“Ye know they aren’t, Callum. Why did ye not tell him that my favorites are orchids?”
“Orchids dinna grow well in the north.”
“That is why I like them best. They are delicate.”
“Like ye,” Callum said, smiling at her.
Margaret quirked her lips, looking much like the imp their mother used to call her. “What flower would ye pick for Katherine Campbell?”
Callum snorted. “I wouldna pick flowers.”
“Ye let her take a bite out of ye.” Maggie looked up at him, then cut him off when he opened his mouth to speak. “Ye fancy her. What flower would ye pick for her?”
“Tulips,” he mumbled, ignoring her knowing smirk. “Come, let us get somethin’ to eat.”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry. You go, brother, and then please share a word or two with Keddy about keeping ducks off the supper trenchers.”
“He’s already agreed to keep mutton off them,” Callum reminded her.
“I know, but it upsets Matilda.” She smiled when he finally promised to speak to the cook.
Chapter Twenty
KATE SAT AT THE EDGE of the bed and watched in silence while Glenna hurried around the room, plumping cushions and opening shutters to air out the room. That the Highland woman did not utter a word to her during her work was uncomfortable enough. But worse, every time Glenna looked at her, her eyes seethed with anger.
Kate knew why. She was as unwanted a guest at Camlochlin as the English were in Scotland. Damnation, she was tired of people despising her because of her name.
Her head was beginning to pound. Hadn’t she vowed never to drink Angus’s whiskey again? Och, she was no good at keeping promises. But Callum surely was. Unfortunately, the effect of Angus’s brew had worn off enough for her to recall Callum’s smug reply to her when she said she loved lord whatever his damned name was. She also remembered the way he had kissed her before they entered the castle. She touched her fingers to her lips. It was even better than before, if that were possible. His mouth had caressed hers, his gaze so gentle and full of meaning. Almost as if he . . . Och, stop it, Kate. You were drunk, you fool!
She slammed her palm down on the mattress, and Glenna looked up from filling a basin with fresh water and glowered at her.
Kate offered her a repentant smile. “I was pondering something. I did not mean to startle you.”
“I’m no’ afeared o’ Campbells,” Glenna snapped.
“Of course not. That isn’t what I . . .” Kate shook her throbbing head and began again. She’d never fought with a woman before and didn’t fancy the thought of having her eyes clawed from her head. “You fancy Graham,” she said instead, hoping to steer the young maiden toward more pleasant conversation, since she was finally talking. “He’s quite handsome and—”
Glenna dropped the basin to floor. In truth, she delivered it to the rushes with a vigorous smash.
“Keep yer hands off him. He’d never touch the likes of ye.”
Kate’s mouth fell open, but before she could form a fit reply, someone else spoke behind her.
“Glenna, go fetch some rags to clean up your mess. Graham is already occupied with Lizbeth, so there’s nae need to make haste.”
Kate turned to the dulcet voice as Glenna strode out of the room. What she saw nearly made her recoil.
“She believes Graham is in love with her.” The woman hunched beneath the doorway turned to watch Glenna leave. She sighed and shook her head with pity. “And they say I’m dense.”
Kate was still reeling from the sight of her when the woman—or was she a child?—she was certainly small enough to be one—turned to her. Whatever she was, she was surprisingly beautiful. Kate wasn’t certain if it was the dirty streaks covering parts of her round face that made her eyes glimmer like clear blue ice, or if it was their size that made them so stunning.
“I am Margaret. But I prefer to be called Maggie. I already know who ye are.”
Kate’s stomach twisted with sorrow and then shame. God’s mercy, this was Callum’s sister. Her hair was a mass of dark tangles and her spine, misshapen and bent like that of an old woman. Was her grandfather responsible for this? Kate could barely stop the disgust in her heart from spilling forth. Unfortunately, Maggie took notice.
Those brilliant eyes narrowed on Kate, and then, with a scowl as fierce as her brother’s, Maggie turned to leave. “My brother awaits ye in the great hall after ye freshen up.”
Stunned and saddened by Margaret’s appearance, and sorry that the poor lass had misread her contempt, Kate bolted to her feet and rushed after her when Maggie left.
