Page 42 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

“And why should I go back?” Callum growled.

He glared at Duncan as the man rocked on the balls of his feet in front of his desk.

“Because they need ye, M’Laird.”

Callum grunted through his teeth, looking through the window of his study and out to the ruined castle beyond—the crumbling remnants of his life.

“Is that so?” he snarled. “Me braither almost killed me and tried to take both me eyes. No one in that clan defended me. No one. Me own braither believed me capable of takin’ his wife behind his back, all based on her word. Me whole life ruined by a lie.”

“I ken, M’Laird, but think of the wee ones.”

Callum’s gut clenched at those words. That was all he had been thinking about since the letter arrived.

Just seeing his brother’s spiked, unruly hand again had almost brought him to his knees.

Angus had not been in touch since Callum had left their home four years before. Now, his brother was asking him to return, and he had not even given Callum a reason.

“I am meant to jump to his biddin’, is that it? Left to rot in this decaying heap for an eternity while he chose to cut me from his life, and now he needs me.” He scoffed. “He should be glad I havenae been driven mad by it all.”

“Aye, sir,” Duncan said slowly. “So ye have said before.”

Callum glanced at him and thought he saw disappointment in the old servant’s eyes.

“Ye think I should return, is that it?” he asked. “Ye want a fresh start, too? A new home where the bricks dinnae fall on yer head as ye sleep?”

“It isnae up to me, M’Laird,” Duncan said patiently, but the words felt weighted. “I have nay doubt that ye will dae the right thing.”

The old man placed the letter on the edge of Callum’s desk and turned to leave the room. His back was crooked and bent over on one side, but his dark brown eyes were sharp and calculating. He may be a servant, but he was an intelligent and forthright man.

Callum wished Duncan were as stupid and as bitter as his master. Then he might have suggested they get drunk instead.

How much whiskey have I had this week? Nae enough.

He reached across the desk and plucked the letter from where it lay. A pool of water was beginning to form beside it from a drip in the ceiling, and there was a howling gale blowing outside, the rain coming down in sheets. He glanced up at the growing stain above his head.

Maybe we willnae need to fix that after all.

Grunting, he opened the letter, trying to harness the old hatred for his brother, letting it flow through him again. Maybe that would drown out his curiosity at the summons, and he would convince Duncan they should stay here.

His fingers moved to his face, running over the scars that skittered in jagged lines down his cheeks.

An inch to the left or right, and Angus would have taken me eyes. Should I be grateful to him for that?

He threw the letter down, rising from his slumped position in his chair, and turned to face the window.

The hills of the highlands stretched out before him beneath the raging, dark gray sky. He wished he were out in it, screaming into the wind as he had done many times over the years.

Callum had not left this castle, except to hunt and fish, since the day he had arrived. He had seen no one and entertained no one, spending all his time in the gray, ghostly company of Duncan and his wife Isla.

Maybe it wouldnae be so bad to escape these tumbling walls.

Spinning in place, he marched to the door, pulling it open as he stepped into the corridor.

Duncan’s gait was such that he had barely made it ten feet away from the study, and the old man turned, raising his eyebrows in query as Callum reached him.

“How are they?” Callum muttered.

“M’Laird?”

“The girls, Eilis and Amy. Are they well?”

He tried to keep the worry from his voice, but it was impossible to banish the emotion he felt at the thought of those twin girls. All he could remember was them screaming when he had gone to say goodbye—and the terror in their eyes at his freshly scarred face.

Duncan shook his head. “I dinnae ken, M’Laird. We will have to find out when we get there.”

“And who says we’re goin’?” Callum snapped, but Duncan just gave him a wry smile and continued on his way.

Callum wanted to punch his fist through the wall.

Stay in a crumbling ruin or answer me braither’s call? Remain in the darkness, or swallow me hatred and me pride and help me nieces live a good life.

He swore, watching the door close behind Duncan’s retreating back.

Callum turned, stomping back toward his bedchamber, irritated to find that his servants knew him better than he knew himself.

So much for never going back there. It seems I have nay choice.

The journey was shorter than he remembered.

When he had fled his family home, galloping over the boggy marshes and away to his grandparents’ castle, it had felt like an eternity before he arrived.

The dark shape of the castle in the distance made its presence known all too soon.

Once, he had known these lands like the back of his hand, but now they felt like foreign soil.

It all felt unknown and alarming in a way he hadn’t expected.

Has the world always been this big? I’m sure the sky was nae this wide before.

Murray Castle stuck out from the flat horizon ahead of him like an arrowhead in a bog, the familiar dark silhouette sending a wave of emotion through his body. He pushed it aside with callous efficiency.

The castle seemed smaller, less magnificent, now that he was returning to it as an exile.

What if this is all a trap, and when I get there, they are waitin’ to execute me?

But as the horse’s hooves clattered into the courtyard, the sight that greeted him was achingly normal.

Servants bustled about over the cobbled stones. A blacksmith was working on a horse’s shoe beside one wall, the sharp grinding of his stone loud across the air.

Callum took in the servants who scurried out of his way, but his eyes were drawn to one man in particular, standing tall and still in the center of the courtyard.

Alexander Monteith. The treacherous swine himself.

Callum dismounted from his horse, keeping the man in his sights.

To his credit, Alexander was no coward; he stood his ground, waiting for Callum to reach him. His long, red hair was tied back in a simple knot, broad shoulders tense, as if expecting a confrontation.

There was a strange kind of stalemate as they came level with one another. Alexander’s dark brown eyes lingered on the deep scars on Callum’s face, his throat moving as he swallowed nervously.

But then, after almost a full minute of silence, Alexander stepped forward, and Callum jolted back in surprise as the man embraced him.

The first human contact he had felt of such a kind in years. He was initially so shocked by it that he barely registered what was happening.

Then, he pulled himself roughly away, glaring at Alexander as his old friend retreated.

“M’Laird,” Alexander said reverently, placing a hand over his heart and bowing. “It is good to see ye.”

Callum’s chest tightened. “What did ye call me?”

Alexander raised his eyebrows. “M’Laird?”

“Aye. That. Yer Laird, am I? What in the hell has happened here, Alexander?” Callum demanded. “Angus explained nothin’ in his letter. Summoned me back like an obedient pup, and here I am. Could ye at least dae me the courtesy of tellin’ me what this is all about? Where’s me braither?”

“Mama left and Papa went up to heaven.”

Callum froze at those words, ice running down his spine.

Angus is dead?

He briefly closed his eyes before carefully schooling his expression. Turning in a slow circle until his gaze fell upon a tiny form behind him. The little girl was standing all alone on the cobblestones, impossibly small against the backdrop of the enormous castle.

Is that Eilis or Amy? I couldnae ever tell the difference.

Her dark hair was long now, almost down to the middle of her back. She must be nearly six years old by Callum’s calculations, but she looked younger.

“Are ye Uncle Callum?”

He blinked as another voice piped up behind him. He turned back to find a second little girl had appeared behind Alexander’s legs. That was Amy, he realized. He recalled the freckles peppering her nose.

Amy stepped out, looking up at him quizzically. His nieces were twins, and so alike it was startling. Long dark hair and blue eyes shining up at him curiously.

Callum crouched down to greet her, but Amy leaped back as he did so, clinging to Alexander’s legs and hiding her face in his thigh.

She is still scared of me, scared of the scars her own faither inflicted because of a lie her mother told.

He considered covering his face with his hands to calm her, but she would have to get used to the scars sooner or later.

“Aye, I’m yer uncle,” he said coldly, standing up again, a mixture of hurt and shame warring inside him.

I have had grown men turn away in fear at me appearance. Why should two wee girls be any different?

“Should the two of ye nae be in bed?” he said solemnly, hoping that some distance would allow Eilis and Amy to forget their fear.

He motioned to a maid who was hovering nearby, her eyes wide with horror as she took in his face.

“Take the children upstairs,” he said firmly, and watched as both girls hurried away, Eilis holding Amy tightly, glancing back at him furtively before they disappeared.

Callum was unaccustomed to people noticing his scars or making comments on them these days. His only companions had been Duncan and Isla, and they were quite used to both his face and his moods by now.

“Dae ye wish to discuss the clan, M’Laird?”

He turned back to Alexander. “And what if I do? What is yer position here?” he asked.

“I am yer man-at-arms, M’Laird.”

Callum snorted derisively. “Aye, of course ye are. Ye always did ken how to take care of yerself.”

Alexander’s cheeks heated.

“Come with me, then,” Callum snapped. “I think I can remember where the study is, even after all these years.”

“The children cannae be raised by me!” Callum insisted, watching Alexander’s infuriatingly stoic face.

The chair where he sat was uncomfortable and lumpy, worn down to fit another body. A body that would never sit in it again.

Callum glanced around him at the cavernous study that Angus had favored. It was more like a dining hall than a place of work. He would never be able to get a thing done in it without thinking of his brother. It would be repurposed as soon as possible.

“And yet,” Alexander countered, “it is what yer braither wanted.”

“I dinnae understand. He was very particular about me never returnin’. He tortured me, and ye all watched. It isnae as if I ever expected him to want me back.”

Alexander sighed, stepping forward, his gaze earnest.

“For what it’s worth, and that’s nae much, I am sorry for what happened. I should have realized she was duplicitous and that ye would never have betrayed yer braither. Moira could be very convincin’.”

“Aye, ye’re tellin’ me.”

“Angus was me Laird, and me loyalty always lay with him,” Alexander stated softly.

Callum knew he was right, but it didn’t make the memories any easier to stomach.

“Aye. Fine. Well, then, let’s hope ye will be as loyal to me . Now tell me what exactly happened.”

Alexander placed his hands behind his back, his expression filling with a mixture of sorrow and anger.

“He found out ye were tellin’ the truth, M’Laird.

Letters from Lady Moira that she had written to ye, confessin’ her feelin’s.

She wrote that you’d rejected her time and again, and she asked ye why.

Angus was ragin’. I have nae seen him so angry before.

He sent Moira to her faither and told us to bring ye back.

His heart failed him before he got to see ye. ”

There was an ache forming behind Callum’s eyes, a throbbing that would not cease.

So, me braither forgave me, and died before he could tell me to me face.

“Sent her back to her faither? So now I can expect a war, too?”

Alexander said nothing, the weight of the consequences of Angus’s actions weighing heavily in the room.

Moira’s father was a brutal man, and his daughter was his whole world. Callum knew that if she could manipulate anyone, it would be her father above all.

“The girls need someone to raise them,” he said in exasperation. “I’m nae a faither, I never pretended to be! What was Angus thinkin’?”

Callum stared around him at the wide, empty room, so filled with his brother’s presence it felt oppressive just to exist within it.

“Have ye heard of these auctions that take place around the Highlands every year?” he asked, barely able to believe the levels he was stooping to.

Alexander shifted his weight as he bowed his head.

“Nay this year, me Laird. But I have heard of such an auction in London…”