Laird of the Mist (17 page)

Kate wrung her hands together trying to find a way to make her come out so that she could speak to her. “I . . . I feel as if I know you already.” She leaned closer to the flap. “Jamie has told me much about you.”

Maggie’s face appeared where the flap was, momentarily startling Kate. “What did he tell ye?”

“That you like yellow daffodils.”

Maggie rolled her eyes heavenward. “Mother Mary, I do not like them. I like orchids.” She crawled out of the tent and sat facing Kate. “I told him I like daffodils because he picks so many for me.”

Kate had the sudden urge to smile, but first she needed to apologize. “It was a long journey here. I did not mean to treat you unkindly.”

Maggie studied her for a moment, and then arrived at some conclusion that softened her features with a smile. She lifted her fingers to wipe a smudge of dirt from Kate’s brow even while her own face was streaked with it. “Ye were not hurt, were ye? Callum would never let ye be hurt.”

“I was not hurt,” Kate assured her. She could not keep herself from thinking about the years Maggie had spent in a dungeon, and what had happened to her there. Amazingly, though, there was tenderness and innocence in Maggie’s eyes that Callum lacked. “You said you already knew who I was. Then you know I’m a Campbell?” Kate added hesitantly. When Maggie nodded, Kate pushed on. “And you don’t hate me?”

Maggie patted her cheek, then stood up. “My brother has enough hate in him for both of us. D’ye want to come to the barn with me?”

The change in topic was so abrupt Kate didn’t answer her right away. Then, “The barn?”

“Aye, it’s verra peaceful there.”

Kate smiled and rose to her feet, accepting Maggie’s outstretched hand.

Though her body was bent, Maggie MacGregor had no trouble almost racing down the stairs, still clutching Kate’s hand, of course. The delicious aroma of food wafting through the air made Kate’s stomach ache. Panic filled her suddenly when she realized that Maggie was leading her to the great hall. Hell, Callum and his entire clan would probably be there and she had not even washed her face. It didn’t matter that they had all seen her less than an hour ago. Surely they expected her to wash the grime from her body after traveling for so long. Och, she must look like a village wench! She ran her free hand through her hair and yanked at some of the tangles, but it was no use. She was a mess. She also realized that this was the first time in her life she was concerned with her appearance. The idea pleased and disturbed her at the same time. It was wonderful to want to look pleasing, and even more wonderful to have someone to look pleasing for. Sadly, the man she wanted to please didn’t even like her. But he certainly had not kissed her like a man who held her in contempt . . . unless he was just so happy to be home.

His home. God’s teeth, what would her uncle think if he knew she was in the MacGregor holding? She looked around, soaking up the thick tapestries that provided warmth to the castle. The long corridors were illuminated in the soft glow of sconced torches. The furniture was plain but tremendously big. Exactly what a wondrously big man like Callum would choose, although poor Maggie likely ceased to exist when she sat in one of the carved walnut chairs sprinkled throughout the halls.

The two women rounded a corner that opened into an endlessly long great hall with a vaulted ceiling that rose upward two full landings. Kate’s face paled when she saw dozens of ladies, all with clean, untangled hair and unwrinkled gowns, seated at the long trestle table with Callum’s men. The light from the central hearth did not help her position, either. Every eye seemed to fall on her curiously being led by the hand by a wee hunched-back woman. Self-consciously, Kate ran her hand over her gown to smooth it and then wondered if breaking free of Maggie’s surprisingly strong grip and running for the doors would make her look even more foolish.

She spotted the object of her affliction and forgot everything else. Callum MacGregor stood a good head taller than the other men, save Angus. His long, dark hair was neatly combed and hung loose over his shoulders, the shadow of stubble gone now from his ruggedly chiseled features. He wore a loose-fitting white tunic unlaced at the neck and tucked at his waist beneath his folded plaid. He stood with Graham and a female of ample bosom and sultry green eyes.

Kate tightened her grip on Maggie’s hand, not wanting to go any further.

When he looked up from the flaxen-haired wench’s coy smile, Kate knew it was too late to flee, though she was no longer sure she wanted to. Callum looked pleased to see her. That is to say, he was not scowling. His eyes swept over her, his gaze a tender caress. But Maggie had stepped in front of her, and Kate wondered if he was looking at her or his sister.

“Greetings, Callum!”

Callum lifted his goblet and finished off its contents in one swallow, then returned his sister’s greeting.

“Did ye drag Kate oot of her room before she could bathe?”

Kate’s smiled vanished. If Maggie weren’t holding her hand so tightly she would have fled the hall and Camlochlin itself.

“She does not need to bathe,” his sister huffed. “She needs friends, so I am going to introduce her to Matilda and the others.”

Callum looked over her head at Kate. “Mayhap Kate would like somethin’ to eat first.”

Kate was torn between smiling like a dreamy dimwit into his beautiful eyes, or smashing a trencher over his head for not even caring if she was in love with an Englishman.

“Later.” Maggie tugged on her hand, pulling her away from Callum. “I’m sure she will not want to eat Keddy’s supper after she meets Henry and the others.”

Kate felt Callum’s eyes on her, but she did not turn around as they exited through a small door at the other end of the hall. They entered the kitchen, and Maggie threw the burly, chubby-faced cook a glare as menacing as her brother’s on his angriest day. Kate plucked an apple from the chopping table just before she was hauled through another door. She completely missed Keddy’s scathing glare.

A cool, salty breeze whipped through Kate’s hair when they stepped outside. But for the distant roar of whitecaps forging toward the shore, the only sound in the utter stillness of the surrounding mist was Kate’s own breath.

“It is beautiful here,” she said, gazing at the twilight wonder around her. “But we should go back inside. It’s too difficult to see.”

Maggie yanked on her hand. “Follow me.”

A few more steps and Maggie pulled on another door just off the eastern wall of the castle. The wood creaked, weathered on its hinges. Kate followed her inside what she assumed was the barn, if the sounds of squawking made by various farm animals were any indication. Finally Maggie released her hand and reached up to retrieve a small lantern hanging low on a wooden rafter. She lit the candlewick inside, and Kate drew in a short gasp. It was a barn, but like none she had ever seen before. Fresh hay littered the floor, and bags of oats and nuts hung from hooks on the walls. There were no cages to house the animals. Instead, they roamed freely, nibbling at scattered cornmeal and sliced apples strewn along the floor. There were not many animals here. A duck was either very happy to see the two women or quite displeased, for she waddled at them honking loud enough to wake the dead. A pig followed the duck in hot pursuit, snorting just as loudly. An old horse crunched on a carrot in the corner, and he, too, looked up when Maggie and Kate entered. A gray and white cat leapt from the rafters and startled Kate.

“Bertrid, this is Kate, my friend,” Maggie informed the purring cat and then sat down on the floor. “Well?” She glanced up at Kate. “Are ye not going to say hullo back?”

“Greetings to you, Bertrid,” Kate replied politely, feeling silly. She felt a tug on her skirt.

“Come doun here. ’Tis less threatening to them. They do not know ye yet, Kate.”

Kate bit into her apple and glanced around at the corn strings decorating the barn from rafter to rafter. Crisscrossing the corn were strings of blackberry, elderberry, and various nuts. Animals were carved into the wood, and dried daffodils fragranced the air. It was positively enchanting. “You did all this?”

“Jamie did it for me. Now sit.”

Kate obeyed and waited for the next introduction.

“This is Henry.” Maggie became the perfect chatelaine as she introduced the snorting pig to her newest friend. “He likes to be pet behind the ears. And that’s Matilda. She honks aplenty, and though I vow she rants louder than Angus, ’tis but her declaration of love. That’s Ahern. He was Callum’s best warhorse. He once belonged to the Earl of Argyll, but Callum took him when we left. Ahern is verra braw, but he’s old now.”

By now, Henry the pig had curled up into in Kate’s lap like a well-loved puppy, and to her surprise Kate felt a sense of calm wash over her, be it from the comforting, gentle tones of Maggie’s lilting voice or from Henry’s slow, rhythmic breathing. She liked it here, and she was glad to be away from all the eyes in the great hall.

The barn door opened, and Matilda spread her wings and honked out a few more oaths as wind blew the hay on the floor into circles around the small group.

“We are fine, Jamie,” Maggie called out without turning. Then she looked at Kate through the corner of her eye and explained in a low voice, “My brother always sends him to watch over me as if I were a hapless child.”

Kate was about to turn around to greet him when she heard Callum’s thick, velvet voice behind her.

“Yer brother only wants to be assured of yer safety. Should we flog him fer that?” His tone was light, and when he reached them he folded his long legs and sat down in the hay beside Kate.

“Och, ye’ve been flogged before and it did not help a bit,” his sister replied tartly.

Kate shot her an incredulous look. How could they jest about such a thing when Callum bore those terrible scars all across his back? She felt his gaze on her and turned to find she was right. His eyes flickered in the light like embers. When he spoke, the husky cadence of his voice made Kate’s spine tingle.

“How d’ye like my sister’s friends?”

“I think I like Henry best.” She lowered her gaze to the sleeping pig in her lap.

Callum watched her stroke the swine and imagined what it would be like to have her touch him with such care.

“Ye have no’ met Sarah yet, then?” he asked, rising to his feet again. He crossed the barn and bent into the shadows. When he came into the light again, he was carrying a small lamb in his arms.

Unabashedly, Kate watched him. She loved how he walked, proud but not arrogant, with the grace of a king and the quiet strength of a leader. He squatted before Maggie and handed the lamb to her, then sat down near Kate again.

“She’s a bonny babe!” Kate cooed and slipped her fingers beneath Sarah’s woolly chin. “What big brown eyes she has.”

Maggie seemed to melt, caressing the lamb to her chest. She closed her eyes and lavished Sarah’s head with kisses. “Sarah must stay here now since she was trampled by the other sheep,” Maggie told her, her kisses unceasing. “Keddy wanted to make stew of her.”

Kate gasped.

“Aye,” agreed Maggie. “But I bit him and asked him how he liked it.”

Biting her tongue to stifle a giggle, Kate was thankful for the dim lighting. She was sure Maggie was perfectly serious, and Kate did not want to insult her by laughing.

“I will never eat even a morsel of meat,” Callum’s sister declared lovingly.

Callum grumbled something, but his sister seemed not to notice as she threw herself down in the hay and lay there on her back with Sarah atop her belly.

An hour later, Kate and Maggie both lay on the barn floor. Callum had requested that they return to the castle, but both women refused. Sprawled on their backs and staring up at the low rafters, they talked quietly while Callum sat propped against one wall, his long legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. Both of them giggled when he began to snore.

“Did Callum tell ye about our imprisonment?”

The question was so sudden and unexpected that Kate took a moment to answer. Then, “Nae, he has not spoken of it.”

“He never does.” Maggie looked toward him. “I do not remember much before we were taken captive. They put the sword to my papa, and then did bad things to mama before they killt her, too. Callum tried to fight them, but he was just a lad. Och, he grew strong later, though.” She paused. Her eyes drifted off to the past for an instant, and then she blinked and began to breathe again. “He did everything they demanded, but they still beat him.”

Lying still beside her, Kate turned to gaze upon Callum’s sleeping face while his sister spoke.

“He is so stubborn, though.” Maggie yawned and her eyelids grew heavy, but she continued speaking. “Each time they beat him he vowed to kill them. They mocked his promise, until one morn when he pretended to be asleep. A guard stepped closer to him and my brother killt him with just his forehead. Callum knew they would kill us because of what he had done.”

The barn was so quiet Kate heard the sound of her drumming heartbeat. She wanted to scream for Maggie to cease, but she could say nothing. She poured her eyes over her knight, aching to climb into his lap the way Henry had climbed into hers. She wanted to kiss his face and soothe his cold heart. But he would never let her. The thought made her moan.

“They came for me first. But Callum broke free.” Though Maggie’s voice was but a whisper, Callum’s eyes opened as if he were hearing her words in his sleep.

He rose from his place against the wall and stood over them. “Come, to bed with ye now,” he said gently and picked Maggie up in his arms.

“Och, but were they not surprised at that, Callum? Were they not surprised at how ye killt them all?” Maggie said, and then closed her eyes.

Callum’s expression twisted with some emotion so painful Kate doubted she would ever recover from seeing it.

As she settled into bed that night, Kate’s thoughts were plagued with images she prayed hard to forget. But first, she prayed that the two people who lived through the horrible tale could forget them, as well.

Chapter Twenty-One