“Nae a child’s toy, ye see,” he murmured, his voice suddenly very close behind her. When had he gotten so close? He must have followed behind her on velvet feet. Melody could not keep from flinching, and he drew back almost immediately. She wished she hadn’t done it.
“It’s beautiful,” she admitted, lifting the ornament to inspect closer. It was a decent-sized thing, and exquisitely carved. It reminded her of Callum’s horse, with its powerful shoulders, long, strong legs, and sharp, intelligent face. She ran a fingertip over the delicately engraved locks of the horse’s mane, curling over its forehead and rippling away down its neck. The tail was apparently mid-swish, so well done that she half expected the creature to huff and toss its head.
“You have talent,” Melody managed at last, twisting to look up at him. He was already staring at her, his head tilted to one side. “Did you carve all this in such a short time?”
“Aye, it’s nae so hard when ye ken what ye are doin’. I’ve heard it said that sculptin’, carvin’, and whittlin’ are all the same thing. Ye merely see what isinsidethe block of wood or stone or whatever, then work to chisel it free. It’s hardly me doin’ at all.”
“You’re far too modest. And is this really for me?”
“Aye. I had the foolish idea that it would ease yer fear of horses.” He snorted, shaking his head. “The only thing that’ll ease yer fear, though, is ridin’. Ye took a good step today, ridin’ on Thunder. That was fine work.”
She flushed, carefully setting down the wooden horse. “I can’t take credit for that. I was still afraid, you see. I… I’m not a brave person, and I never have been.”
“Bravery is nae an absence of fear. An absence of fear is stupidity, plain and simple. To be brave means to do a thing despite being afraid. I’d argue that there cannotbebravery without fear.”
She considered this for a moment. “I suppose you’re right.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Of course I am right. Here, up ye get.”
He extended a hand to help her up. Melody was perfectly able to lift herself from the ground without his help, but she took his hand anyway.
His skin was warm against hers, his palm surprisingly rough. She felt the strength in his fingers when they flexed, closing over hers. The sensation made her insides shiver in a most curious and certainly unrespectable way. He heaved, pulling her upward with barely any effort at all. Melody hadn’t been expecting such a powerful tug and tottered toward him, nearly knocking into his broad chest again.
Delicious warmth washed over her, along withhisscent, the smell that taunted her in her dreams. Leather and mint, sometimes mixed with other things. Tonight, he smelled of smoke, a rich and heady scent that made her shiver.
If I look up into his face, he will be looking down at me,she thought dazedly.And if our eyes meet, something will happen.
Where this thought had come from was anybody’s guess, but it was persistent. Suddenly afraid, Melody dropped his hand and turned away, keeping her eyes fixed downward on the wooden horse.
Coward.
“Thank you, again,” she mumbled lamely. “You’re very kind.”
“Hardly,” he responded, and this time there was an edge of bitterness in his voice. When she glanced up to gauge his expression, he’d already turned away, presenting his broad back toward her. He knelt before the table laden with food and poured two cups of wine from the jug.
I am not a coward. I won’t be. Speak, Melody, you fool.
She cleared her throat and stepped forward, twisting her fingers together.
“Since we have some time to spend,” she began cautiously, “I thought we could talk a little. While I’m sketching you, that is.”
“Talk? If ye like. About what?”
“Well, I had questions.”
“Questions? I daenae like the sound of that.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “Well, I was wondering about your wife, that’s all. It’s very rare that one hears of a person taking their own life. It must have been terrible for you, living through it then and suffering with the memory now. I only wondered if…” she faltered when Callum turned to face her, his expression entirely blank.
At once, she knew that she’d made a mistake. Her intention had only been to ask a few questions regarding how the death of his wife had affected him and the keep. Such a thing must haverocked the clan to its core. But now, faced with Callum’s blank expression, hearing her own words echoing in her head, Melody saw at once how much of a mistake she’d made. How could she have thought of asking such personal questions? How could she have imagined that he wouldanswerthem?
“I…I’m sorry,” Melody stammered. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“Nay, ye should nae. Drink yer wine and go, lass.”
She flinched. “But our hour…”
“It was a bad plan and foolish to entertain it,” he interrupted briskly, holding out a cup of wine. She shook her head, refusing to take it.
