She could cry out for help, but what good would it do? If he knew her secret, then he would surely reveal it.
“Ye know full well what I am talkin’ about, lass. Margaret, aye, I knew I recognized yer name as soon as Evie told me, and when I set eyes upon ye, I knew it,” he said, pulling her roughly to her feet.
“I do not know what you are talking about. My name is Margaret, yes. But you do not know me, not at all,” she replied, and he laughed.
“I know ye well enough, Margaret Musgrave,” he replied.
The words sent a cold chill running through her, and she let out a cry, almost falling back as he caught her and pulled her close.
“Please …” she began, but he shook his head.
“What are ye? A spy? Who put ye up to this? Where is Isabella? Have ye come here to spy upon my family, perhaps worse? What was it? Dae ye intend to stick a dagger in our backs as we sleep? To kill the Laird, perhaps? Or are ye here to watch and wait, then open the castle gates at night when we are in our beds and let a hundred of yer Musgrave soldiers in upon us? What it is, Margaret?” he hissed.
“How do you know who I am? I am not …” she said, struggling in his grip.
“I remembered ye at once, just as soon as I laid eyes upon ye. I remembered ye from the feast held at the Musgrave castle to celebrate me and Isabella’s betrothal. Ye were young then, but I remember ye well enough. Ye still look the same, that same beauty. Ye are a Musgrave woman, there is nay mistakin’ it, but none here would see that. Did ye think I would have forgotten the sight of a Musgrave woman after all these years?” he asked, and Margaret began to cry.
She had no wish to be reminded of her lineage or the terrible fate which would befall her if sent back. She was no spy, far from it. She was as much an enemy of her family as Hamish and the Elliotts. She hated them for what they had done and for the cruel manner in which they had behaved these long years past. All she wished was to forget them, and now her secret would be exposed.
“It is not as you think,” she said, letting out a deep sigh and knowing she could do nothing but admit that what he said was true.
“Then ye have much to explain, else I shall return to the great hall and expose ye as a spy and a traitor in our midst. Then ye shall surely see the wrath of the Laird and his family. Rory will nae be so understandin’ when he learns the truth of who ye are. It seems I found ye at just the right moment, what secrets has he already told ye? Secrets that may be of benefit to yer people,” Hamish snarled.
“Then let me explain,” she said, tears now running down her cheeks.
“I am listenin’ but only because ye plead it, and I warn ye nae to lie to me, Margaret,” he said, his face set in anger beneath the moonlight.
The gardens were quiet and peaceful, with not a sound heard from the great hall. She glanced fearfully around, wondering what would become of her when she revealed the truth. Surely, he would have her banished and sent away. The thought of telling him the truth-filled her with dread, but what choice did she have? Taking a deep breath, Margaret began to speak, breaking the promise she had made to herself when she escaped the clutches of her family.
“I am a Musgrave, and I remember you well. I am Isabella’s sister, the woman you rejected,” Margaret began.
“I didnae reject her; she rejected herself. She is a wicked woman and would have made the worst of wives. Dae ye know what she subjected Evie to? Evie, the woman who has been yer friend since ye arrived here,” Hamish said, his voice growing angry.
“And at the time, I thought she was in the right. You did not see her when she returned, a broken woman and a woman desirous only of revenge. How she hates you, Hamish McBryde, and has spent these years plotting your downfall,” Margaret said, as Hamish shook his head and spat upon the ground.
“I care nothin’ for her or what she thinks of me. We share the same feelin’ towards one another, I assure ye. Is that why ye are here? To take revenge upon me?” he asked, but Margaret shook her head.
“Just listen to me, Hamish. At first, I took my sister’s side, but I saw how it corrupted her. She hated you, but she hated every Scot. She would demand our family took revenge and encourage the raids and burnings across the border. All of it was her doing, and surely this latest violence is the result of her wishes too. I saw her grow more and more embittered with every passing day, and my family became fixated upon revenge. You do not know what it was like to live amongst them. To hear their hatred and bitterness, the bile with which they spoke and the desire they had to enact vengeance,” she said, shaking her head.
Her life with the Musgraves, her family, had become intolerable. She was no peasant’s daughter, and neither had her parents perished in a raid on their remote farmhouse. She was the youngest daughter of the Musgraves sister to Isabella and bearer of the name so hated and despised by the Elliotts and their allies. Hamish had every right to hate her, to distrust her, and to believe her only purpose was to spy and play the cuckoo in the nest.
“That is Isabella, ye, and I know her well. It does nae surprise me that my rejection caused such hardness in her heart. She swore revenge, and it is revenge she shall keep. That is why I remain vigilant and why when I saw ye I knew there was somethin’ about ye, somethin’ wrong,” he said, his voice softening a little.
“Then you believe me?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“I believe ye are who ye say ye are because I recognized ye at once. But I am yet to believe yer story. Tell more of how ye came to be here. I know that ye rescued Rory and Duncan on the road to Lanercost. But what was yer reason? Why are ye runnin’ from yer own kind? Ye are an English woman, nae a Scot. Ye daenae belong here, but yet here ye are. Why?” he asked, and Margaret took a deep breath.
“I was to be married. That is what my mother intended. Ye will remember her, I am sure,” Margaret began, and Hamish nodded.
“Aye, I remember her well enough. Isabella takes after in moods and anger,” Hamish replied.
“Well, I am not like them, not like any of them. My mother wished for an arranged marriage. The man was one Thomas Mackley, a Baron from the south with lands stretching across the Yorkshire moorlands. A rich and powerful man by all accounts but a man I could never love. He was a cruel and violent man, given over to the prospect of power which union with my family would bring him. I knew he did not care for me, nor did he love me. We were to be married at the end of this month,” she said, brushing a tear from her eye.
The marriage to Thomas Mackley had been arranged without her consent. She had met him only twice before her mother and father announced the two of them were to be married. Margaret would be sent to Yorkshire and never know the borderlands again. She protested, but her cries fell on deaf ears. Her parents would not hear of her refusing Thomas Mackley, and her sister did little to support her.
Isabella was a cruel woman, and her bitterness extended to taking delight in the sufferings of others. She h
ad told Margaret that it was her duty to marry for the good of the family and offered no sympathy when Margaret told her how miserable it would make her. In desperation, Margaret had thought only of escape and the desire to leave her family behind forever.
“And so why are ye nae married to this man now?” Hamish asked.
“Because I escaped. I am no spy, nor do I seek to harm anyone here. All I wish for is a place of refuge. I did not mean to find myself here, but that is how it is, and I’m grateful for it,” she replied.
“So ye ran away?” he asked, and she nodded.
“I bided my time and waited for the right moment. The day of the wedding was growing close, and I knew I had to escape before I was married. I would have been taken off to Yorkshire and then what hope would I have? It was one evening when the opportunity arose. My parents often held grand feasts and banquets. It was on just an occasion, much like this evening,” she said, his eyes searching hers for any hint of a lie.
A Highlander Marked by Fate: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Kirklinton Book 3) Page 14
