“And I know that a man’s love for his country will always come first.”
“You are wrong.” She rounded on him. “You speak as a man who has never been in love.”
Her blow landed. She saw the minute changes in Tristan’s expression as he considered the truth of her words.
Tristan dragged a hand through his hair. “Is that why you set him free?”
She nodded.
“I wish I had known that. It would have saved me a lot of grief.”
At once, he was her brother and ally once again and her eyes filled with tears for a different reason.
“I should have told you.”
He pursed his lips. “I understand why you did not. I was filled with rage. Rage at myself more than anyone, as I was responsible for bringing Callum into all our lives.”
She put a hand on his shoulder and was relieved when he did not flinch away. “I know that you were trying to protect me.”
He embraced her—the first real show of affection they had exchanged since Frida and Mirrie’s departure from Wolvesley Castle. Frida rested her head on her brother’s broad shoulder and thought that she should have been honest with him from the start.
We should all have been honest from the start.
He cleared his throat. “I am glad we are friends again. I have missed you.”
“I have found peace and comfort in your absence,” she replied airily.
He gave a snort of laughter and put his hands on her shoulders. Looking up at him, she was reminded how close he had become in height and bearing to their father.
Tristan’s face twisted with regret. “I’m sorry, Frida. But this changes naught.”
She felt as if he had reached into her chest and stopped her heart from beating. “How so?”
“Callum is a trained knight, a warrior. I know how his mind works. How his blood will burn to take revenge for the beating I gave him.”
“Nay,” she began, but he silenced her with a look.
“He will return with weapons and men, looking to retaliate. Any love he feels for you will make his emotions run even stronger.”
She tried to swallow but found her throat had gone dry. “You cannot order me from my own home.”
He gripped her shoulders. “For your own safety, I must. You have to leave Ember Hall, today.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alys had madeit clear that she did not want him to do this. She had even gone so far as to beg him to reconsider. But Callum was adamant. Once he had set his mind upon something, nothing would dissuade him from the path.
With a sad shake of her head, Alys commented that he had been that way since childhood. More pointedly, she added that it was mayhap the only way in which he resembled his father. ’Twas a comment that gave Callum pause, but by then he had already secured the loan of a horse from the new tenants of Egremont House. His plan was set in motion.
The horse was dapple grey and had a long stride that ate up the miles between Alys’s humble cottage and the mighty walls of Ember Hall. Before the weakening sun had started its afternoon descent, Callum found himself trotting up the path that led to the great outer gates. His heart quickened as he saw the guards gesticulating in his direction. He slowed the horse to a walk when one of them ran at full pelt down the narrow stone steps in the direction of the house.
Gone, no doubt, to summon his master.
So be it, thought Callum. The sooner the better to face the inevitable showdown.
The horse flicked his ears backwards, as if picking up on his unease. Callum reached down to pat his neck, speaking calm words of reassurance.
Words that he did not entirely believe.
