Chapter 4 #2
Lara made her sit at the vanity with a soft smile, her hands resting on Rhea’s shoulders. “It would be wonderful if he courted ye, but ye can find out more about each other in time, me Lady. Ye have so much time ahead of ye to do just that.”
That was far from reassuring, but Rhea didn’t express the sentiment. She knew they could not delay, not with Laird Barclay breathing down their necks, their wealth depleted, and their forces weakened. She had to fulfil her duty, and she had to do it now.
“He’s a good man,” Laird added, echoing the same words she had spoken to her on her wedding night.
They rang as true as they had all those months ago, which was to say not true at all.
“Aye,” Rhea uttered, though neither of them truly believed it.
Lara brushed her hair carefully, running the bristles through her locks again and again until a knock sounded at the door. When Callum walked in, she almost dropped the brush in her haste to leave, bobbing an awkward curtsy before she disappeared without a single word.
And once again, Rhea was left alone with him.
She stood, not knowing what else to do. Callum gave her a long, appreciative gaze.
She could feel it deep in her core, like a flame that was beginning to fan out to the rest of her body ever so slowly, a strange, simmering pleasure at being looked at like this.
But at the same time, she was fearful of what it meant, of where it would lead.
Callum didn’t speak, which she supposed was not unusual. He made his way to the sitting room and sat by the hearth, just as he had on their wedding night. The firelight illuminated his profile, painting the scars on his face golden.
When Rhea approached to stand across from him, he didn’t take his eyes off the flames.
“Ye’ve been away for so long, ye must be very tired,” she said, in an attempt to make conversation—and in an attempt to delay the inevitable. “Perhaps… perhaps ye should rest some more.”
He slowly turned his gaze to her and said, “Sit.”
She hesitated for a moment. She didn’t like to be commanded like a dog, but she let it slide, making her way to the other chair. Before she could sit down, though, Callum clicked his tongue.
“Not there,” he said when she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Here.” He patted his knee.
Rhea stood there, flabbergasted. “Excuse me?”
“Come sit here,” he repeated in a flat tone that did nothing to assuage her fears.
Well, I suppose we might as well get it over with.
Ever so gingerly, Rhea went to sit on his lap. Her entire face felt as though it was on fire, though not so much from the logs in the hearth but rather from the embarrassment coursing through her.
Her heart skipped beat after beat until she was panting, trying to catch her breath. Something warm and heavy coiled in her stomach—a feeling for which she had no name yet, though she would soon come to recognize it as desire, lust.
Under her, Callum was a wall of muscle, his wide thighs and strong torso holding her securely, his arms wrapping around her to keep her close. He was so warm, seemingly radiating heat, and when he spoke, the rumble of his voice reverberated through her, settling in her core.
“Good lass,” he murmured, just as his hand found her thigh.
His large palm wrapped around it, giving it an appreciative squeeze before traveling down its length to rest on her knee.
Then it slid back up, this time closer to her hip, closer to all the places she didn’t know if she wanted him to touch.
A part of her was ready to surrender to him, to feel the brush of his lips on her skin, the rough touch of his calloused palms on her body. But another, bigger part of her was still too fearful, too hesitant to give herself to him.
Still, much to her surprise, he didn’t do anything else. He only caressed her thigh again and again, the repetitive motion driving her mad with desire—and with anticipation.
“Ye’re certainly takin’ yer time,” she teased with an uncertain laugh.
All this time, she had been avoiding his gaze, staring into the flames instead. But now that she turned to look at him, she found him already staring at her.
The hunger in his eyes sent another rush of pleasure through her, her mind almost fogging with it, but she reminded herself that it was all happening too soon.
“Is somethin’ the matter?”
“Nay,” Callum said, and she could have sworn that she saw the hint of a smile on his lips. “Nae at all. I simply like to enjoy me victories.”
She swallowed past a dry throat.
When he leaned closer, she knew what was coming. He was going to kiss her. He was going to kiss her, and then he was going to take her to bed and finally claim her.
“Just one moment,” she blurted out, pushing him back with a hand on his chest. He stared at her rather impatiently but said nothing, and she scrambled for something to say to fill the silence. “I… I think it’s prudent to get to ken each other before we… before we…”
“Before I claim ye,” Callum finished.
“Aye.” Rhea nodded. “One month. Give me one month to get to ken ye better, and then I will give meself to ye. Ye have me word.”
Callum regarded her for a few moments, and she was almost certain he would refuse. But then, he simply nodded, and relief washed over her.
Perhaps he was a good man, after all.
“If ye wish to be courted, then so be it.” He gently pushed her off his lap and stood, straightening his jacket. “One month. And then ye’ll be mine.”
Before Rhea could say anything else or even thank him for giving her the time she had asked for, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek—one that felt like a promise. Then, he walked off, pausing by the door for a brief moment.
“Goodnight, Rhea. I look forward to it.”