Page 17 of The Highlander's Twisted Deal
They hadn’t discussed that, but he hoped she would understand. For the look of the thing, of course.
“The council told me that I ought to marry,” he said bluntly. “They said I should find meself a betrothed before the next meeting. So, I have. This is Ava, and we are betrothed.”
He felt Ava stiffen in his arms and remembered belatedly that he hadn’t mentioned betrothal, only courtship.
Oh, well. If she wanted her family brought to safety and enough gold to start a new life, she’d go along with it. Not to mention there was a sweet, enticing smell of lavender drifting from her hair, and he wanted nothing more than to press his cheek against the top of her head and breathe in deeply.
Stop it, fool! Concentrate!
There was a heartbeat of silence, then everybody was talking at once.
“… cannae possibly do this!”
“… even ken what they’d say?”
“… havenae thought it through at all.”
All three spoke at once, and then they all went quiet. Callum forced himself to stay calm. This was the tricky part. To convince the council, he’d need to convince Moira and Marcus.
“I met Ava only a few days ago,” Callum said, slowly and firmly, “but I ken that she is the one I wish to marry.”
He liked having his arm around Ava’s waist—it seemed to fit there so perfectly—but she was stiff against him, so he released her, gesturing for her to take a seat. She did so, politely ignoring the stares she received. Marcus flashed her a wobbly smile and slid his arm across the table to pat her hand.
“It’s nothing personal, lassie,” he said carefully. “I’m sure ye are a fine woman. But Callum is the Laird, and I promised his dear departed parents that I’d care for him.”
Ava opened her mouth as if to say something but then her eye dropped to Marcus’s arm. Sliding his arm across the table had hitched up his sleeve a few inches, revealing the puckered skin that circled his forearm. She sucked in a breath.
Dinnae,Callum prayed, but it was too late.
“Sir, what happened to yer arm? I am a healer, is there anything I can do?”
Marcus whipped back his arm, tugging down the sleeve. His face was red beneath his gray beard. Callum felt a lump rise in his throat. Moira and Duncan were pointedly looking anywhere else.
“Nothing ye can do, lassie,” Marcus said tiredly. “It happened a long time ago. The fire that took Callum’s parents nearly took me life, too. I was lucky to escape.”
The atmosphere around the table crackled. Callum was aware of Ava looking at him, and he couldn’t bear to look back. If he saw pity in her eyes…
“What is wrong with Ava, after all?” he asked, firmly changing the subject. “Ye have wanted me to marry for years. Now, I am marrying. Why do ye object?”
“When the council told ye to find a bride before the next meeting,” Duncan chimed in, helping himself to some of the roast chicken, “I think they thought ye would marry a Keep lady or perhaps some lady from a neighboring clan, not a nameless healer.”
“Thatnameless healeris me betrothed, Duncan.”
Duncan lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Forgive me, Lady Ava.”
“Just Ava,” Ava said, smiling wryly. “Ye must understand, Callum, they only want the best for ye. I dinnae blame them for any of this.”
Moira smiled kindly at her. “Bless ye, child, for understanding.”
“Is it a love match?” Marcus asked.
Callum stiffened, forcing himself not to clench his hands into fists. Beside him, Ava was completely composed, pouring out wine for herself and for him.
“Of course, it is,” Callum shot back. “Why would ye think nae?”
“I cannae help but think,” Marcus said slowly, “that ye simply want the council off yer back.”
That, of course, was completely true. Callum was pleased he wasn’t the sort of man who blushed easily. As it was, a red face could be attributed to the heat of the room.
