Chapter 6 #2
“I’m nae sure I’d trust an old saw-bones with me,” Sophie commented with a huff. “Nay, the healers are more to be trusted. Apothecaries, midwives, local women who ken the local diseases, those are the ones ye should search out. Ask for Kat.”
There was that name again. She nodded tightly, swallowing hard when Sophie groaned theatrically, clutching at her leg.
It was only after Melody had dashed out into the hallway and run for at least a full minute that she realized she had no idea where the healer’s chambers were.
They must be inside the keep, she thought, skidding to a halt in the middle of a circular room which served as a crossroads, with hallways branching off in every direction like the spokes of a wheel. She turned in a tight circle, heart pounding.
Jane was nowhere to be seen, and that meant that Lady Sophie had been left alone. Should she have been left alone? What if the pain in her leg was only a harbinger of something worse? What if Melody returned to find the old woman gray and stiff, unmistakably dead?
What if Callum believes that I have something to do with it?
At this horrifying thought, she gave a ragged moan of panic, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“What are ye doin’ here?”
She jumped at the now familiar voice, spinning around to find Callum standing in the entrance to another hallway. He had his arms folded tight across his wide chest. He was, of course, scowling.
Melody bit back a sharp retort. She had meant to point out that she was not a prisoner, but now simply did not seem like the time.
“Lady Sophie is ill,” she said, all in a rush.
Callum’s gaze sharpened. “Her heart? Does she have another headache?”
“No, no, it’s her knee.”
His expression relaxed. He turned aside with a grunt, making to walk straight past her.
“Don’t you care?” Melody exclaimed, unable to stop herself. He paused in his tracks and threw her a sharp look over his shoulder.
“Me grandmother has always been able to take care of herself,” he responded tightly. “That knee of hers is a convenient thing. I assume that she sent you for a healer.”
A convenient thing? What did that mean? There was no time to enquire, however. Melody was convinced that with every moment she wasted, Sophie grew closer to death.
Well, perhaps death is an exaggeration, but she is the only person who’s been kind to me in this place. I should like her to stay in good health while I’m here.
“Yes, but I… I don’t know where the healer’s chambers are,” Melody said, twisting her fingers together. “I’m rather afraid I’ll get lost.”
He turned to face her with a sigh, raking his hands through his hair. Black tendrils fell around his face. There was a faint curl to his hair, she noticed, just at the ends. It was fashionable now for gentlemen to have their hair cropped short. Not shaved, but certainly kept close and neat.
Only rakes and men careless of fashion let their hair grow long. Melody had always imagined it to be an ugly thing, but really, Callum’s hair suited him. It was well-brushed and looked clean, and if she wound the end of a lock around her fingertip, it would likely twist into a proper curl, perhaps…
No, no, no! She thought, horrified. I will not stand here and imagine touching that man’s hair, under any circumstances. I will not imagine touching him at all.
Oblivious to her thoughts, Callum strode toward her, pointing over her shoulder at a particular hallway.
“Follow the hallway to the end,” he said bluntly. “Ye will come to a circular room. The healer’s chambers are well marked. I take it that me grandmother told ye to ask for Kat?”
“She did, yes.”
“Make yer introductions. I’m sure ye are used to bein’ introduced to everybody in yer fine London Society, but these are the Highlands, and here we expect folks to speak for themselves.”
Melody swallowed, forcing herself to glance up and meet his eye. If Victoria were here, she would not stare at the floor and never look anyone in the face. Certainly not. All Melody had to do, then, was to pretend that she was her sister.
“Very well,” she managed, in a curt, cool sort of way that she was secretly rather proud of. “Thank you for your directions.”
“I am goin’ to write a letter to yer sister, by the way,” Callum continued, his gaze resting on her and staying there. “To let her ken that ye are here.”
Some of Melody’s newfound confidence ebbed away. There hadn’t been much to begin with.
“Oh?” she questioned, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “You’ll tell her that I’m here as a guest?”
His eyes darkened. He took another step closer, until Melody could feel the warmth from his skin.
“A guest? Nay, lass. As me betrothed. Or did ye forget?”
Melody’s nerve broke. She wasn’t Victoria.
The real Victoria was not too far away, probably enjoying her life as a married woman, waiting excitedly for her baby to be born, and not thinking about her troublesome younger sister at all.
Once Callum’s letter reached her, Victoria would probably come here and undo this whole mess with one sharp conversation.
And then this will all be over. I shall go back to England and marry bald Lord Sinclair, and never again think about Laird MacDean.
It shall be a relief, I think. Yes, a relief.
“I see,” Melody squeaked, backing away. “I shall go, then. To fetch the healer. Thank you for your directions, my Laird.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned tail and fled. About halfway up the hallway, she risked a glance backward. To her horror, Callum still stood there, arms folded, watching her.