Chapter 29 #2
Callum gave a terse nod. There was a tension in his shoulders she hadn’t seen before, and his gaze flickered warily from side to side. He looked like a man expecting an attack from every direction.
“I’d like to talk,” he said suddenly, turning a glowering stare on one intrepid middle-aged woman and her husband, who seemed about to approach and start up a conversation. The woman wisely steered her husband away. “But we’ll get nay privacy here. Can we go somewhere quieter?”
“Yes, it ought to be quieter in the hall. I’ll show you the way,” she offered, unable to disguise her relief at the prospect of getting out of the ballroom and away from all the bulging-eyed stares.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she met Emma’s confused and intrigued gaze and gave a nervous smile.
“Excuse us.”
“Not at all,” Emma responded, and then stood, bewildered, as Melody led Callum across the vast floor to a narrow doorway, which led into one of the cool corridors that rounded the ballroom. The crowd parted to let them go through, and murmurs rose up afresh in her wake.
Callum let out a long sigh when they stepped into the corridor.
“What a crush. All those people in that cavernous room? Awful.”
Melody allowed herself a faint smile. “Yes, it’s a lot to manage. We should talk quickly, as Papa will be here soon. Somebody will tell him that you’re here.”
Callum huffed. “And what will he do? Fight me, I suppose.”
Melody allowed herself a faint smile. “No, nothing like that. He’ll only be icily polite to you until you feel obliged to leave.”
“Terrifyin’. Well, then, I’ll get straight to it, then. Melody, I have thought of ye every moment since ye left. I miss ye.”
She dropped her gaze to her satin dancing slippers.
“I miss you too,” she confessed. “But we agreed that my departure was necessary. You could have stopped me, Callum. You could have stopped me at any moment, but you didn’t.”
“Aye, and I regret it. I…” he paused, and when she looked up, he was frowning at her slippers too. His gaze raked up her frame, taking in the delicate silk of her ballgown. “What sort of dress is that? So thin, the wind’ll rip right through.”
She fingered her lacy cuffs. “Well, you aren’t meant to wear it outdoors.”
“Arenae meant to… well, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. And those wee shoes, I bet they arenae meant to be worn outdoors?”
“Actually, no.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “I can see why ye didnae want to bring yer Scottish clothes home with ye. They wouldnae have suited at all. For what it’s worth, I liked the way ye looked back in yer other things. In good, sturdy gowns. Ye looked most beautiful there.”
A ripple of pleasure inched through her. Melody gave a tentative smile, ducking her head.
“Thank you.”
“Shortly after ye had gone,” Callum continued, stepping closer until they were mere inches apart. “I realized what a mistake I’d made.”
She frowned. “Who talked you into coming after me? Was it Sophie, or perhaps Lucas?”
“It was ye,” he answered simply. “I saw the sketch ye had left. Why draw me with two babies in my arms?”
“Because that was how I saw you,” she responded simply.
“You’ll never forget Alexander, so it’ll be as if you carry him too, but I imagined that you would change your mind, and we would have our own child, too.
That was what I hoped for. But then you made it so clear that you wanted no future at all. ”
“That’s nae true. I do want a future, Melody, but only on the strictest of terms. I only want a future with ye.
I want to make ye happy. I left me duties and the safety of me own keep and came here in person, because I simply could nae put me feelings down on paper.
I’ve nay skill with that, I suppose.” He inched closer and took her hand in his.
His skin was warm and rough, and she could smell leather and mint on him, as usual, but something else—the sweet-rich smell of tree sap. Of fresh wood.
“I want us to create a life together, love,” he whispered.
Her head shot up, eyes widening.
“Love?” she queried.
A slow smile broke across his face. There was something lopsided and wild about that smile, something that tugged on a hook deep in her gut. The reaction it inspired was powerful and almost visceral.
“Aye, love,” he repeated. “Because that is how I feel about ye. I love ye, Melody. I tried to fight it for too long, but love’s a tricky emotion. It willnae let ye beat it back or ignore it, nay matter how hard ye try. I want a life with ye, Melody. A real life, if ye’ll have me.”
She let out a stifled gasp, involuntarily squeezing his hand hard. “Of course I will, Callum. Of course.”
He grinned more widely, and Melody flew forward, wrapping her arms around her neck. She had fully intended to kiss him and would have kissed him if they hadn’t been interrupted by a cool, dry voice from further along the hallway.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Color rushed to her face. Blushing furiously, Melody released Callum and turned to the newcomer.
“Papa,” she managed, as firmly as she could. “This is Callum. Laird MacDean, I should say.”
Papa pursed his lips, eyeing Callum with distaste. “Is that so? I don’t remember inviting him.”
“I bullied my way past the men at the door,” Callum explained, with a wry half-smile. “I should tell ye, Laird… Barrington?”
“Lord Barrington. Not that it matters. Go on.”
“Aye, Lord. Well, I have asked yer daughter to wed me, and she’s agreed.”
He stared expectantly at Papa, waiting.
Papa pressed his lips together. “And you did not think to ask my consent first?”
Callum stared back, perplexed. “It’s nae ye I wanted to wed.”
Papa heaved a long, tired sigh and rubbed the space between his brows.
“Of course not,” he mumbled. “Well, then, child, is this what you want? To marry a Scottish laird? You’ll lead a life estranged from London Society, you know. Just like your sister.”
“I don’t mind,” Melody answered eagerly. “I want to marry Callum, Papa. I truly do. Please give your consent, please.”
Papa sighed again. He looked thoroughly annoyed. “Well, I suppose you and your sister will bully me until I do agree, and since no respectable Englishman wants to have you, I’ll have to agree, won’t I?”
“Thank you, Papa, thank you!” Melody cried, darting forward to press a kiss onto his cold cheek.
“Then I’ll be away with me betrothed, then,” Callum responded smoothly, taking Melody’s arm. He hauled her effortlessly up into his arms in a bridal carry. She gave a squeal of surprise and delight, and Papa’s eyes widened.
“What? Not yet, not before the wedding! Melody, you must marry here, in London. You will, won’t you!”
Melody felt the urge to laugh and cry all at once. Callum paid no heed to Papa’s plaintive yelps and instead strode firmly along the hallway toward the large front door. Footmen’s eyes widened as they passed. Papa yelped.
“Melody!”
“Do come to Scotland for the wedding, Papa!” she called back. There were dozens of faces at each doorway leading to the ballroom. The dancing was over, she suspected, and nobody would think of anything else but of her and her strange Scottish husband-to-be.
For once, she could not have cared less.
They stepped out into the cold night air, brisk enough to take away Melody’s breath. Papa stumbled onto the front steps, then gave up, standing with his hands on his hips.
“You are worse than your sister, Melody!” he called, with an edge of defeat in his voice.
“I’m afraid so!” she shouted back, laughing. “Callum, where are we going?”
“Where do ye think? To me carriage. My new one, that is.”
“You have a new carriage?”
“Just wait for a moment.”
He strode along a little further down the line of neatly parked carriages, stopping in front of one that she did not recognize. There was an odd color to the lacquer on the outside.
“Blue!” she gasped. “One of my favorite colors.”
“Aye, that’s why I chose it. Just wait till ye see the inside.”
He jerked open the door and deposited her firmly inside.
Melody sucked in a breath. Inside, the upholstery, blankets, and curtains were all different shades of blue and pink.
A small lantern was fixed in an alcove in the upper corner.
It did not provide much light, but enough to cast a yellowish glow over the space.
It was the most comfortable-looking carriage she had ever seen, with padding on the walls as well as the seats, a thick carpet in the footwell, and so many blankets and pillows she could scarcely see the seat.
She sat gingerly down, smoothing her hand over a soft fur blanket, the only thing that was neither blue nor pink.
Callum climbed in after her, closing the door. He closed the curtains, and the carriage began to gently roll forward.
“I think I might have kidnapped ye,” he observed. “We are goin’ back to Keep MacDean.”
Melody gave a satisfied smile. “I’m glad. I want to go home.”
“Ye consider it yer home?”
She tilted her head, meeting his gaze. “I consider anywhere that you are to be home, I think.”
A slow smile spread over his face at this. He did not respond, but simply leaned forward and kissed her.
At once, heat sprang up in her chest. Closing her eyes, Melody gave herself up to the kiss, concentrating only upon the sensations curling inside her.
When Callum leaned forward and pressed his lips against the side of her throat, she let out a faint, ragged sigh and felt him smile against her skin.
“I had hoped to have our weddin’ night now,” he murmured, with a deep rasp.
“So did I,” she breathed. “But I ought to tell you that I have no practice with mistakes of any kind, if you catch my meaning.”
He gave a low rumble of laughter. “Daenae worry, lass. I’ll help ye. Here, lie down.”
She obeyed, resting back on the pillows and smiling nervously up at him. He kissed her once more, with a gentleness that made her long for more.