Page 29 of Wild Wicked Scot
Sweeney shook his head and studied his feet.
She shifted her gaze to the young man beside him. He was only sixteen or seventeen years old. “You,” Margot said.
Sweeney pushed the lad forward, and he bobbed his head and fixed his gaze on Margot’s shoulder.
“Perhaps you can tell me what has you all standing about so uneasily?”
He pressed his lips together and shook his head. His gaze slid lower, to her hand, and fixed there.
Margot took a step toward him, dipping down a tiny bit to look in his eyes, but the man would not allow it. “Why did Sweeney say he is to take my things?” she asked, her voice as smooth and as pleasant as she could make it.
The man glanced even farther to the right...to the wall. “I donna know, mu’um.”
“Oh, but I think you do,” she said, stepping even closer. He would have to step back or look at her. He seemed to debate his options and finally looked at her, and when he did, his companions seemed to shuffle away from the poor man, crowding in together, looking at their feet, the sky, each other.
“Tell me what you’ve heard.”
“I donna rightly know, I swear it,” the lad said helplessly. “Only that they said you’re to leave for home, mu’um.”
“But Iamhome,” she said.
“To England!” he blurted, and winced, as if he expected the heavens would open up and smite him.
Margot’s heart skipped. Arran meant to banish her? She slid her gaze to Sweeney, who could not meet her eye. “Who has said?”
“I d-d-donna rightly kn-know, mu’um,” Sweeney said, twisting his cap in his hand.
Oh no. No, no.Sweeney’s stammering was all the convincing she needed. She tried not to panic. She couldn’t imagine what her father might do if she were sent home within twenty-four hours of arriving at Balhaire. Not to mention that for Arran to send her away so quickly was practically an admission of his guilt, wasn’t it? And furthermore, if it was indeed his intent to banish her, did he not have the courage or decency to tell her himself? Margot’s pulse quickened with anger, vacillating between utter disbelief and scorn.
Her hands found her waist and she stepped up to Sweeney now, so close that she could see the tiny lines around his eyes. “You’d best hope that no one says a word of taking my things to Nell,” she warned him. “She’ll have an apoplectic fit, and if she does, you can pray that the least she will do is snatch the hair from your head, sir. Not a word, do you hear me?”
The four men nodded in unison.
“And now, Mr. Sweeney, you can bring me a horse.”
“A...h-h-h-horse?” Sweeney said with some difficulty.
“Yes, ahorse. A large animal with four legs and a tail,” she said, sketching it in the air with her hand.
None of them moved. None of them so much as breathed. She suddenly grabbed Sweeney by the lapels of his coat and gave him a shake. He was much larger than she, so he barely swayed, but his eyes filled with terror all the same. “By God, Sweeney Mackenzie, you’d best fetch me a horse!” she said angrily. “I may be gone tomorrow, but as of this moment, I am still Lady Mackenzie, andyouare disobeying me!”
Sweeney gulped.
“Aye, she’s right, she’sright,” one of the young men behind him muttered.
“Uist,”said another. “Have ye lost yer mind, lad? Mackenzie gives us the orders.”
Margot pushed Sweeney aside as best she could, then stepped around him, glaring up at the man. “Are you quite certain about that? Because if there’s even the slightest bit of doubt in you, I’d fetch your lady ahorse.”
“Aye, m-m-milady,” Sweeney said. With a glare for his companions, he stalked off in the direction of the stables, leaving the three of them huddled together like so many sheep.
Margot whirled away from them and marched after Sweeney. She might have seized the moment...but Margot guessed these men would probably have a jolly laugh about her in the days to come. They’d tell their children about the time the laird’s wife came back from England and he sent her home straightaway. Ballads would be written about this monumental occasion and the story would grow...but not before she had a word with the man who didn’t have the courage to banish her himself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEREWASANart to training men for hand-to-hand fighting. It required a balance between distracting one’s opponent and a relentless assault on their defenses. Arran rode slowly around the field, calling out suggestions and warnings, corrections and encouragement as he watched the men go through their paces.
His more experienced men were engaged when he noticed that several of them had stopped fighting and were looking in the direction of Balhaire.
