Perchance his luck was changing.
Callum fixed his gaze on the distant hills and started walking.
Chapter Twenty
Weighed down withregret and worry, Frida found the day passed with painful slowness. To stay out of the way of Tristan’s men, she confined herself to the hall. And never had the large, comfortable rooms seemed so restrictive. She found no comfort in the sweeping views of moorland and paddocks, for everywhere she looked she hoped for a glimpse of Callum—and hoped to never see him again.
Hoped to see him so that she might know he was safe, but knew that if shecouldsee him, he was in grave danger of being spotted by Tristan or his guards.
She shook her head and closed her eyes, sending up prayer after prayer that the man she loved would be kept safe.
Frida had taken refuge in the solar when Mirrie finally found her. A fire crackled cosily in the grate and the wooden panels on the walls reflected the golden glow of firelight. But none of this was enough to settle Frida’s agitation. She jumped at every footstep and would take nothing to eat.
“I am not hungry,” she insisted, when Mirrie pointedly positioned a platter of bread and cheese within easy reach.
Mirrie raised her eyebrows but said nothing. “May I sit with you?”
Frida barely looked up from her pacing between the door and the window. “You may sit wherever you wish,” she replied.
“And will you join me?”
Frida wrung her hands together. “Nay. I cannot rest. I cannot be still.”
“Your exhaustion will not help Callum’s cause.” Mirrie broke off a piece of cheese and chewed slowly, her hazel eyes fixed on her friend.
Frida did not dignify this with a response. “I might kill my brother, when he finally returns,” she blurted out.
Mirrie nodded. “I daresay he deserves it.”
“Forsooth, he deserves stringing up on the walls.” Frida gesticulated violently in the direction of the main gate. “If he had only told the truth from the beginning, all of this could have been avoided. He’s entirely to blame.”
Mirrie tore at the bread, releasing the pungent aroma into the small room and making Frida’s stomach rumble. “Jonah too, I guess?”
“How do you mean?” Frida folded her arms lest she snatch the bread out of her friend’s hands.
“This is at least partially Jonah’s fault. If he hadn’t written to Tristan, none of this would have happened. You said it yourself.”
Frida snapped her fingers. “Aye, you’re right. Both Jonah and Tristan are to blame.” She paused in front of the low wooden table. “Mayhap I will take some of that bread.”
Mirrie nodded, shuffling up on the couch to make room for her. Frida intended to take only the smallest heel of bread, but once she had tasted it, she wanted more. Soon she was breaking off a hunk of cheese as well.
“You don’t need to look so pleased with yourself,” she said crossly, once she had swallowed. “I was always going to eat at some point.”
Mirrie folded her hands in her lap. “Of course.”
“It’s Callum’s fault as well,” Frida went on, returning to their prior conversation as she brushed at the crumbs on her grey skirt.
“Callum’s fault?” Mirrie’s face was without expression.
“I am no fool, Mirrie. I know this situation is of Callum’s own making. He should have told me the truth about who he was and why he came here. God’s bones, we shared enough together.” Tears stung at her eyes again.
“But Callum did not trust you. And Jonah did not trust Callum. And Tristan did not trust either you or Callum.” Mirrie stretched her legs. “And so, here we are.”
“In a mess forged by pride and anger.” Frida gazed in the direction of the fire, the orange flames made blurry by salty tears.
“But thanks to your courage, Callum is free. He has every chance of escaping Tristan’s retribution. And then who knows what the future may bring.”
Mirrie reached out for her hand and Frida willingly gave it to her, even as she shook her head to refute her words. “I place no hope in the future. Callum is a Scot. I am a de Neville. Nothing can bridge that gap.”
