Page 30 of The Ruthless Laird's Virgin
“Perhaps. Though I might have drowned in mud first.” She smiled up at him with a sheepish look. It was true that she had been struggling; she had not wanted to admit it at the time, but she did not know how she would have gotten out of the ravine if he had not been carrying the lamb.
“Aye, that would have been difficult to explain to yer father. Can ye imagine? I am sorry, sir, but yer daughter was drawn in less than an inch of mud while trying to rescue a wee lamb.” He raised his brows in question.
Eleanor smiled. “Eleanor versus one lamb. The mud victorious, I can just hear the stories that people would tell.”
“A story that would be told for generations.” He adjusted his grip on the lamb.
The shepherd’s cottage came into view ahead, smoke curling from its chimney.
Callum adjusted the lamb in his arms. “Come along,” he said. “Let us return this troublemaker before it escapes again.”
Eleanor followed beside him, her skirts ruined, her boots muddy, and her morning unexpectedly transformed. Somewhere along the path between the ravine and the cottage, the castle had begun to feel a little less lonely. Almost as if she had finally found a place in all of the chaos that they had been experiencing together.
The shepherd proved grateful enough for the return of the lamb. After several apologies regarding wandering fences and adventurous livestock, he took the animal from Callum's arms and promised to return it to its mother immediately.
Eleanor watched as the little creature bleated once in protest before settling against the shepherd's side.
"There now," she said softly. "After all that trouble, ye are finally where ye belong." She looked at the lamb with an oddly fond look. It had taken them so much time to get the lamb home that she felt a strange sense of duty toward the small animal.
The shepherd chuckled as he shifted the lamb under his arm. He was a kind elderly man with salt and pepper grey hair. Yet it was his kind brown eyes that stood out the most for Eleanor. “Aye, lass. Though I suspect the lamb enjoyed the adventure more than the rest of us.”
Callum smirked beside her.
Eleanor shot him a warning look.
“Thank ye again, me Laird. It is hard enough to keep them from wanderin’, ye have done me a great service. The shepherd, thankfully oblivious, bid them farewell before disappearing around the cottage with the lamb in hand.
The moment he was gone, silence settled between them once more. It was not as uncomfortable as it was different, almost as if something had shifted between them. The sort of silence that seemed to exist only when two people had spent enough time together to no longer feel compelled to fill every moment with words.
They began the walk back toward the castle, side by side, and at the same pace.
The morning sun had burned away much of the mist now as golden light stretched across the hills, illuminating the heather and turning the dew upon the grass into countless tiny diamonds.
Eleanor glanced down at herself. Her skirts were still streaked with mud, and her boots were ruined. Dark stains marked the sleeve of her gown. She groaned.
Callum looked over. “What troubles ye, lass?”
“I look ridiculous.” She complained. Yet that was the least of her concerns; it would take Marion and the rest of the maids a great deal of time to return her garments to their original state. It might have even been better if they were thrown out altogether.
“Aye.” Callum agreed. “Ye do that.”
Her head snapped toward him.
He was smiling.
The rogue. How can he be so cheeky?
“I meant to rescue the lamb,” she informed him again, hating the fact that she had made such a fool of herself in his presence.
“And instead the lamb nearly rescued ye,” he chuckled deep from within his chest, a sound that resonated in his throat and made her realize just how attracted she felt toward him. Everything about him was manly and strong, even the way he laughed made her think of things that she dared not admit.
“I am beginning to regret thankin' ye,” she grumbled.
“Nay, ye are merely regrettin' that I witnessed it,” he corrected her with a triumphant smile.
Eleanor attempted to glare at him, but she found herself wanting to smile again at the teasing glint in his eyes. Her efforts failedspectacularly again when he laughed. The sound startled her. She had heard him chuckle before, but never had she imagined that his laugh would sound so open and free. It transformed him in a way that she had not thought possible.
The realisation caught her off guard, and for a moment, she just stared at him.
