She pulled a face. “Nae particularly. I’m nae very graceful, and I’m terrified of fallin’.”
“Why should ye be afraid of fallin’?” Callum responded, frowning. “Just squeeze the horse with yer legs. Ye’ll nae fall.”
A flush colored her cheeks. “Well, of course, I don’t sit likethaton the horse. I use a sidesaddle, of course.”
She imagined it, just for a minute. If she were seen in London with her thighsastridea horse, her reputation would never recover. It simply wasn’tproperfor a woman to sit with her legs so… so very open.
“What on earth are ye talkin’ about?” Callum responded, breaking unceremoniously into her thoughts. “Why would ye nae learn how to ride properly?”
“Ididlearn to ride properly.”
“Sidesaddle is nae a proper way of ridin’. Ye cannae go fast enough, cannae grip correctly, and the poor horse will nae ken what ye want it to do. If ye wish to ride perched sideways on a horse’s spine, then do as ye must, but at least learn properly first.”
“It hardly matters,” Lucas chimed in hastily, glancing between them. “I’m sure I can find a saddle that’ll suit ye, Lady Melody. And I can go out ridin’ with ye, if ye like.” Melody found his tone rather suspicious. And why would he be looking at Callum when he was talking to her? Was he teasing the Laird about their little fake betrothal? If so, he was much braver than she thought any man could be.
“Won’t he insist upon coming with me?” Melody asked, nodding toward Callum.
“Nay, he will nae come, of course. He hardly has time to have fun,” Lucas laughed.
There was a silence after he’d spoken. Almost at once, Lucas’ expression stiffened, and he glanced at Callum’s hand, which was clenching at his cup rather tightly. He did not look atLucas, and nor did he say anything, but Melody got the impression that Lucas knew he should not continue down this line.
She wanted to ask why Callum would not come with her, and why it should be so obvious that he would not, but perhaps it might get Lucas into trouble, so she kept her lips closed. Aftera moment, Lucas cleared his throat and moved on to another topic, his voice strained.
“Tell me, then, how did you come to be betrothed to our Laird? He’s nae told us how he proposed, and a few people have asked.”
Melody sighed. “Truly, I don’t know. It just… just happened, I suppose. He simply demanded that we marry, and I felt obliged to agree.”
Lucas gave a splutter of laughter. “Hedemandedit? Oh, me Laird, that’s a wee bit shockin’, even for ye. Where’s the romance?”
Callum drained a second tankard and set it down with aclack.
“Just a moment, Lucas. Me bride-to-be is a wee bit tired, I think.”
“I’m not tired,” Melody responded, bewildered. Callum rolled his eyes and snatched up her wrist, towing her unceremoniously after him. They crossed the dance floor, causing a few couples to stutter to a halt to avoid knocking into them.
He pushed back a tapestry to reveal a door, just as he had when he’d taken her into the dungeon. For one awful moment, that was where Melody thought they were going.
However, there was no cold, fetid air or a dark staircase behind the door, only a candlelit corridor. He stepped inside, pulling her after him, and closed the door with a slam.
“This is a servant’s corridor,” he said bluntly, jerking his chin at her. “Go along that way, and ye will come out behind a statue just beside the gallery stairs, and ye can climb them to find yer way back to yer room. Ye were shown a room, were ye nae?”
“Yes,” Melody responded, bewildered. “I don’t understand. Are you sending me off?”
“Sendin’ ye off? Aye, I certainly am. What did ye mean by tellin’ Lucas Idemandedto wed yet?”
She pressed her lips together. “Well, you did.”
He growled, low in his throat, and took a long step forward. Melody shifted backward and knocked her shoulders against the bare corridor wall. He kept leaning closer, closer still, until the tip of his long nose nearly touched her.
The scent of leather and mint seemed to seep out of him, mixed with ale and the clean tang of sweat. A tingling sort of ache returned again, sweeping through Melody’s chest and plunging deeper inside her.
The ache was, without a doubt, something new. It washewho was causing it, that was for sure. The sensation trickled deeperinto her core, almost experimentally, and she twisted her fingers together, tugging hard to distract herself.
“So long as ye are mine,” he growled, slowly and emphatically, “ye will nae embarrass me in front of others. Lucas is nay threat, but other men might repeat things ye say and twist them into somethin’ else. Ye willnae be so eager to dance with other men, either.”
“Why can I not dance with other men?”
“Because ye aremebetrothed. I am the clan Laird, and me position is a lofty one. Ye think that others do nae seek to bring me down? And perhaps they will bring me down, but if they do, I’m determined it’ll nae be on account of yer meddlin’ and clumsiness. So, I’ll say again—as long as ye are mine, daenae embarrass me.”
