Anxiety swelled in her, and she abruptly stood, suddenly desperate to escape to the privacy of her old rooms.

The moment she came to her feet, however, Jock appeared. “Madam.”

“Jock!” she said with a cheerfulness that belied the fright he’d given her. It seemed impossible that anyone could be larger than her husband, but Jock was. His dark ginger hair was streaked with gray and had always given her the impression that he carried the gloomy mists of the Highlands around with him.

“How good to see you. You are well?” she asked as pleasantly as she could force herself.

His brows dipped. He was not fooled by her. “Whatever you require, I am at your service, aye?”

Her wish was too complicated for poor Jock. But in that space of hesitation, Jock rubbed a finger against his cheek, and a movement to her left caught her eye. A rat, in the form of a man, went scurrying in the direction Arran had gone to report her attempt to flee.

She sighed and frowned at Jock. “That wasn’t necessary, was it?”

His eyes narrowed with his silent disagreement.

He’d always been a worthy adversary. He’d never trusted the marriage brokered between her and Arran. Margot put her hands to the small of her back. “I mean only to stretch my legs. I’ve come quite a long way.”

Jock merely stood there. Typical.

“And I am in need of a ladies’ retiring room.” She arched a brow, expecting him to retreat as all men did when confronted by women and their bodily functions. But Jock stood like a mountain before her, his expression unchanged.

“Perhaps my old rooms are available?”

“There are no rooms for you, madam. We didna expect you.”

Obviously. “You mustn’t trouble yourself, Jock. I’m certain my maid has made them ready by now,” she said, and slipped past him.

“Milady—”

“I know my way very well, thank you!” She walked quickly down the side of the hall before he could stop her, smiling blindly at all the unsmiling, distant faces. All she had to do was reach the main entrance to the hall. She knew exactly where she was going. In the four months she’d lived here as Mackenzie’s bride, when her husband was out hunting or training soldiers or away on one of his ships, Margot had nothing to occupy her. She’d spent many lonely hours wandering about this sprawling castle. She knew every turn, every stairwell, every room.

But just as she reached the main doors, one of them swung open and Arran entered the hall, the rat directly behind him. She instantly turned and started in the opposite direction. Arran caught up to her in a step, clasped her elbow and jerked her backward. Margot’s heart climbed to her throat. She put a hand to her heart and said laughingly, “You frightened me!”