Callum let the chaos go on around the council table for a few long moments before he intervened. In his experience, it was best to let them all talk it out before they got down to business.
Besides, it would distract him from the woman sitting at his side.
A chair had been set out for Melody, set beside his. She sat very still and straight, watching the chaos with a horrified expression. If the situation weren’t so serious, he’d feel inclined to laugh.
The situationwasserious, however.
What have I done? Why did I lead her on? That kiss, that mistake… then I turned around and told her that I would nae keep her.
This is wrong. I am unkind. Unfair.
He let his eyes drift closed momentarily. While he was doing that, lost in a memory of how Melody’s face had screwed up in pleasure, a loudbangechoed from the other end of the table. Eyes flying open, he found himself staring directly at Angus, whose fist was curled on the table. He must have brought it down with a powerfulthunk.
That was unusual. When had Angus started taking charge of when the meeting would begin in earnest?
“Enough, all of ye!” Angus snarled, glowering at the other councilors. “Be calm. We have things to discuss.”
“How dare ye speak like that in front of yer Laird? Be careful, Angus, me patience is running thinner than usual.”
Something close to fear flashed in Angus eyes and he inclined his head. “I apologize, me Laird, I just wanted to help ye, as always. I can see now that I overstepped.” He settled back into his seat.
“If ye allow me, we thought, me Laird, that we ought to begin plannin’ the festivities for yer weddin’. If we organize smaller celebrations in the villages, for those who cannae attend the weddin’ itself in the keep, that will require some organization.”
“And money,” chimed in another councilor, who immediately cringed back when Angus glared at him.
“Aye, it’ll nae be cheap, but it’s worth it,” Angus insisted. “Our laird is marryin’ again at last! We ought to be celebratin’.”
“Except that this weddin’ willnae happen.”
Silence fell over the whole room. One by one, each councilman turned, shocked, to the man who had spoken.
The councilor’s table was small, and there was often no room for all the members. Mostly, the councilors jostled amongst each other to be sure that they got a seat, but one man in particular had long since given up trying.
Thomas Johnson sat in a chair pushed against the wall, his arms folded loosely over his chest. He returned Callum’s glare with a cool, disinterested stare.
“What are ye sayin’, Thomas?” Callum managed when it was clear that Thomas intended to say no more.
Thomas only sighed. “What areyesayin’, me Laird? Daenae toy with us. Ye never intended to lead this woman to the altar. We all ken it, in our hearts. She came from nowhere, a hurried match designed to silence those on the council who wished ye to remarry. After a few weeks, I imagine she’ll conveniently break the engagement and go back to England, leavin’ ye with a good excuse nae to seek another bride. I am nae a fool.”
There was another long silence. Angus stared at Thomas for a long, taut moment, then slowly turned to Callum.
“Is this true, me Laird?” he asked, his voice a raspy whisper.
Callum cleared his throat, sitting back in his seat. “Nay, Angus. Thomas is still strugglin’ with grief, as we all ken, and he misses his daughter. For that reason, I’ll nae be punishin’ him, but me patience is still runnin’ thin. Do ye hear me, Thomas? It’s runnin’verythin.”
Thomas shrugged carelessly, turning away. Callum gestured for Angus to continue.
“I agree that we should bring the outer villages into the celebrations,” he said at last. “But let’s nae start planning so soon now, eh? Let’s wait until closer to the time.”
A prickle of unease unfolded in Callum’s chest. There would not be a wedding. Of course, there would not. He’d allowed himself to think about it, to linger, and that had been a mistake. He’d allowed Melody to think that there was hope, and that was cruel. He would have to apologize and explain, and hope that he had not done too much damage.
His councilors would be disappointed, of course, but there was nothing to be done about that.
“Very well,” Angus managed, sounding disoriented. “If ye think so, me Laird. I should warn ye that Timothy Boles, the drunk who assaulted Lady Melody, is makin’ his mouth go. Apparently, he remembers little in his drunken haze beyond bein’ attacked by Laird MacDean.”
“Surely, no one is siding with him?” Melody burst out. Callum glanced at her and saw that her brow was knotted in distress. Hefelt a sudden, powerful urge to reach out and place his hand on hers. He fought it off.
“Nay, nae quite,” Angus conceded. “Ye are a popular woman, Lady Melody. Laird MacDean is well-loved. However, his behavior has been a wee bit erratic over the past few years, and people are nae so sure of him as they were before. Once an heir appears, however, all will be forgotten. We have nay need to…”
