Page 30 of Laird of Wrath

“Aye, that’s a great response,” she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What do ye want me to say?” he asked. “I am always quiet.”

“Will ye nae tell me what ye want for the feast?” she demanded, making a show of it. She could see the cogs turning in his mind, but he couldn’t quite figure out what she was doing. “Have we come all the way here simply for ye to be quiet?”

“Ye can do as ye please,” he said. “We have already discussed that. The castle is yer domain. Ye daenae need me permission to buy what ye need.”

Instead of answering, Rhea grabbed his hand and dragged him to the next stall, one that displayed fabrics.

“What do ye think?” she asked, much to his obvious chagrin. “I was thinkin’ red.”

“Red is fine,” he muttered.

“For what?”

He paused, heaving a deep sigh. “For whatever ye need it for.”

“Well, I daenae ken if I should wear the same colors as the banners,” Rhea said. “Wouldnae that be ridiculous?”

“I daenae think ye can be ridiculous,” Callum answered, his voice so low that she barely heard him.

Rhea swallowed thickly, her throat suddenly dry. She opened her mouth to speak, to say anything in response, but she found that she couldn’t.

What could she ever say tothat?

“Right,” she uttered, then turned her attention back to the stall.

For a while, the two of them walked around the market, with Rhea making a mental note of everything they would need and paying the merchants in advance, while also trying to bicker with Callum. Little by little, the villagers began to warm up to him, sympathizing not with him as the Laird or as a warrior, but as a long-suffering husband.

As they passed a stall piled with fresh flowers, bees buzzing around the petals, Rhea stopped short and stared at them. Their fragrance filled the air around them, and she drew in a deep breath, luxuriating in it.

Flowers were something they could not afford, not now. They would have to cut some from the gardens behind the castle, where no one would see they were missing.

It could have been much worse, she reminded herself. Flowers were a luxury. And yet, as she stared at them, she couldn’t ignore the urge to purchase at least one.

Nay, this gold is for the feast, nae for me.

Perhaps sensing her longing, Callum walked up to the stall and looked at the flowers. He reached out with a gentle hand and picked a vivid pink magnolia, then reached into his coin pouch and handed the merchant a coin. The old man behind the stall bowed to him with a smile.

Suddenly, there was an explosion of pink in front of Rhea. Callum had thrust the flower into her face wordlessly. She hesitated for a moment before she picked it up between thumb and forefinger, staring at him over the petals.

“For me?” she asked.

“Of course,” he grunted. “Who else?”

Once more, Rhea was speechless. Warmth spread through her chest and limbs, an indescribable joy that Callum had put some thought into this, that he had bought her something, even if small, just to make her happy.

“Thank ye,” she said. “Callum, I… Thank ye.”

Another wordless grunt, but she could see a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

He was still a puzzle to her. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to read him fully. But at that moment, she felt a connection to him that she had never felt before.

She figured it was time to ask him the one thing that had been on her mind for days.

“Callum, I’ve been meanin’ to ask ye,” she began, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “I… I was wonderin’ if Mabel, me sister… if she could come to the feast.”

She had been preparing herself for disappointment all this time. She had been telling herself that it didn’t matter what Callum said, that she would accept it either way, but now that she had asked him, she knew she would be devastated if he forbade it.