Page 34 of The Highlander's Twisted Deal
Sighing, Callum hooked a foot around a wonky, three-legged stool, pulling it towards him. He sat down, elbows on his knees, and watched the kettle.
“Keep rules are different from village rules when it comes to marriage and betrothal,” he said. “In the Keep—between ladies and lairds, at least—it’s important to stay pure before marriage. A couple isnae permitted to lie together while they’re betrothed, and betrothals generally only last a few months. The village folk dinnae always have the same restrictions. At least, they dinnae act like it.”
“What?”
Callum sighed again, scratching the back of his neck. His hair seemed to have grown even longer, fighting its way out of his queue. With his lazy curls, black as jet, falling around his face and neck, Ava thought he looked wild. Like one of the old Heathen warriors who daubed themselves with woad and went screaming out to meet the formidable Roman soldiers. The type of warrior that terrified the world’s greatest armies so much that they built a wall to keep him out, spanning half a country.
Ava had never seen Hadrian’s wall, or what was left of it, but, of course, she’d heard the stories. How the Romans swept through the country, burning and murdering and looting. How they stopped when they reached Scotland. Stopped, retreated, and built a wall to keep the Picts out.
It was a story every Scottish child was taught, wide-eyed and enthralled. Ava could imagine Callum as one of those warriors. Fearless, grinning, terrifying.
Ava gave herself a little shake, waking herself from her reverie. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking this sort of thing. It wasn’tproper, not now. The ache was back in the pit of her stomach, and she very much wanted it to go away.
It was distracting.
“In the villages,” Callum continued, his eyes still fixed on the kettle, “it’s common for a betrothal to last longer. Couples want children—to support them when they’re older, to help with the land, and so on. It’s usual for them to start trying before they get married. Once a child comes along, or the woman falls pregnant, they ken that, between them, they can make a child. It makes sense to get married, then. If nae, they often go their separate ways and try with somebody else.”
Ava swallowed hard, blinking. “I… I dinnae think that sort of custom is popular in Clan MacCarthy.”
He snorted. “Nay, I imagine nae, nae with His Primness Laird MacCarthy in charge. Arthur and the rest probably assume we want to conceive a babe before we wed. Think nothing of it.”
Think nothing of it?
Ava wanted to scream.
I’m thinking of nothing else!
“I dinnae want a babe,” she said firmly. “Nae for a while. I like children, but…”
Callum turned his ice-blue gaze on her, and the words dried up in her throat.
“Of course, we’re nae trying for a babe,” he said, sounding amused and faintly bewildered. “If ye feel so uncomfortable, I’ll ask for a pallet bed. I’m nae sleeping on the floor, though. I’d freeze.”
Ava shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable. She didn’t particularly like the idea of summoning Arthur back and asking for another bed. If the whole village knew that they’d been ushered into a hut with only one borrowed bed, asking for another would be… well, embarrassing.
She glanced over at the bed. It was deep and looked cozy and inviting with a good straw mattress, fluffy pillows, and layers of quilts and blankets. A curtain could be pulled across the alcove, separating the bed from the rest of the room.
“Never mind,” she said curtly, hating how her voice shivered. “We can share. Let’s nae bother Arthur.”
“As ye like,” Callum said. His voice was cool and even, but he kept his back to her. The kettle began to whistle, and he reached out, his hand wrapped in a cloth, to lift it from the stove.
Was it her imagination, or was his hand shaking?
Ava turned her back, fiddling with the sheets to distract herself. She was exhausted, bone tired—or at least, she had been until all of this happened. Now, there was a sort of simmering excitement inside her, something she hadn’t experienced before.
She’dseenit before—the men who thought they were going to bed with her had all but vibrated in excitement, barely tasting the drugged tea as they swigged it down, keen to get their hands on her and roll her into bed.
“Ye shouldnae have threatened that drunkard like that,” Ava heard herself say.
“Oh, aye? Why nae?”
“He’s just a drunken fool, that’s all.”
“I didnae threaten him because he was drunk. I threatened him because of the way he spoke to ye.”
She swallowed hard. “Well, I can take care of meself, and I dinnae appreciate ye fighting me battles on me behalf.”
Ava never heard a footstep or even a swish of fabric, but she felt warmth against her back and sensed rather than saw that Callum was standing directly behind her, inches away.
