Page 15 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #5)

CHAPTER 15

A thick and rather awkward silence descended between Margaret and Brodrick, who was at a loss for words. He had thought he was prepared. He had thought he could take charge and talk to his daughter. But now that she sat before him, her legs crossed as she sank back into the grass, he realized he had nothing to say.

He shook his head in a bid to push away the nagging thought. He was going to at least try. And the first thing he had to do to make that happen was lowering himself to her eye level.

He crouched down and then sat in front of her, noticing the rather stiff, polite smile on her face.

“Ye ken… the birthmark,” he began, gesturing towards her arm. “It came from yer grandmaither. She believed it was a mark from an angel who had visited her in her sleep.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed. He could see the look of confusion on her face and it made him raise his eyebrows in amusement.

“Ye dinnae ken what an angel is, do ye?”

Margaret shook her head.

“’Tis a person. That person is made of pure light, and they have wings in their back, ye see?”

Margaret’s eyes widened.

“Aye,” Brodrick whispered, a surprising sense of pride welling up inside him.

Another moment of long silence passed between them. Brodrick racked his brain for something else he could tell her, but nothing came to mind. He couldn’t take his mind off the fact that right here, in this light, Margaret looked a lot like her mother.

She crossed her legs the other way around.

“I apologize. I dinnae ken any children’s games,” Brodrick whispered. “But what I can do is show ye around the castle. Would ye like that? If we’re lucky, we would even get to see the peacock.”

Margaret’s eyes widened again.

“Ye would like that?”

She nodded.

“Good,” Brodrick responded.

He rose from the ground and extended his hand towards her.

A flash of anticipation crossed his face, but then he quickly regretted offering her his hand. Perhaps he should have waited a little longer. He should have waited to see how she adjusted to his presence before initiating any form of physical contact with her.

He should have?—

The thought screeched to a halt as Margaret slipped her hand into his. Slowly, he pulled her to her feet, refusing to let the excitement bubbling in his chest become way too obvious.

“Are ye ready?” he asked.

Margaret nodded slowly, and they both made their way out of the courtyard and towards the front gate of Castle MacDunn.

“This is the courtyard,” he started, gesturing to the large stretch of green fields around them. “It’s where I train me men and where preparations are made for any kind of event. From tomorrow, the preparations for the cèilidh celebrating yer return shall start, ye see?” His voice was a tad high-pitched.

He didn’t know if Margaret understood him, but he enjoyed talking to her anyway. Part of him prayed she enjoyed listening to him as well.

They both walked across the courtyard, and just as they were about to enter the castle, another bird flew past them. Margaret pointed towards it as it landed on one of the poles in the fence. Brodrick eyed the bird and narrowed his eyes. He had read quite a lot about birds in the few days since he got back to the castle, after seeing just how interested Margaret was in them.

He studied the black bird and the way its feathers gently fluttered in the wind for the larger part of a minute.

“That,” he explained, “is a raven. We use it to send messages to people.”

Margaret nodded, and they watched the bird for quite a while. Usually, Brodrick would have gotten bored quickly and would have looked away from it, but something about watching a raven across the courtyard with his daughter was compellingly fulfilling. If this was all he had to do all day with Margaret, he was going to enjoy every second of it.

The bird squawked and flew off almost immediately, and Brodrick noticed Margaret shifting her gaze away from the pole.

“Right,” he said, pushing the door open and maintaining his grip on her hand as they walked into the castle. “This, of course, is the Great Hall,” he continued, sweeping his hand around. “’Tis the biggest room in the castle, ye see. ‘Tis where events and gatherings are held. ‘Tis also where the cèilidh will be held, and I plan on invitin’ as many lairds as possible.”

He noticed just how slightly tense Margaret grew at that, and so he decided to steer the conversation to another topic.

“Let us go to the corridor,” he suggested.

Margaret nodded, and they moved away from the Great Hall, walking past the fragmented sun rays that shone through the rather giant and incredibly high windows.

The interior looked incredibly magical, and Brodrick did not exactly like the fact that it took him walking around the castle with his daughter for him to properly realize this.

“Ye can see the very top of the castle from miles ahead. If ye’re hidin’ in the forest for any reason, ye can almost see the smoke risin’ from the chimneys. Isnae that something?”

Margaret nodded, a small smile on her face as she continued to look around.

Soon, they stopped in a corridor where several doors and a staircase leading upstairs seemed to stretch out before them.

“Ye want to check the doors or go up the stairs?” Brodrick asked, looking at her, the same indulgent look on his face.

Margaret narrowed her eyes as if considering his question. After a moment, she gestured down the corridor—the stairs could wait.

“’Tis what I would’ve done,” Brodrick said, a satisfied smile on his face. “I always say it is better to ken the enemy below ye so they dinnae surprise ye while ye attack the one above.”

They walked past the arrays of doors, which almost held nothing but food supplies and young animals that the castle residents either reared for the castle or themselves and the surgery.

“This is the surgery,” Brodrick added. “It is managed by a woman called Irene. She gave ye the berries, remember?”

Margaret nodded as he pushed the door open.

Irene stood near one of the tables, pounding some root into a small mortar. The acrid smell of barks and fruits invaded their nostrils as they walked in.

“M’Laird,” Irene greeted, a wide smile on her face as they approached her.

“Irene,” Brodrick returned as the old woman’s eyes flicked to Margaret.

“And who do we have here?” she asked, her smile widening further. “The young mistress of the castle. ‘Tis an honor to have ye in me surgery.”

As Margaret bobbed a little curtsy, Irene looked around her table, her eyes peeled as she looked for something.

“I am certain I have something that may…” she trailed off as she continued to search.

Brodrick watched her take almost everything on her table apart before moving on to the next table to search as well. Soon, she found it. A small purple vial.

“Here,” she murmured, handing the vial to Margaret. “Give me yer hand, M’Lady.”

Margaret did as she was told and stretched out her hand. Irene tapped the vial, and some of its content fell into Margaret’s pale hand.

“That, M’Lady, is tooth powder. Use it to clean yer teeth.”

Margaret nodded.

Irene looked up at Brodrick. “And if ye need anything to boost yer… activities with the governess, I shall be more than willin’ to help.”

Brodrick swallowed. What?

“What activities?”

“I just assumed ye were both…”

“Both what?”

“It is just that from the way ye both look at each other and the way ye defended her at breakfast yesterday, when she said she didnae eat sweets because of?—”

Brodrick glared at her, his eyes spitting all kinds of venom all of a sudden.

“Apologies, M’Laird. I shall nae bring it up again.”

“That would be great,” he bit out.

He reached for Margaret, and soon they both made their way out of the apothecary and were back in the corridor.

“Do ye want to go up the stairs now?” he asked, the implication of Irene’s words hanging over his head like a heavy cloud.

* * *

Ava stepped out of the bath and walked into her room. Her eyes gleamed in anticipation as she reached for one of her dresses. As she slowly put it on, her eyes landed on her mirror. She couldn’t help but wonder if Flora had been right about her needing a dressmaker anyway. What would happen when she ran out of clothes to wear? Would people take notice? Clothes were meant to be worn more than once, weren’t they? So why was she worried about them?

She fixed her hair, still staring at the mirror as she worked. Her eyes flicked to the unfinished letter resting on her table. The one she had promised herself to finish sometime this week and then send to Sarah and Elizabeth. She wondered what they were doing and how things were going at the orphanage.

But soon, the thought drifted back to the recesses of her mind. She finished lacing her dress, and as she adjusted her corset, she couldn’t help but wonder how Margaret was faring.

She smoothed her hair one final time and then headed out, going straight to the courtyard and hoping to find father and daughter still playing around.

She stepped outside, her feet barely touching the grass, the doorknob still clutched in her hand. There was no sign of Brodrick or Margaret. Where had they gone? Did he take her someplace else? Maybe horse riding?

Before she could let herself go down a deep rabbit hole, she heard a distinct voice from inside the castle. Slowly, she followed it, her ears perked up. She tried her best to remain as quiet as possible as she moved. As the voice grew clearer, she finally recognized it.

Brodrick’s voice.

She stopped in a corridor, listening attentively to what he was saying. He seemed to be explaining the history of something to Margaret, but she didn’t know what it was. If only she could move a little closer without being seen.

Her eyes scanned the corridor, and she found a hiding spot closer to where Brodrick stood. It was a passage corner right by the walls, bug enough to keep her hidden and close enough that she could hear the conversation between them, even if it would not be incredibly audible. Slowly, she hiked up her skirts and tiptoed to the hiding spot. The closer she got, the clearer Brodrick’s voice became.

“… yer grandfaither. He was quite the warrior in his days. He loved to fight and to hunt as well. Ye name the animal and there is a big chance he had either seen it or caught it.”

Ava listened with rapt attention. She could sense his pride when he talked about his father.

“… yer maither was quite the brave woman too. She was fierce and stood her ground. And I greatly respected her for it, if anything. I am certain some of that will rub off quite well on ye. Ye have been through a lot, me child, and for some reason, ye have managed to come out on top. That is bravery if I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

Ava smiled. Margaret must be quite proud that she came from a long line of brave men and women. She wished she could say the same about her father, but that thought was for another day. Now, all she could do was continue to listen attentively.

“Here she is. Yer maither.”

At that moment, it dawned on Ava what Brodrick was showing Margaret. She looked up to see portraits of men and women she had never met before lining the walls just a little beyond her hiding spot. This was the gallery.

Ava studied the portraits carefully. There was nothing she could identify properly. She had read up carefully on the Highlands before meeting Brodrick, but she still knew just as much as she did when her mother was alive—little to nothing.

She continued to listen as he explained some Scottish lore to Margaret. She leaned forward, intending to see what portrait Brodrick was pointing to now, but her leg slipped on the stone. She let out a yelp as she tried to stop herself from falling flat on the ground.

Brodrick’s head snapped up. “Who is there?”

Ava swallowed. Maybe if she remained in her hiding spot long enough, he would ignore the noise and make his way out of the corridor with Margaret. She just needed to remain quiet and as still as a mouse standing near a cat.

“I said, who is there? Show yerself,” Brodrick called again.

Ava remained still. She contemplated turning around and running back to her room. Her eyes searched the opposite end of the corridor. If she made a run for it now, would she be able to make it?

She remained still anyway and felt the blood freeze in her veins when Brodrick’s voice grew closer and louder the next time he spoke.

“I willnae ask again,” he warned.

Oh dammit.

She decided to do the next best reasonable thing at that moment. One step after the other, she moved out of her hiding spot and right before Brodrick, who had an expression of mild surprise on his face.

“Ava?” he called.

Margaret, who was standing beside her father, looked just as surprised as she stared at Ava.

In that brief instant, Ava saw it even more—the resemblance between them.

“What are ye doin’ here?” Brodrick asked, his eyebrow raised.

Ava swallowed, fumbling for the right words. If she could just think a while longer, she would come up with a good excuse. A reasonable excuse.

“Lass, what are ye doin’ here?” Brodrick asked again.