Page 81 of Wild Wicked Scot
“Aye,” he said. He squatted down and picked something up off the ground. He examined it, then held it out to Margot. It was a toy soldier, no bigger than a large acorn. “That belonged to Knox!” she said, and took it from his hand.
“Aye, it’s lovely, Margot. Now that you’ve seen it, we ought to return—”
“I wanted to show you this so you’d understand,” she interjected.
“Understand what?”
“That a father who cared so much for his daughter he would create this special place for her would not one day betray her. It’s impossible.”
Arran looked around them before his gaze settled on her. He reached for her hand. “We must go back now, aye?”
He didn’t believe her yet.
In the house once more, they settled in as if they had come back from a grand tour and meant to stay for a time. They had just sat down to afternoon tea—or rather, Margot to tea, and Arran at the window—when her father came bustling into the room with his arms open. “Margot, my love!” he exclaimed warmly, and wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing her cheeks, then holding her back to look at her before hugging her again. “I cannot believe my good fortune! I assumed it would be quite a long time before I saw my darling girl again.”
Margot laughed. Bryce had come in, too. He looked decidedly less pleased by her appearance. “It’s so good to see you, Pappa! And you, Bryce.” She lifted her cheek to be kissed.
“Ah, our favorite Scot,” her father said, and embraced Arran as if he were his own son.
Margot was terribly relieved. The small part of her that had doubted her father disappeared. She was right—he was not conspiring against Arran.
“This is such a pleasant surprise,” her father said. “There is so much we must catch up on, isn’t there? But first, let us prepare for dinner, shall we? When I heard you’d returned, Margot, I sent a messenger straightaway to Lynetta and invited her family to join us this evening.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t prepared for guests. They had only just arrived—it seemed too soon. “And Knox?”
“Knox? Regrettably, he is away just now,” her father said with a wince. “Now, go, have a rest and dress for dinner. I’ll have a word with your husband.”
Margot looked at Arran. “But should I not stay—”
“Not unless you want to hear a lot of tiresome talk about land and such. I’ll send him up to you directly,” her father said, and gave her a squeeze of her shoulders before opening the door for her.
Still, Margot hesitated.
“There’s my girl,” her father said with a pointed gaze.
She had been dismissed. She glanced at Arran, and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod, so she went out.
No sooner had she stepped out than the door was shut at her back.
The minutes dragged by as Margot waited for Arran to join her in their guest suite. She felt as if she’d been pacing for an hour when at last he did come, and she was surprised by the enormous wave of relief that swept through her when he walked into the room. She threw her arms around him, almost to reassure herself that he was actually there.
“Easy, Margot, aye? It’s all right,” he said, his hands steadying her at the waist.
“What happened? What did he want?”
Arran shrugged as he set her back. “He asked after Balhaire. The strength of trade, how many Mackenzies take their livelihood from the estate. He talked about Norwood Park and the plans he has for the acreage I own.”
“Did you tell him about Thomas Dunn?”
Arran shook his head. “I should like to speak to him alone about it, aye? Your brother...he doesna care for me, it’s plain. I think it best I have the discussion with his lordship alone.”
“Bryce doesn’t care for anyone but himself, I think,” Margot said absently.
Arran shrugged out of his coat. “People are beginning to arrive. You’d best go down and greet them.”
“Not without you,” she said.
She waited for Arran to prepare himself for the evening, and they went down together. But the moment she saw Lynetta Beauly, she quite forgot her husband and grabbed her friend in a tight embrace.
