Page 32 of Reviving Her Highland Spirit

“Ma, just a hint, please! I’m worried now.”

“He’s discovered something about an old enemy of ours. Someone we thought was gone for good. Well, we’ve not been so lucky. That’s all I’ll say outside the walls o’ the castle. Now, come on. In ye get.” Lady Sola raised her voice to speak to Callum again. “Thank ye again for keeping my daughter safe. I know she isn’t the easiest to manage.”

“Ma!”

Callum turned, flashing a brief, polite smile. “Not at all, Lady Sola.”

Then the two ladies were gone, the damp Maggie hurrying after her mother, sailing ahead.

Callum worked as quickly as he dared, undoing the saddle and bridle and putting Stardust back in her stall, with some hay as a reward. Then he darted out of the stables, glancing left and right to make sure he wasn’t being watched.

The stable boys bunked up in the loft of one of the barns. It wasn’t the worst place to sleep in the world - better than some places Callum had slept in. There was plenty of straw, arranged into mattresses, and they had soft, warm blankets, and a pillow each. There was enough room up there for the ten stable boys to hang up curtains and rags between their beds, giving them all a little bedroom for their own.

Callum’s was at the very edge, near the wall. On the one hand, that meant he was colder on an evening - drafts whistled through the cracks in the boards. On the other hand, it did give him more privacy. Nobody could look into his little curtained-off alcove without walking right up to it and pulling back the curtain.

That seemed to be the best place to hide his things. His sword was buried under straw in the far corner, and his little box of personal items beside it. In that box was a crude goose-feather pen, a tiny, half-used pot of ink, and a few sheets of notepaper. There was no fancy red wax for him, but no matter.

Callum wrote quickly, his letters crude and unformed. Rufus wrote in a beautiful, flowing hand, and Callum had secretly envied that. He’d taught Callum to write, but only the basics. Only for moments like this.

Dear Father,

I am very much enjoying my work as a stable lad at the McAlister keep. All is well with me. In fact, I have news. Where shall we meet?

Write me back.

Your Son,

Callum Irvine

That would do. It was always easier to call Rufus father in his letters. The note would go to a tavern in the city - a boy would take it for a half penny. Rufus checked the tavern for his post frequently. Nobody knew about the cottage in the forest, of course.

Callum folded the letter carefully, tying it with a scrap of twine. He knotted the twine carefully, using the knot Rufus had taught him. That way, he’d know if anyone opened it.

I hope I’m doing the right thing.

13

Washed, dried, and hastily shoved into clean, dry clothes, Maggie stumbled along the stone hallways after her mother. Her hair was still wet, and stuck in the knotted braid she’d tied it in earlier. It was itching as it dried.

Not that Sola cared about her daughter’s discomfort. It was very clear that Maggie felt embarassed. Sola muttered to herself, racing along the halls as though she were late for a meeting with God Himself, and not just her brother-in-law.

For her part, Maggie could think of nothing but Callum. The way he’d looked at her, the way his shirt had stuck to his finely muscled torso. She had to bite back a grin. He’d floated, alright. If he learned to swim properly, he’d be a strong, powerful swimmer. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as lithe and fast in the water as Maggie, but he’d be good at it.

But then his face had changed, and he’d turned away. Maggie’s smile faded. Just like that, a shutter had come down over his face, just when Maggie was working up the courage to kiss him.

Perhaps it was just as well she hadn’t. After all, he might have felt obliged to let her kiss him, since she was the Laird’s niece. That would be truly awful. But what had changed? Maggie kept running the moment over and over in her head, but nothing came to mind.

Then Sola pushed open the doors to the feasting room, and all of Maggie’s trite worries faded away.

She knew at once that something was wrong.

First of all, the feasting table was devoid of food. It should be set for breakfast, but it was empty. There were no soldiers or servants inside, but there were half a dozen guards posted outside. There were maps and piles of papers on the feasting room, and, most tellingly, not all of the family were there.

Angus and Tobias, the youngest of the family, were not present. Bonnie and Amilia sat side by side, holding hands and looking nervous.

A few councillors were there, too - the captain of the guard, Ian, and his blacksmith wife, Greer. The keep Steward, Perrin, sat at the end of the table, frowning over a map. Bryce and Uncle James leaned over the same map, muttering to each other. Aunt Lyla rested her elbows on the table, sorting through what looked like a pile of letters.

They all glanced up as Sola and Maggie came in. To Maggie’s surprise, Sola immediately turned on her heel, closing and barring the door to the feasting room. As far as Maggie could remember, the door had never been locked while they were in it.