Chapter 21 #2
I open my mouth, but it takes a few moments before the words come out.
Once they start, I couldn’t stop them if I tried.
I tell Bianca everything—Lady M’s demand for me to make Callum Reid fall in love with me, the contracts, the threat against Andra, and the guards posted at my door.
The conversation with Harold and the utter hopelessness of the past few days.
How I messed up everything, for my sister and with Callum.
I leave out the possibility of the Bond. It’s too fresh, and too personal.
She listens in complete silence, reactions playing across her face.
“Cate, you poor thing,” she says when I’ve finally finished. “I had no idea. None of us had any idea.”
This sliver of information stokes a small fire in the center of my chest. I’d allowed myself to begin to think they had all abandoned me. I reach for her hand, grasping it tightly in mine. “You have to tell everyone, B. You have to make them see what she’s doing.”
She flexes her fingers, forcing me to loosen my grip. “I can try, Cate, but I don’t know that it will do much good.”
I flop back onto my mound of pillows. “I don’t understand how no one can see how evil she is.”
“There’s something about her. Using my Gift when she’s around, it just feels effortless. As easy as breathing. It’s like it becomes tangible. It’s almost intoxicating.” She lowers her voice, turning her head away from me in shame. “But I never imagined she would be keeping you locked in your room.”
“Let alone what she’s done to Andra.” Just the words turn my stomach. The thought of my sister in the clutches of that woman while I’m here, trapped and unable to help her.
“Lady M needs Andra, she won’t hurt her.” Bianca’s attempt at reassurance falls flat.
“You’ve got to help me, Bianca. Please.”
She nods resolutely. “I will. I promise.”
I have no choice but to trust her.
—
Hours after Bianca leaves me alone in my locked room, the rattling of my balcony doors wakes me.
I’d been dreaming about Callum. Again. Finding solace in the warmth of his embrace, even if that embrace only existed in the depths of my mind.
I know it is likely I will never see him again, that the only version of Callum I will get to hold and kiss and touch is the one that lives in my dreams.
Callum Reid has no reason to come back to me now, now that he doesn’t have to suffer the guilt from killing his father.
The rattle sounds again, and I climb out of bed and creep over to investigate, my hand reaching for the dagger at my thigh.
But it’s not there, of course; it’s been missing since before the guards trapped me here.
It’s silly, but without the familiar warmth and weight of it at my side, it feels like a piece of me is missing.
Clearly no one is guarding the balcony, however.
The rattle persists, and I yank the curtains to the side, fists poised at the ready as though they could actually hurt someone trying to break down the door.
There’s a man standing on my balcony. I start to back away, ready to call for help. But then the man steps into the light, silver beams of moonlight dancing through his copper curls.
I drop my fists.
A second later, I unlatch the doors.
He doesn’t come in, both of us keeping several feet of space between us. A treacherous river separates us, and yet I want nothing more than to dive right into the dangerous waters and cross it.
My eyes flit over every inch of him, drinking him in. Hovering over the bruises coloring his face, noting the way he seems to be favoring his left leg, watching the breaths wheeze in and out of his lungs. “There are guards. Outside the door to my room. The doors are thick, but…”
Callum’s brow furrows. “Guards? What for, Caterine?”
“Probably to keep me from going to find you.” The truth flies from my mouth before I have the chance to stop it.
He sucks in a breath and the sudden move causes him to grimace.
“I guess they didn’t consider you might come to me.
” I cross over to him, taking his hand and leading him into the room, knowing he won’t enter my personal space without my permission.
I guide him into one of the chairs around the dining table, pouring him a glass of whisky before I head into my bathing chamber.
I grab one of the bottles of tonic Bianca made for me to ease the aches that come with my job, along with a soft, clean towel.
Callum is sipping from his glass when I return, wincing as the alcohol stings the cut on his lip.
I unscrew the lid from the bottle, dampening the cloth. Placing myself square between Callum’s legs, I take his chin in my hand, tilting his face so I can examine the damage.
“They’re a couple of days old already. They’ve been treated.” His voice is hoarse, like he has been talking either too much or not at all.
“I figured.” I press the cloth to the cut on his lip first. “This will help more than any of your remedies can.” Pulling the cloth away, I watch as the cut starts to heal and make a mental note to thank Bianca. “It doesn’t do as much for bruises, but it should still provide some relief.”
Callum’s fingers drift to his lip, tracing over where the cut used to be. “Thank you.”
I finish tending to the most obvious of his wounds before sitting in the chair across from him. “Should I bother asking how you are doing?”
He drains the remainder of his drink. “I think you can probably guess the answer to that, my lady.” The term holds no teasing lilt, no longer ringing of endearment. Now it feels meant to keep the distance between us.
I fist my hands in the silk of my robe to keep from reaching for him. But he’s here, and that has to mean something. “I’m so sorry, Callum.”
“I didn’t kill him. MacVeigh, I mean. I could have killed him, and I didn’t. Even though…”
“Why didn’t you?” I whisper when he fails to complete his thought.
His eyes meet mine, and they are blazing with an unfamiliar emotion, something hard and guarded, so unlike the open man I’ve grown to know. “Why do you think?”
I blink back the wetness that springs to my eyes. “I never wanted for any of this to happen.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to tell you everything. And I would have, I would have betrayed Harold if it meant saving you. But they had my sister. They still have my sister.” I choke out the words. “I’ve wanted more than anything to see you, and to apologize. I didn’t think you would come back.”
He reaches across the table, not taking my hand, but leaving his there for me to make the decision.
“I’ve wanted more than anything to see you too.
And you don’t need to apologize. I understand why you did what you did.
You aren’t the only person close to me who betrayed my trust.” He huffs out a humorless laugh.
“Maybe I’ve been the problem all along.”
I take his hand, lacing our fingers together. Something tense inside me eases at the contact. “What do you mean?”
“My uncle has been working with the Uprising this whole time.”
I suck in a breath. “Did he know about the killing period? Before it was announced, I mean?”
Callum shrugs, and it looks as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. “I couldn’t bring myself to ask.”
My heart aches. Even with his faults and prejudices, Callum has proven to be nothing but good and kind, openhearted and open-minded. He didn’t deserve that treatment from his uncle any more than he deserved it from me.
Neither of us says anything for a long minute. I focus on the warmth of his hand wrapped around mine, the comfort of his thumb swiping over my knuckles. It’s a comfort I haven’t earned, and yet I relish it just the same.
“Take off your shirt.”
His eyebrows jump. “I’m sorry?”
I gesture to his ribs. “Let me see your other bruises, I have something that can help.” I can do this for him, if nothing else.
He obliges, gingerly removing his cotton shirt, wincing with the pain of the movement.
I lean over to examine his mottled skin, breathing in the woodsy sage scent I’ve missed over the past few days. “Come with me.”
I lead him into the bathing chamber, filling a tub with warm water and adding another one of Bianca’s tonics.
I gesture for him to climb in. I know I should turn around so he can remove the rest of his clothing in privacy, but I can’t seem to force my eyes away.
I drink in every inch of him, knowing full well this could be the last time.
He doesn’t seem to mind my attention, dragging his pants and undergarments over his thick thighs, never breaking my eye contact.
I suck in a breath at the sight of him, just as beautiful, even if he is slightly worse for the wear. “I’ll just be out there, let me know if you need anything.” I move to cross back into the main room, but he grabs my hand.
“Stay. Please.” He squeezes my hand before climbing into the tub, a moan of relief escaping him as he sinks into the hot water.
“Whatever you prefer.” My mouth goes dry. It almost hurts to look at him.
“I’d prefer if you’d join me.” It almost sounds like a challenge, as if he knows I can never back down from one of those.
Baring myself to him right now will only lead to more heartache. And yet I can never seem to deny him. I untie my robe, letting the silky black fabric fall to the floor, leaving me completely bare. Callum’s eyes linger, tracing me from head to toe.
“Has it really only been four days?” he mutters.
I climb into the tub, settling across from him. His legs rest on either side of mine, and my body flushes, either from the heat of him or the heat of the water. I rest my hands on the edge of the copper tub, not knowing if I have permission to touch him.
But good lord do I want to touch him. I knew how much I missed him, knew how the ache of missing him has been gnawing at me. But now he’s here and I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know why he’s come. I just know I don’t want to do anything to scare him away.
“How do you feel? Your bruises, I mean?” It feels like the safest question.