She didn’t know if it was possible to repair the damage she’d wrought in his life, and frankly, she didn’t know how she would face the damage he might have wrought in hers if he were committing treason. But no matter what else, she couldn’t pretend another moment—she had to tell him the truth as to why she’d come back. She had to tell him the truth about her feelings. She owed him these truths.

Margot fully expected to be removed from Balhaire straightaway, and she deserved no less. But it was well nigh time for her to be the woman he’d clearly hoped he’d married.

She returned to her rooms, her presence noticed by no one. She pulled the bell and waited at the window, her arms crossed over her abdomen, staring morosely out at the landscape and a graying day, thinking of a man closeted in his study, writing letter after letter to his runaway wife and locking them away. The image was heartbreaking. He’d had no more idea how to go about their fracture than had she.

She was still standing at the window when Nell hurried into her rooms. “A ship has come,” she said excitedly. “And Miss Griselda Mackenzie was on it.”

So that was the urgent meeting—Griselda returning from somewhere, probably with news. “Has anyone asked for me?” Margot asked curiously.

“No, milady.”

Margot stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the hills. How did one dress to tell her husband she had betrayed him? “I’ll have the scarlet brocade, Nell.”

“Yes, milady.” Nell went into the adjoining dressing room to fetch the gown.

* * *

NO ONE CAME for Margot, but she could hear a lot of running about beyond her door. Servants, she assumed, lighting candles and hearths. She finally left her room and went in search of Arran.

He was not in the great hall. Nor was he in the dining room. It wasn’t until she saw Sweeney stationed outside the library, as if he was standing guard, that she guessed where he was.

“Ah, Sweeney,” she said, smiling with relief that it was him. “Is the laird within?”

Sweeney’s eyes widened. “N-no, m-m-milady,” he said, his eyes darting nervously to a point over her shoulder. His lips moved, as if he tried to say something else, but no words came. A thin sheen of perspiration suddenly appeared on his brow.

“What is it, Sweeney?” she asked.

Sweeney’s lips curved, but his teeth clamped firmly shut as he tried to say the words he was seeking.

“Never mind,” Margot said soothingly, and put her hand on his arm. She stepped around him.

“N-n-no, m-m-milady,” he said, but Margot had already knocked on the door.