Page 53 of Taken By the Savage Highlander

“I’ve come to inform ye that we will be leavin’ in a week,” he said, seemingly struggling to balance between authority and politeness.

“And where will we be travelling to?” Margo asked. She was not yet sure if she was amused or deeply concerned for her well-being.

“North. To stay at Glen Carrick,” Cameron replied, clearing his throat. Margo heard Eleanor stifle what might have been a laugh behind her. “Me cousin Lachlan and his wife Marian are hostin’ a ceilidh in our honor.”

An almost awkward silence descended upon the three of them. Margo was not quite sure how to respond. Certainly, she was excited to be experiencing a ceilidh in person rather than hearing about one, but she was thrown off by his behavior. She wondered if laughing would be an appropriate reaction.

No, no, that would offend him.

Cameron was the one to break the silence first, shifting as though he were already preparing for his retreat. “Nay only will ye get to spend time with Lady Marian, but Lady Anna McDonald will also be in attendance.”

Margo could still do nothing more than stare. The names meant nothing to her, though he said them as if they should. Before she could ask after their identities, Cameron spoke again.

“They’re… yer kind,” he said, gesturing at Margo and Eleanor.

“My kind?” Margo asked, no longer able to hide her confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.”

“They’re yer kind,” Cameron repeated, sounding frustrated that she didn’t understand him. “English.”

“I… see,” Margo said, the corners of her mouth pulling up without her permission. It took all of her strength to keep from laughing in his face.

With a final nod, Cameron turned and opened the door once more. He stopped before slipping through it, meeting Margo’s gaze. “I will take care of the preparations. Ye just have to attend.”

He left then, not giving her the chance to say anything else, though, she didn’t think she could. She felt as if she had whiplash from this short interaction with the man.

Two beats passed where she simply stared at the door. Then, coming on as suddenly as a coughing fit, she doubled over with laughter. Eleanor’s own guffaws joined hers a second later.

It took the two of them nearly a full minute to get their breathing under control once more. Her sides aching from the episode, she finally turned around to face Eleanor once more. The kittens had vacated her lap, looking between Margo and Eleanor as if they were trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Putting on her best approximation of his accent, her voice gravely and absolutely ridiculous, Eleanor parroted, “Yer kind?”

Margo’s laughter started all over again. With her arms wrapped around her waist, she fell into the seat she had vacated earlier. Everything felt so absurd, and she could not help but think that she would not have it any other way.

Oh… How I missed this.

“Ye’re nae goin’ to leave me be today, are ye?” Cameron asked Miss Crusoe. “At least get off of me papers, ye wee tyrant.”

Miss Crusoe meowed, loud and unrepentant, without moving her round little body from the stack of missives that had accumulated in his absence. There was one in particular he had not dealt with before his trip.

It is his way of askin’ if we have proof for him.

“Go to the basket, Miss Crusoe,” he said, the order falling on deaf or - more likely - uncaring ears. Aware that he could no longer put off the issue, he picked up the kitten, settling her in his lap before grabbing the stack. As he flipped through the envelopes, he muttered, “These have been rearranged.”

He lifted his gaze from the unopened missives, scanning the room properly for the first time since he had returned. The morning sun fell across the neatly stacked crates in the corner of the room. There, lying on top, was the letter he had been looking for. With a scoff, he stood up taking the kitten with him.

“Stay in the basket,” he told her as he deposited her onto the stack of linens. “Did someone change these?”

“I did.”

Cameron straightened quickly, his back going rigid at the sound of Margo’s voice. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he turned around. He hadn’t even heard the door open.

“Ye were in me study?” he asked, taking control of the situation in the most effective way he knew.

“You cannot invite the kittens inside and not expect me to come and check on them,” she replied with a sly grin. After a moment, she let it fall away. “But, if you must know, I was assisting Mrs. Campbell with organizing the records and correspondence. One of the kittens had caught a mouse and ate it inside the basket. The linens needed to be changed.”

“I suppose that I should thank ye then,” Cameroon said, though his mind was currently drawing a thread between the misplaced letter and Margo’s probable intervention.

“You’re welcome,” she said. Her gaze shifted to Miss Crusoe. “I came looking for her. Eleanor was worried. We have not seen her since last night.”