Page 70 of The Tartan Trap

“Understandable, considering the circumstances. Let’s speak of that no longer—I, for one, consider the matter quite behind us.”

CHAPTER 25- MARGARET

Margaret found that, without her shield of suspicion, she felt oddly vulnerable. It was a strange swing of emotions—to go from trying to annoy Callum to being concerned about chasing him away. Though if she were being honest, she’d long been concerned that her antics might prove successful—she was only now admitting it to herself.

Their footsteps crunched in the gravel path, marking the silence. Albie snuffled and padded through the mud at the edge of the pond. A duck gave an alarmed sort of quack and waddled quickly into the safety of the water.

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?” Callum said. “Any other issue I might shed light on, to help us move forward?”

“Is your estate in financial difficulty?” Margaret blurted before she lost the courage.

She peeked up at him in time to see his eyebrows fly upwards, the corners of his mouth soon following.

“To answer you as plainly as you asked, no. My estate is doing quite well. If it would put your mind at ease, you may look at my ledgers whenever you like.”

She wrinkled her nose and flapped a hand. Mathematics had never been her favorite.

“In fact,” he said, “give your dowry away for all I care—I have more than enough money for the both of us, for our children.”

Margaret jerked to a stop again. She didn’t care that her reactions could have made a scene. No gossip could possibly be salacious enough to fully capture the content of their conversation or the feelings running through her frame at his words. Callum wanted to marry her! Had mentioned their children! The idea of it was intoxicating; she nearly swayed on her feet.

His hand came instantly to her elbow, warm and supporting. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She blinked.

He sighed and it sounded like concession. “I apologize if I’ve offended you. I’m too direct for my own good; my mother always said so. I just thought you should know the truth of it.”

“You should realize that some breach of suit cases have been brought on less than what you just said to me.” Margaret hardly realized what she was saying—she felt she should warn him off somehow, lest he be trapped by some conniving young lady. In case he was wandering London saying such things to others…

Callum’s smile was slower, headier than before. It exposed the dimples on either side of his generous mouth. “By all means,” he said, his voice a low roll that called an answering shiver from her spine. “Sue away.”

“You shouldn’t…” Her words and her steps tripped forward on instinct; he reached a hand out to steady her again. “You shouldn’t say such things if you don’t mean them.”

“Why do you think I don’t mean them?” His expression was a study in puzzlement—a deep line between his eyebrows, tilted head.

“Why on earth would you?” She flapped her hands, then, remembering they were in public, wrung them together.

She’d never known that being courted could be quite so distressing. But perhaps that wasn’t the word for it, not precisely. It wasn’t as if she wanted Callum to stop. She merely wanted to be sure that he meant the words he said.

Distinct terror simmered just below the surface—what if she dared to believe him, and then he turned out to be false? Or perhaps worse—changed his mind?

“Margaret.” His voice was low and gently commanding. His voice rolled over the syllables in her name like water washing over stones in a brook—smooth and melodic. “You’re beautiful. I cannot decide if my favorite thing about England is you, or the fact that every male you’ve ever met has been a blind idiot. I don’t care—I’m not going to tell them the truth of what I’ve found. I’m not going to give it up without a fight the likes of which you’ve never seen.”

Margaret shook her head. It was difficult for her to accept his words as truth, even though she wanted to believe him.

“And I’ve already told you that I asked after you,” he said.

Her wide eyes slid upwards, trying to discern whether he was serious. He looked perfectly so, and it flabbergasted her. This man—this huge, handsome man—had been asking after her?

Callum grinned, and Margaret’s heart tripped pathetically forward. For better or worse, she was truly in it now. There would be no extracting herself without pain of some sort—though perhaps that had been the case for a while now.

“I thought that perhaps the gentlemen weren’t asking you to dance at the first ball because you were unkind or possessed…er, loose morals. Forgive me for saying as much.” His cheeks pinkened.

She laughed. “Loose morals? Me? I hate to break it to you, but I’ve never been in a position to test my morals at all.”

“There’s a hedge of shrubbery just over there. We could try them out immediately.”

He looked so cheerfully sneaky, so playfully devious, that Margaret laughed again. “I think not, Your Grace.”