8
The following day, Margaret roused herself early as she always did and waited to be summoned by Isla.
But the bell did not ring.
When the hour of the morning grew late and she knocked, concerned, there was no answer. She paced back and forth in front of the door for several minutes, fretting. This had never yet happened since she’d worked for Isla, and she had no idea what the proper protocol would be under the circumstances.
Should she summon one of the maids with more seniority?
What if it turned out that there was nothing wrong? She would be seen as overanxious and unable to do her job and perhaps demoted.
What if it turned out—unlikely, yes, extremely, but still possible—that she had forged a connection with Brodie after all, and the two of them were naked in bed together in there? The thought provoked a flurry of conflicting sensations within Margaret—jealousy, titillation, more than a hint of shame—but she fought them down, forcing herself to think rationally rather than emotionally.
She took a deep breath.
There was no firm reason to be concerned, she told herself. Needlessly raising an alarm would make her seem silly and incompetent. And if Isla was in a compromising position and others learned of it, the consequences would be far worse than that for all involved.
No. She needed to screw her courage to the sticking place and handle this.
Margaret opened the door and found the room empty.
She let out a sigh of relief. If she had seen the pair of them…no, she did not dare entertain that thought. It would have been too jarring for her to handle, seeing the man she was infatuated with nestled in the bare and willing arms of Isla MacLeod, the closest thing she had to a best friend.
It was not difficult for the maid to discern where Isla had gone, especially since the set of riding clothes happened to be missing from her wardrobe.
But with whom? Brodie MacKenzie…or Andrew Hunter?
She briefly considered discreetly listening at Brodie’s door to see if he was in his chambers, then thought better of it. The last thing either of them needed—particularly her—was for her to be caught lurking outside of his room. They had been lucky enough that no one had seen them in the library. Rumors spread quickly in the castle.
Before she could decide what to do, Seamus poked his head into the room, startling her.
“Margaret! Have ye seen my daughter yet this morning?”
“Er…which one, sir?” she asked, stalling for time.
He scowled at her. “Ye areIsla’smaid, ye silly girl! Why on Earth would I be asking ye about the whereabouts of the other two? Now answer the blasted question!”
Margaret wished that she could cover for Isla, but how could she do so effectively without fully knowing the circumstances? She was not inclined to lie to a man who had been so good to her, but if there were obvious holes in that lie, she’d surely be found out and punished.
No, she supposed that honesty was her only option. “I have not seen her, sir. When I came in just now, I found her bed empty.” She did not feel the need to add the bit about the riding clothes. Better to pretend she had not noticed that detail.
Seamus’s expression darkened. “Oh, ye did, aye? Well, no matter. I suppose I can bloody guess where she’s off to. Thank ye for yer loyalty, Margaret. ‘Tis appreciated, as ever.”
Margaret felt a twinge of embarrassment, as though she had betrayed Isla without meaning to. But what else could she have done?
During the conversation Margaret had with Seamus regarding Isla’s whereabouts, Isla was on her way back from her ride with Andrew Hunter. She had stayed out with him far longer than she had intended, and now she was racing to return to the stables. She had bribed Archie for his silence, but she still wasn’t sure that would be enough for him to stand up to serious questioning from Seamus. He could be quite the formidable presence when he wished to be, and Isla was fairly certain that he would be able to intimidate the truth out of poor Archie if it came to that.
Still, if she made haste, she thought, she might be able to return the horse, sneak back to her chamber, change into her bedclothes again, and pretend she had simply been sleeping in that morning and hadn’t heard anyone knocking on the door if indeed they had done so in her absence.
When she got to the stables, she dismounted quickly. “Archie? Would you see to my horse as quickly as possible, please?”
“Why?” Seamus stepped out from one of the stalls, his arms folded across his wide chest. “Have ye somewhere to be this morning, or have ye already seen to yer errands for the day?”
Isla blushed so fiercely that she feared her face might catch fire. True, nothing untoward had happened between her and Andrew, though they had come perilously close to sharing a forbidden kiss. But the way her father was looking at her, Isla felt as though she and Andrew had eloped or committed some even greater sin.
“Father! I am so sorry!”
The expression on his face softened slightly. He walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Ye worried me greatly this morning, Daughter. When yer bed was found empty, I feared that ye had run off and left us behind forever rather than face marrying Brodie MacKenzie. I know the two of ye have not gotten on as well as ye might.”
