Chapter 21
“Are ye even listening to me, Callum?”
He flinched, tearing his eyes back up to focus on his grandmother.
Sophie sat on a high stool in front of his desk. She looked thoroughly displeased. Jane stood behind her, looking equally annoyed.
“Of course I am listenin’ to ye,” Callum lied.
“Then what did I just say?”
“I willnae answer yer questions if ye talk to me so rudely.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Of course nae. What is it ye are playin’ with in yer fingers, there? What is that? A pencil? What for?”
Callum tightened his jaw, glancing down. He had not realized he’d picked up the pencil again. He pointedly set it aside with a clack and met his grandmother’s level stare.
“Look, I have a great deal of work to do today. There’s all that business with the festival to sort out, as well as the usual Laird’s work for me to attend to. Besides that, I am tired.”
“Oh, I imagine ye are tired,” Sophie agreed waspishly. “Runnin’ around at all hours of the night. There was a light on in yer tower till the wee hours!”
“And how would ye ken that, Grandmother? Ye were in bed by ten, I believe.”
“I have me ways of findin’ things out,” Sophie sniffed. Behind her, Jane gave a brief, broad grin.
Callum sighed. “Aye, Grandmother, I see that yer network of eyes-and-ears is as good as ever. I could learn a great deal from ye, I am sure. But in the meantime, if there’s nothin’ else…?”
“I came to tell ye that the rest of Melody’s clothes have arrived, the ones we ordered. I thought ye might like to take a look at them.”
“Why on earth would I want to look at ladies’ dresses for?”
“Because Lady MacDean is goin’ to wear them, and a laird’s wife must look a certain way,” Sophie responded pragmatically. “Will ye come or nay?”
“Aye, I’ll come when I have a minute.”
“Good,” she gave an approving nod and got carefully to her feet, supported by Jane. “I’ll leave ye to yer busy mornin’ of pencil-twiddlin’.”
Callum sighed. His grandmother grinned.
She turned to hobble out of the room, but just as Callum was beginning to look forward to a little bit of peace and quiet, footsteps approached.
“Watch out,” Sophie warned somebody just out of view. “He’s in a fine mood today.”
Maybe it’s her, Callum thought, gorge rising in his throat. His own behavior would probably haunt him for years. How dared he dismiss her? It was the right thing to do, certainly, but her face… her face.
He didn’t think he’d ever forget the hurt and confusion in her eyes. Momentarily squeezing his eyes closed, he recalled how she’d gasped aloud, how she’d dug her fingers into his arm. She’d wanted his touch, he knew that much.
And what did ye do afterward? Ye sent her away unceremoniously. Ye did nae care if it hurt her.
Or if ye did care, it did nae affect what ye said.
He half-rose to his feet, eyes fixed on the door. What would she say? Would she be angry? Would she return the horse he’d carved for her? Really, it would have served him right if she brought it back smashed to kindling.
Perhaps she’ll leave quietly. Perhaps I’ve already seen the last of her. Or perhaps she’s here to try again, to tell me that she wants to make more and more mistakes…
Lucas strolled in through the open door. Callum’s hopes deflated. He sat down heavily.
“Oh. It’s ye.”
Lucas gave him an odd look. “Aye, of course it’s me. I’m here for our usual mornin’ meetin’, remember? Did ye drink too much whisky at the festival or somethin’?”
“I drank nay whisky at the festival. I’m just… I’m tired.”
Well, it wasn’t a lie. Lucas gave him a long, curious stare, then shook his head, dropping down into the stool that Sophie had just vacated.
“Ye might as well scowl, by the way,” he added. “I daenae have very good news for ye. I have just come from a meetin’ with the council…”
“And why was I nae summoned? Does the council of Clan MacDean meet without its laird, now, eh?”
Lucas grimaced. “Lady Sophie was right about yer mood, I see. And nay, it was a meetin’ in the informal sense.
As ye well ken, handfuls of the council members tend to pounce upon me in corridors and demand that I mention things to ye.
They generally do it when they daenae want to speak to ye themselves.
This particular gang was led by Angus, and it was less like a meetin’ and more like a pack of cats cornerin’ a defenseless mouse.
Me bein’ the mouse,” he added, as if Callum might be unsure.
He sighed. “Fine, fine. I am sorry, Lucas. I daenae mean to snap.”
His friend eyed him for a long moment. “I believe ye,” he said at last. “But it’s clear that there is somethin’ on yer mind. Have ye quarreled with Lady Melody?”
Callum flinched. How could Lucas guess correctly so quickly?
He had no intention of telling the truth, however.
How could he? The events of last night must stay a secret.
Laird MacDean could play around with any woman he chose and receive only a few tuts and general disapproval, but Lady Melody, an Englishwoman, had no such freedom.
It was only kind to keep quiet about it all.
He didn’t know much about England, of course, but he knew enough to guess that what they’d done last night would ruin Melody forever in the eyes of all English society.
That seemed like a small loss to him, but she probably felt differently.
“I have not quarreled with her,” he responded testily. “Although I am concerned about her. I understand she slept late this mornin’? I did not see her at breakfast.”
“I wouldnae ken, me Laird. About that business with the drunk last night,” Lucas remarked, leaning forward and lifting his eyebrows meaningfully.
“The fellow was named Timothy Boles, or somethin’ like that.
He’s known to be a drunk, but apparently, this is the first time he’s bothered a woman.
He’s howlin’ in the dungeons as he speaks. The news of it is all over the clan.”
Callum stiffened. “What? Already?”
“Aye, of course.”
“Nobody saw what happened.”
“People find things out. Ye ken this. Anyway, there’s a general sort of confusion. Ye ken how stories get twisted, and some folks are always ready to take the side of the villain. Ye did bloody him up quite a bit.”
“Aye, and I’ll do it again if I have to,” Callum snapped. “Ye cannae mean that they are sympathetic toward him.”
“Nae exactly, but the idea of their laird turnin’ such violence on an ordinary man is a little worryin’ to some.”
He threw up his hands. “So me own people are turnin’ against me, is that it?”
“Nay, that’s nae it at all. Ye did nae let me finish.
What I was goin’ to say is that the people love Melody.
Few of them got to meet her, but the ones that did adored her.
Old Nessie, who sells hagstones every year at the festival, was tellin’ anyone who’d listen that the lass carries all the luck and foresight of the clan, whatever that means.
Apparently, Melody bought a hagstone, or tried to buy one, and Nessie said that it was an auspicious sign, which apparently is a good thing.
Anyway, her approval goes a long way. People at the keep speak well of her, and her reputation is growin’.
They love her, Callum,” he added, with an incredulous chuckle.
“An Englishwoman as Lady MacDean, and they love her! I could nae have imagined it, and nor would they. Ye chose well. She’ll make a fine lady. ”
Callum pressed his lips together. “She’s nae Lady MacDean yet.”
Lucas paused, the smile fading from his lips. “What do ye mean?”
“Well, I only mean that I’m nae sure this is the right place for her.”
“Ye are nae makin’ this clearer. Why should it nae be? She chose to come here, and her sister is already Lady MacLeon. She’s perfect, and I never thought a perfect lass would settle for ye.”
Callum ignored the joke. Lucas was clearly trying to lighten the mood. Lighten Callum’s mood, especially.
There’d be no lightening of his mood today. Not with a night of poor sleep behind him, broken sleep scattered with guilty dreams of Melody’s hurt face. No, Callum did not deserve to be in a good mood. He wasn’t in a good mood and was not going to let anyone break him out of it.
“Tell me what the council wanted from ye,” he said at last. “Or, more accurately, tell me what Angus wanted from ye.”
Lucas pressed his lips together, shooting Callum a look which seemed to say ‘I ken that ye are not tellin’ me the whole story, and I’ll get it out of ye one way or another.’
“Angus is very pleased with how Lady Melody has done,” he said at last. “She did well at the ceilidh, despite ye whiskin’ her off and sendin’ her to bed of all things. Apparently, that made the clan ambassadors think that she was sweet, obedient, and biddable.”
“She certainly is nae.”
“I did nae say that she was. I said that they thought she was. Anyway, she did well at the ceilidh and at the festival. Angus wants to schedule a formal council meetin’…”
“Lord, save me.”
“…and he wants Melody to be there.”
Callum had not expected that. He flinched, frowning. “What? Why?”
Lucas shrugged. “To solidify her position as future Lady MacDean, I suppose. After all, she’ll be involved in serious decisions for the clan.
Her word will matter. We want to ken that she has political acumen, and can conduct herself properly.
I think I understand what he’s sayin’. Besides, we’ll have to plan the weddin’. ”
“The weddin’?”
Scowling, Lucas leaned forward, resting his elbow on the desk.
Callum leaned back. The pencil still sat on the table between them.
Melody’s pencil, which he’d stupidly picked up and carried around, as if it meant something.
He was a fool. He felt the urge to snatch up the pencil and hide it from Lucas, but of course, that would look too strange.
Besides, Lucas had no idea what had gone on.
It was just a pencil.