He scoffed. “I certainly daenae.”
“Well, then, I feel sorry you.”
“Sorry? Lass…”
Callum’s hot, angry retort was interrupted by the appearance of Angus. The man in question glided through the crowd like a shadow, his lips curled tightly into a smile.
“Me Laird, Lady Melody, I am glad to see ye lookin’ so well,” Angus murmured. “That is a pretty dress, lass, but a more appropriate color might have been green, or perhaps a brown.”
Melody colored, smoothing her hand over the skirt. “Should… Should I change? Lady Sophie said that this color suited me.”
“And it does,” Angus soothed, smiling faintly. “I’m sorry, I should nae have said that. The dress is beautiful, and ye look very well in it. It’s just that this is yer first impression on the clan ambassadors, and I thought…”
“Ye’ve said enough, Angus,” Callum warned.
Angus bit his lip. “Aye, ye are right. I hope I’ve not given offence, Lady Melody?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. I’ll remember your advice when I choose new dresses.”
Angus bowed. “I’d be glad to give ye me advice on anythin’, Lady Melody. It’s nay secret that we’re all surprised to hear of the Laird’s betrothal to ye, but ye seem like a good, kind woman, and I wish ye both all the happiness in the world. The tartan is a nice touch, by the way.”
Melody blushed. “That was my idea. I wanted to wear a piece of MacDean tartan. To… to show that I want to belong, you know?”
Callum stayed silent, watching her thoughtfully. She spoke as though she meant it. But she never would belong here, would she? If they were truly going to be wed, he wouldn’t have suddenly sprung the news of their betrothal on his councilors and let the news spread that way.
No, he’d have started from the bottom up. He would have introduced her to thepeoplefirst. He would have brought her with him on visits to villages and towns, and encouraged her to do charity and make herself known.
She’d be good at that,he thought, not entirely sure where the certainty had come from. He could see her, in an ordinary dress, without jewels or fine silks or airs, talking and laughing with common folk just as easily as anybody else.
Perhaps she’d be less shy amongst people like that. The common folk weren’t as revoltingly pretentious as lords and ladies and councilors could be.
This is a pointless thought, Callum reminded himself sternly.This is nae a true betrothal, even if she is very pretty, so it does nae matter if the people like her or nae, because she is nae stayin’.
“We should get ye a drink,” he said aloud, mostly to drown out the cacophony of his own thoughts.
“Yes,” Melody answered fervently. “Please.”
Before they could make their way to the drinks table, however—laden with goblets and flagons and cups, with a puddle of frothy spilled beer rippling around one of the table legs—a man stepped in their way.
Callum could not help himself. His hand tightened rather sharply around Melody’s, and he heard her suck in a surprised breath.
“Forgive the sudden appearance,” the man said, his voice flat and monotonous as always. “But I wished to see you, Callum, and to greet yer new bride-to-be.”
Tall and thin, he had the look of a man who’d lost a good deal of weight over the years. His clothes hung loosely, and there was loose skin around his face and neck. He’d once been red-haired,a vibrant and colorful fellow, but time and tragedy had wrung the color out of him, leaving him gray.
Melody glanced between the man and Callum with wide, confused eyes. She didn’t understand, of course. How could she?
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, my Lai-? My love,” she added hastily, as if she’d remembered the pretense.
Before Callum could respond, the man introduced himself.
“Me name is Thomas Johnson,” the man said, offering a tight smile. He didn’t extend a hand for her to shake. Melody made an abortive flinch forward, as if to offerherhand, but stopped herself in time.
“I’m glad to meet you,” she answered, offering a thin smile. “Are you a close friend of Callum’s?”
“We were kin, once,” Thomas responded listlessly.
Callum clenched his jaw until he heard his teeth squeak. “Daenae, Tom. Nae now, nae here.”
