“Thank…” she began eagerly, but he waved the knife at her again, gesturing for silence.
“I daenae expect to see ye, lass,” Callum continued, his voice hard and his eyes even harder. “We’re nae courtin’. We’ll nae eat together or take romantic walks or spend time together, do ye understand? Idaenaeexpect to see ye at all.”
“But…”
“Nay. Nay buts. Agree now, or I’ll send ye away today.”
She bit her lip, swallowing the dozen retorts that had jumped to her mind.
“I agree,” Melody responded meekly.
He grunted. “Good. Now, out ye get. Leave me to me privacy.”
Melody wanted to grin. This was not a promise, of course, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that it was, but it was the first time that Callum had even entertained the idea of their false betrothal turning into a marriage. It wasprogress.
For the first time, she began to hope that perhaps she would not have to go home.
“Your carving looks very good,” she added, shuffling toward the stairs. A little flattery might go a long way.
He grunted again, not even glancing at her. “I have nay idea even what it will be, yet.”
She frowned. “It’s a horse.”
His head rose slowly. “What?”
She pointed. “See, there’s the curve of the neck, and I can see the shape taking form. I think perhaps you have known all along what you were carving. It’s a horse, but I can’t decide whether it’s the sort of child might play with or an adult’s ornament. Either way, I cannot wait to see it when it is finished.”
She gave him an encouraging smile and began to clamber back down the steep steps, leaving him to stare at the wooden horse, half emerging from its wooden bed.
14
“…and she’ll need a good cloak, too. A plain one—gray wool will do—and a nicer one in MacDean tartan,” Sophie continued, hobbling up and down in front of the fireplace the following day.
“Anythin’ else, me Lady?” asked the dressmaker, who looked like a slimmer, watery copy of Kat, furiously scribbling. “Perhaps a light shawl for when she isnae strayin’ too far from the keep?”
Sophie nodded. “Aye, good thinkin’.”
Kat stood beside her sister, watching the ever-growing list of dresses and clothing with horror. She glanced at Melody, who looked away, flushing.
“I really don’t need so many new things, Sophie,” Melody mumbled. “I already have two dresses, now—the red gown I wore for the feast, and the green wool one for every day.”
“Ye are a laird’s betrothed,” Sophie responded firmly. “Ye must dress well. Kat wears the same gown every day, and that is fine and practical for a healer. Ye, however, must display an air of splendor. Ofpower. That’ll nae be achieved by dressin’ plainly.”
Splendor. Power. Even the sound of those words made Melody shrink in her seat. How on earth was she meant to managethat? At parties, she put all her effort intoavoidingbeing noticed. She was simply one of many young women, fading into a crowd, but here… here she wassomebody. The Laird’s betrothed, and potentially the Laird’s wife one day.
Melody did not bother trying to explain all of this. She only smiled weakly and stayed quiet. Sophie dismissed the dressmaker, who scuttled off with her list under her arm. Kat went with her, shooting Melody a brief, tired smile.
“I’ll be back with yer herbal tea in a moment, me Lady,” she added, and closed the door softly behind her.
That left Melody alone with Sophie and Jane, who sat on a stool by the fire, hunched over her sewing.
“You are very kind, commissioning all of those clothes for me,” Melody ventured at last. “But it’s too much. Those dresses, I… they won’t be cheap to make, and I cannot repay you. I know I didn’t bring enough clothes, but we could always send for the rest of my things from London.”
If Papa deigns to send them, that is,she thought wryly, but did not risk saying it aloud.
“That’ll take weeks,” Sophie responded dismissively. “And we want ye to wear good, Scottish clothin’.”
“Even if ye had brought yer own clothes,” Jane pointed out, gesturing at the window, “they’d never be enough to stand up against the Highland weather.”
