‘Inverness, I think. He has been gone for several days. So when you appeared from nowhere I….’
He frowned. ‘Days, you say? No wonder you ran to protect yourself. Well, fear not, there was no one about as I rode here. And as to the redcoats, if they threatened you, then your uncle should go to Fort George and report those foul louts to the garrison commander, Major Sutherland. He will have them flogged for their insolence.’
‘I did not tell him about the redcoats, for he worries so. And besides, the Lieutenant seemed to put them in their place. He had a gentlemanly manner about him, and he was kind.’
Callum stared at Tara, pity tightening his chest. She was trying to put on a brave face, but she was pale, and her smile was brittle, as if it might shatter with one harsh word. She had lost weight, and all her ease and rosy-cheeked softness had gone. Lilac shadows beneath her eyes spoke of sleepless nights and worry. Yet still, her beauty took his breath away and for a moment, rendered him speechless and spellbound.
Tara rushed to fill the void. ‘I should not be so jumpy. It is just that this place is so lonely and quiet.’
Suddenly a low moaning broke the silence. They locked eyes, and then it came again.
‘Not too quiet,’ said Callum with a laugh, recovering his wits. ‘What is that noise?’
‘Oh, the cow. Damn. I forgot to milk her this morning,’ she exclaimed.
‘Don’t let Mistress Shaw hear you blaspheme, Miss Hennaut. She will make you suffer one of her husband’s endless sermons as punishment.’
‘Indeed, she would, and it is Tara, just Tara.’
What a gift her smile was. ‘Do you have a pail?’ said Callum holding out his hand.
‘Yes,’ she said, brightening.
***
In the cold gloom of what passed for a barn, Callum Ross’s breath came out as white mist as he finished milking the cow and stood up.
‘I suppose you have servants to do that back at…where was it?’ said Tara.
‘Raigmoor. And aye, I have servants, but I like to keep busy, and once you learn how to milk a cow, you never forget.’
‘I must master that art.’
Callum smiled, and it crinkled the corners of his grey eyes most appealingly. ‘I am sure you can do anything you put your mind to, lass,’ he said.
His gaze was so honest, direct and admiring that for a moment, Tara wanted to cry, and she could not fathom it. The nervousness she always felt in the man’s presence was softening as they spoke together, and now she could not seem to still her tongue, for she had a great urge to confide in someone.
‘So you found the cow wandering about the woods,’ said Callum, raking a hand through his thick, brown hair.
‘Yes, she crashed through the undergrowth at me one day and scared me half to death. It took me an hour to drag her home, but I was determined.’
‘That was well done, lass. The cow will be useful. And I can send some lads to fix your fences, else she will wander again. Why do you not have any chickens for eggs?’
‘A fox got into the coop and slaughtered them and left their poor broken bodies for me to find. It was horrible.’
‘The strong eat the weak in this world, lass,’ he replied. ‘Nothing you can do about that. I will have a lad bring some new ones.’
His kindness thickened her throat. ‘That is very kind, but I cannot accept your charity, Laird Ross. My uncle’s pride would never allow it.’
‘It is Callum, to you. And I will give you the skinniest ones, low down the pecking order.’
That is exactly where she now found herself, low down the pecking order of society and with no way back up, only further to fall. Tears pricked Tara’s eyes, and she had to look away from Callum.
‘Tell him they were on the land and needed tending if it eases him, Miss Hennaut,’ he said quietly.
‘It is Tara. My name is Tara,’ she sobbed. ‘My uncle has not been kind or polite to you, Laird Ross, yet you offer your help.’
‘Hush, now. Don’t cry.’