Page 73 of Wild Wicked Scot
“Must you go to England, that is, milady.”
“Pardon?” Margot shifted her gaze to Nell. She was wringing the kid gloves Knox had given Margot for riding. Margot reached for them, gently removing them from Nell’s grip.
“That man says you’re to go to England with the laird, that you’ll be gone and I’d best keep out of his way, and keep your things as they ought to be. And I says to him, ‘I know what I’m to do, I don’t need you to tell me, but her ladyship’s not said a word of it, and I don’t believe you.’ And he says, ‘Well, she is, and you can pout that she didn’t tell you before I did, or you can help her, but whatever you choose, stay well out of my sight.’”
“It’s true, Nell,” Margot said wearily.
“No, milady, please don’t say you mean to leave me here!”
“I’m not leaving you. But I can’t take you with me, not this time. You must stay here and do as Jock tells you.”
Nell gaped at her. “Here! Withnoone—”
“Yes, Nell.” Margot stood up and grabbed her maid’s hands. “You must. And you mustn’t complain, God please, don’t you complain. Stay out of Jock’s path and do as they say. Please, Nell, it’s quite important.Please.”
Nell looked terrified. She glanced around the dressing room, at the door that led to the smaller chamber where she slept at night.
“Think of it—you’ll be quite all right. You’ll be safe, you’ll be fed, and you need only keep my things and these rooms while I’m away. You might take your leisure every day.” Margot glanced at the clock on the mantel. She was going to be late. “I have to go, Nell. Help me don these...things. You mustn’t fret! You have my word that all will be well.” She mustered a smile that she hoped looked as if she meant what she said, and handed the clothing to Nell. “Help me out of this gown,” she begged.
A quarter of an hour later, Margot hurried down the curving staircase.
At the bottom of the stairs, Griselda was pacing the floor, and surprisingly, at least to Margot, she was dressed in the same strange clothing. Except that Griselda had braided her hair and had wound it into a knot at her nape.
Margot took her in from head to toe as Griselda tapped a crop against her leg. She looked almost natural in these clothes, but on Margot, the trews fit tightly across her bottom and did not reach her boots, and the coat overwhelmed her. “Why are we dressed like this?”
“Because you canna ride to England in a fancy ball gown, aye?”
Margot snorted. “I don’t ride in fancy ball gowns, Zelda. But this is indecent!”
“Aye, you’ll thank me after a day or two,” Griselda said. She walked to a chair, picked up a tricorn hat and thrust it at Margot. “Learn to wear it. Come on, then. I’ve only a day to teach you to ride astride and shoot.”
“Shoot!”
“Ach, you natter on, do you no’? Come on, then. I’d no’ be the least surprised if the pony had gone back to the stables for his supper by now.”
Margot would have no such luck—the pony was standing in the middle of the bailey when they walked outside. She was acutely aware of the eyes on her—or rather, her legs, the shape of them so indiscriminately displayed in the tight trews. As Margot looked on with surprise, Griselda hoisted herself onto a bay’s back.
Margot required help. The young man vaulted her up, and she landed so hard on the saddle she feared the trews had split their seams.
“Do you know how to rein?” Griselda asked.
“Of course I know how to rein,” Margot said irritably. “It’s not as if I’ve never sat a horse.”
“Hmm,” Griselda said darkly. She expertly pulled her horse around and, with a kick to her bay’s flank, set the horse to a trot.
Margot tried to do the same, but as usual, the pony was not very attentive. The man who had helped her up reached for the bridle. “Ye must tug like this, aye?” he said and, using the slack of her rein, yanked the pony’s head so hard Margot thought the equine might take exception. But in the next moment, she was bouncing uncomfortably on the back of the pony as it trotted out behind the bay.
They rode along for what seemed an interminable amount of time, with Griselda two lengths ahead. Margot could imagine that Griselda was intent on getting as far from the castle as she possibly might. She could imagine her pushing her off a cliff and dusting her hands of the bother that was her cousin’s wife. But they at long last reached a small meadow, and Griselda reined to a stop.
She squinted back as Margot and the pony plodded forward, the both of them already exhausted.
“Have we reached England?” Margot drawled. “Surely we are not far from it now.”
“On my word, if I could deliver you to England, I would,” Griselda shot back.
Margot rolled her eyes. “As you can see, I can ride. Are we done here?”
“You donna ride, Lady Mackenzie. You cling to the horse. Your arse must feel like fire, aye?”
