This was a very good point. Melody imagined that back home in London, everyone was enjoying the pleasant spring weather. In the Highlands, however, the weather changed from day to day, hour tohourin fact. At that moment, the wind rattled against the window, bringing a torrent of sleet with it.
Melody had learned from experience that in the mornings, there was a crust of slippery frost and ice on the cobbles and walkways around the Keep, and the ice could easily last until midday. Did warm weather never come to this place?
Perhaps that’s why it’s so wild and beautiful. London is milder, and its beauty is less breathtaking. Perhaps a place can’t be truly beautiful until nature rakes it.
Melody thought uneasily of her gauzy silk gowns and thin shawls. They’d never last long in this sort of weather, not even to walk from a front door to a carriage. She needed sturdy clothes—good, solid boots, not embroidered slippers, wool dresses instead of muslin and satin, and so on.
“I think you are right,” she admitted. “Thank you, Sophie. You’ve been far kinder than I deserve.”
Sophie shot her a thoughtful look. “And why would ye nae deserve kindness?”
Melody flushed. “I… I didn’t mean that.”
“Nay, I suppose nae,” she murmured. For a moment, nobody spoke. The irregular rattling of wind and sleet against the window broke the silence, mixing in with the crackle of the fire and the rhythmic soundof Jane’s needle breaking through the fabric, drawing thread behind it.
Jane had been there for most of the morning, seeming entirely comfortable and with no intention of moving away.
How on earth am I going to talk privately to Sophie with her here?
Sophie gave a muffled cough, and Melody glanced up to find the old woman hiding a smile.
“Jane,” she said, “I cannae remember whether I asked for a plain gray cloak or a black one. Could ye run after Kat and her sister and ask?”
Jane shot her mistress a tired look. “Aye, me Lady, I will. But if ye want me gone so ye can talk in private, ye could justask.”
“Thank ye, Jane,” Sophie murmured, offering a wry smile. “Where would I be without ye?”
Jane slipped out of the room, muttering to herself, and closed the door behind her.
For a moment, Melody and Sophie sat in silence.
“I had a feeling that ye wished to speak to me about somethin’,” Sophie said at last. “I have somethin’ to discuss, too. I’ve had nay chance to ask ye how yer conversation with me grandson went. Ye were bold to follow him up into his room.”
Melody sniffed. “I didn’t know it was hisbedroom. I’m not usually… bold.”
“I think ye are bolder than ye give yerself credit for.”
For some reason, this felt like the best compliment Melody could remember receiving. She shifted, hiding a smile.
“Well? Come on, then, lass, talk to me. What did he say?” Sophie lowered herself slowly and painfully into her armchair and fixed a hopeful look on Melody.
She let out a long exhale. “He… he said that at the end of the month, we could talk about getting married. It felt like progress.”
“Oh, aye, that’s progress. More progress than I ever made.”
“Tell me, Sophie,” Melody asked hesitantly, leaning forward. “How did you guess that our betrothal was fake?”
Sophie chuckled. “Are ye joking, lass? Ye had been in the keep for what, a day? Two? Then he’s abruptly announcin’ that he’ll marry ye. I’m nae a fool. Even if I didnae ken me grandson like the back of my hand, I’d guess that it was all a facade. Callum’s made nay bones about wantin’ to be left alone as regards his remarriage, and as for ye, well. It’s clear that ye are runnin’ from somethin’.”
Melody flinched. “What do you mean, it’s clear that I’m running from something? I am not.”
Sophie threw her a wry smile and continued. “Anyway, I watched the two of ye, eyein’ each other and dancin’ uncertainly around. It was clear that ye were all but strangers. There’s somethin’ that draws ye together, though, I’m sure ofthat.”
She chuckled, tapping the side of her nose conspiratorially.
Melody forced a wan smile and said nothing. This, at least, was not true.Shewas drawn to Callum, more powerfully than she could have imagined, but it did not seem likely that the feeling was returned. Who wouldnotbe entranced by him, with his wild handsomeness and vibrant energy?
She, on the other hand, was a gawky stork of a woman. Awallflower. Men liked charming, interesting women, not shy creatures with nothing to say for themselves. Shewassecretly pleased with how she’d conducted herself in some of theirconversations, but sharp retorts and insults were hardly likely to make him enjoy her company.
