“So, when do ye follow his lead, my friend?”
Callum sighed and took a deep drink. “Who says I want to?” Both men laughed and Callum frowned at them as he refilled his tankard. “What is so cursed funny?”
“Ye are,” said Simon. “’Tis either laugh or berate ye for being an idiot.” Simon studied Callum’s face before looking at Uven and saying, “I believe ’tis the latter choice. Sad.”
Uven smiled briefly then studied Callum. Callum began to shift in his seat, uneasy under that steady stare. It was as if Uven was seeing deep inside him, seeing what he kept hidden from himself and others. Uven had been able to do it since they had been boys and Callum had hated it from the start. He did not want someone seeing too much, seeing the dark places that still lingered, and if he did not love the man like family, he might have sent him away. Being part Murray, Uven had a small gift and Callum always had to resist the urge to ask him what he saw.
“Ye have to do something, Callum. Ye give her no reason to stay otherwise,” said Uven.
“I will do something. And what do ye mean I give her nay reason to stay?”
“A reason aside from your skill beneath the sheets,” drawled Simon, “which I dinnae believe is as vast as ye sometimes claim.”
“Vaster than yours.”
“I but keep my experience most secret.”
“’Tis nay hard to keep secret one or two bouts.”
“Boys,” said Uven in a good imitation of a stern father, “I believe ye have wandered off into a pointless argument. We were discussing Callum’s current lady and what he should do.”
“There is naught to discuss,” said Callum, but he doubted either man would listen to him.
“Oh aye, my friend, there is. Ye need to either wed her or let her go.”
“And why would ye say those are my only choices? Where is thelet things stay as they arechoice?”
“In the midden heap where it belongs,” Uven snapped. “Ye cannae keep treating her like your mistress. That is what ye are doing, as if ye didnae see it yourself. Ye just tote her around with ye yet ne’er go beyond that.”
“How do ye ken I havenae?”
“I ken ye. Most people would look into their own hearts and see that they need to speak out but ye are hiding all feeling as ye always do. Turning away from it in any way ye can. Weel, except the lusting. That lack is the cause for the sadness in her eyes from time to time.” When Callum just frowned, Uven sighed. “Something ye have also seen and yet ye still say nothing, offer nay soft words, or cut her loose.”
“For what? She cannae go home now. Robbie and Laurel are there.”
“And so ye have another reason to tell yourself why ye are keeping her close.” Uven shook his head. “Ye need to give the poor lass a home.Jesu, Callum, can ye nay see how unkind ye are being?”
“I have ne’er been unkind to her.” Callum could hear the lack of force and conviction behind his words and inwardly winced.
“Ye are treating her as if all ye do for her is a favor and the fact that ye are lovers is just a pleasant benefit. She loves ye and ye just ignore it.”
“Ye cannae be sure . . .” He fell silent when Uven made a slashing movement with his hand that cut off his words.
“We dinnae happen to be idiots. ’Tis there to see if one just looks. E’en the people here have taken to calling her m’lady, though she keeps correcting them, for they see and assume, because ye keep her with ye, that ye ken it, that ye will soon make her the lady of Whytemont. She has walked away from two lads who were like family to her to stay with ye. Her home, too. I think, if she didnae have the four children with her, she would walk away from ye as weel soon. A lass can only give her all to a mon for so long with nay return before she realizes she begins to shame herself. Ye need to marry the lass, ye fool.”
“Ye marry a lass when ye love her and I am nae sure if I do.”
“Weel, ye are e’en more witless than I thought,” said Simon.
“I await the day the confusion comes to ye, Simon. However, I do think I should consider what Connor told me. He asked how I felt when she got stabbed. Terrified, I said. He said a mon doesnae get terrified o’er naught. It sounded so brilliant when he said it but the more I thought . . .” He looked at his friends in surprise when they both cursed.
“Stop thinking so much,” Simon snapped. “That is where your problem lies. Ye think o’er everything too much. Some things just are and they dinnae always make sense or follow a straight path. Ye have found reasons to drag her around with ye, keep her at your side, for months now. Aye, it proved helpful in several cases but there really was no need. But ye always thought of one, didnae ye. Always came up with some good reason why she had to stay with ye. And then there is what Connor said though I cannae believe I agree with him. A mon doesnae get terrified o’er naught. Stop thinking it to death. There is only one thing ye need to decide.”
“And what is that, oh wise one?”
“Do ye want her to stay with ye?”
* * *
