“Nay, I daenae think so. Yer first impression of me was a murderous beast calledkinslayersketched in a scandalous pamphlet. I’m nae sure I’ve provided a much better image for ye over the time we’ve spent together. So, I ask ye again, are ye afraid of me?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Callum shifted, uncomfortable in more ways than one. He’d hoped for a quick answer. A shortyesorno, something to accept and work with. Somethingeasy.
“A man in your position easily has it within his power to be frightening,” she said at last, almost thoughtfully. “You have so much power. Truthfully, I can see why the people of two countries are so afraid of you.”
“Two countries? Which two countries?”
“England and Scotland, of course. Your reputation precedes you, assuredly.”
“There is nay need to assure me,” he muttered. “I already ken it. I am nae askin’ for their opinion, I want yers.”
“And why does my opinion matter so much to you?”
He sighed. “Ye are in a particularly troublesome mood this evenin’, lassie.”
“I’m simply trying to give the question due weight. The way you spoke about it made me think that it was something terrible, something serious.”
Had he? Had he really been so serious when he told her they had something to speak of?
Callum was not much given to self-reflection. Wondering about oneself and how one presented oneself was a complete waste of time. It was the sort of thing that wishy-washy London dandies and their cake-fluff wives did, constantly introspecting and discussing their own behavior as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. He could think of nothing duller.
Still, at the back of his mind, Callum could not quite ignore the fact that he was something of a harsh man. He spoke plainly, did not bother with apologies or explanations, and made no attempt to hide himself beneath flowery manners.
He would not be tolerated in London or at Bath, he knew that much. Not that he minded, of course. Those places would not suit him just as much as he would not suit them. Nor would the people who lived in those places.
With one exception, of course.
Callum was aware that Melody was craning her neck, trying to glance back at him without being seen to do so. Their eyes met, and she hastily looked away. It was too dark to see if she was blushing, but he suspected that she was.
“If ye are afraid of me,” Callum said at last. “Then ye had better leave the keep at the end of our betrothal.”
She flinched. “Oh.”
They trotted out of the forest, and the dark keep loomed before them. Beyond the walls, there’d be light, of course. Candles would burn in windows, and lanterns would be carried by people as they scurried across the courtyard. Soldiers would patrol regularly, bearing torches, and more torches would be set at intervals along the wall for the convenience and safety of the keep’s inhabitants.
Outside, however, there was only a blank, black curve of stone wall, formidable and unbroken. The gate lay just ahead, heavily guarded, with a single torch burning behind the portcullis. The guards had noticed their approach. One man peered through the iron grille, and his eyes widened when he saw Callum. He gestured, and the portcullis began to lift, inch by grinding inch.
“Don’t you think that people’s perception of you would change if you tried to trust them a little more? If you worked to…” she began, but Callum cut her off.
“Now, just what makes ye think I care about anybody’s perception of me, lass?”
“Well, you asked me if I was afraid of you. That means you’ve considered it. That means you care.”
“Ye are leapin’ to conclusions with the vigor of somebody jumpin’ from a burnin’ house,” he muttered.
“Well, am I wrong?”
He didn’t answer. They trotted into the keep courtyard, past the guards and the raised portcullis.
“People will be returnin’ from the festival over the next few hours,” Callum instructed the guards. “Keep an eye out. Amongst them will be Lucas and the healer, Kat. The night is dark and cold, and I daenae want them to have to wait at the gates.”
“Aye, me Laird, we’ll watch out for them.”
The guards glanced up at Melody, perched uncomfortably on the front of the saddle, but nobody was foolish enough to say anything. Callum passed by, hurriedly crossing the courtyard toward the stables. Melody wriggled, clearly wanting to get down, but he kept a firm grip on her waist.
“The thing about trust, since that was the word ye chose,” he murmured, “is that trustin’ anybody is a foolish endeavor. I’ve learned my lesson in the past, I can assure ye.”
“What do you mean?”
