Chapter 13
“She said that?” Hudson asked, laughing so hard that his shoulders were shaking.
“I daenae see what is so amusin’ about this,” Callum groused.
The two of them were sitting in his study over a cup of whisky, enjoying the first warm night of the year. They still needed a fire in the grate, of course. The Highlands were no place for someone to lounge around at night without a fire, but it was reasonably warm for them to enjoy the weather.
It would be a fine day the following morning, Callum thought. A fine day, indeed.
“It is amusin’ that ye are so upset about it,” Hudson said. “So, Rhea told ye that ye daenae open up to her. So what? Ye daenae open up to anyone.”
“That’s what I thought as well,” Callum muttered over the rim of his cup.
He took a sip of his whisky and the liquor burned down his throat pleasantly, leaving behind an aftertaste of smoke and cherries.
It was a fine drink, but they didn’t have much of it left—nor much gold to purchase much more.
And yet here he was, complaining about his wife and her ideas instead of trying to figure out a way to fix all the clan’s problems.
Though he supposed he would only have more problems if Rhea hated him. The laird and the lady of the clan had to be a united front. No one could know they were arguing.
No one but Hudson. And Lara… and all her gaggle of maids.
Callum sighed and dragged a hand down his face. He was tired. Exhausted, in fact. And the fact that they were sitting there so late at night, drinking, wasn’t helping things.
But who knew what he would see once he closed his eyes? Who knew what nightmares awaited him?
He was hesitant to go to sleep now. He was hesitant to close his eyes, in case the war and the carnage returned. In case he saw Rhea again in his arms, and himself, powerless to help her.
He hadn’t told Hudson about this nightmare, though he rarely ever shared his nightmares with anyone. Hudson only knew about a few of them, and that was only because the two of them had to share a room sometimes while on the road and there was no hiding the screaming from him.
“Do ye think she was right?” Callum asked.
“About ye nae openin’ up? Of course she was right,” Hudson replied. “But ye daenae have to open up to anyone. That’s nae yer job.”
“I ken she was right about that,” Callum said. “I’m nae a fool, nor do I lie to meself.”
“Then…?”
“Was she right about me needin’ to open up?”
“Callum… nay,” Hudson shook his head. “Why would ye need to do that?”
Callum gave a small shrug. “I daenae ken. Isnae that what husbands do with their wives?”
“I daenae ken,” Hudson said. He was probably the wrong person to ask.
He was a great strategist, a feared warrior, and a great friend, but good with relationships he was not.
“But I daenae see how openin’ up is more important than…
I daenae ken, protectin’ her. Protectin’ the people.
Ye already do more than enough, daenae ye think? ”
“Nae accordin’ to Rhea, I’m nae,” Callum grumbled.
How he wished things were that easy. How he wished that Rhea could simply understand that his role was not to share his feelings but to make sure everyone was safe, fed, clothed, and had a roof over their heads.
He was responsible for so many people, and it was easier to simply push his own feelings aside, to bury them deep in his mind and never think of them again.
Och, I see what she means now.
It was a sudden realization and not an altogether welcome one.
Callum wished he had never come to it though, as it would have simply been easier to continue ignoring his feelings, but perhaps it was better this way.
The more he buried them, the more distance he created between him and everyone else—especially Rhea, his wife, the only woman who was supposed to be so close to him.
And it wasn’t only Rhea. He and Hudson had a different bond, since they had grown up together. But Sienna was a different story. She, too, would benefit from him expressing himself more, from telling her how proud of her he was and how much he loved her.
But the words would never come out of his mouth. He simply wasn’t that kind of man.
What if I show them instead?
“Oi!” Hudson called, waving his hand in front of Callum’s face.
Callum blinked, jolted out of his thoughts. “What?”
“I said, what are ye thinkin’ about?”
“Nothin',” Callum said, waving his hand dismissively. He took another sip, savoring the taste, the burn as it slid down his throat.
Hudson took that as an answer and didn’t try to pry.
That was one of the things Callum liked about his best friend; he didn’t push.
He didn’t demand answers unless it had to do with clan business, but even then, the two of them rarely argued.
He took Callum’s responses as the absolute truth, but even if he didn’t, even if he suspected there was something wrong, he didn’t ask unless Callum himself brought it up.
Why cannae lasses be like this, too?
“Get her a gift.”
“What?” Callum asked.
“Rhea,” Hudson clarified. “Get her a gift.”
“What gift?”
“I daenae ken… a necklace.”
“A necklace?”
“Or a dress or a bracelet or… hell, ye could even get her a kitten. Lasses love kittens, and there’s plenty of them out there for free.”
Callum couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m nae gettin’ her a kitten.”
“Why nae?”
“Because… it’s a cheap gift.”
“It’s a free gift.”
“That’s even worse!”
“Ach, I always get a lassie a kitten if I want her to like me,” Hudson admitted.
“And do they?” Callum asked.
“Aye.”
“How many kittens have ye given?”
“One.”
He cannae be serious.
“Why do I sit here and listen to ye?” Callum scoffed, dropping his face in his hand.
“Because ye have nay one else to talk to about this,” Hudson pointed out, seemingly perfectly aware of the fact that his advice was useless, no matter how much he meant to do good. “Ask Sienna if ye daenae like what I have to say.”
“Sienna will agree with Rhea,” Callum grunted.
“Aye.” Hudson nodded. “And I’ll agree with ye. This is how these things go.”
For a while, Callum remained silent, slowly swirling his whisky in his cup. A gift wasn’t a bad idea, he figured. Not a kitten, surely, and perhaps not a necklace either. Rhea had little need for such things, though perhaps he was underestimating the emotional value of such a gift.
But he couldn’t help but think she would prefer if he gifted her something more important. A gesture rather than an item, something that would show her he was ready to listen.
But am I ready to listen? Can I open up to her the way she wants me to?
There really was only one way to find out: plunging himself into the deep straight from the start.
Going slow didn’t work with him. He was an all-or-nothing kind of man, and he needed to be that man, enduring the worst of it so he could quickly get to the better parts of himself.
A plan was already forming in his mind. He only had to wait until morning.
The previous night had left Callum thinking his plan was a great idea, but now, standing in front of the gates with two horses and waiting for Rhea to come down, he wasn’t so certain.
He had been so ready to take Rhea out on a ride, to open up to her like she had asked, but now he hesitated.
From the moment he had entered her room, she had been in a bad mood, and he was certain that he was the cause of it. But the more frustrated she was with him, the more frustrated he got, until the two of them were stuck in a loop of anger, feeding off each other.
He had to keep reminding himself to remain calm, that he had brought this upon himself by trying to distract her with that kiss and then acting like nothing had happened—like the kiss hadn’t mattered, like their conversation about the war hadn’t mattered.
It had all mattered to her, and he had dismissed it so easily.
When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned to see Rhea approach, wearing a plain riding dress and boots.
A cloak was draped over her shoulders, older and a little worn, fraying at the edges, its brown color meant to blend in with the forest. It also matched her eyes, which now shone under the morning sun, the light making them look impossibly deep.
“Are ye ready?” Callum asked gruffly.
Rhea nodded. “Aye, of course. Let us head out.”
Once again, Callum offered her his hand to help her up into the saddle, but she ignored it, choosing to mount the horse on her own.
She clearly didn’t need his help. He had known that from the last time they had ventured together out of the castle and she had decided to race him unprompted, showing off her riding skills.
Once they were both on their horses, he led them past the walls and out into the wilderness.
Rhea drew her horse level with him—a beautiful mare, deep chestnut in color, her black mane fluttering in the wind.
His mount was larger, a black horse with a white marking on the top of its head called Slàinte.
Callum had kept and trained him ever since he was born.
He bucked when Callum steered him a little too harshly.
“Easy now, lad,” Callum soothed, petting his neck. “Easy, Slàinte.”
“Slàinte?” Rhea asked. “Is that his name?”
“Aye.”
“Ye named yer horse Slàinte?”
“Aye. Why? Do ye have a problem with it?”
Rhea stared at him and the horse in silence for a few moments before bursting into laughter. It seemed she had difficulty believing that he had picked such a name for the horse, and her mirth both confused him and amused him a little.
“Ye just daenae seem like the kind of person who would name his horse somethin’ like that,” she said with a small shrug.
“Is that so?” Callum asked. “What do ye think I should have named it, then?”
“I daenae ken. Dubh, maybe,” she suggested with another shrug of her shoulder. “Somethin’ dark and mysterious.”
Callum couldn’t help but smirk. “Is it because ye think I’m dark and mysterious?”
Rhea’s smile quickly disappeared, though whether that was because she wasn’t impressed by his teasing or because she was desperately trying to stop herself from smiling, he didn’t know.
“It’s because ye think ye’re dark and mysterious,” she replied.
Now Callum’s smile faded quickly. “I daenae think that,” he grumbled.
“Ach, there it is,” Rhea teased. “Ye’re pretendin’ to be dark and mysterious again. Ye always mumble and grumble.”
“This is how I talk,” Callum protested, though he kept his tone as flat as he could, trying not to give in to the irritation bubbling up his chest. Rhea was only teasing him, he reminded himself.
And he had every right to tease her back.
“And what does it say about ye, since ye married me?”
She rolled her eyes at him, reaching out with her foot to kick him, only to miss, as she was too far away.
“Well, I didnae have a choice, did I?” she pointed out. “Nae quite fair of ye to ask that question.”
It was something that Callum had given much thought over the course of their marriage—at least as long as he had been in the castle and not away, fighting a war, where his mind was preoccupied with other, more important things.
Would Rhea have chosen him, had she not been forced to marry him?
“Are ye complainin’, then?” he asked. “That ye wedded me.”
“Complainin’?” Rhea glanced over at him briefly before shaking her head. “Nay.”
It was a relief to hear that, to know that she didn’t regret this marriage, that she didn’t want to get out of it, that she wasn’t desperate for an escape.
It settled something deep inside him, a fear, an ache that he had been carrying for the past year, ever since they had faced each other at the altar.
For a while, they rode in silence, nothing but the breeze, the rustle of the leaves, and the clip-clop of horses’ hooves accompanying them. The wind was crisp, cold, and refreshing, making Callum’s cloak fly behind him.
The path was so well-trodden that it was a smooth ride. Plus, Callum knew the path like the back of his hand. Rhea didn’t seem to have an issue with it either, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many times she had taken it in the past months, who she had been with, and where she had gone.
He knew that after a certain point, the path would become much wilder, much steeper, a place where few ever went. And so, before they reached that bend, he looked at her and asked, “How about another race?”
The smile she gave him was all the answer he needed.