Page 58 of Edinburgh Escape
“Yes, please.” Bryce held out his hands for the bucket and braced himself to hold it.
Alastair opened the stall door.
Maggie frowned, a little worried about the boy entering the big horse’s stall. “Want me to go in with you?”
“No, thank you.” Bryce walked right into the stall and tipped the heavy bucket into the trough.
“You’re so very strong,” Maggie commented.
“He feeds Montana every day,” Alastair said. “And every day, he builds his muscles.”
Bryce carried the empty bucket out and handed it to Alastair. “Alastair taught me how to ride, and someday, he’ll teach me how to drive.”
“Are you going to ride today?” Alastair asked.
Bryce sighed. “I’m tired, and my tummy hurts. Maybe later. I think I’ll go lie down for a while.”
Maggie’s heart pinched. A five-year-old shouldn’t be worn out at the beginning of the day. He hadn’t run circles in the playground or bounced off the walls. She held out her hand. “I’ll walk with you back to the manor.”
“Better yet,” Callum said. “I’ll carry you.” He swung the boy up in his arms.
Bryce lay his head on Callum’s shoulder. “I want to ride,” he said, “but my tummy hurts.” His red hair contrasted with Callum’s short, dark beard.
Maggie laid a hand on the boy’s back. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the house. Does your mother have any medicine to help your tummy?”
“It tastes yucky,” Bryce said.
“Better to taste yucky than for your tummy to hurt,” Maggie said.
“It never fixes it,” Bryce admitted.
Maggie walked beside Callum back to the manor and entered through the back door into the kitchen.
“Lady Fiona is in the dining room,” Cook said from where she stood at a counter, fitting lumps of dough into bread pans.
“Thank you,” Callum said and strode through the kitchen into the dining room.
Fiona rose from the table, dressed in a shirtwaist dress, a frown pulling her arched brows downward. “Bryce, my love, come to mummy.” She took Bryce into her arms. “Let’s get you some medicine and let you lie down for a while.”
“We went to see Montana.” Bryce lay his head on his mother’s shoulder as she carried him out of the room.
“I’m worried about Bryce,” Maggie stepped out into the hallway. “I wonder if they’ve taken him to see a specialist. He’s five. He shouldn’t be in that much pain and discomfort. He should be running and playing like most kids his age.”
“Agreed,” Callum said. “That’s not normal.”
They walked companionably several more steps, giving Maggie the courage to address the elephant in the room.
“Callum.” Maggie touched his arm, bringing him to a halt. “About what happened between us. We need to talk.”
Callum stiffened. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Heat filled her cheeks. Not from embarrassment, but anger. “There damn sure is.”
“I hurt you,” he said, his voice low, guttural. He shook her hand off his arm and stepped away, widening the gap between them physically and emotionally. “I can’t let that happen ever again.”
“You’re suffering from PTSD, Callum. You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know it was me.”
“All the more reason to stay away from you. I could’ve killed you.”
