Page 25 of Reviving Her Highland Spirit

“Of course.”

Callum smoothly mounted the horse, holding out his hand for Maggie to haul herself up after him. He remembered how she’d hesitated the first time, her face pale and drawn. He remembered how her hand shook, cold and clammy, when she put it in his.

Not anymore. Maggie’s confidence was growing, day by day. She put her hand in Callum’s without a moment’s hesitation, and then she was up, settling comfortably in the front of the saddle as if she were born for it.

For his part, Callum wasn’t entirely used to having her warm weight leaning back against his chest as he rode. She tried to tie up her hair as best she could, but it still tickled his nose. The other day, he’d found a long, white-blonde hair stuck to the front of his jacket.

Her hair smelled of strawberries, somehow. Callum ended each riding session craving one of the sweet berries.

He barely needed to tap his heels against Stardust’s side. She began to walk, her familiar rolling, even stride carrying them forward. A week after their riding sessions had first begun, Maggie felt comfortable walking the length of the field before she began to panic again.

“My cousin said that it’s improper,” Maggie said suddenly. “Ye and me going out riding every morning. She said that riding with a stable hand would ruin my reputation, and nobody would want tae marry me.”

Callum felt a surge of anger and humiliation. He’d thought about how it would look for him, to be taking the laird’s niece out every day. He’d imagined teasing, anger, even dismissal. He’d never considered that she would be the one seen to be sullying herself.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay composed.

“Lady Bonnie does see things in black and white.”

Maggie shook her head. “It wasn’t Bonnie. Bonnie doesn’t care - she’s just glad I’m riding again. It was Amilia. She’s very proper, very serious. Still, she’s young. She doesn’t always understand things properly. Aunt Lyla doesn’t care about us going out riding.”

“Are ye sure?”

Maggie nodded. “If she did, she’d tell us. She’s a kind, fair woman, my aunt.”

Callum tightened his grip on the reins. He didn’t want to think of Lady Lyla. He wished she hadn’t come down to see them that morning - then he would have been able to think of her as the scheming, murderous Jezebel that Rufus has described.

Instead, she’d been… well, she’d been ordinary. Kind to him, loving to her niece. She’d thanked him for what he’d done. And there was the poultice. Callum hadn’t expected her to remember, but only a few hours later, a harried-looking healer arrived with a citrusy-smelling poultice. She’d carefully applied it and put on a bandage.

Today, the wound was scabbed over and well on its way to healing. He didn’t even need to wear a bandage. The swelling had gone down, along with the angry red flesh that Callum had secretly worried about.

She’d helped him, and he didn’t want her to help him.

Lyla McAlister was the enemy. James McAlister was the enemy. Rufus’ enemy, and Callum’s enemy. He needed to remember that.

It was just harder than he’d expected to think that way, when he had Maggie leaning back against him with the scent of strawberries in her hair.

“So, am I tae assume it’s common knowledge, our riding trips?” Callum said carefully, desperate to put the thought of Rufus and his own betrayal - if that was what this was - out of his head.

“It shouldn’t matter if it were. We’re not doing anything wrong,” Maggie said testily. “But now, I don’t think so. Amilia is just nosy. I suppose it just upset me, her speaking like that. As if I ought tae be ashamed, as if we were sneaking around and breaking the rules.”

Callum suddenly found himself with a powerful desire to take her hand in his, to squeeze it and stroke her knuckles, and tell her that everything would be alright.

He didn’t, of course. Not only would that be hugely inappropriate, but he’d also have to take at least one hand off the reins to do that. Maggie was growing in confidence, but even the smallest setback could shake her newfound strength to the core. This was a tricky time, and it relied on Stardust’s steadiness and Callum’s calmness just as much as it did on Maggie’s courage.

So he kept his hands on the reins, and let Stardust keep plodding on. They’d almost reached the end of the field. This time, he hoped to convince Maggie to let him turn Stardust around and walk back. There was a narrow track that led into the forest, wide and tall enough to easily admit a horse. Callum was interested to see where it led, and longed to follow it, but of course, that was no option here.

He had to remember that this was work. This was serious.

Ye are not one of them.

“We can stop, if ye like, Lady Maggie,” Callum said lightly. He couldn’t see Maggie’s expression, since she sat with her back to him, but it took a few moments for her to respond.

“Stop here, ye mean?” she said.

“I meant stop altogether,” Callum said, ignoring the way his heart lurched at that idea. “If ye feel like our rides are improper, or ye feel uncomfortable, or even if ye want an easy life. We can stop anytime ye like.”

Another long silence.