Why had she said that? It was nerves that made her chatter on so. Nerves that grew tighter with every second that passed.
Indecision raced across his face, but then his expression closed and became unreadable.
“I met Lord Jonah at Wolvesley, of course.” His mouth tightened. “He is a poet, is he not?”
Frida allowed herself a short laugh. “A poet one day, a painter the next. A struggling artist of all kinds. Most unlike Tristan, who lives only for the thrill of battle.”
Callum nodded his head. “It was Tristan who sent me.”
Beside her, Mirrie let out a small sound of either excitement or distress. Frida shot her a warning look.
“Tristan? How so?”
Callum glanced back towards his men, seeming to steel himself. “To offer protection, my lady, against growing unrest on the border.” When she raised her eyebrows quizzically, he continued. “Our spies tell us that Robert the Bruce plans to strengthen his position against the English.”
Mirrie put a hand to her heart and turned anxiously towards her. “This is grave news.”
But Frida shook her head impatiently. “’Tis unnecessary caution. You see we are already well-defended, sir.” She gestured to the high fortifications and the uniformed guards.
Callum, however, did not back down. “Tristan did not believe it unnecessary. In fact, he urged me to ride with all possible haste.”
Frida’s stomach twisted as she sensed the situation slipping beyond her control. She could not, in good conscience, turn away a man who had been ordered here by her brother. But neither could she countenancethisman staying.
Her lips tightened at the thought of Tristan sending soldiers to her home without so much as a hastily-penned message to notify her of his intentions. ’Twas a high-handed move, even for her brother.
Indecision swirled in her gut. And Frida was not usually indecisive.
For better or worse, Mirrie took charge of the situation. “You must come in and take some refreshments. You and your men.”
Callum bowed. “That is most kind.”
Frida’s breath caught in her throat at the prospect of Callum Baine stepping into her sanctuary.
Defiantly, she remained in his path. “Do not feel you have to stay, sir, out of courtesy.” To Mirrie, she said, “Mayhap Sir Callum would prefer to be on his way. ’Tis a long ride back to Egremont House.”
Immediately she berated herself for revealing this proof that she had been listening so attentively.
“I would much appreciate the chance to eat and drink away from this wind,” he contradicted her, standing so close she could catch his scent.
Horses, leather and something indescribably male.
Her heart jumped in her chest. “It would not be wise of me to invite four armed men into our home,” she said tautly.
She expected a denial, but Callum paused as if considering her words. “Nay, indeed.” He inclined his head. “My men will be pleased to take shelter anywhere.”
Mirrie clucked her tongue. “The barn roof is damaged. But if they will be happy to eat in the dining chamber used by the guards, I will take them there.”
Frida took her elbow and led her a few paces away. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” she whispered furiously.
Mirrie’s hazel eyes widened with surprise. “How so?”
“We do not know these men.”
“But Tristan sent them,” said Mirrie, as if that fact alone was the most important. “And you do know Callum, as do I. We both recognised him straight away.”
A flush threatened to creep up Frida’s neck. “I do not wish to be alone with him.”
“But Jonah is inside.” To Mirrie, it was very simple. “And I will be along presently.”
