Page 10 of Taken By the Savage Highlander

Saints, give me strength to keep meself from tearin’ her apart.

CHAPTER SIX

“And there is our new Lady,” a kind, older woman said the second Margo stepped into the hallway. “It was quite a surprise to learn ye’d be with us. I’m Mrs. Campbell. And this is Tilly!”

Margo blinked, following the nod of her head. The girl standing next to her, Tilly, was young, barely more than seventeen. She watched Margo with curious, bright eyes, her auburn curls pushed away from her face.

“She will be yer maid now, Lady MacLeod,” Mrs. Campbell announced.

The title startled Margo. It did not matter that she had been introduced as such after a kiss that had somehow been both too much and not nearly enough. She was notcompletely present. Now, though, she was fully aware of the weight the word carried.

Tilly beamed at her, giving an excitable bow, her hair bouncing with the force of it. It seemed as if she were under the impression that Margo had done something wonderful rather than disastrous. That, she thought, was much more disarming than the way the members of the MacLeod Clan had watched her when she entered the Hall or the way the very land felt unwelcoming.

“I will show ye to yer chambers now, Lady MacLeod,” Tilly said excitedly. “This way!”

She made her way down the corridor, a spring in each of her steps. Margo stared after her for a beat, her mind reeling from the events of the day. It seemed that the whirlwind would only continue.

Quickly coming to her senses, Margo took off after the maid. When she caught up, she matched Tilly’s pace. The maid slowed down a bit, glancing over at Margo and apparently observing her bone deep exhaustion.

“It was an honor to watch ye get married,” Tilly said kindly. “None of us were expectin’ it. It was a nice surprise.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I was not expecting it either?” Margo said, dazed.

Tilly laughed as Margo had just told a joke. Her joy was so infectious that Margo found herself laughing along with her. As the sound bubbled out of her chest, the tightness in her shoulders eased a bit. She still didn’t feel comfortable or completely welcomed, but somehow sharing a laugh with her maid was a balm to her soul.

“I truly did not know that there would be a wedding as soon as we arrived,” Margo said when she had gotten a hold of herself. She smoothed her skirt, a bit ashamed of how tattered it was. “Of course, I knew that I would be wed to Laird MacLeod quite quickly. I merely assumed that I would have the opportunity to change first.”

“Aye, I do wish that Laird MacLeod would have given us time to get ye prepared,” Tilly said with an almost dramatic sigh. “I ken we daenae have a weddin’ gown for ye, but we could have gotten ye into somethin’ that wasn’t travelled in. And I would have loved the chance to cover ye in jewels.”

“Perhaps there will be an occasion that you can,” Margo said, her eyes catching on a painting of a wolf. She wanted to linger, but Tilly showed no signs of slowing down. “I may have collapsed from how tired I am if we took the time to get me properly prepared for the ceremony.”

“Aye, ye travelled most of the mornin’, didnae ye?” Tilly said, touching Margo’s elbow, pushing her to turn right down the next corridor. “Mrs. Campbell has the servants preparin’ a bath for ye. It should be ready when we arrive. I’ll wash ye, and then ye are free to rest for the remainder of the day. I will also bring ye yer meals so ye daenae have to worry about comin’ down to the Great Hall.”

“Thank you,” Margo muttered, feeling a bit of warmth.

Tilly reminded her of Eleanor. She was sweet, eager. It was as if the World hadn’t shown her its nasty underbelly yet. Margo hoped that both of them were spared that horror.

It may be too late for Eleanor. And that is the fault of Laird MacLeod.

When Tilly came to a stop in front of a door a few moments later, Margo kept walking several steps. As soon as she realized she was moving mindlessly, she stopped, turning around and smiling bashfully at Tilly. The maid, to her credit, didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the transgression.

“I must be more exhausted than I thought,” Margo admitted shyly as entered the quarters.

She was immediately overwhelmed by the strong smell of cedar and pine; and, underneath it all lay a scent that was uniquely particular to Laird MacLeod. This space wasn’t hers in the least.

As she looked around the room, she realized it was not like anything she’d imagined. For some reason, with every story her mother told her, she was convinced the Highland castles’ sleeping chambers were tiny. This one, however, was enormous.

“Ye can go behind the privacy screen,” Tilly said, closing the door and walking to the large, steaming tub in the middle of the room. “If ye need any help, ye can call for me.”

“Yes, of course,” Margo said.

She looked around the room, spotting the screen nestled amongst the lavish furs and thick velvet curtains. It looked almost too delicate. And, because she felt the same about herself, she felt an inexplicable kinship with the object.

Saints, I’m so tired that I’m trying to form a bond with a screen.

Taking her time, Margo undressed. Even though the gown she wore was tattered and dirty, she folded it with reverence. The rest of her things could still be scattered across the English countryside. This dress, even though it could likely never be worn again, she folded with a soft kind of devotion.

As her fingers carefully loosened her corset, she looked around the room. Every part of it clearly testified that Laird MacLeod was living here. The chairs near the hearth were lopsided as though someone had thrown themselves into them. A path on the floor was scuffed, likely from hours of pacing.