Chapter 8
“There is so much to do,” Rhea said, not for the first time that week. With Callum back and with summer around the corner, her hands were always full with things to do. “We must throw a feast for his return. We must remind people that their Laird is back.”
Not only his people, but also his enemies. Everyone had to know that Callum was back and that he was once again leading his clan from his ancestral seat.
There had been many opportunists in the past few months, with Laird Barclay as the most prominent one. Word would spread, of course. It always did. But they didn’t only have to remind people that Callum was back; they also had to show them that Clan McMahon was still strong.
No coin would be spared. They couldn’t afford many lavish things, but they could afford showing any kind of weakness even less. They could be a little more relaxed with their spending if it meant that people would view them as powerful once more.
After all, Callum had defeated Clan Sutherland with nothing but the men who were loyal to him. He hadn’t needed gold. He hadn’t needed mercenaries. He had won the war through raw strength and loyalty alone.
At the other side of the plush couch, Sienna sighed.
The drawing room was bright at that time of day, the sun high up in the sky, its golden rays warming the room, though the roaring fire was still much needed.
That morning, everything about her seemed morose, from the dark gown she wore to the dark cloud that was following her around the castle.
“And we must prepare for the Lughnasadh,” Rhea added. “We only have a few weeks left, and it will be chaos before that. Two feasts in three months is simply too much work.”
Sienna sighed again, the sound long and heavy, as if her shoulders were carrying all the weight in the world.
Rhea didn’t want to pry. She knew that Sienna would tell her what was wrong once she was ready. But she had been listening to those sighs since breakfast, and she didn’t know what else to do other than ask.
“What’s the matter?” she queried, pushing herself upright to lean closer to Sienna. “Ye’ve been in a terrible mood all mornin’.”
Sienna looked at her, the corners of her mouth turning downwards into a frown. “I cannae tell ye, but ye’ll find out soon enough.”
“What?” Rhea sputtered, dumbfounded.
That was more than uncharacteristic for Sienna. She always shared what was on her mind with Rhea. She always told her everything, ever since the wedding. Refusing to speak about something that was clearly saddening her was almost shocking.
“What?” she echoed.
“What do ye mean what?” Rhea asked. “Ye always tell me what’s wrong. Why nae now? When will I find out? Why cannae ye tell me now?”
“Callum should tell ye,” Sienna said.
That only worried Rhea more.
Why should Callum be the one to tell me? Is it about him? Is it about…
“I’d rather ye tell me now,” she pressed, trying to keep her composure.
“I’d rather he tells ye instead,” Sienna insisted.
“Sienna, either ye tell me, or I’ll go find him right now and demand an answer,” Rhea threatened, rising from her seat.
Sienna was quick to grab her arm and pull her back down. “I daenae think ye should bother him right now. He’s very busy. And he’ll tell ye once he’s ready.”
“I daenae care how busy he is,” Rhea scoffed, making to stand once more before Sienna pulled her promptly back down. “Sienna, I’m serious. If ye daenae tell me, I will go and demand an answer from him. This isnae funny.”
“Nay,” Sienna mumbled. “It truly isnae.”
For a few moments, the two women simply stared at each other—a battle of wills. Then, Sienna took a deep, steadying breath, shaking her head.
“I wish I wasnae the one to tell ye this, but… Callum might be leavin’ again soon.”
Rhea froze. It was as if her entire body was suddenly immobilized by a greater force. A numbness spread from her limbs up to her torso, all the way to her jaw, culminating in a ringing sound when it reached her ears.
“What?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. She didn’t even know if Sienna had heard her. “What do ye mean? Where will he go?”
“I think… I think he should be the one to tell ye that,” Sienna sighed.
Rhea’s fear soon morphed into something sharper, something darker. The numbness receded, turning into a cold rage.
“I think ye should tell me.” Something in her tone must have convinced Sienna to tell her the full truth.
“There might be another war.”
That enraged Rhea more than anything else she could have heard.
“Another war? Has he lost his mind?”
This was madness. They didn’t have the resources for another war. They didn’t have the men, at least not as many as they used to. They didn’t have the gold that would bring them more manpower either. And they certainly didn’t have the guards they would need or the crops or even the morale.
How could Callum simply march them into another war without any consideration to any of these facts?
Nay, nay, he has considered it. Of course he has. But he thinks he can win.
On their wedding night, Callum had been so certain he would come back victorious. There was no doubt in Rhea’s mind that the same was true now.
She had believed him then, but she didn’t believe him now.
When she stood for the third time, she didn’t let Sienna stop her.
There was no stopping her now. She stomped out of the drawing room, making her way through the castle like a storm until she reached Callum’s chambers.
She didn’t even bother knocking on the door before throwing it open and barging in.
“Have ye lost yer mind?” she snapped, with no mind to what she would find inside.
But then her gaze landed on Callum, and she froze once more, though not from rage this time. He was shirtless, in the middle of changing his clothes, the scarred skin of his torso on full display, along with the bulging muscles of his chest and arms.
Clothed, Callum looked imposing, impressive.
Now, Rhea couldn’t find the right word to describe him.
He was still imposing—she doubted he could ever be anything less—but there was something else, something almost vulnerable, as if she was not meant to see his scars.
And yet, when he spoke, there was nothing vulnerable about him.
“When we made our deal, I never thought ye’d be so eager,” he teased, his voice infuriatingly light.
That made her snap.
“What is the matter with ye?” Rhea hissed, walking up to him and glaring right up at him. “Goin’ to war? Again? Look at ye! Look how many injuries ye’ve sustained. Look at yer men. Look at yer people. How can ye choose to leave so-so easily?”
Callum’s expression shifted into one of rage, his lip curling to reveal his teeth.
“Easily?” he growled, closing the distance between them until he was towering over her. His gray eyes were like a raging storm, glaring at her, and had she not been so furious with him, she might have flinched. “Do ye think any of this is easy?”
Rhea opened her mouth and then closed it, not knowing what to say. It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered the possibility that this was a difficult choice for him. Of course it was. It had to be. He cared about his people more than anything. And yet he couldn’t see that this new war was a bad idea.
“There is nothin'' easy about this. Believe me,” he continued, turning his back to her and walking away from her.
He stopped by the hearth and leaned over the mantelpiece, his arm braced against the stone surface. The firelight illuminated his features, making them even rougher, carved by incandescence. Shadows danced over his features, turning his rage into a mask, a palpable living thing between them.
“But it’s what I must do,” he grunted. “It’s the only way to protect the clan.”
“The only way to protect the clan is by bein’ here,” Rhea argued, before she could think better of it.
Perhaps any other day, any other time, she would have shrunk away from expressing her opinion, simply because Callum had already managed to show her just how stubborn he was.
A part of her couldn’t help but think he would do whatever he thought was best anyway, without listening to anyone else.
Besides, it would be odd if no one from his council had expressed their disagreement with this plan, which could only mean that he had ignored everyone’s advice and was doing what he wanted anyway.
Callum paused for a moment, frowning as if he was considering.
“Daenae fash,” he told her, his voice softer. “I’ll return victorious.”
“That’s what ye said last time, too,” she pointed out.
He turned to face her fully, a vein in his forehead jumping with each heartbeat. “And I did.”
“Aye, ye did,” she agreed. “But what was the cost?”
Callum fell silent, watching her.
Once more, Rhea felt exposed under his gaze, but this time, she did not feel as if he was undressing her, as if his lust was taking over. No, this time, she felt entirely stripped of her defenses, entirely vulnerable, as if he was looking straight into her.
“There is nay victory without sacrifice.”
“There is nay victory in death.”
Once again, Callum fell silent. Once again, he walked away from her, going to the far end of the room where the window was letting in a faint light. Rhea followed him, determined to get a straight answer out of him.
It wasn’t enough for her to know just that he might go to war. It wasn’t enough for her to know that he might have a plan. She needed to know exactly what he was planning. And she wouldn’t rest until she got an answer.
“What do ye think ye’ll achieve with another war? Why do ye think this is the best plan?”
“This is the only plan,” he stressed. “There is nay other option.”
“How can that be true?”
“Because, Rhea, the best way to deal with a threat is to cut off its head,” he said through gritted teeth, his fingers curling around the edge of the windowsill as if he was barely restraining himself.
Perhaps Rhea should have been scared of him then. He was obviously at the very end of his tether, and she didn’t want to see him lose it.
But she wasn’t afraid of him. Callum was many things, some of which she knew and some she didn’t, but he would never hurt her. He was angry, but she was confident she could still get to him.
Besides, she was angry, too.
“Is it so difficult for ye to accept that I’m worried for ye?” she asked, her patience thinning. “Is it so difficult for ye to believe that… I daenae ken, I simply daenae want ye to die?”
Silence fell over them both.
Rhea only just realized she was panting, as if she had been running for her life. Callum looked at her then, but she couldn’t bear to face him. So she turned her gaze to the fire, watching the flames dance in the grate instead.
Footsteps echoed in the room as he approached her. He cupped her cheek in a gentle hand and turned her face toward him. She allowed it, her eyes finding the stormy gray in his. Her lips parted around a sharp breath, his sudden proximity muddling her thoughts.
“Daenae fash,” he murmured, though that hardly helped calm her. “I’m nae so easy to kill.”
She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him that he may not be easy to kill, but he was certainly easy to maim, when he leaned in and claimed her lips in a heated kiss that left her breathless and reeling.
His lips were like flames against hers, igniting a spark of passion inside her. The hand that was holding her face turned gentler, his fingers losing some of their rigidity, but his other hand found her waist and gripped it tightly, pulling her flush against him.
She was suddenly alight with need, her hands coming to rest on his broad, muscular shoulders, her sensitive skin roughened by his beard, her heart thundering like a drum.
It was the first time he had kissed her.
It was the first time anyone had kissed her, and she felt as if the entire room was spinning around her, the world coming into sharp focus.
She was aware of every touch, of every slide of his lips over hers, of the heated swipe of his tongue over the seam of her lips right before he pulled back from her.
Their eyes met once more, and what she saw in them was neither passion nor tenderness, nor anything she had expected to see after a kiss like that. All she saw was a stone wall, as cold as the ones in the underbelly of the castle, where the light never reached.
“I willnae leave,” he announced. Rhea was about to speak again, but he shook his head, interrupting her. “We have three more weeks to get to ken each other, after all.”
All that passion, all that warmth seemed to have vanished in an instant, and if Rhea had been reeling before, now she was drifting unmoored, not knowing where to anchor herself.
How did he change his mind so suddenly? How could he be sharp in one breath and gentle in the next? Which one was the real him?
Rhea struggled to find her words. And in the time it took her to put her thoughts in order, Callum had crossed the room and left her there alone, the door swinging shut behind him.