Page 52 of The Ruthless Laird's Virgin
Is he disappointed?
Callum looked back at the group of maids and noticed Marion was absent. Most of the other maids were present, yet Marion must have still been with Eleanor. “Are ye lookin’ for someone?”he finally asked when Iain’s gaze drifted back to the group of women.
Shaking his head quickly, Iain turned back to their conversation. “It is nae safe for the maids to be out this late, they should have someone with them after sunset.”
Lifting his brows even further, Callum glanced up at the guards who had been placed around the castle walls. Their security had been doubled in the past three weeks, and not so much as a stone had been left unsupervised. “And would ye be the one to guard the maids when the sun goes down?” his voice held a note of teasing.
Color climbed up the back of Iain’s neck, and even in the dim light of the courtyard, Callum could see that the man was embarrassed. “Nae, I just meant that the laundry should be taken in earlier.”
Callum shook his head. “Will ye tell the lass how ye feel already?”
“Which lass? I mean, I daenae ken what ye are sayin’,” he corrected quickly.
Rolling his eyes, Callum let out a heavy sigh. “Ye and yer feelings will be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath. He wanted to shake the man and tell him to stop being so foolish, yet he himself did not believe in love.
Iain bristled slightly as he came up straight and continued to glare at Callum. “I daenae have any feelings for any of the maids, but ye are one to talk, me Laird. I have seen the way that ye keep lookin’ at Miss Whitacker. Ye can hardly keep yer eyes from her whenever she enters a room.”
His reply made Callum stiffen in return as he pushed himself up from the sword and stood up straight. “Now ye are really losin’ yer mind. Did the final blow of me blade render ye senseless?”
Laughter pealed from Iain’s throat this time as he almost doubled over. “It would seem that I was the one who struck a nerve, me Laird. Would it be the worst thing in the world? The two of ye are well suited to one another, and I have seen the way she glances in yer direction too.”
Thinking back to their kiss, Callum recalled the way she had kissed him back and the way she had responded to his touch. She had not been an unwilling participant in the matter. Yet he had wondered if she had wanted more. Her thighs had parted willingly for him when he had wrapped her legs around his waist.
I cannae have that.
His thoughts turned toward the study and how they had agreed that love was something for fools. It never led to any good.
“Aye, it would be the worst thing in the world,” he grumbled and pulled up his sword, creating a loud sucking sound from the mud.
Iain held up his hands in mock surrender. “I didnae mean offense, I was just sayin’ what I saw.”
“Then unsee it, because ye daenae ken what ye are sayin’.” He wiped the side of his blade on his breeches and strode past Iain, determined to put the conversation behind him.
It was bad enough that he found himself thinking of Eleanor when he was meant to be focused, but even worse when others were giving their opinions. It was only six days until their supposed wedding, and then things would return to normal.
She would leave and never look back again. Neither the kiss, nor the attraction, nor anything else that happened would matter when she was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The afternoon sun hung low over the castle grounds, casting long golden shadows across the courtyard. Eleanor carried a basket of freshly gathered herbs against her hip as she crossed the bailey, trying her best to appear as though she belonged there. Which, unfortunately, was proving rather difficult. She wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible, given her standing among the clan.
She had spent the morning attempting to help in the kitchens. The result had been a tray of burnt bannocks and one very exasperated cook who had all but chased her out with a wooden spoon.
Determined not to be entirely useless, she had next offered to help one of the women card wool. The woman had politely informed her that she was holding the tools backwards. Twice.
Now she was returning from the herb garden, hoping that at least the plants could not judge her.
“Careful.” The deep voice behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin.
Eleanor spun around to find Callum leaning against the stone wall beside the stable doors, his arms folded across his broad chest. There was amusement dancing in his blue eyes.
“Of what?” She asked breathlessly, as she adjusted the basket on her hip.
“The basket.” He nodded down to her hip.
She frowned and readjusted her position again.
“The handle, it is about to break,” she said nonchalantly, making her irritation rise.
