Chapter 18
Callum was grateful for the ride back to the Keep.
He approached his waiting horse, which ducked its head at him, nostrils flaring in greeting.
He smoothed Thunder’s glossy flank, breathing in the clean, musky horse smell he loved so much.
It helped him calm himself as best he could, breathing deeply and trying to banish the image of Melody, eyes wide with fear, shrinking before that drunken fool.
She’d done her best to fight him off, but if he hadn’t been there…
Enough, Callum growled in his head. Think nay more of this. Ye were there, and that is all that matters.
He had no doubt that in the morning, the drunk would be terrified when the memory of tonight came back. He’d understand then just how serious his situation was, and how badly he’d erred.
Perhaps he’s bothered women in the past, or perhaps tonight was the first night where he was drunk enough to attempt it, he thought, but either way, he’ll nae do it again.
Oh, yes, he wouldn’t do it again. Not if he valued his skin.
The amusement of the thought eased Callum’s discomfort with the wide sky above him.
The darkness helped, oddly enough. The expanse was less obvious.
But once they were away from the glow of the lanterns, the darkness would begin to reveal all those stars, scattered across endless nothingness.
The quicker they got safely back to the keep, the better.
“A horse?” Melody quavered from somewhere behind him. “We’re riding a horse back to the keep?”
He twisted around to face her, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Well, aye.”
“I can walk. It’s not far.”
“I’ve nay doubt of it. But I came here in a hurry, so I rode. I cannae leave me horse here.”
“No, but you could ride, and I could walk.”
“I am not lettin’ ye walk through the dark forest alone. I might as well have left ye in the clutches of that drunk.”
Melody’s expression tightened. “I… I would rather not ride a horse. I don’t feel comfortable.”
“I understand. Look, it’s a short wee ride. I’ll nae go faster than a trot, and ye can sit on the front of the saddle.”
“Is that not too heavy for the horse?”
“Nae on a short trip. Thunder’s strong. Ye should be more worried about yer own discomfort. Come, I’ll help ye get up. Here I thought ye were afraid of nothin’.”
He added that last part almost as a taunt. As expected, Melody’s eyes flared, and she lifted her chin.
“You’re right,” she muttered. “I can do this, I’m sure. I can… I can do this.”
Callum grunted in approval. He smoothed his hand along Thunder’s flank, just to reassure the horse that they were there.
Then he hauled himself neatly into the saddle, settling in properly.
He caught Melody staring up at him with a strange expression in her eyes.
It was gone before he could properly identify it, and she offered a weak smile in response.
“Are you sure I can’t walk?”
“Entirely sure,” he responded shortly. “Give me yer hand. I’ll pull ye up.”
“Don’t I have to pull myself up, like you did?”
“Ye could,” he acknowledged. “But this will be easier.”
“What will be eas…. Oh!”
Grabbing her arm by the elbow, he hauled her up off her feet, just enough to wind his arm around her waist. From there, it was easy enough to lift her up in front of the saddle, where she could perch uncomfortably until they reached home and safety.
“There,” Callum said. “Nay harm done. See, ye can even sit sidesaddle if ye like.”
“It’s uncomfortable.”
“Aye, it will be. Saddles are made for one.”
He reached around her for the reins, but as soon as he took his arms away, she wobbled. Sighing, Callum wrapped one arm around her waist. He would have to steady her all the way home. Clicking his tongue and clutching the reins with his free hand, he urged Thunder on.
Patient and cool as always, the horse began to plod forward. Melody gave another gasp and bumped backward, resting against him.
At once, Callum understood what a mistake he’d made.
Unused to riding and uncomfortable in the saddle, Melody reached for whatever she could to steady herself, and that just so happened to be him.
She clutched his forearm with both hands, her cold fingers squeezing tight.
Worst of all, because she leaned back against him, the curve of her back fitted neatly against his chest, her backside on his hips.
The rolling, rocking movement of the horse pushed them against each other. A familiar heat rose in Callum’s chest.
Oh, nay, nay, he groaned internally. Ye must be jokin’. Nae now!
Her hair, inches from his face, smelled of bonfire smoke and crushed grass. It was tempting to lean forward and nudge his nose into her tangled locks. He could feel the warmth of her skin underneath her dress, her ribs curving beneath his palm.
Ye are in a prison of yer own makin’, lad, he told himself mournfully. Ye could have both walked alongside the horse, could ye nae?
It was too late now. He could hardly stop the horse and insist they get off. It would look odd, and what if she noticed any… physical signs of his arousal? For now, the bunched material of his kilt and her dress formed a protective layer between them.
She leaned back without warning, tipping her head so that the back of it almost rested on his shoulder, and gave a low, breathy sigh of pleasure that he had a feeling would haunt his dreams for a while.
“Oh, look at those stars! In London, it’s getting hard to see them in places. Aren’t they beautiful? Look at them, Callum.”
“I’d rather keep me eyes on the road,” he responded testily. And me mind on gettin’ us back to the keep in one piece, and nae on more…intimate concerns.
“I’m sorry to distract you. What was it you wanted to talk to me about, anyway? You said that it was important.”
Of course, she wanted to talk at a time like this. Of course. Callum clenched his teeth and tried to think of cold things, or things likely to cool his desire. He imagined an ice-cold pool, or falling from the keep walls, or Lucas.
That helped a little, allowing him to breathe a little more easily. Some blood was freed up from his groin and went back to his head.
“I wanted to ask ye if ye were afraid of me,” he answered heavily. “It seems like somethin’ we should discuss, considerin’ that there is a possibility that our betrothal will end in marriage. Nae that I’m promisin’. I’ve made nay decisions.”
She twisted as if to look back at him, wobbled, and thought better of it, settling down again to stare ahead between Thunder’s ears.
“I see,” she responded thoughtfully. “That is a strange question, don’t you think?”
“Nay, I daenae think so. Yer first impression of me was a murderous beast called kinslayer sketched in a scandalous pamphlet. I’m nae sure I’ve provided a much better image for ye over the time we’ve spent together. So, I ask ye again, are ye afraid of me?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Callum shifted, uncomfortable in more ways than one. He’d hoped for a quick answer. A short yes or no, something to accept and work with. Something easy.
“A man in your position easily has it within his power to be frightening,” she said at last, almost thoughtfully. “You have so much power. Truthfully, I can see why the people of two countries are so afraid of you.”
“Two countries? Which two countries?”
“England and Scotland, of course. Your reputation precedes you, assuredly.”
“There is nay need to assure me,” he muttered. “I already ken it. I am nae askin’ for their opinion, I want yers.”
“And why does my opinion matter so much to you?”
He sighed. “Ye are in a particularly troublesome mood this evenin’, lassie.”
“I’m simply trying to give the question due weight. The way you spoke about it made me think that it was something terrible, something serious.”
Had he? Had he really been so serious when he told her they had something to speak of?
Callum was not much given to self-reflection.
Wondering about oneself and how one presented oneself was a complete waste of time.
It was the sort of thing that wishy-washy London dandies and their cake-fluff wives did, constantly introspecting and discussing their own behavior as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. He could think of nothing duller.
Still, at the back of his mind, Callum could not quite ignore the fact that he was something of a harsh man. He spoke plainly, did not bother with apologies or explanations, and made no attempt to hide himself beneath flowery manners.
He would not be tolerated in London or at Bath, he knew that much. Not that he minded, of course. Those places would not suit him just as much as he would not suit them. Nor would the people who lived in those places.
With one exception, of course.
Callum was aware that Melody was craning her neck, trying to glance back at him without being seen to do so. Their eyes met, and she hastily looked away. It was too dark to see if she was blushing, but he suspected that she was.
“If ye are afraid of me,” Callum said at last. “Then ye had better leave the keep at the end of our betrothal.”
She flinched. “Oh.”
They trotted out of the forest, and the dark keep loomed before them.
Beyond the walls, there’d be light, of course.
Candles would burn in windows, and lanterns would be carried by people as they scurried across the courtyard.
Soldiers would patrol regularly, bearing torches, and more torches would be set at intervals along the wall for the convenience and safety of the keep’s inhabitants.
Outside, however, there was only a blank, black curve of stone wall, formidable and unbroken.
The gate lay just ahead, heavily guarded, with a single torch burning behind the portcullis.
The guards had noticed their approach. One man peered through the iron grille, and his eyes widened when he saw Callum.
He gestured, and the portcullis began to lift, inch by grinding inch.
“Don’t you think that people’s perception of you would change if you tried to trust them a little more? If you worked to…” she began, but Callum cut her off.
“Now, just what makes ye think I care about anybody’s perception of me, lass?”
“Well, you asked me if I was afraid of you. That means you’ve considered it. That means you care.”
“Ye are leapin’ to conclusions with the vigor of somebody jumpin’ from a burnin’ house,” he muttered.
“Well, am I wrong?”
He didn’t answer. They trotted into the keep courtyard, past the guards and the raised portcullis.
“People will be returnin’ from the festival over the next few hours,” Callum instructed the guards. “Keep an eye out. Amongst them will be Lucas and the healer, Kat. The night is dark and cold, and I daenae want them to have to wait at the gates.”
“Aye, me Laird, we’ll watch out for them.”
The guards glanced up at Melody, perched uncomfortably on the front of the saddle, but nobody was foolish enough to say anything. Callum passed by, hurriedly crossing the courtyard toward the stables. Melody wriggled, clearly wanting to get down, but he kept a firm grip on her waist.
“The thing about trust, since that was the word ye chose,” he murmured, “is that trustin’ anybody is a foolish endeavor. I’ve learned my lesson in the past, I can assure ye.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed, reining in Thunder in front of the stables.
A groom poked his head out the doorway and waited politely, ready to take the horse.
Callum didn’t much enjoy being watched. He swung down from the saddle and lifted Melody down after him.
When she moved, he caught a whiff of that fragrance again, smoke and crushed grass. A strangely heady scent.
Her hands rested briefly on his upper arms, steadying herself as he lifted her down. He could still feel the sensation of her fingertips.
Then the moment was over. She was safely back down on her feet, and he turned back to Thunder. He expected her to make a dash back to the main part of the keep, perhaps with a mumbled, uncomfortable goodbye.
He should have known better, really.
Instead, Melody trotted around to stand near Thunder’s head, just about forcing him to look at her.
“I am not afraid of you,” she stated clearly, meeting his eye and holding it. “But there is not much trust between us, I think. If we are going to be married…”
“Perhaps,” Callum corrected. “We are perhaps goin’ to be married.”
“…then we must be more comfortable with each other,” Melody plowed on determinedly. “I think we should spend time together every day.”
“Och, lord give me strength.”
“One hour! That is all I’m asking of you, one single hour. What do you say?”
He stared down into her face, turned earnestly and hopefully up toward him. Something tightened in his chest, a sort of longing that was entirely separate from the desire he’d felt earlier.
Be careful, echoed a warning voice at the back of his head. Have ye any idea how deeply ye are in this mess already? Have ye any idea how dangerous this could be?
The sensible thing would be to kindly let her down. He should explain to her that there was no way he could spend a whole hour of his day on her, and even if he could, would it be wise? Of course not!
There’ll be nay marriage at the end of this, Callum thought, a lump forming in his throat. Only a fool would believe otherwise.
Unfortunately, I am somethin’ of a fool meself.
“And what would we do with this hour?” he heard himself say. “Drink tea?”
“Well, I came to paint your portrait, didn’t I? So, I’ll do that. It will help us both decide whether we’ll be a good match after all. I have to get a picture of you to match that awful sketch. It’s been a while since I painted properly.”
He stared down at her for a long minute. She returned his gaze earnestly. Her hand rested gently on Thunder’s shoulder, almost absently stroking the silky hair there.
When did her fear recede? Is it just Thunder she’s nay longer afraid of?
He didn’t have the answer to that, and surely it didn’t matter.
“Very well,” Callum managed. It was, of course, a horrible mistake. Once he’d given his word, he would have to find an hour of time during his day. They would have to spend that time together.
There was no other solution.
There is only one way this story ends, and it is not a happy one.
Melody brightened. “Really?”
“Aye, really,” he sighed, turning away and gesturing for the groom to collect Thunder. “Ye should change out of that muddy gown. I’ll give ye half an hour, then meet me in the tower.”
She blinked. “What, now? Tonight?”
He threw a wry smile over his shoulder at her.
“Aye, now. There’s nay time like the present, eh? I’ll see ye soon, me beloved bride-to-be.”