And then what? Am I to live on my sister’s charity forever? Am I to be an unwanted spinster, trying to make herself useful wherever she can?
No, that was an unpleasant thought. And what if Papa insisted that Melody should come home? Victoria would not give up her sister, but Papa might have the legal right to bring Melody home. At twenty, she had not yet reached majority, meaning she was under his guardianship.
Victoria, of course, would not give in, but what if Papa didn’t, either?
Oh, her head was swimming. Essentially, at the root of the matter, if Melody did not want to cause trouble and heartache to her loved ones, she had better get married or go home.
There seems to be no comfortable way forward for me now.
No, that wasn’t the right attitude, was it? Sighing, Melody leaned back in the chair, rolling her shoulders. Both the desk and the chair were clearly designed for someone much larger than she was. It was rare that Melody found herself unable to reach the ground with her feet, but here she was.
What will I do if Victoria visits anyway? I hope that she does not, not with her pregnancy being so advanced.
There was no warning before the door opened. No footsteps, no creaking squeal of the hinges. The door was simply open, all of a sudden, and a hulking figure stood in the doorway.
“I should have ken that if anyone was goin’ to break into my study again,” Callum stated coolly, “it would be ye, lass.”
He stepped into the room, closing the door with a backward kick of his heel. He was damp, to her surprise, and not with sweat. His hair formed wet curls, hanging around his face, and he wore a loose white shirt over his bare chest. In places, it stuck to his skin. He smelled strongly of mint and lavender, and she guessed that he had taken a bath recently, perhaps after his sparring session.
The shirt, doubtless thrown on for modesty, was so damp as to be almost translucent.
“It’s almost as rude to stare as it is to break into somebody’s study,” Callum murmured, almost thoughtfully.
Melody reddened, dragging her gaze up from his semi-visible chest. “I hardly broke in. Besides, you are supposed to be my betrothed. It would be rudenotto stare.”
He gave a huff of amusement. “A clever retort.”
“And if you must know, the door was open. I did notbreak in, I… I simply needed somewhere to write my letter. There’s no writing-desk in my room.”
“Nay writing-desk,” he echoed thoughtfully. “Is that somethin’ I should have? Would an ordinary flat surface nae be enough for ye?”
“Well, I needed paper,” she stuttered. “Are you angry?”
“Angry?” he echoed, and gave a short chuckle. “Nay, I’m nae angry. It’s nae the first time ye have entered me study without permission, which is a rule that everybody else in the Keep seems to grasp exceptye, lassie.”
Melody reddened further, if indeed that was possible. She rose gingerly from her seat, backing out from behind the desk. She came to stand in front of it, unable to shake the impression of being a scolded youth, facing the consequences for her subterfuge. Callum, for his part, had not shifted at all, beyond stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
“I had to write a letter to my sister, because she is afraid I have been taken against my will, and is threatening war,” she continued, as firmly as she could. Perhaps now he would understand the urgency of it all.
Callum did not blink. “I imagined their clan might react that way. I cannae blame them. If a sister of mine were in yer situation, I would threaten war, too.”
“Have you one?”
“What?”
“A sister. Do you have a sister?”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. Had she asked the wrong question? Surely not.
“Nay, I daenae. Daenae ask me about me family, if ye please.”
She folded her arms tight across her chest. “I am only being polite. Itispolite to enquire about people’s family, you know.”
He snorted. “Perhaps in London, where ye all ask each other the most foolish and trivial things, and daenae care in the slightest what answer ye receive. Here, we save our words for what matters.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Aye, that’s so.”
