Page 90 of The Tartan Trap

Callum cocked his head to the side; his eyes narrowed. His tone held a note of warning when he said, “Now, Margaret, you know our agreement.”

“Certainly. It’s that I’ll dance with you when you catch me. Fairly.” Callum opened his mouth to reply, but Margaret grinned, reached out a hand, and grasped the elbow of a lady walking quickly past. “Your Grace, have you met…”

Margaret blinked, for she didn't recognize the young lady she had a hold of.

The young lady looked similarly surprised, but she said, “Miss Hyperion Lockhart.”

Margaret couldn't help it; she frowned. “Truly? Your name is Miss Hyperion Lockhart? That’s a very interesting name.”

The young lady pressed her lips together and looked heavenward. “Please, just call me Miss Lockhart.”

“All due apologies,” Callum said, his eyes never leaving Margaret's, “but I don’t wish to meet you, Miss Lockhart.”

“Finally, some honesty,” she muttered, and she turned and plunged into the crowd.

Margaret watched her go, rather amused at the exchange. She suspected that Miss Hyperion Lockhart might be well worth knowing after all.

Her attention was soon diverted back to Callum when he said, “I thought we’d made it past the forced introduction stage.”

She shrugged. “I got rather into the spirit of the game, I’m afraid. It’s vastly amusing.”

“And yet, here we are, with me having found you.”

“Yes,” she said, fairly beaming up at him. “Here we are. Though I still contest that you cheated.”

“What did John Lyly write all those years ago? All perjury, any impiety, may lawfully be committed in love, which is lawless.” Callum lifted an eyebrow as if daring her to challenge him.

Margaret was too stunned by his casual mention of love to reply. Did Callum mean something by it? She blinked. Then again, men quoted famous writers and poets right and left—she certainly shouldn't read too much into it.

Thankfully, Margaret was saved from exploring such thoughts further—in front of Callum, no less—by the strings striking up again.

“Margaret, would you honor me with a dance?”

She readily offered Callum her hand. “I’d be delighted.”

CHAPTER 31- MARGARET

Margaret and Callum had planned to take a ride in the park that afternoon, but unseasonably warm weather had chased them inside. They sat in the front parlor instead. It was now nearly the end of the Season, and except for an intrepid few, Lily’s suitors had largely gone elsewhere.

Margaret mustered her courage, straightened her back, and said, “Callum, you said you’d always tell me the truth. Do I have your word on that?”

“Yes, mo ghrian.”

Callum was seated on the sofa next to her, but there was so much of him that the sofa seemed diminutive beneath his frame. He appeared to be lounging, those long, muscular legs stretched out before him—conveniently in her line of vision; Margaret couldn’t even pretend she hadn’t noticed. Why, the man must spend a fortune every time he went to the tailor.

Her brow wrinkled. “Did you have large furniture specially made for your house?

“That’s what you wish to ask me?” Callum’s smile was slow and easy and sent a resounding thrill through every part of her. “Yes, I did.”

He claimed that she was the sunshine, but that lazy smile of his warmed her, fingers to toes.

Margaret shook her head. “That isn’t what I wanted to know.”

“Ask away,” he said, leaning forward and selecting another biscuit. “I’m at your disposal.”

She shook her head in incredulity that this man—this duke—was actually there for her.

“Very well. Please answer truthfully and know that the answer will change little between us, but I’d like to know, anyway.”