Page 2 of Laird of Wrath

I ken what must be done. And I will do me duty.

Callum also seemed to know what needed to be done. He approached her where she stood near the vanity, circling her like a predator—like a lion that had found its meal for the day.

The silence in the room weighed heavily on her shoulders. In it, she could hear his breathing, strong and steady. It was almost heavy, as if their proximity was affecting him as much as it was affecting her.

But that thought was ridiculous. Callum seemed far from the kind of man who balked at the sight of a woman. Rhea was the one who was too timid, too uncertain around men. And now, the closer he drew to her, the quicker her heart thudded in her chest.

She wondered if he could hear it in the quiet. She wondered if it showed on her face, if her cheeks had reddened, if her eyes had widened. It was as if at that moment, she was outside of herself, as if her body existed independently from her. As if she hardly had any control over herself.

His eyes… they’re so cold.

He looked like he had not smiled a day in his life.

And yet, despite that coldness of his expression, his gaze was enough to light a fire inside her. It was as if he was stripping her naked with his eyes, as if every garment on her body, every protection, every piece of armor she had built around her was slipping off, clattering to the floor.

She despised that feeling.

Callum grunted, though she couldn’t tell whether that was a pleased sound or a displeased one. All she knew was that she wouldn’t get all that much out of him easily.

She watched as he walked over to the other side of the room, crossing beneath the archway to the sitting room in her new chambers. The rooms she had been given were grand, and it was clear to her that Callum—or whoever had selected them for her—wanted her to never doubt Clan McMahon’s wealth.

But she was no fool. She knew why she had been married off to this man. She knew that her father needed Clan McMahon’s manpower just as much as Callum needed her clan’s gold.

Callum lowered himself on the chair near the roaring fire. There, he was framed by golden light, the tapestry behind him glittering with gold thread. He looked like a laird now more than ever—regal, proud, the kind of man who could bring an entire clan to its knees.

Rhea couldn’t help but stare, her mouth going dry at the sight. It wasn’t only her sudden attraction to him, though, but also a strange, cold fear.

He’s a good man. He’s a good man.

That was what Lara had kept saying, and now Rhea was saying the same thing to herself.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Rhea stood by the vanity, not knowing what to do with herself. Hesitantly, she approached Callum and sat in the chair opposite him, sinking into the plush cushion, but not leaning back to relax.

How could she relax around him? How could she see him as anything but a threat, when she knew nothing about him?

Perhaps I should get to ken him better. He doesnae look like the kind of man who will talk on his own. Maybe he willnae even talk if I ask him.

“Thank ye,” she said, for lack of anything better to tell him. “For helpin’ me clan, I mean.”

Another grunt, one that she could once again not decipher.

Callum turned his gaze to her, his gray eyes glinting in the incandescence of the fire. “Daenae thank me yet,” he said.

It wasn’t the first time Rhea heard his voice, but it was the first time she heard it in a quiet room, where it was only the two of them. It was surprisingly sweet, a deep baritone that rumbled through her chest, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have him speak against her neck, to feel that rumble fully through her body, to hear him say things no one had ever said to her before.

But he doesnae seem to be that kind of man either.

“When should I thank ye?” Rhea asked with a small frown.

“When I return victorious.”

For anyone else, perhaps that statement would have seemed presumptuous. Cocky, even. But Callum made it sound like the simple truth. He didn’t believe there was any other outcome to this war other than winning, and Rhea got the impression that this was precisely what would make him win in the end.

If he can save us all, he can be as presumptuous as he likes.

“It is strange, is it nae?” she asked, talking mostly to herself without expecting a response from him. “That we only just wedded and ye’re leavin’ on the morrow for war.”

“It is what is demanded of me,” Callum said simply. Rhea couldn’t tell whether the fact bothered him or not, whether he even cared at all that they would be separated right as they had gotten married. “I wedded ye in exchange for yer father’s gold.”