Chapter 5
“Where are we going, then?” Melody gasped, struggling to catch up with Callum.
Her hand still felt warm from his grasp.
That was a little confusing. While gentlemen, of course, did not offer their ungloved hands so boldly to ladies, there were plenty of times when she had taken a gentleman’s hand in the past. During a dance, perhaps, or when climbing out of the carriage.
She could not ever remember feeling so powerfully affected by it.
It’s just the situation we are in, she told herself firmly. It really means nothing at all.
“We’re goin’ to the Council Room,” Callum answered grimly. “Say as little as ye can. They’re unlikely to ask ye questions, but it’s best to be safe rather than sorry. Let me do the talkin’.”
They reached a large, square door set deep in the stone and studded with iron. Abruptly, Callum whirled around to face her, eyes narrowed. Melody skidded to a halt, very nearly bumping into his broad chest.
“If this betrothal is discovered to be false,” he whispered, an edge of menace in his voice. “Then ye will spend the rest of yer month in the dungeon. Do ye understand? It’s in yer best interests to be a convincin’ betrothed. Understand?”
Melody blinked. “Does… This surely doesn’t mean that you’re going to try and kiss me, are you?”
Now, what on earth had made her say that?
Melody felt heat inch through her face. Callum stared at her for a moment, then his face relaxed.
The corners of his lips tugged in a way that could have been an almost-smile, although naturally, there was no real curve of his lips at all.
Melody had not seen him smile, not once.
There had not even been any expression on his face beyond blankness, annoyance, and displeasure.
“Nay, I willnae kiss ye. Nae unless ye want me to kiss ye, that is.”
“What? I… You… Certainly not!” Melody stammered. The corner of his mouth twitched again, just once. Then he turned on his heel, shoving open the door, and strode inside.
There was really nothing to do but follow him.
Melody found herself in a circular room, dominated by a circular table. Papers and maps were set out tidily on the table, pinned down or weighed down at the corners. Inkwells, pens, and navigational tools lay here and there, mixed in with a few empty glasses and mugs.
She recognized Lucas, with his long, curling hair and powerful, stocky build, leaning up against the wall. Aside from him, there was only one other man in the room. He sat at the table, leaning back, eyes narrowed and fixed on no point in particular.
There was something foxlike about his long, sinewy build, coupled with the graying red hair and beard he wore. He glanced up when they entered, his gaze immediately landing on Melody. His eyes, such a dark brown that one could not see the pupil, narrowed.
“Well, then, Callum,” he murmured. “Who’s this? I heard tell of an English lass wandering around the Keep. Is she a spy, then?”
“Nay, nae a spy,” Callum responded tightly. “Her name is Melody. Melody, this man is Angus Matheson. He’s my chief councilman. Nothin’ is done in this Keep without his knowledge, so of course, he is the first one we must tell.”
Angus’ thin face darkened. “Tell? Tell me what?”
Callum hauled out a chair from the table and, with a rough gesture, indicated that Melody should sit in it.
She’d have preferred to remain standing, perhaps beside Lucas—he seemed to have a friendly face—but defying Callum seemed like a singularly bad idea.
So, she trotted over to him obediently and sat down.
She’d expected Callum to find a seat of his own next, but instead he stayed where he was, behind her chair.
“Ye have often told me I should wed, Angus,” Callum said heavily. “Ye speak a good deal about the welfare of the clan and Keep, and the duty owed from a laird to his people. Well, I ken ye thought that I was nae listenin’, but that’s nae quite true. I heard ye, man. I listened carefully.”
“Do ye mean to say that ye will consider a betrothal?” Angus asked at once, brightening. “An arrangement can be made within a week, or perhaps sooner. If I had known that ye were interested, I could have chosen a selection of women for…”
“I already have a betrothal,” Callum interrupted. “I’m to wed Melody here.”
A heavy silence descended upon the room. Melody found herself holding her breath, not entirely sure why. Angus stared at her without blinking, and a deep furrow appeared between his brows.
“Betrothed already?” he said at last, voice catching. “To an English lass?”
“Findin’ fault, eh, Angus?” Callum responded. His hand landed on Melody’s shoulder, warm and heavy. “For years ye have nagged me to find a bride, and now I find one, ye disapprove of where she was born. I’m sure the lass cannae help being English.”
Angus cleared his throat, shifting his position. He rested his elbow on the table, papers crinkling under his arm. He began to drum his fingertips, still eyeing Melody through a heavy frown.
“It’s nae the match we hoped for ye, to be sure,” Angus said at last.
“The Laird can wed who he wants, though, eh?” Lucas pointed out.
Angus grunted. “Aye, with the will of his people. I am nae sure the clan will like an English Lady MacDean.”
“The MacLeons accepted an English lady,” Melody spoke up. It was the first time she’d said anything since entering the meeting room. Angus shot her a quick, surprised look. Had he thought that she was mute? Maybe he just expected her to stay meek and quiet.
Like a wallflower, Melody thought, with a rush of anger. I’m not a wallflower. I can be different here.
“How do ye ken about that?” Angus demanded.
Callum’s hand on her shoulder tightened.
“Careful, Angus. It’ll do ye nay favors to speak to the future Lady MacDean that way.”
Melody hadn’t expected Callum to speak up for her.
After all, they weren’t really betrothed.
He wasn’t really drawn to her. While he might be the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on—the wildness about him sparked an odd feeling inside her stomach that she wasn’t sure she ought to be feeling—he almost certainly did not feel the same.
So why should he care if his councilman spoke sharply to her?
Angus broke into a tight smile. “Apologies, me Laird. I meant nay harm.”
Melody bit her tongue and stayed quiet. She’d told Callum that her sister was now married to Laird MacLeon, and no doubt this councilman would dig it all up sooner or later. It wasn’t a secret, after all, but his sharp tone didn’t make her want to share information with him.
“Well,” Angus said, when the silence dragged on a little too long, “let me offer me congratulations, me Laird. I am glad to see that ye are finally settlin’ down to the serious business of rulin’ a clan.
A Lady of the Keep will stabilize us, and so will the prospect of an heir.
It’ll do us all good, and as for the English lass… well, I’m sure she can be trained.”
“Trained?” Melody spoke up before she could stop herself. “I am not a dog.”
Lucas gave a snort of laughter, hastily turning it into a cough. Callum’s hand on her shoulder gave a slow squeeze, almost as a warning, then the warm weight of his hand disappeared altogether.
“She’ll learn,” Callum said shortly. “Send yer niece to wait on her, Angus.”
“Aye, Katherine will be a good help to her,” Angus agreed. His gaze landed coldly on Melody. “Katherine has ken the Laird since they were children. There is a powerful connection between them, so she’ll ken what to do with ye.”
“What did I say about oversteppin’?” Callum glared at the man, who had the good sense to lower his gaze.
Now, what was that supposed to mean? She did not dare ask.
Lucas took a step forward, offering Melody a faint smile.
“Ye will like Kat. She’ll give a tour of the place, and I’m sure ye will be friends.”
Angus gave a nod, immediately turning his attention back to Callum.
“Does Lady Sophie ken?”
“She’ll ken soon.”
“And how did ye come to ken this… Lady Melody? I was nae aware of any intimacy between ye and anyone.”
Callum gave a tight smile. “Aye, and yer eyes and ears are everywhere, eh, Angus?”
Was it her imagination, or did Angus flush a little behind his red-brown beard? If he was embarrassed by Callum’s terse response, he kept his composure well enough.
“I do my best to make sure I ken what goes on in our lands,” he answered shortly. “I suppose it doesnae matter how long ye have ken the lass, so long as a marriage finally takes place. I’ll make the official announcement soon and start preparation for the feast tonight.”
“Feast?” Melody gasped at the same moment that Callum snapped, “Official announcement?”
Angus glanced between them with a flash of amusement in his eyes.
“Aye, Lady Melody, a feast. We must celebrate yer betrothal. We’ll do a smaller, informal feast just for the Keep, and perhaps a larger celebration for the other lairds and their councilors. I shall have to see how quickly I can organize it.”
“I… I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Melody stammered.
“An official announcement is certainly nae necessary,” Callum added.
Angus frowned. “Well, ye are Laird MacDean. I can do nothin’ without yer say-so.
But the other councilors must be informed of yer betrothal.
This is nae simply a matter that affects ye, me Laird.
It’s nae only between ye and Lady Melody.
Ye are nae a pair of countryside lovers seeking a quick handfastin’.
Nay, this involves us all. Other clans watch yer movements day in, day out.
The villagers gossip about ye daily. Ye are adored, but a man can quickly fall out of grace, and ye have a long way to fall. ”
“I’d just like a wee bit of time to compose meself, that’s all,” Callum managed at last, brow furrowed.
He was chewing his lower lip, Melody noticed.
Papa hated it when people did that, almost as much as he hated nail-biting.
He called such things ‘silly, nervous habits’, and had once scolded Melody so badly for nibbling the edge of her thumbnail at a party that she had run out of the ballroom in tears.
Back then, Victoria had been around. She’d run after her sister and consoled her, then made Papa call the carriage to take them both home. An ache of longing for her sister clenched in Melody’s chest, making her swallow hard and close her eyes.
“The time for composure is over,” Angus said firmly, breaking into Melody’s thoughts. “Now is a time for action. Believe me, news of this will be all over the Keep by nightfall, and if the councilors are nae officially informed, there’ll be hell to pay, me Laird.”
Callum sighed, shaking his head.
“Aye, aye, ye are right,” he muttered.
Angus nodded. “I am right. Unless, of course, there’s some other reason ye daenae want yer engagement to be made public knowledge?”
Melody swallowed, unease trickling down her spine. She glanced up at Callum, but he did not return her stare.
“Of course nae,” he said briskly, meeting the councilman’s eye squarely. “What reason could there be? Go ahead, Angus. Tell everybody. Their laird is to be wed.”