Callum’s voice rumbles over mine. “Why are you here?”
So much for casual.
“The lass can come and go as she pleases,” Hamish says smoothly.
“I meant you.” Callum’s voice is loud enough to be heard over the music. Loud enough to be a challenge. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be dancing with your own kind?”
I want to catch Callum’s eye, to silently tell him to chill out, but not only is he not looking at me, it’s like he’s cast a force field around me.
Likenobodyshould be looking at me.
“Martinmas supper, all that food. It gets so tedious.” Hamish stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankles, the very picture of relaxed entitlement. It only highlights just how different the two guys are. How fineHamish’s clothes are. How shiny his black leather boots, how spotless his tan breeches.
“It’s good to be a Campbell,” he says. “Unlike others, I can go wherever I please, and sometimes what pleases me is watching how the rest of you live.”
The statement hangs in the air. It’s aimed directly at Callum. Who will never be allowed to leave.
Callum twists his mouth into the shape of a smile. “And?” His reply is quick. Dismissive. “Have you gotten your fill?”
“Oh, I’ve watched.” In a slow, deliberate move, Hamish turns his gaze on me. Scans me from head to toe. Then exhales a disappointed sigh. “Frankly, stable boy, I find it wanting.”
I blink. “Excuse me? You did not just insult me.”
But Callum is way ahead of me. His hand moves automatically to where his sword should hang, his entire body coiled. “I’ll wait as you give Rose an apology.”
He wouldn’t hesitate to draw blood to defend my honor. To protect me.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
This is why I needed to keep my distance…but that ship has sailed. Now, worse, I’m starting to think I might actually need the protection.
“As I give an apology?” Hamish laughs lightly, but his gaze sharpens. He eyes me again. Then he drops the real insult. “I believeyou’rethe one who owes this poor chit an apology.”
Callum goes still, tension rolling off him in waves.
I’m chanting to him in my head—don’t, it’s okay, leave it alone, I’ve seen worse, no big deal…
“My point is,” Hamish continues, “youneed to clothe our Rose more nicely. A bonnie lass like her should be wearing something finer than a sack fashioned from Donag’s discarded lawn cloth.”
I gasp, understanding what this is—he’s not insulting me.
He’s shaming Callum.
“I’m fine.” The words burst from me, too fast, too eager. This is my battle too. I can’t let Callum stand alone.
“It’s true. You are fine. And you shall look even finer.” Hamish gives me a look thick with false sympathy. “Tell me, has that old crow forbidden you from wearing aught but rags? I’ll have a new dress delivered to you tomorrow.”
I glance at Callum.
His jaw is tight. His fists clenched. But more than that, he looks…ashamed. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might wish nicer things for me.
Hamish, sensing his advantage, presses forward. “What do you say, stable boy? Let’s give the lass a day off tomorrow, shall we? In honor of her first Martinmas under Campbell protection.”
Hamish slides his hand behind me as he leans closer?—
But before I can shove him off, I’m saved by a smell. I jolt upright. Alert. “I think something’s burning.” The smell is sharp and charred, like bonfire embers meeting musty wool. But clearly nobody’s running around in flames.
I look up at Callum. “Do you smell that?”
