Page 16 of The Highlander's Twisted Deal
She sighed, shaking her head. “That’s yer business, I suppose. Well, if ye can bring me maither and me friend up from the village today, ye have me agreement.”
“And ye agree to keep it secret and not to try and trick me into marriage?” Callum pressed.
She chuckled, holding out a green-tinged hand. “Aye, I promise. Deal?”
“Deal. Is there anyone else you’d care for me to bring here, besides yer maither and yer friend? Is there no family besides yer maither?”
He wished he hadn’t asked. A cloud crossed her face, and she shook her head just a little too sharply.
“Nay,” Ava said quietly. “Just me.”
* * *
Callum took his place on the winged armchair by the fire and waited on tenterhooks for his family to come filing in.
They had great banquets in the feasting halls, sometimes, like lairds and their families were meant to do, but more often than not, they ate quietly together in a room that his aunt Moira had turned into a drawing room.
Anxiety curdled in his gut like sour milk. Iftheydidn’t believe his story, nobody would. His uncle Marcus had the council’s ear, and he was a painfully honest man. Duncan would make jokes that Callum was not in the mood to hear, and Moira would fire questions at him and his false sweetheart.
And then, in the center of it all, was Ava. Callum shifted in his seat, a little annoyed at himself. What was he doing, getting excited over a woman who was about todrughim to avoid sleeping with him?
I didnae think I was that unappealing,but then, she’s a woman who likes to make her own choices.
What would it be like if she chose him? Callum had thought over her story when he was alone, chuckling at the idea of her drugging amorous, drunken fools and then sitting sedately beside them until they woke up. Or perhaps she just left them snoring and went on her merry way.
He’d wager at least half of his fortune that she’d never been with a man at all.
“Evening, love,” Moira chirped, sweeping into the room.
There was nothing like one’s motherly, matronly aunt to douse any hot thoughts as effectively as cold water over a fire.
“Evening, Auntie,” Callum responded, getting to his feet to kiss his aunt’s cheek.
The rest of them followed—his uncle Marcus, nearing fifty years old, gray and tired but always smiling, and Duncan, a younger, bouncier version of his father, lanky and tall and good-looking in a scruffy sort of way.
The food was already set out on the table. As expected, Moira noticed the extra place first.
“Are we having a guest, laddie?” she asked cheerfully, picking up a radish from a bowl and popping it into her mouth. “I’ve not seen ye since ye returned from MacCarthy lands. Fortunately for ye, I heard of what had happened from other sources. We were worried about ye. Why did ye nae take Duncan?”
Callum met his cousin’s eye. Duncan, aside from being ridiculously lanky, was clumsy, dangerously so. He was more likely to stab himself in the leg than any enemy, and he had a knack for falling off even the most sedate of horses. He enjoyed studying, reading books, and telling jokes, instead of more warlike pursuits.
“He had too much work to do here,” Callum lied. “Auntie, Uncle, sit down. I have to tell ye something.”
His aunt and uncle exchanged quick, thoughtful glances and sank into their places at the table.
“I thought it was too good to be true,” Moira muttered. “He’s never at the table this early.”
Duncan stifled a chuckle.
Callum glowered at him. “Ava?” he called, pitching his voice. “Come on in, lass.”
They’d set the stage carefully. His uncle and aunt would have been taken aback to find Ava waiting for them in the dining room, but Callum wanted to get the introduction over with.
For one awful moment, he thought that Ava had taken to her heels and left the Keep and that he was about to look stupid for shouting for a woman that wasn’t coming. But then, the door creaked open, and Ava slipped in.
In the flickering firelight, her expression was shadowed. She wore a plain wool dress that Sara had dug out for her, and she had a white shawl draped around her shoulders. Her hair was neatly brushed, shimmering like fire. She faced them all and bobbed a deep, graceful curtsey.
Callum got to his feet. For the first time since he’d conjured up this idea, he felt nervous. They were all watching him. He crossed the floor to stand beside Ava and slipped an arm around her waist.
