Chapter 4
Callum glanced over at his grandmother, and his expression hardened.
“She’s right, Grandmother. Ye can’t cannae stand here. Here, take my arm.”
Sophie growled. “I am not nae leavingleavin’.”
“Oh, but ye are. If ye insist on stayingstayin’, I’ll fetch Jane and tell her that ye are wandering wanderin’ around in the damp, cold dungeons.”
Melody had no idea who Jane was, but Sophie scowled at the mention of her anyway.
“I’m not nae leaving leavin’ without the lass.
Callum, reconsider. Is a night in the cell a suitable punishment for someone who was only in the wrong place at the wrong time?
” Sophie tottered forward, reaching out a gnarled hand to place on Callum’s muscled forearm.
“The lass willnae not be allowed to leave without yer say-so. Let me put her in a decent bed, just for tonight.”
Callum let out a long, slow exhale. “Very well. One night, and she’s to be locked in. And she will leave in the morningmornin’, do ye hear?”
“Not Nae before breakfast, surely?”
“One bite of breakfast,” he responded tersely, “and then she goes.”
Sophie opened her mouth as if to argue, then seemed to think better of it, and closed her mouth again.
“What a generous man ye are,” she murmured, reaching up to pat him. “The finest laird Laird the MacDeans have ever had.”
A flash of something soft, like affection, crossed Callum’s face. Whatever his faults, it seemed clear that he cared for his grandmother.
The softness vanished when he glanced at Melody. Scowling, he jerked his chin at her.
“Escort my me grandmother up the stairs.”
“The tray…”
“Leave the tray. Quickly, before I change my mind.”
Melody hurried to obey, offering her arm to Sophie. The old woman gave her a wide smile and a wink as they made their slow way out of the awful cell and towardstoward a narrow staircase whichthat led upwards to freedom.
Being locked in a room overnight was not a pleasant thought, but at least she wasn’t going to be in a dungeon.
“My laird,” Melody called hesitantly, “did you make the tray of food for me yourself?”
He didn’t bother to reply.
The next morning, Callum was not sure what he’d find in his grandmother’s room.
Part of him wouldn’t have been surprised to find Melody gone, having enacted some fancy escape during the night.
But, no, she was still there, hunched over a bowl of porridge at the table.
Jane was there, too, making Sophie’s morning herbal tea.
All three of them glanced up when Callum entered.
“Well, since ye are here to entertain our guest,” Sophie huffed, levering herself to her feet and taking Jane’s arm. “I’ll wash and dress for the day, eh?”
“She’s nae a guest,” Callum responded sharply, but of course, his grandmother was no longer listening. He watched them go, clenching his jaw. The bedroom door closed, and he was left alone with Melody.
This was not how it was supposed to go. Breathing in through his nose, Callum turned to Melody and gave a brittle smile.
“Eat up. I’ll arrange a carriage to take ye where ye need to go. Ye’ll be dropped over the English border, but I cannae say how far me drivers will take ye beyond that yet.”
She dabbed her mouth delicately with the edge of a cloth napkin. Where had she found a napkin?
“I don’t wish to leave the Highlands,” Melody responded. “If I’m to leave here, I’ll go to my sister’s home.”
He frowned, folding his arms. “Yer sister lives in the Highlands?”
She nodded. “She’s married to Laird MacLeon. I know it’s more than we agreed, but would you let me write her a letter? Just to let her know that I’m coming?”
Laird MacLeon? That was a surprise. Callum knew that the Laird had recently taken a wife, and there were rumors that he’d taken an English wife, but he had no idea that this was her sister.
Interesting, he thought, a kernel of an idea beginning to form. He didn’t push it, however. Instead, he hooked an ankle around the chair Jane had been occupying and dragged it out from the table. Throwing himself down with a thump, he fixed a long stare on Melody.
“Why are ye here, lass?” he said at last. “Nay lies or trickery. I want the plain truth.”
Melody stared down at the remains of her congealing porridge for a long moment.
“That pamphlet was shown to me by a pair of ladies at a London ball,” she said at last, her voice quiet. “I took exception to it.”
“Ye took exception to it? Why? Ye daenae ken me. What business is it of yers what damage is done to me reputation?”
“Well, none, of course. It’s just that my sister is married to a Scottish laird, like you, and I didn’t like how they implied all such men were monsters.
My sister, you know, is very happy. They didn’t believe me, of course, and to prove that such pamphlets and exaggerated sketches were purely lies, I offered to come here and sketch you myself, to prove that you were just an ordinary man. ”
“Just an ordinary man,” Callum responded thoughtfully. “Did it nae occur to ye, lass, that perhaps I like seein’ meself displayed in such a way?”
Melody blinked. “It had not. Do you like being portrayed like that?”
Callum gave a tight smile and did not answer for a moment. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, fixing Melody with a long, straight stare.
To her credit, she did not glance away.
“Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that a gently-bred English lass would uproot herself and travel all the way to the Highlands, alone, simply to prove a point. There has to be more to it than this.”
She stared back at him for a moment, the color gradually increasing in her cheeks. It was almost mesmerizing to watch the blush skid across her face. She blushed more than any lass he’d ever met.
“My father is arranging my wedding,” she said at last, her voice tight. “I estimate that I have about a month before it takes place.”
Ah. Now this makes sense.
“A last adventure before the end of yer freedom, eh?” he murmured softly.
Melody clenched her jaw, glancing aside.
“Marriage is completely ordinary. Everybody must marry, after all.”
“Nae everybody,” he responded, leaning back in his seat. “Well, I’m glad we got to the bottom of that, at least.”
She glanced back at him and opened her mouth to speak. Whatever she was going to say was lost forever when a sharp rap came at the door, making them both flinch.
“Come in,” Callum ordered sharply.
The door inched open, and a short, stocky man of about eight-and-twenty stepped through the door.
“I was told ye were here,” the man said, gaze falling curiously on Melody.
“What is it, Lucas?” Callum sighed.
Lucas tossed back his hair—nut brown, curled, and kept ridiculously long—and embarked on what was clearly a memorized speech.
“The men of the council wish to see ye. They claim that ye have dallied too long in choosing a bride, and wish to discuss how we can all speed up the process of yer takin’ a wife. They sent me here to tell ye exactly this. So, here I am.”
“We’ve been through this before, Lucas,” Callum responded heavily. “I’ll nae marry. I was married, and now I am nae, and there’s an end to it.”
He had spoken without thinking. That was clear from the way Melody stiffened in the corner of his eye. She hadn’t known he’d been married, then.
Well, she kens now.
“That is nae an end to it, as we both ken,” Lucas sighed, slumping against the door. “The councilors want to meet with ye.”
“Then I’ll meet with them when I have time.”
Lucas nodded. His gaze slid over to Melody, and his eyes narrowed.
“Who is she?”
“Me grandmother’s guest,” Callum answered without missing a beat. “She’s here to paint me portrait.”
Lucas pursed his lips, clearly disbelieving, but said nothing. Callum knew his friend well enough to know that this was the story that Lucas would spread over the Keep, and he’d simply have to tell him the real story later.
Later.
The idea was now clear in his head. Slowly, Callum rose to his feet and glanced at Melody.
“Come with me,” he ordered. “We’ll go to me study. I wish to speak to ye.”
Melody’s face slackened in horror. “But… But I’ve not finished my porridge.”
He snatched up the bowl and hurled it into the fire.
“There,” he answered brusquely. “Done.”
“She’s English?” Lucas queried, frowning.
Callum did not bother to respond to that comment. “Lucas, fetch Angus Matheson. I take it that he’s the one who’s naggin’ ye about me takin’ a wife?”
“Well, aye. As head councilman, he surely…”
“Aye, aye, I ken who he is. Fetch him and bring him to the Council Room along with the others. I’ll have news for them.”
“I’m nae sure where he’ll be at this hour of the mornin’,” Lucas murmured. “I could find Kat, perhaps? She’ll be at the healer’s chambers. She’ll ken where her uncle’s gone. She…”
“If ye go to see Kat at the healer’s chambers, ye will never leave,” Callum interrupted testily. “Just do as I say, lad.”
Lucas bit his lip and made a tight bow, hurrying out of the room. Callum strode after him, pausing in the doorway and glancing back at Melody.
“Well, lass? Get goin’. I’ll nae wait for ye.”
She hesitated, just for a second, then scuttled after him.
What have I gotten myself into? Melody thought worriedly, following the hulking Scotsman along the hallways.
The halls were much busier than last night, full of servants and finely dressed men and women.
They all stepped aside deferentially as Callum strode past. Then, inevitably, their eyes landed on Melody, and widened in surprise.
It was easier just to ignore their stares and concentrate on following Callum. He led the way to the same place where she’d met him last night. In clear daylight, she guessed that it was the foot of a tower.
He held open the door for her, forcing her to duck under his arm to step inside. Then he slammed the door closed, shutting off the gawping stares of a couple of servants.
“Now,” Callum stated as soon as the door was closed. “I’ve come up with an idea.”