Page 67 of The Speed of Lightning
Da’s gaze softened. “That’s about when Rory started showing up. The attention she drew from the lads on her walks to Fraser’s kept him circling back.”
A white-hot knife of jealousy pierced Calum’s chest. “And made him territorial. I know now who left the bruise on her face. Who chipped her tooth. She’s still afraid of him.”
“Do you think Rory had anything to do with the archer?”
“Murdoch suspects it. He remembers well what a poor shot MacDonald was. Myself, I think it more likely one of the Wolf’s caterans—they favor stealth.”
Da’s face grew grimmer. “I dinnae ken if that’s better or worse. With Rory, I ken what I’m facing. If it’s the Wolf’s men…” His voice faded.
Calum finished for him. “That’s why I want Freya with you while I sail for Lochbuie. I cannae leave her at Lealt. With her under your roof, I can at least sleep at night.”
“I should go,” Da muttered. “It’s my fault this ever began. I owe Hector the explanation.”
“It’s better if I do. I can speak for Freya, and for you, and explain the circumstances. Though I cannae fathom how to defend your choice to spread the tales—even if it gained me favorin the clan, or swayed the council, or disheartened the Wolf’s men.”
Da bristled, his voice rough. “When you’ve a son of your own and watch him march to battle, you’ll understand. More men mean more strength. More strength means a better chance he’ll live to see another day. That he’ll come home. That he’ll carry the legacy meant for him. That he’ll die auld, in his bed, with his kin around him—not cold and alone in some muddy field.”
He shut his mouth, his chest strangely tight. “Da, I?—”
“I only wanted you safe,” Da cut in, eyes lifting to the clouds rolling across the night sky. “But I’ll confess, Calum—I told Freya to keep spinning her tales. I believe she could be of use to your team. You already fight with one woman. Why not two? Can you not see how her words might aid your cause?”
Incredulity burned through him. “Are you mad? Freya is no’ like Birdy. Aileen is swift, strong, cunning—a warrior born. Freya is small, meek, she cannae even stand up to her own father.”
“You could train her, she remembers a few basic moves from glíma. She’s clever, quick with her mind?—”
“She’s done enough! I cannae believe you are even considering this. Is it no’ enough that I’ve already nearly lost her twice? I dinnae want to worry for the rest of my days that she could be taken from me at any moment. Protecting her from her father is one thing, I cannae protect her from Scotland entire.”
Da made a face. “Are you certain?”
“Da!”
He held his hands up in surrender. “All right. Forget I said it. You’ve made your choice. Then go at once. Are you sure you dinnae wish me to go in your place? It seems only right?—”
Calum snorted. “Tha’s all I need, you going to Hector and convincing him to put Freya on the Shield. I’ll go alone. It’sburden enough to explain everything, and to beg him to keep it from the king so it doesnae cost you your chieftainship.”
Da made a face. “I dinnae know if that is wise. The truth always has a way of surfacing.”
“What choice do I have? If she’s found out it could be her neck. And…” He hesitated.
“What?”
“You. I’ve only just come home. We’ve lost ten years. And…I’ve missed you, Da. Your counsel. As stubborn and foolish as you are, I’d like to see your own neck spared.”
Da’s eyes softened. “Dinnae fash yourself over your auld da. I’ve life in me yet. It’s you I’m worried for. You look like ye’ve aged a hundred years in ten.”
A rush of air left Calum’s lungs as he listened to the water crash over the falls, the wind whistling through the trees—the familiar sounds of home. For ten years he had longed for his father’s counsel, and now he had it. He swallowed and confessed, voice raw.
“I love her, Da. But she doesnae feel the same. No love, no attraction—only friendship. I fear I’ve made a fool of myself. I’m no better than her own father. I’ve taken her, and now she’s bound to me by duty.”
His father’s laugh rumbled deep. “You’re glaikit. You’re nothing like Ragnall. You simply dinnae understand her yet. Look at what she’s given you.”
“A henbane-induced headache?”
Da chuckled. “The truth. She trusts you—and after all she’s endured, that is no small thing. Take it as a challenge, my son. Teach her what love is, and her friendship will grow deeper.”
The words buoyed him from the depths of discouragement. “You believe she will?”
Da’s eyes twinkled. “How could she not? You’re the mirror of your auld man.”
