Page 41 of The Groom Wore Plaid
“Nay. I’ll leave when the contract is settled between our families and not a moment before.”
He lowered his voice and spoke. “And I say you’ll never want to leave.”
She rolled her eyes.
“But for now, I will increase the men guarding the towerhouse.”
She stiffened.
“The fires are enough of a reason. There’s someone trying to ruin the peace between the McCallums and Duffs. Between you and me, Maggie, we won’t let that happen.”
FORtwo days, Maggie resisted every effort to help prepare for the festival, even though her family would be attending. Mrs. Robertson’s coolness grew into icy disdain, but she doggedly kept Maggie informed, as if the woman could will Maggie to prove herself capable of being a Duff bride. Kathleen chattered nonstop about it, trying to remake Maggie with just her kind flow of words. All Kathleen had were the stories people told her about the coming together of the whole clan for a several-day event of food and games and fun.
“My brother is being a curmudgeon about it,” Kathleen confided one morning.
“How can he not be interested in meeting more of the Duffs?” Maggie asked, hiding her suspicions about Gregor.
Mrs. Robertson lifted her head from her lists and frowned at Maggie as if to say,Ye’re interested in talk of Gregor but not making your husband proud?
Maggie felt a little sick inside. She’d always been an obedient young woman, and had never realized how important the respect of the staff truly was. But all she needed to do was remind herself that Mrs. Robertson would thank her if she knew Maggie was trying to save Owen’s life.
But not if she thought Maggie was a witch.
“Gregor claims that the festival is frivolous,” Kathleen said, as she tied the laces crossing Maggie’s ugly stomacher. “That takin’ days away from work is somethin’ that—” She broke off, and her face flushed scarlet.
“That McCallums would do?” Maggie finished quietly.
“Ye know I don’t think that!” Kathleen said in a rush. “I’ve come to know ye as a good mistress and a kind woman.”
“I appreciate that. When my family arrives for the festival, Gregor will see that they can work just as hard as a Duff, and can be just as fair.”
“I’ll tell him, mistress, I promise.” Kathleen swallowedseveral times and forced a smile as she returned to the laces.
Maggie pitied the maid her hard life in the colonies, and imagined it must be difficult to deal with Gregor, a man who would turn against Maggie simply because of her last name. Would he try to frighten her with the talisman? Sadly, he wasn’t the only clansmen in the Highlands to hate simply because it had been taught to him.
For a moment, Maggie imagined being the one to bring healing to both clans, to stand at Owen’s side as his wife and end the bloodshed forever. Oh, she was becoming more and more drawn into that world that could never happen. It made her remember being in his arms in the near darkness, his bed—their marriage bed—so close. But she was not a woman who could blithely forget the harm that could happen to Owen if he married her. She wouldn’t give up on discovering the truth of her dream.
She took a deep breath. “Mrs. Robertson, ye’ve mentioned a healing woman in the village.”
Kathleen didn’t lift her head, but Mrs. Robertson straightened and eyed her warily.
“Aye, Euphemia. Are ye feeling ill, mistress?”
“Nay, I’ve simply heard that the old woman is a seer. My mother has interest in such things.” Oh, the lie came far too easily to her, and she hoped God could forgive her. “She’ll want to visit, I know, so I thought I’d be certain if Euphemia is an honest woman.”
“Och, honest as our King Over the Water,” said Mrs. Robertson. “She’s a wise woman, too, with potions and charms to help ease sickness or fight the evil eye. But aye, though she’s hesitant about it, she’s a seer,” the housekeeper added with some reluctance.
“But has she warned people to their advantage?” Maggie asked.
Kathleen looked at her, baffled.
“Fate deals its hand to us all,” Mrs. Robertson said in a stilted voice. “Little can be changed. Does your mother understand that?”
Maggie cleared her throat. “Of course. Aye, my mother can be a bit obsessed at times.”
Kathleen’s eyes seemed to shine with pity, before she said brightly, “Will ye be attendin’ the spectacle the men are puttin’ on today, mistress? They’re havin’ another competition. Wrestlin’ done the Scottish way,” Kathleen said with pride. “Gregor used to show his friends in the colonies.”
“Then I hope he has success,” Maggie said, her mind beginning to race.
