“Ah, then mayhap I should leave him be.”
“Nay. Murrays are good folk and want to ken about offspring, those begot within and without marriage.” He shook his head. “Ye have told me now and I couldnae possibly keep it a secret from him.”
“Ye ken him weel then.”
“He is the brother of my foster father, Sir Payton Murray.” He looked toward where Margaret sat idly holding up flowers for Stormcloud to munch on. “He could be of great help.”
“I am nay looking for his help.”
The stiffness in her body matched her tone and he inwardly grimaced. He had been reluctant to tell her much; not at all sure he could trust her. What he had told her was more than enough but he was beginning to feel guilty about holding back. Her response to the idea of gaining any aid from her true father made him feel even more guilty.
“Then dinnae ask,” he said, “although I suspicion he will offer when he kens what ye are dealing with.”
“Oh. He wouldnae like my da, aye?”
“Aye. No Murray would allow such treatment of women and children.”
That sounded impossible to Bethoc but she said nothing. She had rather thought that what she lived with was not unusual, perhaps only a bit harsher than was normal and that harshness had grown as the drinking had gotten worse. The few men she had seen in her life were all much akin to her father: rough and loud with a quickly roused temper and a love of drink.
“I must think on it all,” she said as Margaret hurried over to them. “It is nay just me that I must consider.”
“Mon,” said Margaret, and toddled over to Callum who tensed as she drew near his wounded leg.
“Nay, Margaret,” Bethoc said, and caught the child. She pulled her close and pointed at the bandages on Callum’s leg. “He has an ouch there. See?” The little girl nodded. “So if ye wish to say hello, go to the other side. Dinnae go near the ouch. Dinnae touch it. Do ye understand?”
“Aye.” When Margaret wriggled free of Bethoc’s hold she walked a wide circle around Callum to come up on his wounded side. “Nay ouch.”
Callum laughed. “Verra true. There is nay ouch there.” He was startled when she straddled his good leg and carefully sat down.
Bethoc was shocked. Margaret had shown no hesitation in approaching the man. She had never shown such easiness around men.
“What is it?” asked Callum when he saw the way Bethoc was staring at the child who was chattering incomprehensibly about the flower she held.
“She has ne’er done such as this. ’Tis as if she has kenned ye forever.”
He shrugged. “The bairns tend to like me.”
“She has e’en started to be shy around Colin and Bean and they are but sixteen and fourteen. I am trying to make her see there is no need, nay with them.”
“Because of your father?”
“Aye.”
“Children can often sense that sort of darkness in a mon.”
“Colin and Bean would ne’er hurt her.”
“Which is why she is only shy around them and nay afraid.” Callum sighed. “’Tis how I kenned I could trust Payton. Moira, a wee lass who was one of us, had no fear at all of the mon. None.”
“And ye needed to ken that.”
“Oh, aye, I needed that.” He laughed when Margaret held the flower against his nose and then he took a deep sniff. “Verra nice. Verra pretty.”
Bethoc watched them for a little while, her sister babbling away, and Callum patiently responding. He had a way with children. There was a kindness in him she could not ignore but she knew she had to, should not place too much worth on it. She hated to end it but she had to get back home. Fortunately, Margaret only protested a little when she picked her up.
“I am nay sure when I can return, which is why I brought ye so much food,” she said as she settled Margaret on her back. “My father noticed I was gone last time. He accused me of meeting with a mon.”
“Weel, ye are,” Callum said, and returned her brief smile.
