Page 57 of The Groom Wore Plaid
“We’ll see,” she said. “Oh, look, they’re much closer!”
And she broke away from Owen and headed down the stairs. She knew he followed her to the courtyard, but she didn’t wait for him, just hurried across the mud, holding her skirts to her ankles. Someone had spread straw across the courtyard, covering the worst of the mud, and she appreciated that. She passed beneath the dark of the gatehouse and crossed the stone bridge over the moat, just as the McCallum party reached the far side. Maggie waved excitedly and walked between the horses ridden by her brother Hugh and hisnew wife, Riona. Riona bent to briefly clasp her hand, and the sun touched her golden hair like a halo. She looked . . . radiant. The tender way Maggie’s warrior brother regarded his wife had Maggie blinking back tears. Their happiness was all that she’d hoped for Hugh, considering he’d been pledged to a different bride since childhood.
But then he’d kidnapped the wrong bride, and had fallen deeply in love. That love had started Maggie on this journey to save her clan. She’d accepted Owen’s expedient offer of marriage, and before she’d experienced the newest dream, had even told herself she’d find a way to be happy without love. She’d always assumed she couldn’t truly let herself love a man, because she’d need to keep secret her dreams and that would be a betrayal of trust.
Yet . . . Owen knew her every secret, and though he didn’t believe in her gifts, he didn’t treat her as a pariah. He even wanted to marry her regardless. Oh, it was for their clans, she knew, but . . . he was making her rethink all her assumptions about marriage. She felt a pang of loss, knowing she’d never be able to explore that relationship with him—not if she wanted him to live.
She was relieved to pull herself out of such thoughts by looking at the excited expression on her ten-year-old brother’s face. Brendan’s mother had died birthing him, and he’d never known the identity of his true father until recently. Having been raised by his grandmother, he’d never left the vicinity of Larig Castle. Now he looked in wonder upon the Duff stronghold.
“Maggie!” he called. “There’s a moat!”
She laughed. “And there are fish and frogs and lots of things ye’d like.”
“Those are little boy games. I’m going to see the training yard.”
“Oh, of course. I’m sure ye’ll enjoy that, too.” But she hid a smile as she watched him look down over the bridge at the water with eagerness.
Next came her cousins, Dorothy and Helen, waving to her from the center of the traveling party. They looked upon Castle Kinlochard with wonder and excitement. They were sisters, Dorothy a redhead and Helen a reddish blond, and it was the amusement of the clan at how different they were from each other. Dorothy was forthright and passionate about her opinion, whereas Helen was demure and ladylike in her pursuits. Surely one of them would appeal to Owen.
Her own mother wore a tremulous, worried smile, as if she had lived in fear for Maggie. Maggie gave her a reassuring smile in return, but she wasn’t so sure she’d convinced her mother. Theirs was an unusual relationship. The two women loved and understood each other, for both good and bad. Her mother was there to comfort and listen, had never disregarded her dreams, even when Maggie was a child. She’d kept Maggie’s secrets, and in return, Maggie had tried to comfort her over the mistakes that haddriven Hugh away. Lady McCallum had known that her husband abused young women and been powerless against him, except to remove her children from his influence. It had taken years for Hugh to learn to forgive her for not confirming to the world that a serving girl’s bastard child was her husband’s and not Hugh’s. Lady McCallum had been terrified of her husband, damaged, unable to stand against him. Maggie had sympathized and found herself hovering between Hugh and Lady McCallum for much of her life, soothing both sides, trying to encourage a healing of their bond. Hugh’s wife, Riona, had helped bring that about, and Maggie would always be grateful.
And then she saw Owen’s sister, Cat, and their mother, Lady Aberfoyle. Cat searched Maggie’s face as if she was desperate to know that all had gone well with their betrothal. Cat would be disappointed when Maggie and Owen separated. Maggie smiled at her, and Cat smiled in return. Apparently Maggie wasn’t all that successful in her reassurance, because Cat’s smile faded and she seemed to search the castle as if looking for her brother.
“Need a ride?” Hugh asked, and reached down for Maggie.
Smiling, she clasped his hand, and as he lifted, she found the stirrup with her foot and used it to turn and sit across his thighs.
As they approached the gatehouse, she saw Owenstanding on the far side, arms folded over his chest, his expression impassive. She had the urge to beg her brother to gallop away from here, before her heartache grew even worse.
“Are ye well?” Hugh asked with quiet concern.
Did he sense something? She didn’t want to worry him, so she gave him a bright smile. “I am. Everyone here has been kind. I’ve simply missed my family.”
He searched her gaze much as Cat had done, but then glanced up and saw Owen, so he said nothing. Maggie let her breath out quietly in relief. She would have to tell Hugh something soon, for he’d understand exactly what was going on when she threw Dorothy and Helen in Owen’s path. Or maybe Hugh already suspected her motives.
“So everyone will welcome McCallums to their Duff festival with no qualms?” Hugh asked dryly.
“I didn’t say that . . .” she admitted, thinking of Gregor.
“But you have felt safe here?” he demanded.
“Owen makes certain I am safe.” And that wasn’t a lie.
They left the darkness of the gatehouse and emerged into the gloomy overcast sky that hung over the castle, as if anticipating what was to come. Owen reached both hands up to her, and she leaned forward and let him take her waist and lower her to the ground. Again, he put his arm around her, reminding Hugh of his claim.
Her brother dismounted and reached to clasp Owen’s hand. “Aberfoyle.”
“McCallum,” Owen answered.
She wanted to roll her eyes. The two men had been on first-name basis before, but apparently the defensiveness hadn’t gone away.
Grooms came forward to take the horses as one by one the guests dismounted. Four clansmen had ridden along to guard the party on the journey, and Owen had ordered rooms in the barracks prepared for them. He and Maggie led the rest of the group up the stairs to the first floor great hall. At last Owen released her to go to his sister, whom he hugged fervently.
Cat smiled up at him, cupping his cheek. “You look good, Owen, bronzed by the sun. You’ve been out with your men, I see?”
“The competitions have continued,” Maggie said. “Your brother finally won one of them.”
Cat laughed. “Let me guess—target shooting.”
