“Well, if ye would stay by me side like a good little bride-to-be, perhaps I wouldnae have to,” he shot back. “Come, the councilors will want to meet ye. Make no mention of me wife, or of what Thomas said, do ye understand?”
Melody nodded tightly. Her goal now was to get the wretched evening over with.
Sophie and Kat must be here, surely, but she could not see them. Lucas appeared, however, and smiled at her. It was good to see a familiar face.
“If ye are takin’ her to see the councilors, ye neednae bother,” Lucas murmured. “They’ve gotten a good look at her. Nobody will voice any complaints, but I daenae think they approve. She’s English, so they’d never be happy.” He glanced down at Melody and winced. “I am sorry.”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure I mind that very much. I don’t know these men, and so why should I care what they think of me?”
As she spoke, she was surprised to find that it was true.
Besides, I’m not actually going to stay here, am I?
“Well, good for ye, lass,” Lucas responded, visibly surprised. Then he smiled and offered his hand. “Ye must dance with me, Lady Melody.”
Melody brightened. She imagined that dancing with Lucas might be a little livelier than with Callum.
“I should like that, thank you.”
Feeling eyes on her, she glanced up to find Callum staring balefully at her.
Oh, heavens. What have I done wrong now?
“She’s got spirit, Callum, I’ll give her that.” Lucas laughed in response to his friend’s glare.
“Ye will give her nothin’,” Callum shot back testily. “Can ye bring us some drinks, Lucas? I need one, and so does she.”
Lucas nodded, dropping his hand, and slipped away into the crowd. Callum let out a ragged breath, placing his hands on his hips.
“You’re angry,” Melody said, after a moment. “Is it because the councilors aren’t happy?”
“Aye, it’s that,” Callum muttered. “I work my damned fingers to the bone for this clan. Ibleedfor me people, and yet the council is never quite satisfied. Nothin’ is ever good enough. They demand that I find a bride, so I produce an heir. Now they say she must be Scottish.”
He shot a quick sideways glance at Melody and lifted an eyebrow.
“I daenae mean to offend ye, of course,” he added pointedly. “Ye cannae help nae bein’ Scottish. Nobody is perfect.”
“Certainly not you,” she responded sweetly. “And you needn’t worry about me. I’m not upset, and I’m not hurt. Frankly, I could not care less about your councilors’ opinions. Introduce me to them, and I’ll tell them myself.”
Callum gave a sharp chuckle. Melody blinked, surprised atherself.Where had such bold words come from? Had she momentarily possessed by the spirit of a clever, sharp society beauty?
It’s him,she thought briefly.I am bold when I am around him. Heaven only knows why. If I had any sense, I would be less forthright around Callum, not more so.
There was no time to reflect on this, since Lucas appeared at that moment with a tray of drinks. Callum clicked his tongue, shaking his head at the tankards of ale.
“Ye ought to have brought wine for her, man. Delicately nurtured English beauties only drink wine, nae ale or whiskey.”
“I can drink ale!” Melody insisted, and to prove her point, snatched up the nearest tankard and took a long gulp.
It was much less sweet than the wines she was used to, and the foam sizzled in her mouth. She choked, but mostly managed to force down the mouthful, and shot a triumphant glance at Callum.
His eyebrows flickered.
“I stand corrected,” he responded calmly, and picked up his own tankard, draining it easily in one long gulp.
She decided not to try to imitate him and took a more demure sip of her own drink. She noticed that Lucas didn’t offer to dance again. And he was looking between her and the Laird with a rather amused expression.
“I was thinkin’, Lady Melody, we ought to keep a horse for ye in the stables,” Lucas suggested, though his eyes remained on Callum, as if he was expecting his reaction. “Are ye fond of ridin’?”
