Chapter 13
Callum jerked back from her as if he’d been burned, spinning around to face the door.
Sophie stood in the doorway. Of course, it was Sophie. She stared at them both in turn, her jaw hanging slightly slack.
To her own amazement, Melody found her voice first.
“Well, don’t look so surprised,” she managed. “Was this not the reason you locked us in here?”
Sophie made a startled choking sound. Callum strode toward her, eyes blazing.
“I have told ye a thousand times, Grandmother, stay out of me life,” he growled. “Ye cannae do this!”
“I have done it because I guessed that ye were nae serious,” Sophie managed at last. “Do ye think I’m a fool, Callum? This is a pretend betrothal to get the council off yer back.”
“And ye would like it to be real, would ye?”
“Aye, I would! And now that ye have kissed her, kissed a delicate English lady with such a fragile reputation, ye will have to marry her.”
There was a triumphant edge in Sophie’s voice now. She shot Melody a grin over Callum’s shoulder. Melody did not dare return it. Instead, she inched forward, sliding off the desk and feeling somewhat foolish.
How could I have been such a fool?
“The time for games is over,” Sophie continued, lifting her chin. “Ye have to marry her, Callum. If ye daenae, it will be an insult to her sister’s husband and the MacLeon clan. Ye cannae risk war with them.”
Callum gave a sharp, angry bark of laughter. “I can take MacLeon.”
Sophie puffed out her chest. “Ye will nae. He is expectin’ his first child, and the MacLeons have always been our allies.
Ye cannae and willnae start a war with them.
Over my dead body will ye declare war on Clan MacLeon, but if ye trifle with this lass here, ye may find that they will declare war on ye.
Callum, daenae ye see that this betrothal could never have been canceled without serious repercussions? ”
Callum jerked back as if she’d aimed a slap at him. Melody stayed silent, anxiety bubbling in her gut.
Sophie is right, she thought, swallowing hard. There were always going to be consequences to this betrothal. By now, half of the Highlands will know my name and will know that Callum is betrothed to me. It’s only a matter of time till the news spreads to England.
Did I truly think that I could go home after all this was over as if nothing had happened?
A sort of warm, hazy relief followed this realization. She couldn’t go home. She certainly couldn’t marry whatever lord Papa had picked out for her. She stayed quiet, however, not quite daring to interrupt the steely staring competition going on between Callum and his grandmother.
“I’d had enough of this conversation,” Callum said abruptly, turning away.
He didn’t head toward the door, however, but further into the study, where a stone spiral staircase curved in the shadows.
As he passed the desk, he brought his clenched fist down with an echoing boom that made Melody flinch.
She half expected to see cracks spread out from where he’d struck the desk.
Callum disappeared up the stairs, and a long silence followed.
Swallowing, Melody turned to Sophie, who was staring tiredly after her grandson.
“Where has he gone?”
“His rooms are up in that tower,” Sophie sighed. “I’ll nae be able to follow him up there. The stairs are too steep and narrow for me.”
Melody bit her lip. “You say that I’ll be ruined if it’s known that Callum kissed me. But surely, nobody needs to know? You can simply not tell anybody.”
Sophie gave her a long, level look.
“That would be wrong,” she said firmly. “Secrets are necessary, sometimes, but I daenae rush to keep things from me clan and me people.”
Melody opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again.
“I see,” she said at last. “Excuse me. I’m going to try to… to talk to him.”
Sophie said nothing, and Melody hurried away across the study, reaching the foot of the stairs.
As the old woman had warned, the stairs were very steep and uneven. The passage was narrow, and the middle of each step was worn down by time and countless footsteps. Suddenly uneasy, Melody glanced back at Sophie.
The old woman, however, was gone, leaving the door yawning open behind her. Biting the inside of her cheek hard, Melody began to climb.
She really was climbing, her feet scrambling up the lopsided steps, leaning forward to grab the higher ones with her hands, since there was no rail to hold.
Round and round she went in a tight corkscrew, with no windows to light her way as she went.
Just as she was beginning to believe that the stairs were going to go on forever, the narrow stairwell opened up into another circular room, smaller than the one below.
This, she realized to her horror, was clearly Callum’s bedroom.
It was a spartan space, with a four-poster bed shoved into a corner beside a window.
It had no canopy, and the sheets were tangled and crumpled, dangling onto the floor.
An orange cat was curled up on the bed, having made a nest of sheets, and lifted its head as Melody stepped into the room, clambering up from the yawning throat of the stairwell.
Callum sat on a fur rug in front of an empty fireplace, and lifted an eyebrow when he saw her.
“Invadin’ my privacy once more, I see,” he said sharply.
“I will leave at once if you wish it.”
He grunted. “Ye are already here. What do ye want? Did me grandmother send ye?”
“No, she did not. What is that you’re holding?”
He glanced down at the block of wood in his lap. Sighing, he lifted his hand to scratch at his temple. There was a small silver knife twisted between his fingers, glinting in the dull light.
“It’s a log, lass. Can I be allowed to enjoy me privacy for now?”
She took a step forward, folding her arms. “Not just yet, I’m afraid.”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course nae.”
“Will we not speak of what just happened?”
“I daenae ken what ye are talkin’ about. As ye can probably tell, me grandmother cannae be controlled. If she wishes to lock us in a room, there isnae much anyone can do to dissuade her.”
“I am not talking about that. I am talking about the… the kiss,” she finished lamely, her cheeks heating. “You kissed me, Callum.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. A long silence stretched out between them.
The kiss remained seared into Melody’s memory.
She doubted that she’d ever forget a single detail about it.
His lips, the bathwater-mint-fresh smell of him, the scratch of his stubble, all mingled with his arms tight around her and the strange, plunging sensation in her stomach, it was all so overwhelming even to recall.
I want to feel it again.
This was the most horrifying realization of all. She ought not want any of it, not for a moment. Respectable ladies did not crave such excesses of sensation, let alone experience them.
But then I cannot worry much about doing things correctly, since I have done the wrong thing from the moment I arrived here. Before, in fact.
Callum let out a long, ragged sigh. For the first time, she saw traces of exhaustion on his face. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his eyelids were heavier than before. Climbing to his feet, he let the chunk of wood roll off his lap.
There was something of a shape to it now. Was he whittling it? She could see an arch at the top of the log, curving toward the center, and rough gouges here and there to suggest a shape, something hiding within the grain.
“I am sorry that I kissed ye,” he said at last, shaking his head.
“It was the wrong thing to do. It was not appropriate. It was… it was a mistake, a big one, I’m sure ye can agree with me.
Still, it changes nothin’. At the end of the month, as we agreed, the betrothal will be called off, and ye will return home. Ye ought to be glad,” he added.
Melody turned abruptly away, afraid that her face would reveal something.
I don’t want to go home.
“Why should I be glad?” she demanded briskly.
There was a beat of silence before he responded. She was not looking at his face, so she could not take a guess at what he was thinking. Perhaps that was for the best, really.
“I’m sorry about the kiss,” Callum said at last, not answering her question. “But I cannae marry ye.”
Did he mean it? Perhaps so, but it did not change Melody’s predicament. Not wanting to stand where she was, stock-still at the head of the stairs like an uninvited guest—which she was, really—she broke away, wandering over to the window.
It was somewhat unsurprising to see that his window overlooked the training fields. Was it usual for lairds to train, bare-chested, alongside their soldiers? Out in the open, for anyone to see?
Perhaps it was. Or perhaps that was simply how he did things.
“This is about your late wife, isn’t it?” Melody murmured. She sensed, rather than saw, Callum stiffen behind her. “I ought to have guessed earlier, I suppose. You are still in love with her.”
He made a choking noise, and she plowed on.
“I understand, truly I do. I know lots of people who have married again, and others who simply… don’t. Widows and widowers who are still married, in spirit at least. It’s quite understandable.”
Thumping footsteps approached. Melody did not turn around, but she knew that he was standing directly behind her. She could hear the creak of the floorboards, and a faint scent of mint wafted toward her.
“I am nae in love with me late wife,” he said shortly. “I was never in love with her, nae even when we got married. Of course, I cared for her. But I have had four years to mourn, I have done me grievin’.”
She glanced hesitantly back at him. “Then what is the issue here?”
Callum rolled his shoulders. “Me wife took her own life. Because of me.”
Melody jerked backward, eyes widening in shock. “What?”