Page 25 of Desiring the Highland Laird
“I cannae let ye go.”
She charged him, the worry morphing into fury. When she flung her small body at him, her fists raised as if to beat him, he caught her. His hands wrapped around her wrists, and he held her steady.
“You have to let me go. Please.”
She tipped her head up to his. There were tears pooling in her eyes.
“God’s teeth,” he swore and released her. He stepped away from her, turning away. He could stand anything but a woman’s tears.
“If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself,” she continued. “We grew up together. She’s my best friend and the only real family I have left.”
Och, that nearly did him in. He understood the bonds of family, for he was bonded to his two brothers. He closed his eyes for a long moment, taking in a deep breath. While he wanted to help her, wanted to send her back home, he simply could not. He needed answers first. There was one place to get them.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” she said, imploring.
Finally, he turned to face her. “I do, lassie. But I cannae give you back the stone.”
At least not yet.
Furious, she grabbed her gown in her fists and stomped out of the great hall. He watched as she disappeared through a doorway, her fading footsteps going up the staircase.
Likely she had returned to his chamber. He sighed. He’d send Roslyn to look after her. He had his own tasks to tend.
Malcolm sauntered in then. “That went well.”
“Ye heard?”
“Aye.”
“How much?”
“All of it.” His brother flashed a grin. “She has a temper, brother.”
“Aye, she does. But I cannae give her the stone. Not until I ken what the true power of it is.”
“Oh, are ye starting to believe what Da has been saying all these years?” When he said nothing, Malcolm continued. “This shopkeeper sounds like—”
“Aye, I ken who she sounds like. It cannae be.”
“Ye dinnae believe it, do ye?” There was a ghost of a grin on his face. “Even after all Da has told us.”
Callum swiped his hand over his face, his stubble bristling against his callused palm. No, he didn’t want to believe it. The stories Da told them growing up he assumed were merely that—stories. But with the arrival of Evie, mayhap there was something more to them.
Also, it was hard to shake the feeling he had seen her before. As though he dreamed of her. He didn’t want to believe that she stepped out of his dream. Yet, he could not deny recalling the dream of her walking toward him in a white chemise while he lounged in the chair by his hearth, the fire blazing bright and hot and wild. Like her. She pulled off that chemise and—
He quickly shoved away the memory. Now was not the proper time to think about that.
“I need answers,” he said.
“And where do ye think ye’ll get them? We already ken the stories of the Shattering and the Night of Shadows.” Malcolm plopped down in one of the chairs at the long table, propping his booted feet on the edge.
It didn’t do that his brother looked smug, as if he already had all the answers and believed all the stories.
Even the youngest, Jamie, seemed to believe and would likely tell him so when he returned to Dundale in the spring. Currently, he was traveling with their uncle learning to read, write, and fight. He was sent away after the incident with the MacDonald lass. They needed every hand available when and if the MacDonalds decided to invade, something Callum was determined to fight against.
“I’m goin’ to see Da,” he said as he stomped out of the great hall.
Malcolm said, “He’s in the armory.”
