Chapter 11
Where is it comin’ from? What’s all this blood?
It was everywhere—on his hands, on his clothes, on Rhea’s face. She was staring up at him, her big brown eyes lifeless for the first time in his life. There was no spark in them. There was nothing but pain, nothing but agony, nothing but the darkness that came with death.
Everything around them was burning. Flames licked up the curtain walls, rising to the midnight air.
Ash and embers danced in the air around him.
The courtyard turned into a furnace by the raging fire.
All around him, people were shouting in fear and agony as they fell to their deaths, hopeless and powerless.
And he was kneeling there, in the middle of it all, with Rhea in his arms.
No, no, this wasn’t Rhea. It was only Rhea’s body, her spirit long gone. All that remained of her were a few final breaths, a few more seconds of feeble life.
Where is the blood comin’ from?
His hands searched for the wound, but he couldn’t find it.
Rhea seemed to be bleeding from everywhere, the life sapped out of her with every heartbeat, with every push of her blood through her veins.
Still, he searched frantically, his hands gripping anywhere they could reach and coming away soaked in more blood.
Bile rose in the back of his throat. How could this be happening? What had happened to her? What war was this? Who hurt her?
Her eyes were pleading silently with him, though for what, he couldn’t tell. Was she asking him to help her? Was she asking him to end her torture?
Callum could do neither. The screams, the flames, and the clash of swords as the last few soldiers fought disoriented him, making the world around him spin.
A wave of nausea assaulted him, relentless and violent, and sweat dripped from his brow, dragging old blood with it. Was it his own? Was it someone else’s?
A weak whisper echoed around him, dragging him deeper into despair.
“Please,” Rhea said. “Please.”
It was as if that one word was all she could say, as if her entire life had been distilled down to this one thing. This one plea that he couldn’t fulfil for her, one final request that he would have to ignore.
“Please,” he echoed, something hot running down his face. He didn’t know whether it was blood or tears. “Please, Rhea… stay with me.”
Rhea looked at him then, truly looked at him, her gaze clear and bright and fully conscious. And more than anything, accusing.
“Ye did this to me,” she said, her face contorting with hatred and pain. “This is all yer fault.”
Callum’s eyes snapped open, and he shot upright in bed with a gasp.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he was or what was happening around him.
He was drenched in sweat, the ghost of the flames lingering on his skin.
The covers were bunched up around his legs from how much he had been thrashing around, and his throat was hoarse, as if he had been screaming.
Had he been screaming? Had anyone heard him?
Surely not. If anyone had heard him, there would be guards in his room by now.
He was glad for it. He couldn’t imagine the embarrassment he would have to deal with if anyone heard him scream like that in the middle of the night just because of a nightmare.
I am a grown man. I am a laird. And here I am, frightened by nothin' but a dream.
And yet, no matter how much he berated himself for it, his heart was still racing, and there was still a terrible, bitter taste at the back of his mouth.
He had been frightened. He had been frightened by this vision of war, by the possibility of losing Rhea. And most of all, he had been frightened by the fact that in this nightmare, it had all been his fault.
He had been the one to start the war. He had been the one to bring it to their doorstep. And Rhea had been well aware of that, putting blame where blame was due.
In real life, she had told him multiple times that this wasn’t a war worth fighting. She had begged him to stay. And yet he still believed the best thing for the clan was to eliminate the threat.
I willnae lose. I cannae lose. I will win this war, and I will make sure Barclay is nay longer a threat to anyone. Nae to me, nae to the clan, and certainly nae to Rhea.
It was all to protect her, and this had been nothing but a silly nightmare. It was nothing but a scenario his mind had conjured up in a bid to scare him. And if there was one thing Callum had resisted all his life, it was fear.
With a sigh, he swung his legs off the bed and stood, the floorboards cold against his feet. He dressed haphazardly, throwing on his trews and a shirt, and then stepped into his slippers, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep for the rest of the night.
The nightmare had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. Such dreams were getting more and more frequent these days, plaguing him constantly and leaving him sleepless and exhausted, but there wasn’t much to be done. The nightmares would continue as long as the threat of another war persisted.
And even then, even once he neutralized the threat, he doubted they would stop. He had seen so much death, so much pain that the war now followed him in his sleep, making it impossible for him to have a single calm night.
Eventually, he would drift back to sleep, or at least try to.
But for now, he decided there was no point in tossing and turning, torturing himself until the first hours of dawn just to try and sleep when he knew for certain sleep wouldn’t come.
So instead, he left his room and began to wander the empty hallways, absorbing the quiet of the night.
The castle was so different at this hour.
Usually, there were servants and guards everywhere, all of them bustling about to do their chores for the day.
Now, there were still guards patrolling the halls, but fewer of them.
Most of them were outside, on the curtain walls, watching for any signs of danger, so Callum didn’t run into any of them as he roamed the castle.
It didn’t hurt that he knew their rotations by heart. He knew precisely where they should be and at what time, so he knew to avoid the places with the most guards.
He didn’t want to speak to anyone. He didn’t want to have a single interaction with another person, not when his heart was still pounding and his stomach was still tied in knots from the nightmare.
The quiet did him good. It was precisely what he needed to clear his head, to calm his racing heart. The only light came from the torches, warm and bright, and from the moon that spilled in through the windows—this one colder, fainter, nothing but a whisper of light, but all the more calm for it.
He had half a mind to wander past the curtain walls and into the wilderness where he was bound to meet no one, but he wasn’t entirely blind to the dangers of the night. If the brigands didn’t get him, then an animal might, no matter how small the chances.
What a silly way to die.
The thought brought a small smile to his lips, just because of how terrible it would be for him to meet his end like that, during a careless walk in the woods in the middle of the night.
He was so lost in that thought, so amused by it, that he didn’t see the figure coming straight toward him as he rounded the corner. They collided with twin huffs of surprise.
When he looked down, he saw none other than Rhea—in her nightgown.
“What are ye doin’ here?” he asked. “And why are ye nae wearin’ clothes?”
“I am wearin’ clothes,” Rhea said, clearly just as shocked to see him there. “What is this if nae clothes?”
“It’s a nightgown,” Callum corrected her. “Ye can hardly call that clothes.”
“It’s thick,” she pointed out.
It was true. The fabric was quite thick, especially for this time of year. And yet, as he looked at it, he couldn’t help but think about what it was hiding—barely.
He was so used to seeing her covered up by so many layers, her gowns and petticoats like an armor around her, that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her no matter how much he tried, mesmerized by the hint of a silhouette he could see under her nightgown.
It was loose around her body, a thick cotton fabric that did a good job of concealing most of her. Only when the light hit her did he see a vague impression of what was underneath it.
He could see the faint curve of her hip where the fabric clung to her skin, then the dip of her waist, where it left a gap between her body and the nightgown, and that was more than enough to drive him crazy with lust.
He had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Rhea.
He could hardly believe that almost a year ago, he had left her after their wedding night without even consummating their marriage.
But he did what had to be done. Now, though…
now he had her all to himself, and he couldn’t wait for the day when he would make her his.
If only she wasnae so stubborn.
Had it not been for her request to get to know him better, he would have already pulled her close and kissed her until she melted in his arms. He would have taken her to his chambers, laid her down on his bed, and kissed every inch of her body until she squirmed with pleasure, until she begged him for more.
And then, once she asked for it, he would have claimed her, made her his.
Desire coiled tightly in his stomach, pushing away every other thought. But seeing the look on Rhea’s face, it soon faded, replaced by annoyance. She clearly wasn’t happy with his presence there.
“Why are ye out here so late at night?” he asked. “And dressed like this nay less.”
“It’s none of yer business,” she scoffed.
That only made him more suspicious.
Where was she going? Why was she awake? Why was she not dressed like she should have been?
Callum had made it perfectly clear to her that no one else was to see her in her nightgown, and yet here she was, openly defying him.
“None of me business?” Callum echoed, blood rushing to his head as rage threatened to take over. “I’m yer husband. It is me business.”
“A husband would open up to his wife,” Rhea shot back, never once shrinking from him.
If anything, she seemed to stand taller, as if she was trying to measure up to him.
He was momentarily too confused by her insolence to remember to be angry with her.
“He wouldnae demand answers that she is unwillin’ to give. ”
“Why are ye unwillin’ to give me an answer?” he demanded.
“As I said, it’s none of yer business,” she insisted. “Did ye now remember that ye’re me husband?”
What is the matter with her? She was fine at the market!
Callum couldn’t make sense of it. He couldn’t understand why she had changed so suddenly or what could have possibly prompted this change. Had he done something to offend her? Had he done something to hurt her?
Had she realized that the only reason he had kissed her was to distract her?
Well, that would be absolutely terrible.
It was more than that, though. He simply didn’t know how to explain it to her.
Yes, at first, he had kissed her to distract her, but each kiss he got from her was a breath of fresh air, a weight lifted off his shoulders.
How could he explain this to her in a way that wouldn’t infuriate her even more?
Without another word, and before he could say a thing, Rhea stomped past him and retreated down the corridor, disappearing around the next corner.
She was not heading to her chambers, as they were on the other side of the wing, but he didn’t know where she was going.
He couldn’t even ask her, not when she was practically running away from him.
Callum cursed under his breath, standing there for a moment.
He stared out the large windows that lined the hallway at the darkened silhouette of the distant trees.
For the first time, he realized he was cold.
It was a cold night, at least for a summer one, and he had neglected to wear something over his shirt.
He had half a mind to keep going, to roam the halls until morning, but he was no longer in the mood for it. Instead, he made his way to his study, where he lit a fire in the grate and warmed his hands, rubbing them together for a few moments.
Rhea’s words haunted him. She had been angry, and she had said things that confused him, especially because he thought they had reached common ground. But there was also one thing she had said that lingered in his mind, something that rang true even now, in the quiet of his study.
“ A husband would open up to his wife.”
It was true that he hadn’t opened up to her and that he found it difficult—if not impossible—to do so. Her complaint wasn’t unreasonable. And yet the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he couldn’t open up to her. To anyone.
It was his burden to bear, all of it. And bear it he would on his own.