“’Tis good to see ye among the living,” the commander said with a casual smile.
“’Tis good to know I was missed.”
“Ye weren’t. Kate was.”
Callum nodded and then had to smile as he headed back to his chambers. What a pack of miserably ruthless bastards he had saddled himself with. God’s blood, he was fortunate, indeed.
“Jamie gave ye the news about the MacLeod?” Graham came up beside him.
“Aye. When is he comin’?”
“He’ll be arriving on the morrow. But there’s another matter of more urgency to discuss. A band of Campbells was seen in Glengarry.”
Callum’s steps halted. “How long ago?”
“Two days.”
“How many?”
“Forty, mayhap fifty horsemen.”
“Send William and a dozen of his best fighters to scout the coast, and I want Rob and twenty others in Glenelg by nightfall. I want to know where the Campbells are. I want to know their every move.” When he reached the door to his chamber, Graham held back. “Come,” Callum invited him inside. “There is one other thing I wish to discuss with you.”
Graham entered the room, lowering his gaze when Kate, still lying in bed, bare as the day she was born, yanked the fur blanket up to her chin. She glared at Callum, but he only winked at her.
Shaking her head at the callous brute, Kate cursed under her breath and sank deeper under the covers. She peeked out at Graham while Callum dressed.
My, but the commander looked especially comely today, she thought, admiring him from her bed. He wore a white wide-sleeved tunic beneath his plaid, and his kidskin boots were scrubbed clean of mud. She particularly liked the way he donned his cap backward, with the brim behind his head rather than on the side of it, his spray of burnished curls peeking out at his nape.
Graham caught her admiration of him and tossed her a smile she was sure felled many hearts.
“Are ye both done?” Callum yanked his plaid off his waist and dashed it to the ground, then reached for a fresh tunic.
Graham and Kate looked at Callum at the same time. The commander cleared his throat and picked an imaginary mote of lint off his plaid.
“Callum, Graham is comely, but surely his buttocks are not as well formed as yours.” Kate blinked her long black lashes at Callum so innocently, he swore he saw a halo hovering over her head. That is, after he finished blushing a dark shade of crimson. He snatched up his plaid again and tossed it swiftly over his form.
“Kate, I dinna think ’tis proper to speak that way in front of Graham, especially if ye’re to be my wife.”
She popped her head out fully from under the blanket. “Your wife?”
“Aye.” He turned to Graham. “Send fer Faither Lachlan. Last I heard, he was in Moray.”
“Ye have my blessing.” Graham was happy to hear such news and smiled at Kate again.
“We’re goin’ to need it,” Callum mumbled. “And quit starin’ at her.”
“Just a moment, please,” Kate said from the bed. “I don’t remember being asked.”
“Asked?” Callum barely looked up from securing his plaid.
“Aye, asked,” Kate repeated stubbornly. It was difficult to challenge him on this issue, especially since she wanted to leap out of the bed and fling herself in his arms. But hell, the man was too arrogant for his own good. “I will not be told who I am to marry.”
Now he set his eyes on her and scowled for all he was worth. “You were willing to be told to marry Lord Mortimer of Newbury.”
Mortimer of Newbury! Kate almost slapped her thigh at the recollection of her imaginary betrothed’s name. And what was this? Callum knew it all along? The fact that he remembered the name with such clarity warmed her heart for some odd reason.
“Well?”
