Chapter 3
Bastard!
Rhea glared at Laird Barclay as he walked through the Great Hall, laughing with Councilman Reggie Henderson, who was giving him a tour of the place.
Her hand itched for a blade, for anything that would force Laird Barclay to leave and never return. And yet she knew there was nothing she could do, especially if the councilmen wanted this marriage.
It didn’t matter that Sienna didn’t want it.
It didn’t matter that she had been locked up in her room all day, ever since Rhea had whisked Laird Barclay away to the drawing room.
It didn’t matter that Laird Barclay was clearly after the lairdship and would try to take over the clan the first chance he got.
As long as the councilmen liked him, he had the advantage. Perhaps those men even wanted him to take the lairdship, as they would never trust a woman to run the clan for long.
So far, they had been patient. They had been waiting for Callum to return, for the war to end, for him to walk victorious into his home and take his rightful place once more. But they were getting impatient, restless. The longer Callum was gone, the more they feared something would happen.
And they weren’t wrong. Something had happened already. It might not have been a siege, it might not have been a war, but it was an attack nevertheless—an attack on the lairdship, an attack on her as the lady of the clan, an attack on Sienna, who was being used as a bargaining chip.
Reggie Henderson was a good man, as far as she was concerned.
Or at least he was not an active threat to her and Sienna.
He was timid and quiet. He was the one to whom Rhea could have gone for advice, or at least for support.
But she couldn’t go to him when Laird Barclay had taken him by the hand and was dragging him around the castle, demanding to be shown every room.
Damn him!
She turned to another councilman, Douglas MacIntyre, an older man who had been on the council for many years, even before Callum took over. He had been kind to her. He had given her advice before and had seemed like an ally, however tentative.
He was standing by the doors along with a few more councilmen, all talking in hushed tones, their heads lowered, their shoulders hunched. Rhea approached them slowly, trying to listen in to their conversation, but they soon spotted her and stopped speaking.
“Me Lady,” Councilman Lloyd Cranna greeted. He, too, was older, though not quite as old as Douglas, and he didn’t seem to have the same fondness for her. “What is the matter?”
Rhea’s gaze found Douglas immediately in the small crowd. “May I have a word?”
“With me, me Lady?” he asked.
“Aye. Right now, if ye’d be so kind.”
Douglas exchanged a quick glance with the rest of the councilmen, then followed her down the corridor, where they could have at least some semblance of privacy.
“Douglas, tell me the truth,” she said in a low voice so that no one else would hear them, glancing over her shoulder to make sure there was no one nearby. “Does the council want Laird Barclay?”
“Me Lady…” Douglas let out a long, whistling sigh. He didn’t seem like he wanted to discuss this, but Rhea was not going to give him a choice. “What do ye want me to say? Ye ken the truth, daenae ye?”
She did. Had the council not wanted Laird Barclay, they would not have invited him to come in the first place. His presence in the castle meant that he was very much wanted there.
“But Sienna doesnae wish to wed him, and for good reason,” she argued. “Surely, I’m nae the only one who realizes his true motives! He wants the clan, Douglas.”
Douglas seemed anything but surprised by that. “Of course he does. Why else would he be here?”
Rhea had to resist the urge to throw her hands up in the air in exasperation. She settled on staring at him incredulously, her mouth hanging open in shock.
“Why would ye allow such a thing?”
“Because Laird McMahon is nowhere to be found,” Douglas hissed. “Because we daenae ken where he is or if he’s even…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. Rhea knew exactly what he was going to say.
We daenae even ken if he’s alive.
It wasn’t only the servants and the guards thinking it and whispering about it. The councilmen themselves were constantly fretting over Callum’s silence, and the more time passed, the more they were convinced he was dead.
But Sienna didn’t believe it. She was certain her brother was still alive, claiming that she would know it in her gut if he died. And Rhea… she didn’t want to believe he was dead.
“Shame on ye,” she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Douglas. “How dare ye even imply that me husband is dead? These rumors… they are what brought us here in the first place.”
“They’re nae baseless, me Lady,” he pointed out. “If the Laird was alive, daenae ye think he would have sent word?”
Rhea swallowed past a dry throat. The very same question had plagued her night after night, but the mere thought of Callum dead was enough to paralyze her with fear.
What would her place in the clan be if Callum was truly dead? What would his death mean for her? She had promised him she would protect Sienna, but she couldn’t even protect herself if he was gone for good.
“It doesnae matter,” she said sternly. “As long as we havenae received word of his death, we must believe he is alive. I willnae bury me husband before his time, and I willnae allow another man to claim the lairdship.”
For a few moments, Douglas was silent, then he leaned closer, their heads almost touching. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.
“Ye have nay heir,” he reminded her, though she hardly needed the reminder.
“That was our biggest mistake—sendin’ him off before we made sure ye were with child.
We should have waited. We should have stalled as much as we could, but we didnae.
And now we’re payin’ the price. All of us, me Lady. Nae only ye, nae only Lady Sienna.”
Rhea froze, a heavy weight settling in the pit of her stomach.
Douglas was right, of course. She, too, had thought the very same thing, and she had even protested her husband’s departure on their wedding night, but no one had listened to her. No one had thought it would take this long for him to return.
What is he doin’ there? Why has he nae sent word?
She didn’t have any updates from her family either, and that unsettled her more than Callum’s silence. She hadn’t heard from her father. She hadn’t heard from her sister. Her father could very well be dead, and she wouldn’t know. Her sister could have been sold off to a lad in search of a mistress.
Nay… nay, I would have heard. We have few spies, but they are good. We would have found out if somethin’ like that had happened.
All Rhea wanted was to send out more men, but the council wouldn’t allow it.
They needed the guards there in case of an attack on the castle, they kept saying, but Rhea couldn’t understand who could possibly attack them.
They had nothing left. Nothing but themselves and a bit of wealth and grain to last them through the winter.
“I would suggest ye do as he says,” Douglas advised, much to her fury.
To even suggest she bend the knee to Laird Barclay was insanity. She would not submit to him. She would not let the clan submit to him.
She would not let Sienna submit to him.
“I will do nay such thing.”
“Then forgive me, me Lady, but ye’re a fool.”
With that, Douglas walked off, leaving her standing there, staring after him.
She couldn’t imagine anyone, let alone a council member, speaking like that to a man, and yet Douglas, as well as everyone else on the council, were perfectly willing to speak boldly to her.
Biting back a groan, Rhea stomped off to her chambers, where she could finally be alone.
She spent the rest of the day there, refusing to come out for the meals that everyone else had together, and she knew that the same was true for Sienna.
Neither of them wanted to be around these men.
Neither of them wanted to face their cruelty and ridicule.
When it was time for her to retire for the night, a knock sounded at her door.
Lara walked in, her face grimmer than Rhea had ever seen it.
Rhea was already in bed, though she hadn’t bothered to brush her hair or change into her nightgown.
She had only removed her clothes haphazardly, tossing them onto a pile, and remained in her shift before finally slipping under the covers and blocking out the world.
“I do hope ye’re nae ill, me Lady,” Lara said, concern coloring her tone. “We have enough trouble already.”
“I’m nae ill,” Rhea assured her. “I’m only… frustrated.”
“Aye.” Lara walked over to the window. “We all are.”
“I take it the servants daenae like Laird Barclay?”
“Och nay, nae at all,” Lara scoffed. “I ken it isnae proper to say this, but he… he’s quite the brute, even if it doesnae seem like it. The lasses already have issues with him, me Lady.”
Of course they do.
Suddenly, Lara gasped, and Rhea shot up off the mattress, staring at her with concern. “What is it?”
“A swallow!”
“What?”
“A swallow, me Lady,” Lara repeated. “Look!”
Indeed, when Rhea looked, she saw a swallow perched on the windowsill. She only recognized it from the tan belly and blue wings that were just visible in the candlelight, though she didn’t know what was so special about it. Swallows were far from rare, after all.
“It’s a good sign,” Lara said. “Swallows daenae come out at this hour, ye ken.”
“Ach, ye and yer signs,” Rhea chided, though she was quite fond of Lara’s superstitions by then. If nothing else, they rendered her days more interesting.
“I’m tellin’ ye, me Lady, ye’ll receive good news soon,” Lara insisted. “There is nay other reason for a swallow to be here in the middle of the night.”
“If ye say so,” Rhea said, though her heart fluttered in her chest.
As much as she feared to believe it, she wanted the good news to be about Callum. She wanted him to return, to take back his title and ensure that Laird Barclay couldn’t do anything anymore to harm the clan and Sienna.
But it was all wishful thinking. How could a swallow herald such a sudden change?
If only I could send Sienna somewhere else for a while. Somewhere where she would be safe.
But there was nowhere for her to go. Under other circumstances, she could have sent her to her family. Her father and her sister would have taken good care of her. But she couldn’t send her there now, when her clan was in the middle of a war.
That was precisely how they had lost Callum. She couldn’t save Sienna from Laird Barclay just to give her up to Clan Sutherland.
“What is that?” Lara asked, pulling Rhea out of her thoughts.
She heard a buzz of activity.
Horses.
Rhea sprang out of bed and rushed to the window, her mind racing. It was either a siege, just as Laird Barclay had threatened, or it was—
Callum!
Without another word, she rushed out of the room and down the corridor. She didn’t even bother wearing her slippers, her bare feet thudding against the stone floors as she ran. Her blonde hair flew behind her, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t stop until she was out in the courtyard.
There he was, standing right in front of her, illuminated by the torchlight.
What… what happened to him?
War, she thought. War had happened to him.
Every inch of skin she could see was scarred.
His arms, his hands, his face—all of it covered in silvery scars and others that were still red and angry, still fresh.
His beard, which had once been neatly trimmed, was now long and scraggly, just like his dark hair.
And when she looked him in the eyes, it was as if he had aged years instead of months.
Something strange happened to his expression when he saw her. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth twisted. Before she knew it, he was marching over to her, his fists clenched by his sides.
“Keep movin’!” he growled at his men, throwing his arm forward to urge them on. “Keep yer damn eyes off her!”
Around him, his men rushed to comply, running off and keeping their gazes averted as much as they could.
It was only then that Rhea realized she was still in her shift, barely covered as the wind whipped it around her body. Callum reached her in a few long strides and took off his cloak to wrap it around her shoulders, covering her from head to toe.
His scent surrounded her immediately. A small part of her thought that perhaps she should be disgusted by his cloak, which he had worn through the war and through his travels. Instead, it comforted her.
It comforted her less when he grabbed her with a grunt and threw her over his shoulder.
“What are ye doin’?” she cried, squirming in his grip. “Put me down!”
Callum only gave another grunt, as if to acknowledge her demand, but didn’t let her go. Instead, he carried her inside, and only when they were back in her chambers did he put her down—after they had already passed by half the residents of the castle.
When her feet finally found the floor again, she crossed her arms and looked up at him, but her stern stare didn’t seem to be affecting him that much.
Before she could even speak, he turned around to leave, but she was faster.
She rushed in front of him and blocked his path, only for him to try and sidestep her.
She blocked his path again.
“Are ye all right?” she asked. “Is the war over? Why did ye nae send word?”
“I need to rest,” Callum said, the first words he had spoken to her since he had come back. His voice was rough, hoarse, as if he had been shouting. “We’ll speak on the morrow.”
“Ye have nay idea what we’ve had to put up with while ye were gone,” Rhea scoffed. “Ye have nay idea what we’ve been through, and now ye want to go to sleep?”
Callum stared at her for a few moments, then asked, “Was it war?”
Rhea blinked up at him in confusion. “What?”
“War,” he repeated. “What ye went through here, was it war?”
“N-Nay.”
“Nay,” he repeated. “So it can wait.”
“Right,” she exhaled.
Much to her surprise, he leaned closer, his lips almost brushing her ear. “Ye should think twice before ye come down in yer shift again,” he whispered, and her cheeks immediately heated with shame.
She had not given it a single thought before she had rushed down to meet him. She didn’t care about propriety. She only cared about learning what had happened and telling him about Laird Barclay.
Callum sidestepped her and walked off, and this time, she allowed it. She watched his retreating back, desperation washing over her.
But what could she do?
He was right; how could she bother him with anything when it was so late at night and he had only just come back from war?
As much as she wanted to bring an end to the threat that was Laird Barclay, it would all have to wait until the morning.
How will I even tell him about all this? I was meant to protect Sienna. I was meant to protect the clan. And now that vulture is here.