Free The Groom Wore Plaid: Highland Weddings by Gayle Callen Page A

the new chief.”
    “The Campbells?”
    “Perhaps,” Harold answered, shrugging.
    Maggie let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, as if she thought Owen would accuse her brother.
    Frowning, Owen asked, “How bad was the damage?”
    “The roof and the hay, of course. The stone remained intact, so the byre can be rebuilt.”
    “I’ll order it done, Uncle. If anyone comes forward with new details, let me know.”
    Harold nodded and strode away. Maggie watched clansmen respectfully make way for him.
    Owen led her to the dais and the servants remained along the walls with their platters, awaiting his word. Fergus took up his position behind the dais, frowning at everyone even as he put one hand on his sword hilt and the other on his pistol. Clansmen had brought their wives and children; the hall was at least two hundred people strong.
    And all of them stared at her. She was dressed far more regally, more expensively, than anyone else there. Even Lady Aberfoyle looked at Maggie’s gown and arched a cool brow of disapproval. Maggie had only one ball gown, a gift from her mother’s sister, but wearing it tonight made it seem like she wanted to put on a show, to remind people that she, a McCallum, was better than they were.
    And it suddenly gave her the most perfect idea. If Owen wouldn’t believe the truth about his future, she would convince him that a future with her would make him miserable. She would show him that she would be a terrible wife and an incompetent manager of his homes.
    Owen did not take her directly to the dais, but began to wander among the tables, introducing her and even introducing himself to those he didn’t know. Maggie knew courtesy and hospitality were important in the Highlands, and she could see by the expressions of his people that he was impressing them. She caught a few sideways glances, some of jealousy, some of disdain, some even with pity.
    She told herself she could embarrass him by acting bored, but in the end, she couldn’t do it. He was already complicating his acceptance by his people because she was a McCallum.
    When they approached the dais, Lady Aberfoyle and Cat were already there, wearing the black of mourning, making Maggie feel even more out of place in her ostentatious gown. Maybe Owen’s mother would berate him in private for marrying an insensitive woman. Maggie could hope for that. Lady Aberfoyle’s expression was cool and remote—at least the disapproval was hidden from her son—whereas Cat studied Owen and Maggie with interest.
    “Maggie, I hear you went for a walk today,” Cat said, smiling. “If you’d like company, please let me know.”
    “Neither of you will be walking alone outside thecastle,” Owen said, his expression serious. “Someone set fire to a byre outside the village today.”
    Cat gasped.
    “No one was hurt,” Owen added, “and I imagine it was simply a prank. But things are unsettled, with me becoming the new earl—”
    “And bringing a McCallum into the household,” Lady Aberfoyle said, giving Maggie an unreadable look.
    There was an awkward pause, where Maggie wondered if the countess’s hostility would help her end the marriage or make Owen dig in his heels. And then there was Cat’s sympathetic concern. It would be so easy to like her, to confide in her. But Maggie would resist. She wanted Cat to support the ending of the betrothal, not talk Owen out of it.
    “We will not assume Maggie is the problem,” Owen said, cutting a piece of meat. “It could very well be me.”
    Lady Aberfoyle scoffed and changed the subject by drawing her daughter into a discussion about a family in the village who needed their support.
    Maggie eyed Owen and spoke reluctantly. “Ye surely cannot believe your own people are against ye.”
    “They don’t know me as well as perhaps they should.”
    “Your father kept ye in England.”
    “At first. But I, too, was lured by that country, but not for the reasons—Society,