Chapter 15 #2
Callum let his gaze drift down her shape.
What fools they were to laugh at her figure.
Personally, Callum preferred a tall woman.
He was a tall man, after all, and short women always made him feel sickeningly as if he were walking side by side with a child.
And as for petite figures, they’d never been to his taste either.
A woman ought to look like a woman. And Melody did, with her full breasts—he could almost imagine their weight and warmth in his hands—and her soft waist, her rounded hips curving out beneath. She was the perfect shape.
His mouth had gone dry, and Callum turned away, hastily sucking on his tongue to bring back some moisture.
“There is nothin’ wrong with yer shape, or yer height,” he said brusquely. “Although sometimes other folks can be cruel about such things. I’m sorry about that, at least.”
He strode down the row of stalls, and some of the horses poked their noses out over the doors as he passed by.
“Nay apple slices for ye all today, I’m afraid,” he murmured, patting each nose in turn.
He reached the final stall and took a step back, grinning with pride.
“This is me horse,” he said aloud. “This is Thunder.”
Melody came padding over to him, her skirt making a shush-shush sound over the thick layer of straw on the ground. When she saw Thunder, standing straight and proud in his stall, she sucked in a sharp breath.
“He’s huge,” she whispered.
“Aye. Eighteen hands if he’s an inch. It’s rare to find a horse of such coloring. All black, all over. Nay white splotches, or any other color.”
Callum stepped forward, smoothing Thunder’s pitch-black, velvety nose. The horse looked straight at him, eyes dark and liquid and sharp with intelligence.
“He’s the cleverest horse I ever had,” Callum admitted.
“Do you take him on rides outside the keep?”
He should have expected that question. As it was, Callum flinched.
The answer, of course, was no. It had been years since Callum had set foot beyond the keep's walls. Thunder was four, a young horse. Perhaps it was just as well he’d never had the experience of riding with Callum across the rippling Highland slopes.
A flash of guilt ran through his head at this thought.
Poor Thunder.
“The grooms take him,” Callum responded bluntly. “He gets plenty of exercise, daenae fret.”
“But not from you.”
“I ride him through the courtyard,” he answered defensively. “There are fields by the trainin’ grounds.”
Thunder huffed, tossing his head. His jet-black mane shivered, rippling and glossy. He’d been recently groomed, Callum could tell.
Beside him, Melody sucked in a breath, stepping back with wide eyes.
“Well, he seems to be a nice gentleman,” she managed, swallowing thickly. “But I had better get indoors. I’m not sure that he likes my presence, anyway.”
Callum frowned faintly. “Ye really are afraid of horses, are ye nae?”
She reddened. “I am not afraid. I am not a coward.”
“I daenae believe that I called ye one. Come, Thunder’s a sweet boy. Touch his nose.”
“N-No, thank you. I haven’t ridden for years. Papa never made me, not once I’d learned, and I…” she gave a squeak of alarm as Thunder huffed again, banging one of his hooves against the stall door, making the wood shiver.
“He’s interested in ye,” Callum found himself saying.
“H-How can you tell?”
“He’s looking at ye so intently. And his ears arenae back. They’re forward, which means that he’s curious.”
Melody glanced up at him, the tip of her tongue darting nervously out to touch her lower lip. Taking a step forward, she lifted her hand tentatively, poised to flee.
Thunder nudged forward curiously, and Melody let out a slow breath. She touched her fingertips to his nose, a quick, sliding touch, then darted back with a gasp. Had she been holding her breath?
“There,” she said, giving a taut, quick smile. “I did it.”
“Aye,” he murmured, watching her thoughtfully. “Ye did. Tell me, if ye are so afraid of horses, how do ye manage with all yer coaches and carriages in London?”
Melody bit her lip. “I… I sleep.”
“What?”
“I sleep whenever I can. I get into the carriage without looking at the horses, and I try to nap. If we’re covering a long distance, it suits me well.”
He gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Ye are jokin’.”
“No, I am not. I have since I watched my sister fall from a horse once.”
“And that works? How can ye make yerself sleep if ye are so afraid?”
She shrugged. “I am not paralyzed with fear. Generally, I close my eyes and force myself to stay very still. It’s almost impossible not to fall asleep like that, not if you can get comfortable enough.”
“Hmph. I’ll bear that in mind.”
She turned to go, then hesitated, glancing back at him.
“I would like to go to the festival,” she said at last, meeting his eye.
“I know you do not want to go, so I shan’t complain about that.
Perhaps I can convince Sophie to come, and I’m sure Kat will go.
I… I would like to go, as I said, but since you are Laird MacDean, I will do nothing without your permission. ”
Well. That was a surprise. Callum blinked, leaning backward. His throat tightened for some reason he could not quite decipher. Her eyes were wide and very intent in the darkness, almost as soft as Thunder’s.
“Of course ye can go, if ye wish it,” he managed at last. “I told ye that ye are free to do so. Be safe, that’s all. Ye daenae have to ask.”
She gave a small, inscrutable smile. “I see. Thank you, Callum.”
Then she pattered away, disappearing through the gloom of the stables. She paused in the doorway, silhouetted against the iron-gray light pouring in from outside. Just for a moment, then she was gone, and he was alone.
Thunder snorted.
Not quite alone, he reminded himself.