“What a strange question,” Sophie chuckled, pulling her shawl more tightly around herself. “Aye, he does. I’ll nae tell ye the story of each and every one of his scars, mind ye. Those stories are for him to tell, and besides, I daenae ken the half of them.”
“I see. He seems rather stern, doesn’t he?”
Sophie cocked her head. “Aye, he’s a grim man. He wasnae always such, however.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed. “It’s a long story, lass. Long, complicated, and painful. I’ll save him the pleasure of explainin’ himself to ye.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
“Hm?”
“What if he doesn’t explain himself to me?”
Sophie watched her carefully, eyes sharp in the reflected firelight.
“I’ll nae ask for details of yer betrothal,” she said suddenly, changing the subject. “I ken me grandson well enough to say that things are usually nae as they seem with him. In my experience, the fewer questions one asks, the better. It’s always more enlightenin’ to find things out yerself, and I amverygood at findin’ things out.”
This seemed very pointed. Melody eyed the older woman warily. Was there some point she was missing here?
Questions, she reminded herself.This is not a Society ball. You cannot press yourself into a corner and wait until it’s time to leave. You must take action. That is what Victoria would do. Victoria saved herself, didn’t she? She would know what to do in this situation.
Yes, Victoria would probably have charmed Lady Sophie and half of the Keep within a day of arriving, and certainly wouldn’t have been fool enough to agree to a pretend betrothal to a man likehim.
“Callum said he was married before.” she burst out, without quite knowingwhenshe had decided to ask that question.
Sophie heaved a long sigh. “Aye, lass, he was. Once, years ago.”
Nowthiswas interesting. Melody leaned forward, trying and failing to catch the old woman’s eye. Sophie stared thoughtfully into the flames, not seeming to see the fire at all. She was looking beyond, somehow, at something else in her mind that only she could see.
“And… and what became of it?” Melody stammered when no further explanation seemed to be forthcoming.
Sophie glanced narrowly at her. “It ended in the way that most marriages do.”
“What about…”
“This is a tiresome subject for me, lass. Is there anything else ye would like to ken?”
Melody swallowed.So the mysterious wife will not be discussed, then.
Perhaps he had his heart broken once, by some charming and fiercely beautiful Scottish woman. Yes, that seems the most likely. Maybe she died from a terrible cold. Scotland’s weather was very different to England’s after all. Or maybe she ran off with a trusted friend of Callum’s, though that seems highlyunlikely. Still, that would explain why he’s so set on never marrying again.
“In England, there are sometimes… pamphlets,” she began carefully.
Sophie lifted her graying eyebrows. “Pamphlets?Oh, the horror. Spare me yer tales of terror, lass, as I am but a feeble old woman.”
Melody reddened. “I don’t mean… No, I only mean to say that I read a pamphlet which depicted Laird MacDean as… as a monster. It was a nasty, silly caricature, and rather cruel. But I could not help but wonder where it had come from. The accusations in the pamphlet were… serious. I am sure it is mostly lies, of course, but I did wonder where it had all come from. Why is he perceived as such a monster? What has he done?”
There was a long moment of silence after that. Sophie did not move a muscle. She sat very still, staring at the fire, and a deep furrow appeared between her brows. Without her face seeming to have moved at all, her expression had turned from open and genial to decidedly displeased.
I should not have said that,Melody thought, her heart sinking.Have I alienated my only ally in this place?
Abruptly, Sophie let out a bark of pain, so sudden it made Melody jump. The old woman leaned forward, face twisted in a grimace, and clutched at her right knee.
“Ach, it hurts,” she choked out.
Melody got to her feet, looking around wildly. “Where is Jane? Or the Laird? You require help.”
