“For the love of—All right, Zelda, you can stop. I know you don’t care for me and wish I’d never come to Balhaire. You needn’t press the point home at every opportunity. But I’m here! I was bartered off to Arran like a hold of fish. I was meant for London ballrooms, not old castles in Scotland.”

Griselda clucked her tongue at Margot. “I liked you well enough until you wounded Arran.”

“Well, that is hardly true. Need I remind you of the time you put pepper in my bowl of soup? It’s a wonder I’ve stopped sneezing yet.”

Griselda’s face broke into a wreath of a smile. “No need to remind me—I recall it with fondness.” She laughed.

Margot couldn’t help it—the memory of her fleeing the great hall, sneezing over and over again, made her laugh, too. The two of them looked at each other and giggled like girls over it.

“All right,” Margot said, wheezing between laughs, “We are two grown women. We’ll likely never be close friends, but surely we can agree to coexist at Balhaire when Arran and I return?”

Griselda’s smile faded. “When you return?” She suddenly tossed the rest of her bread into a bag. “You’re a fool yet, Margot Mackenzie. You’ll no’ come back.”

“I will,” Margot said. It was the first time she’d said it; the first time she’d allowed herself to think that far ahead. It surprised her how easily the words came. Was it her true desire? In the maelstrom of the last few days, she hadn’t thought of the future.

“You honestly think that either of you will come back to Balhaire?” Griselda thundered. She suddenly scrambled to her feet and strode away.

Margot groaned. “What have I said now?” she shouted after Griselda.

Griselda stopped and whirled about. “Are you really so daft?” she asked, jabbing at her own head.

“I beg your pardon!”

Griselda began marching back to where Margot sat. Margot hopped up, uncertain if she’d have to fight this woman. “You’ll no’ come back, and neither will Arran. How can you no’ understand that is so?”

“Why would we not?” Margot demanded.

Griselda gaped at her. “They will arrest Arran! The English will say he is a traitor and they will take him!”

“No, they won’t,” Margot said hotly. “That’s precisely why we are to England, Zelda. My father is an influential man. He would never allow it to happen.”

“He’s already allowed it to happen, aye?” Griselda said just as hotly. “He has cast all aspersions at Arran. He has said to you, and to anyone else who asks, that Arran is a traitor—”

“He would never!” Margot cried.