Frida parted her lips. If only she could find such conviction for herself. “What did he say to change your mind so utterly?”
“’Twas not so much what he said, as the passion with which he said it.” Jonah thought for a moment. “He declared that he would not harm you, nor any of your kin within these walls. Methinks Gregor had challenged him to do that very thing. Whatever it was, it enraged Callum. I would say you may consider yourself safe in his company, sister.”
A lump was forming in Frida’s throat. She wanted to be reassured by Jonah’s tale, but still could not reconcile these events with Callum’s stash of hidden weapons.
“I am not sure of it,” she whispered.
Hearing the emotion in her voice, the slumbering hound opened his big brown eyes and gave a little whine in her direction.
Jonah said nothing, wisely waiting for her to continue.
Frida took a breath. “When Callum arrived at Ember Hall, I asked him to surrender his weapons.”
Her brother nodded. “I have seen the swords myself, locked in the armoury. Great heavy things they are.”
“Today I discovered that Callum did not fully comply with my request. He has concealed a number of knives, daggers and the like beneath his pallet in the hayloft.” She paused as a new thought occurred to her. “There may even be more, hidden elsewhere.”
Jonah pursed his lips. “This is what you had found, before I met you in the courtyard?”
“Aye.”
“Gadzooks, sister, I had imagined much worse.” Jonah took another mouthful of wine, a smile playing across his lips. “You cannot expect trained warriors to come to a strange place and relinquish all that makes them feel safe. Weaponry is part of a man’s identity. Especially a trained knight, like Callum.”
At first his words made little sense to her. Frida’s mind refused to give up the notion that something was awry.
It all came down to this: Callum betrayed me.
But Jonah’s nonchalance was more than a little affecting.
She gazed into the orange flames of the fire, puzzling it all out. “You do not think it suspicious?” she tried.
“Let us imagine our brother, Tristan, e’en our father, arriving some place and being asked to give up his weapons.” Jonah looked at her over the rim of his goblet. “Do you think either one of them would truly surrender every one of their weapons, leaving them with no protection?”
She shook her head. “They would not.”
“For the sake of etiquette, they may relinquish one or two items. But most certainly, they would retain more.” He tossed her a grin—de Neville charm at its finest. “Mayhap even conceal them beneath a mattress?”
Frida smiled; relief was tapping her on the shoulder.
“Then you do not think I have reason to fear?Wehave reason to fear?” she amended quickly.
Jonah grew solemn. “I did not say that, sister. We live in turbulent times. Robert the Bruce aims to be king of an independent Scotland, while our king has every intention of ruling over Scotland himself. Overseas, our best men are fighting in France. ’Tis not the time to lower our guard.” He met her troubled gaze and pressed his lips together in a smile. “But I do not think that we have reason to fear Callum Baine.”
It was all she wanted and more.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He puckered his brows. “For what?”
“For helping me across the courtyard. For tucking a rug over my knees. For talking to me.” Frida leaned forward and placed a hand over her brother’s. “Were you always secretly this nice, Jonah? Or has something happened to you since you came to stay with us at Ember Hall?”
A most familiar scowl flickered for a moment over Jonah’s sensitive features before he gave her fingers an answering squeeze.
“Thank you, sister, for that timely reminder of how you and Tristan have always looked down upon me.”
“We have not,” she declared hotly.
“Nay, not only you and Tristan. Isabella too. She could scarce conceal her impatience to be rid of me.”
