‘The wretch barged in and demanded to see you. He would not tell me what he was about, but I think he has come to ask for your hand. In fact, I am sure of it.’
The words fell like boulders, crashing through Tara’s numb resignation. She could not breathe, and her hands shook so much that she pricked her finger with her needle. A drop of blood fell onto the plaid, spreading out amongst the bright blue and red weave of the fabric, and it seemed to be all she could think of, as if by concentrating on its spread, she could blot out everything else.
‘If that is the man’s purpose, it is a fortunate turn of events. What have you to say, lass?’
‘I do not want to see him. Please tell him to go away.’
Mistress Shaw let out a sound between a snort and a sigh. ‘I will do no such thing. You will see him, be biddable and pleasant and accept anything he offers.’
Tara clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. ‘I will not,’ she whispered.
Mistress Shaw took hold of her arm in a spiteful grip. ‘Oh, yes, you will. Do you think you have a choice here? Are you that dim-witted? That man is your only chance of redemption.’
‘I don’t need to be redeemed, for I have done nothing wrong unless poverty is now a sin.’
Mistress Shaw took hold of a fistful of Tara’s hair and wrenched her painfully to her feet. She put her pinched face close. ‘Go and do what you must. This might be your only chance. Go, I say. A lass in your situation needs to be more humble.’
‘Please don’t make me do this. Have pity.’
‘My pity is not inexhaustible. I urge you to take him, child. You have nothing and no one, and he has a great estate. If the fool is infatuated, then he is a gift from God. You cannot rest on our charity forever, and Callum Ross may be a little coarse, but he is rich enough and can pay me back for your bed and board these last weeks you have spent with us. We do not have the resources to support another mouth to feed, and no woman, no matter how high and mighty she thinks herself, can be alone and unwed in the Highlands.’
‘But I cannot marry a virtual stranger,’ cried Tara.
Mistress Shaw let go of her hair and stepped back, crossing her hands in front of her. ‘From what I heard, he is no stranger to you.’
‘What have you heard?’
‘Scurrilous rumours, that’s what, about you and that ruffian out there. The Reverend and I cannot be tainted by association with you. God knows I would never have taken you in if I had been aware of the extent of your misdemeanours.’
‘Those rumours are untrue, and if you feel so tainted, I will leave this instant.’
‘Oh no, you won’t. You owe us, and must find a way to pay us back,’ said Mistress Shaw.
‘But surely now that the land at Braecaple has been sold, there is something left for me to live on?’
‘Oh, there’s nothing left for you, save debts and disgrace. If Callum Ross offers for you, I will ask him to pay what you owe us.’
‘No, you cannot do that.’
‘I can do what I want. I am not bankrupt, you foolish girl,’ said Mistress Shaw. She warmed to her subject, all her bile and bitterness spilling out at once. ‘I know what you are about, ungrateful lass. Looking down your nose, are you? Think yourself too high and mighty for a Scot? He is a laird, for God’s sake.’
‘It is not that I disdain him. It is that I cannot marry a man I barely know.’
‘If you know what’s good for you, take him. It is Callum Ross or nothing. So I suggest you go in there and smile, simper and flatter him into asking for your hand. You have great beauty, so use it. And remember, if he does not take you, I will find another place for you, a servant’s place on some estate, cleaning out slops and brushing floors and dodging the Laird’s wandering hands, like all the other unfortunate lasses who have fallen into poverty.’
Anger rose, choking Tara’s throat. ‘How can you be so heartless? You said you were my uncle’s friend.’
‘Aye, and we have done what we could in his name, but my patience is at an end. Get the fool to offer for you, or you will suffer for it.’
***
Tara entered the parlour on leaden legs to see Callum standing stiffly before the fireplace. He looked different to how she remembered. His clothes were as fine as the ones he had worn to the gathering but this time, he wore a black jacket with his clan plaid of purple and black. His burly face was clean-shaven, revealing a strong, determined jawline, and his hair was swept back and tied, making him look rather fierce and hawkish. She preferred it wild and unkempt. It was friendlier that way, less formal. Callum’s eyes met hers, and Tara wanted to run from the intensity of his gaze.
‘I thought you would not come. It took a deal of insisting to get past your guard dog, Mistress Shaw.’ He gave her a nervous smile, and Tara looked down at her hands. ‘That old witch has had me cooling my heels for some time, but I would have waited for you forever,’ he said in a rush.
‘I see,’ she replied curtly.
‘You must have an inkling as to why I am here.’ Callum’s face was a study in tension as if he might snap in two at any moment.