“Me, pissed?” His mouth peels into a sneer. “I’m a wee bit in my cups, aye.”
“Is there something you wanted?” Callum asks tightly.
“Something I’ve wanted,” Hamish muses, scanning mybody head to toe. “Oh, aye. I been wanting to pluck myself a rose.”
The comment annoys me, but it’s nothing compared to how it affects Callum. He explodes toward Hamish, and I grab his arm, pulling him back before he has a chance to hit the young Campbell. The fact that Hamish is a moving target, swaying drunkenly on his feet, helps.
“It’s fine,” I tell Callum. “It was just a stupid comment. I’ve heard stuff like that before. No big deal.”
Hamish’s face splits into a sloppy grin. Looking at Callum, he exclaims giddily, “She doesn’t get it.”
“Get what?” I look from man to man. “What am I missing?”
“Plucking a rose…” Callum’s entire body goes rigid, his fists curling at his sides. His voice is a growl. “It means two things.”
“It means to engage a whore,” Hamish tells me with exaggerated precision. “’Twas merely a jest.” His eyes stay locked on mine as something cold descends over them. I can practically see him getting more sober by the second. “Also diverting is how quickly you jumped to protect this bit of MacGregor scum. You’re jumpy indeed, lass. You were certainly capering about in his arms when I walked in.” He steps closer. “I might fancy a turn.”
I stand tall, pulling my shoulders back. “Not gonna happen.”
Hamish closes in, but again Callum steps in front of me to stop him. “The lass says no.”
Callum is gritting his teeth so hard, the muscles in his jaw jump. He’s restraining himself, and I can tell it’s killing him. But he can’t lose control—he’d be thrown in that pit, orworse. I’m sure it must occur to him how alone and vulnerable I’d be without him.
Hamish pauses for what seems like forever. “You may change your mind,” he says finally, and grants me an exaggeratedly courtly nod. “Meanwhile, here’s something to think on.” Then he darts so quickly to me we don’t have a chance to stop him before he grabs my hips and smashes my face with a toothy kiss that lands half on, half off my lips.
I stumble back, wiping my mouth. “What is your problem?”
“Aye, I’ve a problem.” The young Campbell is frowning at me—and it’s not at my face. His eyes are glued to my hip. “You’ve something in your apron. I’d like to know what it is.”
“My apron?” For a heart-stopping moment, I worry he’s felt Callum’s dagger. But as I take a step backward, I feel the thump of the tiny apples I’d tucked in my pocket for later. “Oh, that. It’s just a snack. Maybe if you fed your servants better, I wouldn’t have to carry food around with me.”
So I have some food on my person. My eyes dart to Callum to see how I should react, but he’s still as granite. How big a deal can this be?
Very big, apparently, because Hamish isn’t letting it go. “Show me,” he demands. He tilts his head, watching me too closely. He’s dragging this out, enjoying the slow, creeping horror settling into my bones.
My hand trembles as I dig into my pocket. I’m missing something here, some landmine I’m about to step in, I just can’t figure out what.
I show him. “Just an apple.”
“Justan apple she says.” Hamish looks from me to Callum. “Andjusta thief.”
No.
Oh, no no no.
I assumed that wasn’t the only apple tree. I was wrong.
“Ah.” Hamish raises his eyebrows, measured and deliberate. “Did you not ken the fruits of the Campbell orchard are off-limits to servants?”
“I took it,” Callum blurts quickly. “Rose had naught to do with it. This is my doing.”
Hamish’s eyes go dark with menace, a glimpse of the monster within. He’s intoxicated, and it has nothing to do with alcohol.
“No,” I insist, shooting a glare at Callum. “I took it. And come on, it’s just a stupid apple.” I shake my head with the ridiculousness of it, trying to take this down a notch. “So how about we all stand down?”
“There are rules,” Hamish informs me with a patronizingtsk. “Shall I tell you?”
I roll my eyes. “The prospect of nabbing a dangerous apple burglar is really focusing you, Hamish. I liked you better when you were drunk and slurry.”
