Page 58 of The Tartan Trap

If Callum were being honest with himself, he hadn’t thought courting Margaret would be half this difficult. He’d never met a lady, single or married, that he couldn’t charm. It was the deepest irony that the one he wanted was the one who didn’t want him.

“Why do you think you’re having such difficulties with Miss Preston?” Ellis asked, echoing his thoughts.

Callum shifted in his seat, the leather squeaking with the motion. He’d meant what he’d said to Rachel Warrington two weeks ago during their dance when she’d offered help. Callum believed that he and Margaret had to figure things out between the two of them. But despite his brash humor, Ellis was a trustworthy friend. He’d never disclose the things that truly mattered.

“She admitted today that she thinks all my compliments are nothing but mockery,” he finally said.

“Do you have any idea why she thinks such?”

Callum shook his head. “She seems to hold some charge against me.”

Ellis’s eyebrows winged upward. “Have you thought about asking her what it is?”

“I’ve tried.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “She’s a wily one, make no mistake. And I’ve had the most dreadful luck—every time we seem to be getting somewhere, we’re interrupted. Then, the next time I see her, it’s as if she’s taken the time apart to remind herself of why she detests me, and we’re back to the starting line all over again.”

Callum’s shoulders slumped with the honest confession of how bad things truly were, but a slow smile stole over Ellis’s face.

“Then there’s hope,” he announced. “For she wouldn’t have to remind herself of all your bad qualities if they were always forefront in her mind.”

“That’s your encouragement?” Callum asked in an incredulous tone. “That her coldness every time we meet is a good thing?”

Ellis leaned forward, bracing his elbows upon his knees. For once, his expression was serious. “If I know anything about you, Callum, it’s that her objections cannot be too serious, for I’ve never known a more honorable, principled person. I’ve also never known a more determined man. You deserve the best, and if you’ve decided that Miss Margaret Preston is the object of your affections, then doubtless it’s for very good reasons. Don’t give up now. Don’t give up until, at the very least, you find out why she’s so determined to dislike you.”

Callum swallowed and blinked. Though he knew his cousin would detest any sign of sentimentality, Ellis’s words had touched him deeply.

“Thank you, Ellis,” he said. “That is very good advice.”

Ellis nodded as if agreeing with him and leaned back. They shared a moment of companionable silence until Ellis suddenly snapped his fingers and grinned.

“Because I cannot escape my own company!” Ellis pointed at Callum. “Admit it! That was going to be the punchline of your joke regarding why I drink, wasn’t it?”

He shook his head with a rueful smile. “You know me too well.”

CHAPTER 21- MARGARET

Though Margaret hadn’t looked forward to the Season with the same optimism as some of her sisters, she certainly hadn’t thought she would grow tired of standing around the edges of ballrooms so quickly. However, it had only taken a little more than six weeks before she began rolling her eyes at the invitations they received.

Truthfully, Margaret’s greatest source of entertainment so far in the Season had been Callum. Despite the many creative ways Margaret had employed to get him to go elsewhere, the man was steadfast. He arrived punctually, always bearing flowers, and handled whatever hurdle she set forth with admirable forbearance.

Only this past week, Margaret had waited until the front parlor was packed with Lily’s suitors, then asked Callum to read to her from her favorite novel. When he obliged, Margaret had claimed she had water in her ear that made it difficult for her to hear him. With only a slight narrowing of his eyes, Callum had increased his volume until he was nearly shouting the words across the short expanse.

“You are more beautiful than the fairest rose,” Callum had bellowed, reading from the cheap novel. “Fairer, in fact. I wish to be near you always, for I love you most passionately. My love churns like the waves along the seashore. It cannot be tamed, for it is wilder than the sea.”

The entire parlor had turned to stare at them. Margaret felt color rising in her cheeks but stared straight ahead as if nothing were amiss.

“My love is like a billowing stormcloud, like a wind that tosses the mightiest ships,” Callum shouted. He paused to turn the page and said at the same volume, “My, what wonderful analogies. The writer is very descriptive!”

Margaret had pressed her lips together and nodded sharply. This had been one of Rachel’s suggestions, but what had sounded clever in the safety of Margaret’s bedroom was a different thing altogether when played out in front of onlookers. But surely Callum would soon become embarrassed and refuse to continue?

“We will make our home wherever we find shelter! Whether beneath the shade of a tree or in the lee of a hill,” Callum yelled. He frowned at Margaret for the first time but didn’t lower his voice when he commented, “That doesn’t sound like a prudent plan at all. It might play well for romance, but sleeping out of doors is dreadfully uncomfortable.”

Everyone in the parlor appeared stunned into silence, watching their strange—and very loud—interaction. Margaret choked back the growing need to shush Callum. She gave a tight smile and nodded instead.

“Surely the land will provide for our love!” He raised his eyebrows. “That hardly seems likely. Perhaps someone should have told this fellow about the modern banking system. Not to mention the principles of private land ownership.”

Margaret gave a weak smile and twisted her fingers together as he turned back to the book and continued. Her blush burned furiously upon her cheeks.

It finally dawned on her that Callum had truly bested her at her own game when he fairly yelled, “Clasped as she was in Bartholomew’s masculine embrace, Elise thought she could happily die. Bartholomew bent his head to kiss her again⁠—”