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‘It doesn’t excuse what I have done. He has good reason to be angry. Please go, Callum. You must go, or he will not calm down. Please.’
He turned to her with desperate eyes. ‘I will not leave you to his ire. Your uncle is angry and might lash out.’
‘He has every right to. You should not have laid hands on me and taken liberties.’
Callum took a step toward her and stopped. ‘I did not mean to…I….’
‘You did, and it was not seemly. It was…sinful and…and unfair, and not the act of a gentleman. You took advantage of my loneliness.’
‘I did not mean to. I thought you wanted that kiss, and you gave me every reason to think it was welcome, with your smiles and your looks. You clung to me, Tara, pressed yourself against me. I did not imagine that.’
‘How dare you. Go away. I do not want to speak to you again. You are a scoundrel, just like my uncle says.’
His chest heaved, and his face reddened. ‘And you are a tease, an arrogant, cold little tease.’
Tara slapped his face as hard as she could. Callum did not even flinch. Instead, he pinned her with a gaze so stony she felt frozen to her core. He said nothing more, simply turning and walking out of the barn. Immediately regretting her words, Tara followed, only to see him mounting his horse and kicking it brutally in its flanks. It sped off, and he did not look back.
Once Callum’s horse had pounded away, Tara went inside the cottage to face her uncle. She found him leaning over the fire, his hands shaking.
‘Never have I been so ashamed,’ he said coldly.
‘Uncle, please. It was not what it seemed.’
Her uncle rose and, in one swift movement, lashed her across the face with the back of his hand, sending her reeling. ‘You were pressing yourself to him in the filth like some common strumpet who sells herself for coin. Your poor sainted mother would turn in her grave if she saw what I have this day. Has that animal had you?’ He grabbed Tara and shook her hard. ‘Tell the truth now, lest your soul be damned.’
‘No. It was not like that, Uncle.’
‘Well, enough, I say. This will ruin you, for that brute will be boasting about his conquest far and wide, no doubt, and all will laugh at you.’
‘He is not a brute, he is a laird, and he will not do that. Callum has been kind to us.’
‘Kind? By taking what he wants as if you are a low peasant who will lift her skirts for anyone. And Laird, indeed. And what is that? These people are barbarians. They have no breeding or manners, or education. Is that to be your future, breeding brats for such as he.’
‘Please don’t, Uncle.’
‘These Scots have no honour. You will be shamed if word of this gets out, and it will ruin my plans.’
‘What plans?’ cried Tara. Her face was throbbing, and she stayed out of range of her uncle’s hand.
‘We have an invitation to a gathering, which is what passes for a ball in this hellhole,’ he spat. ‘It is a week from now, during which time you will have nothing to do with that villain, Callum Ross. Instead, you will put on your best dress and tidy yourself up. Wipe that filthy Scot from your mouth and your mind, for in these coming days, you must be your most charming self. We are ruined, child, and you must marry and soon. Wed the first suitable man who offers, and until then, keep yourself decent. But if word gets out, then I will have to find one who is not too particular about taking spoiled goods.’
‘I am not spoiled, Uncle. Please forgive me.’
He was not listening, instead pacing and fuming. ‘And what kind of man would he be, eh? I will not have you under my roof if you will act the whore when I am not around.’
Shame took hold, stinging and deep, making Tara sick to her stomach. Her uncle was losing his mind with worry. She could smell the whisky fumes from his stained clothes, and now he was angry. He had never hit her before. He had always held her in high esteem and had never spoken harshly to her. And now to be married off with no say in the matter. Surely he would not carry through his threat.
‘Get out. Get out, I say, strumpet. I cannot bear to look at you,’ he screamed, pushing her out of the door.
Tara ran from the cottage all the way to the river, sobbing. When her breathing had slowed, and she had wiped away her tears, she looked up and there he was, watching from a far hill. Callum held up a hand to wave at her, but she did not wave back.
Her life was spiralling out of control, and he had just made it so much worse. Now she hated Callum Ross for taking advantage of her innocence, and she hated the fact that he had triumphed over her by getting her to act like a woman with no morals.
***
Tara spent the rest of the day outside, avoiding her uncle, who eventually fell into the depths of a whisky bottle and ended up head on forearm on the table, muttering to himself.
Late in the afternoon, a lad came on a pony with several sacks laid over its saddle, which squirmed and clucked. He was dirty and scruffy and kept sniffing and wiping his nose nervously.
