Page 55 of The Ruthless Laird's Virgin
For one dangerous heartbeat, Eleanor found herself unable to look away.
Then suddenly, almost as quickly as he had gripped her wrist, Callum released her again and took a step back. “I should be goin’ now, lass, but remember, as long as ye are a guest here at the castle, ye will always belong…” His words trailed off, and then almost as quickly as he had appeared before, he turned away and made his way back to the castle.
Eleanor stood there with the basket poised on her hip, uncertain of what to think. He was cool and distant one moment and then open and honest the next. She could hardly believe that they had shared such an intimate moment without him reacting to it again. Had it meant more to her than it had to him?
She sighed heavily and began to walk back to the kitchen, where she hoped that her work could broker a peace offering with the cook. She had not intended to try to help in the kitchens, but the study had felt stifling at times.
There was so much that she still needed to uncover where Andrew was concerned, but she did not even know where to begin. Pausing on her way to the kitchen, she looked up at the castle windows and sighed. She was not certain if what Callum had said was true, but if it was, then Marion was her only friend in the world. Her relationship with Callum was far too complicated for her to consider him a friend, or even more than someone she had struck a bargain with.
What am I to him?
The thought made her more restless than she cared to admit. There was so much going on that she barely knew whether what she was doing was making a difference. She was no closer to finding her brother, nor was she any closer to understanding who Callum truly was as a person.
He was a wounded man, that was for certain, but what that entailed was another matter entirely, and she did not have the time, nor the strength, to try and figure it out. It was all far too complicated.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the hearth, Eleanor sighed as she looked at the makeshift map she had drawn on a large piece of parchment. The map had no roads and lacked place names, yet she had drawn names and used lines to try to connect them all.
“There has to be some connection in here,” she whispered to the empty room.
“Do ye often talk to yerself?” Callum asked, drawing her attention to the open door.
Shifting her posture, Eleanor looked over her shoulder. “Aye, when I am the only sensible person in the room,” she teased, feeling the strain in her back and neck. She had been poring over the documents for hours, trying to make sense of who the mysterious Donald Stewart could have been.
“Have ye had any luck?” Callum asked, coming into the study as he shut the door behind him.
Things seemed to have evened out between them again since their discussion the previous night, yet she still was not sure how to read him.
She shook her head and turned her gaze back to the makeshift map. “None of it makes any sense. Some of the deeds signed by Donald Stewart go back years, yet there is nae record of his birth or even death. The forgery was tested to be true. He is the same man who signed all of the deeds of transfer. Some of the lairds died before havin’ their lands transferred, but some of them seemed to have willingly signed the deeds over.”
Callum closed the distance between them, staring down and over her shoulder, seeming pensive for a while. “I daenae think that any laird in his right mind would have signed over his lands.”
Eleanor sat up a little straighter. “Do ye think they were forced?” She turned back to him, craning her neck to get a better look at his expression.
He nodded. “Aye, whoever Donald Stewart is, he has a way of persuading the lairds, either by force or bribery.”
Letting out a heavy breath, Eleanor shifted her position on the rug. “I have been thinkin’. Whatever happened to the bannerman who betrayed yer father?”
“His name was Kincaid, Stewart Kincaid.”
Eleanor’s ears pricked up.
“But I daenae think that he has anything to do with Donald Stewart,” he said firmly.
“But ye cannae ken that. Stewart could be part of the alliance he uses to get revenge.” Her mind ran wild with the theory. “Whatever happened to the man after he killed yer father?”
“He died after being exiled from the clans. I daenae ken how, but his death was confirmed.” He walked past her and chose a seat on the settee, stretching his legs out in front of him.
Her hopes suddenly fell again. “I just daenae understand how it is possible for a man to leave nay trace, even with an alias. I was sure that the man who killed yer father would have wanted revenge.”
“Aye, that he would have, and if someone wanted revenge in his place, they would nae have used his name; it would be too easy to trace.” He eased himself onto the settee, watching her closely as she mused over all of the information she had written down.
Coming to her knees, she leaned forward over the map, drawing a line through the word bannerman at the top of her list of theories.
The study was quiet as she worked with the fire crackling in the background. It was not until she looked up again that she noticed Callum staring intently at her, yet his eyes were fixed a little south of her face. Looking down, she quickly noticed the swelling of her breasts that were spilling over her neckline and corset. She gasped before quickly coming up straight and pulling up her dress.
The smirk on Callum’s face made the blood rush to her cheeks as she quickly looked away and cleared her throat.
