“Because we are already well-defended, with guards enough for the King himself.” Frida took a breath. Exaggerations would not help her cause.
“If Tristan has deemed it necessary…” Jonah left the rest of the sentence unsaid.
Frida clutched at the fabric of her chair in annoyance. “Jonah, you are the last person to believe Tristan’s word should be followed as law.”
Amusement crossed his finely-drawn face. “Occasionally, even I must concede to our dear brother’s wisdom.”
“This is not one of those times.” Frida cursed herself for mishandling this so badly. She should have known that Jonah would say exactly the opposite of what she wished.
“I would think it is exactly one of those times.” Jonah’s gaze rested on her for a moment, before turning to Callum. “And you, sir, must believe so?”
If Callum was at all entertained by this display of sibling rivalry, he did not let it show. “The situation could turn grievous with no or little warning,” he said gravely.
Frida refused to look in his direction. “That is nonsense. The guards spotted your arrival. Why should they miss an approaching army?”
Callum leaned closer. “Because me and my men made no attempt to hide.”
She would never win this argument, especially with his earnest eyes gazing into hers. Frida sighed in exasperation, abandoning any attempts at decorum and tugging her heavy cloak from her shoulders. Beneath it she wore only a plain woollen day dress; ideal for scrubbing turnips, less so for entertaining a visiting knight who made her pulse pound.
She folded her hands in her lap and lowered her gaze to them, realising that she must accept the inevitable. Callum and his men would remain at Ember Hall. But she would not go down without a fight.
“Ah, here is Jennifer with the tray.”
Was Jonah deliberately provoking her with this show of lordly behaviour?
Glancing across at her brother behind her lashes, Frida concluded that her brother was doing just that. As if aware of her scrutiny, he placed a tentative hand on his right shoulder, over his recently-acquired wound, and opened his mouth in a slight moue of pain.
The wound was little more than a scratch. Frida had packed it with honey and covered it with bandages last night. There was no sign of infection, and she still believed it a ruse of some sort. Though for what purpose, she could not imagine.
Resolving to ignore him, she rose to help the young kitchen maid balance her laden tray on the small wooden table, but Callum had beaten her to it.
“Allow me,” he said, in his voice as deep and smooth as molasses. Standing, he towered over them all. Jennifer noddedher thanks and scuttled away. Frida tried not to notice the way Callum’s eyes followed her back to the kitchen.
“Are you going to pour, Frida?” Jonah enquired lazily.
She flashed him a glance. “I suppose I must.”
Again, Callum held out a restraining arm, his mail shirt glinting in the firelight. “A man can pour his own ale,” he said. “And one for a lady, of course.”
Frida did not wish to drink ale, but she supposed holding the cup would give her something to do with her hands. Jonah also accepted a measure, despite having broken his fast so recently.
Frida rested her cup against her chin, thinking hard. “If the situation is so dire, how is it that Tristan has not come here himself?” she demanded.
Callum had declined to sit back down on the stool and was now standing near the fire. She fancied he must also regret positioning himself so near the source of heat, especially clad in heavy chain mail. For a moment, his dark eyes were opaque.
“I cannot tell you. Perchance he is busy with other affairs.”
“He has only just returned from Scotland,” Jonah piped up. “Allow the man some leisure time.”
Frida thought a shadow passed over Callum’s face, but it may have been a trick of the light.
“I still do not understand why he should send you,” Frida said abruptly. “We have not seen you for two winters.”
And apparently, you believed me dead, she added silently.
“Do not be so disagreeable,” Jonah muttered. “We are no longer in Wolvesley, but that does not mean we should abandon our manners entirely.”
Callum opened his arms. “Egremont House is well situated in proximity to Ember Hall. We are but half a day’s ride away. Mayhap Tristan’s other friends are more distant?”
