He didn’t think he’d ever forget the hurt and confusion in her eyes. Momentarily squeezing his eyes closed, he recalled how she’d gasped aloud, how she’d dug her fingers into his arm. She’d wanted his touch, he knew that much.
And what did ye do afterward? Ye sent her away unceremoniously. Ye did nae care if it hurt her.
Or if ye did care, it did nae affect what ye said.
He half-rose to his feet, eyes fixed on the door. What would she say? Would she be angry? Would she return the horse he’d carved for her? Really, it would have served him right if she brought it back smashed to kindling.
Perhaps she’ll leave quietly. Perhaps I’ve already seen the last of her. Or perhaps she’s here to try again, to tell me that she wants to make more and more mistakes…
Lucas strolled in through the open door. Callum’s hopes deflated. He sat down heavily.
“Oh. It’s ye.”
Lucas gave him an odd look. “Aye, of course it’s me. I’m here for our usual mornin’ meetin’, remember? Did ye drink too much whisky at the festival or somethin’?”
“I drank nay whisky at the festival. I’m just… I’m tired.”
Well, it wasn’t a lie. Lucas gave him a long, curious stare, then shook his head, dropping down into the stool that Sophie had just vacated.
“Ye might as well scowl, by the way,” he added. “I daenae have very good news for ye. I have just come from a meetin’ with the council…”
“And why was I nae summoned? Does the council of Clan MacDean meet without its laird, now, eh?”
Lucas grimaced. “Lady Sophie was right about yer mood, I see. And nay, it was a meetin’ in the informal sense. As ye well ken, handfuls of the council members tend to pounce upon me in corridors and demand that I mention things to ye. They generally do it when they daenae want to speak to ye themselves. This particular gang was led by Angus, and it was less like a meetin’ and more like a pack of cats cornerin’ a defenseless mouse. Me bein’ the mouse,” he added, as if Callum might be unsure.
He sighed. “Fine, fine. I am sorry, Lucas. I daenae mean to snap.”
His friend eyed him for a long moment. “I believe ye,” he said at last. “But it’s clear that there is somethin’ on yer mind. Have ye quarreled with Lady Melody?”
Callum flinched. How could Lucas guess correctly so quickly? He had no intention of telling the truth, however. How could he? The events of last night must stay a secret. Laird MacDean could play around with any woman he chose and receive only a few tuts and general disapproval, but Lady Melody, an Englishwoman, had no such freedom. It was only kind to keep quiet about it all. He didn’t know much about England, ofcourse, but he knew enough to guess that what they’d done last night would ruin Melody forever in the eyes of all English society.
That seemed like a small loss to him, but she probably felt differently.
“I have not quarreled with her,” he responded testily. “Although I am concerned about her. I understand she slept late this mornin’? I did not see her at breakfast.”
“I wouldnae ken, me Laird. About that business with the drunk last night,” Lucas remarked, leaning forward and lifting his eyebrows meaningfully. “The fellow was named Timothy Boles, or somethin’ like that. He’s known to be a drunk, but apparently, this is the first time he’s bothered a woman. He’s howlin’ in the dungeons as he speaks. The news of it is all over the clan.”
Callum stiffened. “What? Already?”
“Aye, of course.”
“Nobody saw what happened.”
“People find things out. Ye ken this. Anyway, there’s a general sort of confusion. Ye ken how stories get twisted, and some folks are always ready to take the side of the villain. Ye did bloody him up quite a bit.”
“Aye, and I’ll do it again if I have to,” Callum snapped. “Ye cannae mean that they are sympathetic toward him.”
“Nae exactly, but the idea of their laird turnin’ such violence on an ordinary man is a little worryin’ to some.”
He threw up his hands. “So me own people are turnin’ against me, is that it?”
“Nay, that’s nae it at all. Ye did nae let mefinish. What I was goin’ to say is that the people love Melody. Few of them got to meet her, but the ones that did adored her. Old Nessie, who sells hagstones every year at the festival, was tellin’ anyone who’d listen that the lass carries all the luck and foresight of the clan, whatever that means. Apparently, Melody bought a hagstone, or tried to buy one, and Nessie said that it was anauspicious sign, which apparently is a good thing. Anyway, her approval goes a long way. People at the keep speak well of her, and her reputation is growin’. They love her, Callum,” he added, with an incredulous chuckle. “An Englishwoman as Lady MacDean, and they love her! I could nae have imagined it, and nor would they. Ye chose well. She’ll make a fine lady.”
Callum pressed his lips together. “She’s nae Lady MacDean yet.”
Lucas paused, the smile fading from his lips. “What do ye mean?”
“Well, I only mean that I’m nae sure this is the right place for her.”
