Page 97 of The Scot's Secret Love
Frida nodded, not knowing quite what she was agreeing with. “Callum was your leader?” she suggested, hesitantly.
“On this quest, aye.” Andrew looked away from her, as if embarrassed to talk of the planned assassination of her brother, but Frida realised after no more than a second that this was not so. The highlander was thinking only of Callum. “I also think of him as kin.” His tone was gravelly now. “I have ridden out alongside him in many a battle. There is no man I would sooner have with me than Callum Baine.”
Her heart lifted to hear her lover praised, despite the grim circumstances. She knew she should take her leave, but shecould not bring herself to break off the conversation just yet. Mirrie’s words, words that she had dismissed out of hand at the time, hovered in the stale air before her eyes.
Who knows what the future may bring?
“You would say he is a man of courage, then?” she ventured. “One that will ne’er give up on once he has set his heart on something?”
There was a long pause, during which she could hear only the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Andrew regarded her steadily, as if fully aware of her secret. ’Twas Arlo who broke the silence.
“Callum is a man who ne’er gives up on anything he wants,” he declared, fervently.
Calum will not give up on me.
Frida had vowed to harden her heart to hopes of the future, but in that moment, her hastily-erected barricades crumbled.
Callum will find a way to come back to me.
Before she could say more, Frida turned and walked briskly away from the prisoners, keeping her composure until she had turned the corner away from the guard. Then she leaned her back against the outer wall of the gatehouse and heaved a deep sigh, releasing her pent-up emotions. She flattened her palms against the stone wall, as if by sheer force of will she might travel back in time to the evening she had last seen Callum.
Not to do anything differently; just so she might gaze upon his face one more time.
She only became aware of Jonah when he cleared his throat and stepped into view.
“I did not mean to startle you,” he said, pre-emptively.
“What are you doing here?” Frida put a hand to her heart, feeling it beat beneath the grey wool of her serviceable dress.
Jonah was dressed impeccably in the emerald-green colours of Wolvesley. His hair shone golden in the autumn sunlight. He resembled their older brother more than he would ever see.
“Waiting for you.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “Come, we cannot talk here.” He nodded sharply towards the bakehouse wall and Frida realised he did not want the prisoners to overhear them.
But Jonah did not lead her to the hall. Instead he took a roundabout path to the sheep barn. ’Twas one of the last places Frida would willingly go, for the painful reminders of that last, carefree day with Callum.
She frowned as they stepped into the hay-scented warmth. The sheep had not yet been returned to the fields, but Frida saw she must give the order for this to happen, else the flock would eat through their winter supplies before yuletide.
“What is it, Jonah?”
He held up his palms in a gesture of surrender. “I am learning to face my flaws, just as I know you have always wished.”
Her frown deepened. “I am in no mood for puzzles.”
“We all know ’tis my fault that Tristan came here. And therefore everything that took place after that can also be attributed to me.” He gestured wildly to indicate Tristan’s ferocious beating, Callum’s escape and the arguments that had rippled through Ember Hall subsequently. “At the time, I hid away rather than meeting your wrath.”
Frida rubbed at her arms, her body taken by a sudden shiver of premonition, despite the shelter of the barn. “Why would you fear my wrath?”
He threw her a smile. “Come now, sister, do not pretend that you are not in love with Callum. I know it. Mirrie knows it. The only person who hasn’t realised is Tristan, but that is because our beloved brother is, as ever, consumed only with his own affairs and interests.”
She held herself entirely still. “You know.” Her heart sank as she realised the consequences.
“I believe it your secret. Your business. My lips are sealed.” He grimaced as if unconvinced she would believe him. “You have my word.”
Not so long ago, Jonah’s word would have meant little to Frida. Now, however, she placed more faith in him. “Thank you.” She hugged her arms about herself, wishing she had thought to bring a shawl.
He inclined his head. “I have not brought you here for thanks. I am afraid I have failed you, once again.”
She saw she would have to drag this confession out of him. “How so?”
