Heart in the Highlands by Heidi Kimball
Chapter Six
It was the movement, more than the sound, that woke Callum. He blinked into the darkness, trying to orient himself. It was his wedding night. The warmth at his side, Katie. Her shoulders shuddered on a soft sob. She was crying, he realized, still trying to blink himself awake. But why? Had he hurt her somehow?
Before he could reach out and take her in his arms, she eased away from him, turning into the pillow to muffle her crying. Some instinct stilled him before he spoke her name. He didn’t move, hardly even breathed, sensing she very much wanted a moment of privacy.
The quiet sound was not one of pain but of loneliness, a sound so forlorn it made his heart twinge. After several long minutes, Katie’s crying quieted. She sucked in deep breaths and finally, finally, her breathing settled into the rhythmic sound of slumber.
Callum eased out the breath he felt he’d been holding since he’d woken. Sleep was far away, and his mind was ravaged by guilt and worry over the woman next to him. She’d seemed so peaceful as she’d drifted off to sleep in his arms. What had woken her and caused her tears? He could ask her in the morning, of course, but he had no desire to confront her when their relationship was so new and fragile. Besides, she’d seemed quite determined to keep whatever heartache had beset her to herself.
He stared at the outline of her shoulder in the darkness, and when she shivered, he pulled the cover up over her before he drifted off to sleep some minutes later.
Callum woke again as the first fingers of light began to poke through the heavy blue drapes. Beside him, Katie’s hair spilled across the pillow, her breaths slow and rhythmic. Somehow, in the hours after he’d fallen back asleep, she’d ended up in his arms again, curled against his chest. There was no evidence of last night’s tears. She was lovely, with her creamy skin and sooty eyelashes, the perfect bow of her upper lip. He liked seeing her this way, her features soft and untroubled. In fact, he couldn’t seem to look away. He stayed where he was for another few minutes, wanting to linger, to forget the rest of the world.
How strange it was that they were now husband and wife. Their union hadn’t been what he’d anticipated. Katie had trusted Callum completely. The kind of trust he’d believed he would only earn over time. Much as he’d appreciated it, it had frightened him a little to be offered so much when he’d done so little to merit it.
Yet she hadn’t trusted him with her tears.
He veered away from that disquieting realization, turning his thoughts toward Blair’s lost sheep and the agreement he’d made with his father. Soon his brain was humming with contemplations and concerns that refused to be put off.
He gently pulled his arm from beneath Katie’s head. She sighed deeply and nestled into the pillow but didn’t wake. Given all she’d been through the last few days, she’d likely sleep until noon. He studied her features a little longer—her winged brows, the fine bones of her cheeks. Who was this woman, with her silken hair and tantalizing dimples? With kisses one minute and tears the next? One night together didn’t change the fact that they were still practically strangers.
Without making a sound, he shifted off the bed and put on his robe. Katie still hadn’t stirred. She—his wife—was the result of the bargain he’d struck with his father, and he couldn’t help but think he’d gotten the better end of the deal. Now all that remained was to see it through. If everything was taken care of to his satisfaction, Callum might return in time to kiss her awake. To discover what had so upset her in the night. After a long moment he turned away and crossed through the door that led to his own room.
There was no sense in waiting for his valet. His father planned to take some of the wedding guests out shooting this morning, and Callum hoped to catch him before he left. He dressed himself and headed downstairs.
The morning room, where the duke usually took his breakfast, was empty and dark, hardly the kind of environment that would foster a friendly conversation. With the servants overburdened by seeing to so many guests, Callum took the task of warming the room upon himself. He stepped over to the fireplace and dropped to his haunches. Using the shovel, he brushed away the ashes from the banked coals. Once he fed the coals some kindling, the fire burst to life, a blaze of flames hungry for fuel. He added several logs, making sure they caught fire, and then replaced the shovel.
The creak of wood floors sounded overhead, indicating that some of the guests were starting to rise. A young maid—one whose name he couldn’t recollect—came running into the room and nearly bowled him over. She stopped just short of him, her eyes as wild as a skittish colt.
Callum gave her a smile. “I’ve taken care of the fire. Now all that remains is to see that the duke has his breakfast.” The man was always in a better mood when he had food in front of him.
The girl swallowed. “Yes, my lord,” she said and bobbed a brief curtsy before hurrying off in search of one of the footmen.
Callum headed to the study. The drapes were already open, letting in the early-morning light. He made his way to the ledgers and began to thumb through them, flipping to the page that had open lines for new entries. He did a rough calculation in his mind, hoping to give his father an estimate of the sum that would be required to replace Blair’s lost sheep.
Upon his return to the morning room, Callum’s father had already taken a seat in the oversized green wingback chair and was buttering toast from the tray on the table to his left. He glanced up at his son and then returned his attention to his breakfast. “I thought you’d stay abed awhile longer. You know your duty, after all.” His gaze flicked up to Callum. “An heir.”
Callum’s jaw ticked. With one casual phrase his father had reduced the night Callum had shared with Katie to nothing more than an act of breeding. His father had a way of debasing the most beautiful things, like a disease that withered a rose on its stem. Callum blew out a breath.
He fought to keep his voice even. “I came to discuss the replacement of Blair’s flock. I’ve done some calculations—”
“That wasn’t necessary.” The duke bit into his toast and chased it down with a large swig of coffee.
“I want it taken care of immediately, before the tups are brought in. October is almost upon us, which means we haven’t much time.” The last thing he wanted this morning was an argument.
The duke reached for his rasher of bacon, carrying on with his breakfast as if Callum hadn’t spoken.
Somehow his indifference nettled Callum more than usual. He blew out a breath. “Would you rather I take the matter to Davies? I spoke with him yesterday. He can approve the funds for the purchase if ye’d rather not concern yourself.”
His father wiped his mouth and looked up. “I’ve already spoken to Davies this morning.”
Callum’s brows lifted. That was unexpected, to say the least.
“We’ll not be replacing any of Blair’s flock,” he said, taking another drink of coffee. “Yet.”
Callum’s heart dropped. Surely, he’d misheard. He stepped forward, the tone of his voice frosty. “I recall with absolute clarity the agreement we made the day before last.”
“As do I.” The duke cut into his egg, still not meeting Callum’s eyes. “Which is why, if you’d looked over the agreement I had Davies draw up with more care, you’d know that I will replace his flock, as soon as he repays what he owes me for the dikes I had built last year.”
Callum’s hand twitched with the desire to overturn his father’s tray. There he sat, casually eating his breakfast, while Blair worried over how he would feed his family through the winter.
“You lied,” he spat, cursing himself for not reading the agreement more cautiously. “You never intended to replace his flocks. You knew, with his losses, he’d never be able to repay you.”
The duke finally looked up. “Careful, boy.” He pointed the knife in his hand toward Callum. “You are perilously close to showing disrespect.”
“Excuse my clumsiness.” Callum bowed his head in mock deference. “I had hoped to make my contempt for you perfectly clear.”
The duke pushed his tray back and got to his feet. “You have far too much of your mother in you.”
Callum’s temper flared. “Better than having too much of my father, who cannot manage to honor his word. If ye think I’ll allow your deceit to pass—”
The duke stood at his full height. “You have little leverage at this point.”
Pressure built in Callum’s chest, a need for release so powerful he didn’t trust himself to move, to even breathe. He’d known to be careful when making this arrangement, but he’d never guessed his father might resort to such trickery.
Numbness coursed through him, a sort of helplessness that seemed to hold him captive. He’d been deceived. Taken for a fool. His own father had manipulated him into a marriage he had never wanted, and now . . . now it was too late.
Callum tried desperately to see past his own anger, to launch an assault of his own. But it was no use: he’d been trapped. “Very well. I will see the debt repaid.”
The duke’s lip curled up in a sinister smile, and he lowered his voice. “Ah. Such a simple solution. But then how will you learn the lesson I am trying to teach? A true man—a duke—would never have allowed himself to be taken advantage of.”
The man was mad—obsessed with power and control. And Callum wouldn’t stand for it any longer. “Your power is not absolute. I have funds of my own, and you cannot stop me from helping the Stewarts.”
His father didn’t blink. “I can, and easily, at that. If you dare go against my word, I will see them turned out. They will not be welcomed as tenants anywhere in Scotland. I’ll make sure of it.”
Callum stiffened at the duke’s ultimatum. He knew his father too well to doubt the man meant what he said. He stared, seeing only a stranger. Surely such a monster could not be his sire. The man hadn’t a shred of humanity. His very nature seemed bent on cruelty. Callum’s limbs trembled with anger, like the ground under rolling thunder. What could he do against a man with such a Machiavellian mind?
“What? No quick retort?” the duke mocked. “How disappointing.”
Callum clenched his jaw. His mind continued working, sorting through the dwindling options available to him. As the seconds ticked by, the strain between him and his father grew.
“Now that the matter with the Stewarts is settled, you can work on producing a worthy heir.” His father jerked his head toward the door. “Back upstairs with you.”
“The devil I will.” Every one of Callum’s muscles writhed with tension.
The duke’s lip curled up in a sinister sneer, and Callum gritted his teeth, staring down at his boots. “It’s fortunate I followed my instinct and chose an Englishwoman for you. She, at least, can help breed out the Scots in the line.”
At that, Callum’s head snapped up. His blood boiled, his veins near to bursting at the sudden flare of heat. Was that really why his father had chosen Katie? “You are a pathetic snake. A poisonous, vile man who preys on others. Do you see anyone around you as anything other than a pawn to be moved at your pleasure?”
Something glinted in the duke’s eyes. “This coming from the man who tried to use his future bride as a pawn to get what he wanted for his uncle? You are not so different from me as you would like to believe.”
Callum felt like he’d been punched in the gut, his breath leaving him in a whoosh. He had done the very thing he’d accused his father of. The duke let out a laugh so cold the heat in Callum’s veins turned to ice. His very bones seemed to calcify, rooting him in place. And in that moment, Callum knew he would do anything to defeat his father. For once, he would have the final say. Even if it meant carving a hole in his chest where his heart had once beat.
His pulse thrummed, his Scots temper mounting. “You have been bent on controlling me from the minute I was born, and for twenty-six years I allowed it. But no longer.” He raised his chin. “From here on out, my marriage will be in name only. There will be no heir. And there will be no more of your manipulation. I’ve had enough of it to last a lifetime.” His voice shook with anger. “I’d rather rot in Hades than spend another hour beneath this roof. I swear I’ll not set foot in Scotland again until I’ve received word of your death.”
“Don’t be a fool,” his father said, baiting Callum. He stepped forward, his leg catching on the edge of his breakfast tray and knocking it to the ground. Dishes hit the ground with a crash, the mayhem spilling in every direction. A broken teacup rolled over to the rug and stopped near Callum’s boot. “You cannot leave. If you do, you’ll not get a single pound—”
“I’ve my own properties and my own funds,” Callum said coldly.
Callum’s mother appeared in the doorway. She seemed to sense the enormity of what had passed between father and son and turned pleading eyes toward her husband. “Your Grace, please—”
“Not a word from you!” the duke shouted.
She caught Callum’s sleeve. “Callum, he does love you—”
“If that is love, I want no part of it.” Callum jerked away and strode from the room. His mother began to weep and his father continued to roar, but the buzzing in Callum’s ears drowned out everything else. He moved in a dreamlike state, making his way to the stairs, going to his room and packing his valise with the barest of essentials. Seeing but not really seeing. Doing but hardly aware of his actions.
His gaze strayed to the door that connected his room to Katie’s. He briefly became conscious of himself, of what he was doing. In carrying through with his threat, he’d be forsaking his marriage, forsaking Katie. To abandon her after the vows he’d made and the night they’d spent together . . . she’d hate him. And she’d have a right to.
He couldn’t pretend that last night hadn’t meant something to him. Of its own volition, his mind raced back to the saucy look she’d given him before she’d shut the door, the way she’d choked down whisky not once but twice, and the look of vulnerability in her eyes as he’d taken her in his arms. Callum felt a twinge somewhere in the vicinity of where his heart had once beat.
He jerked back, holding such thoughts at bay, revulsion swelling within him. He’d used Katie as a pawn. Married her because he’d found a way to leverage the marriage against his father. What if his father was right? What if Callum was as flawed as the man who had sired him? What if his love was as warped as the duke’s? His gut twisted.
Katie deserved better than a man like him. Besides, what had she said? I’m grateful to you . . . for marrying me. For giving me a roof over my head. Well, she had that now. And if her tears last night were any indication of her feelings about their marriage, perhaps she’d be happier this way.
There was no sense in mourning what might have been. Instead he tried to bury the shattered remains of those memories under the mountain-load of anger still seething within him.
His heart hardened, the resolve he had mustered crowding out any doubt. He would never be able to look at Katie without seeing his father’s betrayal and his own gullibility. His marriage to her was nothing but a reminder of a father who lived to make his son bend to his will.
And Callum would never bend to his father’s will again.
His father would be made to pay.
Callum clenched his jaw and turned away from the door. He settled into the chair at the small corner desk and discharged his lesser duties first, a letter to his solicitor with instructions regarding the care of his aunt and uncle should his father do the worst, a brief missive to his mother requesting her forgiveness and entreating her to explain to Blair.
Finally, he drew out a new sheet of paper to write to Katie. She at least deserved to know why he was leaving. He wrote quickly, his blood still pulsing with anger. Once finished, he briskly folded the paper and slipped it under her door. With that task complete, he slung his valise over his shoulder and headed downstairs.
In one final show of rebellion to his very English father, Callum wrapped himself in the plaid that represented his mother’s people, a weave of red and green and black.
He went straight to the stables and saddled Bayard himself. Callum swung himself up, took hold of the reins, and then turned his back on Castleton Manor—and Scotland—for good.
Kate’s eyes drifted open. At first, she thought Callum was still beside her, but when she turned, the spot where he’d lain was empty. The pillow still carried his scent—a masculine mixture of pine and whisky. She couldn’t help but smile, remembering how they’d partaken of the quaich together. And then Callum’s hand at the small of her back, the soft brush of his lashes against her cheek, the devastation of his lips upon hers . . .
She leaned up on one elbow and blinked until she could make out the time on the clock sitting atop the mantel. After ten! Callum had probably been up for hours. And it wasn’t as though they were away on a wedding trip. He probably still had duties to see to, tasks begging for his attention.
At least he hadn’t woken to her tears. How could she have explained that it had nothing to do with him, with their night together, but rather the suddenness of change, the loss of her grandfather, the lonesomeness of being in a place where no one truly knew her?
She shook her head. Enough of her melancholy.
Kate got out of bed and picked up her sultana. A blush rose to her cheeks as she remembered Callum’s arms around her, the way he’d stroked her hair long after he’d thought her asleep.
She padded across the room to retrieve her brush and restore her hair to some semblance of order before Helen’s arrival. She glanced toward the door to Callum’s room, wondering when she might see him again. There, wedged under that door, she caught sight of a slip of paper. Her hands shook a little as she picked it up and saw her name penned in his masculine hand, his formality surprising her.
Lady Rowand,
You’ll forgive me for leaving so abruptly, but circumstances between me and my father do not allow me to stay. I am leaving Scotland and will not return for the foreseeable future. I have notified my man of business, and he will ensure you receive a monthly allowance and any other funds you need. As I do not want you to be subjected to my father, please feel free to make yourself at home at any of my estates. I wish you to be well looked after in my absence.
Yours, etc.,
Lord Rowand
Kate blinked, unseeing. After a second reading she was still incapable of comprehending the meaning of the words. The blunt and impersonal tone of the letter was so at odds with her memories of Callum from last night.
How could he be gone? How could he speak to her of taking up residence at one of his other estates? Did he think that could somehow make up for his absence?
It was so sudden and unexpected she could scarcely catch her breath. He’d said his departure was connected to his father, but that made little sense. He’d explained the situation with the duke last night and had said nothing of leaving. Her stomach churned, and a sick feeling grew inside her. Had she done something wrong, something to displease him? The thought was almost more than she could bear.
The letter dropped to the floor. In three short strides Kate was at the window, staring out at the soft mist still hovering above the heathered hills. There was no trace of Callum, of course, but somehow the scene was too peaceful for her shattered heart. She felt like a butterfly with an injured wing, damaged but trying desperately to stay in the air and go on as before.
How could he leave after what they’d shared last night? And without a goodbye? His letter was so casual, so dismissive. The vows they’d spoken to one another in the church yesterday flowed through her mind. To be faithful and loyal to you today and always. The memory of those words grew brittle, splintering into jagged spears that pierced her very center. She pressed a fist to her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut. A vast emptiness swept through her, a loneliness unlike anything she’d ever known.
She had no grandfather to offer words of advice.
No father to look out for her.
No husband in whose arms she could find refuge.
Somewhere in the house, a door closed, the lock clicking into place. The sound of it echoed in the large house, and it brought to mind a cage door swinging shut, locking Kate inside. She hugged herself against the chill that swept through her soul.
Of one thing she was certain: she was utterly and completely alone.