Chapter 8 #2
Outside the café, Callum popped the Land Rover’s passenger-side door open, handing me inside with a small, worried smile.
After he’d reclaimed the driver’s seat, he paused before starting the engine.
“I’m sorry if you found that strange. Una is a lovely person, but she’s also the queen of gossip in these parts.
I wanted you to know what people were saying about me.
I don’t listen to it myself, but I didn’t want… ”
He stared at his hands, worrying the steering wheel’s leather cover with a nail. There was something so open, so vulnerable about the confident man in that second, I wanted to lean in and kiss him. Just to make him feel better.
“She told me you were arrested. Is that what you didn’t want me to hear later?”
He inclined his head. “I want there to be a later, so whatever she had to say would either send you running or have you ask me. Get it out of the way.”
I wanted to say he could have just told me himself, but I sort of understood.
Callum had expected someone to gossip about him, and for me to run away with that information and never call him again.
It had bothered him enough that he’d arranged for me to hear it from a third party who I could question freely.
It seemed impossible that this gentle, brusque man could be dangerous—the idea so out there I wanted to laugh—yet at the same time there must be a truth here. Something he was obviously uncomfortable talking about.
“Why don’t you drive me to your castle and we can sort the gossip from the facts?”
With the engine purring, Callum navigated left out of the loch-side village.
Ahead, the sprawl of Castle McRae sat on the shore, its edges lit bright gold by a ray of sunshine.
I could picture so many uses for the place already.
As a backdrop for filming, though that could be disruptive for the family, as a corporate retreat, though nobody wanted a bunch of braying asshats hanging around for a weekend.
Destination weddings would be perfect, depending on whether the castle had the right setup.
But if it was plain inside or, worse, modernised, that might not fly.
But first… “Tell me why you think gossip would bother me.”
Callum gave a huff. “That particular tale should bother anyone.” He slowed the car on the empty road, glancing at me. “I didnae end my father’s life, but I did report him missing. I was arrested after his body was found.”
“At that old quarry we passed earlier?”
“Christ, woman.” His cheeks paled.
“You were released without charge?”
“Aye. How did you…never mind. I wanted you to go home without any unanswered questions hovering over you. No more secrets or misunderstandings.”
We were in danger of sharing too much, too soon, but the man was so upfront he was an open book. A good person, honest and true.
I wasn’t prepared yet to be so transparent. It wasn’t in me to do so.
I had a history of concealing my feelings and pretending everything was okay. I’d put a brave face on more times than I could count, and it was second nature to shut down any emotions that could harm me. Even with Beth, my best friend, I kept significant parts of myself closed off.
Callum and I were so different.
“How did your father die?” I blurted. Where on Earth had those words come from?
“He got drunk, drove out into the hills, and stumbled over the quarry edge.”
“Why were you arrested?” I couldn’t stop my mouth.
“I’d smacked him in the face before he left. Broke his nose.” The car sped up, and Callum gripped the wheel.
“Did he deserve it?”
“Aye. I admitted the same to the police when they came knocking. I didnae blame them because it looked shady as anything. There were too many coincidences. Too much gossip. I’d just turned eighteen so could take control of the estate, my father had a reputation, and I’d publicly called him out. He had a problem with my brother…”
I stiffened, the parallels with my own life too close.
Callum drew a heavy breath, and we pulled off the loch road, taking an open path over a bridge. The tyres crunched over gravel-filled potholes in a car park on the other side, and we were there. Castle McRae.
The laird took the keys from the ignition and rolled his shoulders before bringing a heavy gaze on me.
“Story for another time. I’m about as good at playing it cool as I am holding my tongue when I see a wrong.
It was the one thing you could ask of me I’d find hardest to deliver.
So, I apologise. You…shake me up. You did from the moment I saw you.
I won’t pretend otherwise, not when I’m about to show you my home and want you to visit again.
To call me sometime or answer when I call you. ”
“I’m sorry you waited for me to call.” He’d waited on me, and I hadn’t contacted him. Well, effing hell. My chest gave a little pang of hurt on his behalf.
Callum reached out and took my hand. We linked fingers, and warmth ran up my arm.
“To finish my story, I’d do anything for those I love.
Kicking my father out of his home and raising my brothers without fear of violence had been my plan since I was fifteen.
Younger. I’d never been quiet about it. My arrest was a natural outcome.
He hit my brother, I defended my family.
He drove out, and we never saw him again.
Except in the morgue. The fallout from that was shite but expected. ”
Yikes. I squeezed his hand. Did I think I had it rough with a difficult parent? “I’m sorry for your trauma, and for your loss.”
A new beam of sunlight broke through the clouds, highlighting Callum’s furrowed brow. “People dinna normally see it that way. They say good riddance.”
“He was still your dad. I’m sorry for you losing what he should have been.”
We sat in silence, the weight of the moment needing to dissipate. Maybe Callum was no longer such a stranger now I had an insight into his life, but this was still a two-way street. I’d shared nothing.
“Right. Enough of the heavy or you’ll think I’m all up in my drama.” Callum unclipped both our seatbelts and leapt out of the car, jogging around to my side. He opened my door and offered a hand, keeping mine on the approach to a huge wooden door, studded with iron and solid.
Open, like its master.
“Now, tell me what you make of my place. Then let me make up reasons for you to return.”
I already wanted to. In the moments between conversations, I’d run over my diary, considered the travel time and thought about my holiday because, and as strange as it was, I knew I wasn’t walking away. Whatever else might come.
Callum McRae, with his honour, big heart, and even bigger frame, was far too addictive for just one day.