Page 104 of The Tartan Trap

He wasn’t given the time to reply. Two elderly widows rounded the far corner with wide eyes.

“What on earth is going on here?” one of them demanded.

Margaret recognized them as Lady Blythe and Lady Burnett. They were exactly the sort of ladies one wanted to avoid when wandering the gardens at a ball. Both had looked around at their lives and, finding themselves in want of something to do now that their children were reared and their husbands dead, had taken up the mantle of gossip under the guise of being defenders of propriety.

“I was with the duke—” Daisy lifted a shaking finger and pointed at Callum as if there might be any question as to whom she meant.

“What luck that I was also present and there was no impropriety whatsoever,” Margaret interjected quickly. “Miss Knope tripped and fell, and we rushed to her aid.”

Lady Blythe lifted her nose—she looked like a thin hound scenting gossip on the air. She narrowed her eyes at Margaret. “Yet you admit that you were walking alone in the gardens with His Grace?”

Margaret swallowed down the fear in her stomach that perhaps she’d completely misjudged Callum. She was putting her reputation at risk—hers and her sisters’. Would Callum catch her, or would she fall?

Margaret met Callum’s eyes. She couldn’t read his guarded expression. Even so, she made her decision. She nodded. “I was.”

An intense emotion—triumph, perhaps—flared in Callum’s eyes.

For good or ill, Margaret had just handed him all the power. If Callum refused to come to her defense, if he’d rethought his declaration of love, or if his ego had been bruised enough to make him seek revenge upon her, this moment offered the perfect opportunity.

“And where, pray tell, was your chaperone?” Lady Burnett demanded, rounding on Margaret.

Margaret lifted her chin and told the truth, even as her pulse thundered in her ears. “She was in the ballroom.”

“Forgive me, ladies, but it’s commonplace to request a private audience when one is proposing, is it not?” Callum’s deep voice had never sounded more beautiful to Margaret than it did speaking those words.

Margaret’s heart soared; she smiled at Callum, too breathless to speak.

Lady Blythe pressed a hand to the jewels draped over her bodice. “Is this true?”

Callum came to Margaret’s side and threaded his fingers with hers. “Indeed. Miss Knope fell into the bush just before we came to a pleasant agreement.”

Daisy was still struggling to get out of the bush, leaves snarled in her hair. She looked back and forth between Margaret and Callum wide-eyed, as if all her dreams were slipping from her fingers.

Margaret did her very best not to blush when Callum looked down at her and smiled gently. By the feel of her cheeks, she hadn’t succeeded in the least. She barely noted the gasps and murmurs of the other ladies as she met Callum’s deep-hazel eyes. There was joy in his gaze. That, and so much love that Margaret fought the urge to squirm.

“Propose?” Daisy squawked, floundering in the bush and trying to stand. “You’re proposing? To her?”

Callum nodded. “Unfortunately, you interrupted us before I could ask. But since the secret has been ruined, I suppose I should rectify that now.”

Callum dropped to one knee in the gravel. Lady Burnett and Lady Blythe gasped again. Margaret tried to press her lips together to maintain her decorum. It didn’t work—soon she was grinning. Daisy spluttered as if she were choking.

Margaret hardly noticed anyone but Callum. She felt swallowed by the care with which Callum held her fingers, the tender emotion in his gaze.

“Margaret,” he began. “Though this evening has taken a great many turns I didn’t plan, I want you to know that I always intended to get down on my knee and beg you, most sincerely, to make me the happiest man in the entire world. Please, my darling Margaret, be my wife. You are my very best friend, the sunshine on every cloudy day. You are the most beautiful and the most sincerely good lady I have ever known. I love you now, and I promise I will love and cherish you until my very last breath.”

When had she started crying? Margaret didn’t care—her tears had to roll over cheeks rounded in a grin. “Of course I’ll marry you, Callum. For I love you, too.”

His smile matched her own. He stood and gathered her in his arms. Despite the small flutter of an outcry amongst the onlookers, Callum dipped Margaret and kissed her firmly on the lips.

It was only a very short kiss—both of them were aware they were still being watched. Even so, it made Margaret’s head swim with warm affection, made her heart pound with the thrill of being clasped in his arms. Callum broke the kiss while he still held her perpendicular to the ground.

She blinked up at him, eyes round. “You’re very strong.”

Callum laughed and set her back on her feet.

There was a whistle and a smattering of applause from the far side of the garden room. It was Ellis and several of his friends.

“I came to rescue you,” he said. “How delightful to find you didn’t need it. Your lady had already come to your aid.”