Chapter 5
“Someone looks like he hasnae slept a wink,” Hudson noted, much to Callum’s annoyance. “Shall I take this to mean ye’ve been tryin’ for an heir?”
Callum had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, as it was not like him to be petulant, not even in front of his good friend and confidant. Instead, he glared at Hudson, who only laughed in response.
Thoughts of Rhea haunted him. Even now, as he was waiting for the councilmen in the council chambers, all he could think about was Rhea—the way she had felt under his touch; the way she had looked at him when she was sitting in his lap, with such fire in her eyes that it was almost enough to burn him.
But he couldn’t discount the fact that he was different now.
He had changed so much from the man Rhea had married, not only on the inside, but also on the outside.
He was scarred from the endless months of war.
His face and body were different from when he had first married Rhea, and that alone made him hesitate to be near her.
He was a dangerous man. He was a monster. And Rhea was so pure, so innocent, that she didn’t deserve someone like him as her husband.
She never once flinched away from me, though. Me appearance never once stopped her from tellin’ me exactly what she wants.
And what she wanted, much to his chagrin, was to be courted.
How does one court his own wife?
“Callum,” Hudson said, nudging his shoulder. “Are ye that tired from last night?”
“Nothin' happened last night,” Callum grumbled, walking to the great window at the other end of the room, from where he could observe the courtyard below.
This was one of the rooms in the castle that had suffered the most, bared of its tapestries and stripped of its gold. Even the window was damaged, and Callum had not yet given the order to fix it. But he had never abandoned it.
This was where his father and grandfather had conducted meetings, and he was not going to be the first Muir to change this tradition.
A draft blew in through the window, ruffling his dark hair and soothing one of the more recent scrapes on his face. It was difficult to believe even now that the war was over, that they had won.
Hudson approached him slowly, stopping next to him by the window. “Is it because of the—”
“Nay,” Callum said sharply.
He already knew what Hudson was going to ask, and he didn’t even want to hear it spoken out loud.
Hudson was the only one in the castle who knew about his nightmares, the only one who had heard him scream and wake up in a panic, drenched in cold sweat.
He was the only one Callum trusted with this, enough to tell him that it was a recurring thing and it didn’t seem to be going away any time soon.
But Callum didn’t want to discuss it, especially not when he was waiting for his councilmen to arrive. For all he knew, they could very well be right outside the door, waiting to hear something that would benefit them.
This is what happens when the Laird is away for too long. They begin to think they are in charge.
He would show them now who was in charge.
His councilmen began to arrive in groups of two and three until all twelve of them were there. They took their seats around the long table in the middle of the room.
Callum watched them for a while as they spoke amongst themselves—a sign of true disrespect and one that he wouldn’t tolerate anymore. He stepped up to the head of the table and banged his fist on the surface. Total silence followed, sudden and absolute, and he felt a sense of satisfaction.
“It seems ye have forgotten why ye are here and what yer place in this clan is,” he began, just as Hudson came to stand behind him. “I leave for a few months and return to this? To me own council disrespectin’ me in front of me face?”
No one spoke. No one dared. What was there for them to say when he was accusing them of disrespecting the one man they had to respect?
He remained silent long enough to give them a chance to respond, but no one did. He didn’t want to hear their excuses anyway.
“And nae only disrespectin’ me, but also disrespectin’ the people who speak for me.
Me wife. Me sister,” he continued. “Ye were supposed to protect Sienna. Ye were supposed to listen to Lady McMahon. But I came home and found a stranger in me own castle. I found a weasel who wants nothin' but to take the clan from me. What were all of ye doin’ to protect our people? To protect the clan? To protect me sister?”
Once again, no one spoke. The councilmen only stared at their hands, at the table, anywhere but straight at him. More than anyone, Reggie seemed the jumpiest, the most rattled, and Callum couldn’t help but enjoy it.
Good. Let them squirm. As long as they get the message.
“There was nay intention of disrespect, me Laird,” Grier said. He was one of the older councilmen, and one of the most outspoken, fueled by his age and position. “We only did what we considered best for the clan.”
“And ye thought the best thing for this clan was to let that bastard in me home?” Callum snarled, pounding his fist on the table once more. The wood creaked, the two candelabras that stood on its surface rattling. “Ye were that keen to replace me?”
“With all due respect, me Laird, we didnae ken if ye were alive or dead. Ye hadnae sent word,” Grier replied. “What were we to do?”
“Ye were to wait,” Callum gritted out. “Ye were to listen to Lady McMahon.”
“Lady McMahon did her best,” Grier acknowledged. “But she’s nae ye. She’s nae a man. And she’s certainly nae a laird.”
There was the sound of a throat clearing, and Callum turned to glare at Reggie, who had effectively interrupted the argument that was to follow.
“Excuse me,” Reggie said. “But may I suggest… If ye’d be so inclined as to listen to me, me Laird… Had there been an heir, then perhaps—”
“Do ye think I daenae ken that?” Callum roared, his face reddening with rage.
“In case ye have forgotten, there was nay time for producin’ an heir.
I was forced to leave the castle at dawn after me weddin’.
I went to war, and ye stayed here to protect the clan, me wife, and me sister. And ye couldnae even do that.”
Silence fell over the room.
Callum shook his head to himself, disappointed that the very men who had been chosen by him and his father to serve as the protectors of the clan had been so quick to try and replace him.
Six months. I didnae send word for six months, and they all but buried me.
He was surprised there wasn’t an empty grave with his name on it.
“Well, ye’re here now,” Grier said. “And as far as we ken, Laird Barclay is gone.”
“Aye, he is,” Callum grunted. He would not have tolerated the man’s presence for a single moment longer. “But that doesnae mean that everythin’ is fine. How can I trust ye, any of ye, when ye allowed that man to come here with such arrogance and demand me sister’s hand?”
Once more, no one spoke, though Callum didn’t expect them to. He only needed to make it known that all of them had disappointed him, infuriated him—betrayed him. He only needed to make it known that from then on, they would have to gain his trust once more if they wanted to remain on the council.
“Ye gave Laird Barclay an open door to our clan,” he added, looking every councilman in the eye. “Daenae be surprised if he tries to come back.”
“Ach, me Laird, he wouldnae—” Grier began.
“Wouldnae he?” Callum shouted, interrupting him. “If ye were him, wouldnae ye try to take this clan? He thinks me weak. He thinks us weak. And he thinks us weak because of ye. Because ye were ready to sell me sister to him.”
The silence that followed was suffocating, weighed down by his fury. He had half a mind to send them all away, to replace them with a different set of twelve men from the clan’s ranks, but many of them were too experienced, too valuable to dismiss.
“I want ye all to consider yer positions in this clan,” Callum said harshly, walking to the door. “And decide whether ye wish to keep them.”
With that, he was gone. He had nothing else to say to them, nor did he want to give them any chance to express their concerns.
He had been gone for a long time; that much was true. He had been silent for much of that time as well, but not because he didn’t want to send word.
His councilmen hadn’t been there on the battlefield. They hadn’t experienced the war he had. They hadn’t witnessed the brutality of it, the pain, the death. They hadn’t been cut off from the rest of the world like he had and plunged straight into a nightmare.
Damn them. Damn them all. To sit there and tell me it was me fault because I was gone. The nerve of them!
As he stalked down the corridor, he heard the sound of familiar laughter—his sister, laughing with her whole heart. He raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued.
He rounded the corner to the eastern wing of the castle to see Sienna there, along with Rhea and that maid who seemed to follow her everywhere—Lara.
“Daenae kill it!” Lara was shouting, waving her hands in the air frantically as she put herself between Rhea and—
The wall?
“If I daenae kill it, it will sting someone!” Rhea argued, her shoe held threateningly in her hand. “It’s trapped! It’s afraid! I cannae just leave it!”
“It’s a sign of wealth, me Lady!” Lara cried. “Of prosperity! Ye cannae kill a sign!”
“Lara, it’s a bee,” Rhea said, and promptly sidestepped the maid to whack her shoe against the wall. It was an instant kill.
She seems quite skilled with… the shoe.
Callum certainly did not want to be its next target.
Lara cried out, a heartbroken sound escaping her as she bent down to scoop the bee in her palms.
“There goes the wealth,” she bemoaned. “And we certainly needed it, me Lady.”
Callum came to stand behind her. Sienna was the first to notice him, as she was the only one facing his way, and she gave him a barely restrained smile.
Rhea was next, hiding the shoe behind her back as if she expected him to berate her for it—and as if he couldn’t see that her foot was bare, save for her stocking.
Lara was the last one to notice him, and she turned to look at him with wide, fearful eyes, as she often did.
“Excuse m-me,” she stammered, before she scurried away, the bee still cradled in her palms.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I do think it would have stung one of us if ye hadnae killed it,” Sienna commented.
Rhea ignored her.
“Good mornin’,” she told Callum, bobbing a shallow curtsy.
“Ye daenae have to do that,” he assured her.
“But we’re… we’re in public.”
“Aye, and ye’re me wife.”
A faint blush crept onto her cheeks. It reminded Callum of the previous night, when he had gone to her chambers. It reminded him of the blush she had been sporting then, the one he had caused.
For a moment, both of them remained silent. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sienna watching them, her gaze flitting back and forth between them. She didn’t say anything, though, as if waiting to see how the scene would unfold.
“Och!” Rhea clasped her hands together, dragging his attention back to her. “I have planned somethin’ for us. So we can spend time together, as we agreed.”
She planned it? Why did she plan it?
“Do ye think me incapable of plannin’ this for us?” Callum grumbled.
“Excuse me?” Rhea’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what ye understood from this?”
“Aye,” Callum said. “What else?”
“Och, I daenae ken! Perhaps that I’d like to do somethin’ nice with ye?”
“And ye think me incapable of plannin’ somethin’ nice?”
Rhea threw her hands up in the air in frustration, her cheeks turning a ruddy color. “Ye’re impossible,” she huffed, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I daenae ken why I even try.”
“Ye shouldnae,” Callum shot back, feeling his rage threatening to bubble over. “Ye wanted me to court ye, did ye nae? I’m yer husband. I’m supposed to be courtin’ ye, nae the other way around.”
“Well, forgive me for bein’ nice!” Rhea shouted. “It’s me own fault, I suppose!”
“Ye listen to me carefully,” Callum said in a low voice, leaning closer to stare down at her. “Ye willnae raise yer voice at me like this. Ye willnae—”
“Ach!” Sienna cried, clutching her head, and Callum forgot all about the argument.
“What is it?” he asked, turning to her.
“Me… me head,” Sienna groaned, her eyes squeezed shut. “It hurts.”
“Come,” Callum said, trying to drag her along. “We’ll go to the healer.”
“Nay!” Sienna exclaimed, then lowered her voice. “Nay, I’m all right. I… I’ll go to me chambers for some rest.”
“Sienna, ye daenae look well,” Callum insisted.
Sienna wriggled free from his grasp. “I only need some sleep.”
But she seemed too weak, in too much pain for his liking.
“I’m all right, Callum. Truly.”
Callum watched her, helpless, as she wobbled off, his heart pounding in his chest. One of his greatest fears was that something would happen to her and he would be unable to help her, but what could he do if she refused his help?
“She’s fine,” Rhea assured him.
Callum was about to berate her for dismissing his sister’s pain so easily when she pointed to Sienna, who had almost disappeared down the hall and was now walking normally, even smiling at the servants she passed by.
“What just happened?” he asked, blinking in confusion.
“She only wanted us to stop arguin’,” Rhea said with a small shrug. “She does this.”
Callum couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, shaking his head at his sister’s antics. He should be mad. He should chase after her and give her a stern talking-to. But he could understand why she didn’t want him and Rhea to argue like this. Besides, he was relieved she was fine.
“I’ll leave the plannin’ to ye, then,” Rhea added—an olive branch. “If it’s so important to ye, ye can plan our outing.”
For a moment, Callum said nothing. But then, he leaned closer to her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Good lass,” he murmured. “Then I’d suggest ye prepare yerself, since it’ll happen soon enough.”
The shiver that racked through her was enough to fill him with a burning lust that would persist long into the night.