Page 18 of Taken By the Savage Highlander

“The fishin’ village down by the sea,” he said over the wind, which seemed to pick up as they put distance between themselves and the castle. “It is nae too far from here.”

He then went silent, pushing his horse to go faster and quietly keeping track of whether she would follow his lead. She kept up with him easily, loving the feeling of the sun on her skin. She had yet to understand the strange energy of the land, but she was slowly coming to realize that it was best she did not question it. Her mother had always spoken of the Highlands as though they were alive, and now she understood exactly what she meant.

Just as he had said, the village and therefore the sea weren’t too far away. She had smelled salt in the air when they had arrived, but she had not realized just how close to the coast they were. If she wanted, she could ride down to the sea on any given day.

That feels like the most free I have ever been.

The village was not small by any means. Each and every one of the stone houses was well-kept. Women were either working on their gardens or stitching in their yards. The men were busy moving lumber or transporting fish.

“This isnae the only village under our watch,” Cameron told her as they slowed. He guided them down a small path and made sure the horses were kept somewhere safe for the duration of their visit. “But it is the closest.”

“I would love to see the others,” Margo said, dismounting as soon as a man exited a building to come and take the reins.

The village felt alive in a way Margo had never experienced in London. Gulls wheeled overhead, children darted between cottages chasing a rag ball, and the sharp scent of salt, fish, and peat smoke mingled on the wind. Men called to one another from half-mended boats while women laughed over baskets of shellfish set outside their doors.

I could not imagine being in charge of even one village, and he has more than this? No wonder he wanted my father to make good on his debts.

“Laird MacLeod, I must thank ye,” the man said after he tied his horse up. “That boat ye helped us fix a few days ago is back in the water already, me Laird. ”

“There is nae need for yer thanks,” Cameron said, though his tone was far from dismissive. “It is important that everyone can return to sea as quickly as possible. "But I thought I told ye to rest that shoulder."

“Only after this load, me Laird,” the man said, laughing as he grabbed hold of Margo’s horse’s reins to guide her away.

Cameron grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. Even though he sounded annoyed, Margo could tell that he appreciated the gratitude. It was strange to think that this man she couldn’t help but fear was so beloved.

No. I refuse to let one pleasant encounter confuse me. Cameron MacLeod was still Cameron MacLeod.

“I will take ye down to the sea first,” Cameron said, already walking west. “Ye can see the docks, and there are several shops along the shore as well.”

“That sounds delightful,” Margo said as she fell into step with him.

She took in the scenery, the way the sand and salt had softened the edges of the buildings that took the brunt of the wind. Never in her life had she seen anything like it, though she recalled a book describing the phenomenon. While it was exciting to see it in person, she couldn’t help but respect the power of the ocean and the wind.

Children darted to and fro, laughing and waving at Cameron as they passed. It was disorienting to see such carefree energy. Fishing nets were left hanging to dry between cottages and fishermen worked side by side. They would only pause to greet Cameron with the easy familiarity reserved for someone who belonged among them. It unsettled her even more to see how easily Cameron responded.

When they reached the shore, the sand squeaking under their feet, she saw the fleet of wrecked ships. In the distance, fishing vessels were already casting their nets wide. It seemed as though most of the men in town were here, working together to get the wrecked boats seaworthy. As they got closer, the men noticed them.

“Me Laird, it’s a pleasure to see ye again!” one of them yelled from where he was working.

“I hope the work is comin’ along well, Harold,” Cameron said.

“Aye,” Harold called back. “Thank ye again for assistin’ with the repairs.”

“When did you find time to come and help them?” Margo asked, unable to restrain her curiosity.

“The day after I returned with Eleanor,” he replied, leading her toward the strip of shops that was near the beach. “Fishin’ is how they feed their families, and the castle wouldnae survive if it werenae for their work. We need as many boats on the water as possible.”

“Oh,” she whispered, realizing that his absences were not to avoid being with her, but deeply driven by duty.

They did not exchange another word as they approached a wooden shack where an older woman was standing. Her hands were on her hips, and a playful grin spread across her face. She looked between Cameron and Margo, waiting until they were a bit closer to speak.

“I was wonderin’ when ye were goin’ to properly introduce me to our new Lady MacLeod, me Laird,” she said before turning around and disappearing inside the shack.

By the time Cameron and Margo reached the structure, the woman had reappeared with three small glasses and a bottle of amber liquid. She pressed a glass into his hand, then passed one to Margo. Without explaining what she was doing, she uncorked the bottle and filled all three of their cups.

“Agnes, we just arrived,” Cameron said, smirking at the woman.

“Ach, but I wasnae able to attend yer handfastin’,” Agnes argued, the smile on her face never fading. “I’d like to have me own little celebration of the bonnie Lady MacLeod.”