by Rebel Carter
Please understand.
I love you.
—D
PS: Will call once I’m settled.
I’d opted to keep my note short to the point. Otherwise, I knew my siblings would have latched on to any clue to find me, and while I didn’t know what they would do if they discovered my destination, I did know they were prone to inserting themselves. I didn’t even want to imagine how Sithean would look with my four siblings on the loose. The last thing I wanted was to have to keep an eye on them. This getaway was for me and me alone. I was sure that I was, at the very least, owed this time in Scotland.
Looking away from Agnes and Callum, I swallowed hard and repeated the mantra I’d used to ground myself no less than a dozen times over the morning: I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this.
It was hard to keep my head up and a smile on my face when guilt at leaving kept looming overhead. Maybe if I spoke to my father I could calm down? Knowing that he was happy and accepting of my journey to Scotland would surely make my heart lighter, and I vowed to phone him as soon as I was able.
“What’s got ye looking like a storm cloud?” Callum said, appearing at my side. He was still munching on a cookie and giving me a curious look.
“Excuse me?” I blinked and realized I’d been staring off into space, frowning.
Callum nodded at me. “You look like you just remembered something...miserable.”
“Oh, let her alone!” Agnes rolled her eyes at him and slid the tray of cookies out of reach. Callum pulled a face at that, but Agnes paid him no mind and fixed him with another of her patented Or Else stares and said, “Make yersel useful and take her on a tour of town, hmm?”
My stomach flip-flopped at the prospect of being alone with Callum, but I didn’t dare let on what I was feeling. No use in feeding Agnes’s fixation with matchmaking us. No telling what the woman would do if she had even the slightest hint that I was interested in her very attractive nephew.
Besides, I hadn’t missed the stern look she’d just directed his way. The last thing I wanted was Callum to be saddled playing tour guide for the American tourist when he surely had more valuable things to do.
“He doesn’t have to—”
“Be delighted to,” Callum said, cutting me off.
“What?” I looked to him in surprise but Callum had already swung away, striding toward the front door of the bakery.
“Perfect!” Agnes glowed with pleasure, and I could see it was in no small measure because she thought her plan at matchmaking was succeeding.
“Isn’t there still so much that needs to be done?” I asked in a weak whisper.
“Dinna fash,” she told me, grabbing a pair of mixing bowls and setting them down in front of her. “The fey folk will help me. They always do. That’s what happens when you save their king.”
I had been following Callum, but her words stopped me in my tracks. “What?” I looked at her, trying to see if she was serious or not, but Agnes’s back was turned toward me as she began gathering ingredients for her next baking project. King? Fey were one thing but now there was a king? Although, I had promised to believe. Besides, after my mediocre showing at making shortbread, I didn’t have a leg to stand on to argue that I would be more useful to Agnes than fairy helpers, real or not.
My eyes drifted over to my shortbread disaster and I grimaced. A well-disciplined five year old would be capable of more than what I’d produced.
“Och aye! No staring at this,” Agnes gestured at the pan, “and thinking ill of yourself. You did a fine job today with the customers. It isn’t easy to step into a new kitchen and bake something you’d never done before. You’ll get it tomorrow, you hear?”
I gave her a glum nod. “Okay.”
Agnes wiped her hands on her apron and paused in her work to come stand beside me. “Now go with Callum and enjoy yersel,” she ordered, wrapping her arms around me and giving me a tight hug. “Do ye understand?”
“Yes,” I told her with a smile.
She gave me a little nudge toward the front door where Callum waited. “Good, now go on. I’m fine. They fey will help me, remember?”
“I expect to see this place covered in baked goods when we get back,” I joked.
Agnes laughed and swatted at me. “Oh it will, lass. Just you wait!”
Her laughter followed me to the door. Callum looked a little impatient, arms crossed over his chest in a way that stretched his warm wool sweater across his well-built torso.
“Hey,” I said my voice coming out breathy and making me blush. How did he manage to turn me into a schoolgirl?
Oh, right. Muscles and wool sweaters, a combination no woman could resist.
“Ye shouldn’t encourage her,” he responded in gruff tones.
“Excuse me?”
I stepped closer to him to see that he was staring out of the shop, across the street with a grim look on his face. He clenched his jaw for a second before he blew out a sigh and reached for the door.
He jerked the door open and started forward without looking at me. “Let’s go.”
I was left staring after him, stunned into silence at his abrupt departure. The door shutting behind him jolted me out of my surprise and had me springing forward, trying to catch up with him, but not before I heard Agnes call out.
“He’s a bawbag! Don’t let him get away with it, lassie!”
“Okay!” I yelled back at her, stepping onto the sidewalk, determined to make good on not letting Callum get away with being a bawbag.
I just had to figure out what a bawbag was first.
Chapter Four
It took approximately 7.56 seconds for me to understand exactly what a bawbag was. Rude. Arrogant. Curt. In short, an asshole. And Callum was being one to the nth degree.
I turned, glaring at him as he stood shifting from foot to foot beside me. He’d just shown me to the town square and given me a gruff telling of the town founder and how Sithean had come to be, before depositing me in front of a massive bronze statue of a Scotsman astride a horse.
I pursed my lips. I had expected some of his charm to be present, had hoped for at least a smattering of the sexual tension I’d felt simmering between us. At the very least, I’d thought he’d give me one of his rare smiles, but I’d been sorely misled. It had been half an hour of me traipsing after a growly Callum—and we weren’t talking growly in the delicious sense, but rather annoyed and curt.
“All right, on to the next thing, then,” Callum muttered before turning on his heel and striding away. I rolled my eyes and yanked my scarf tighter around my neck, imagining I was doing it to the man whose back no longer looked as good as it had half an hour before.
I wanted off this ride. Hadn’t I left home to assert myself? To enjoy a life where I didn’t do what everyone expected me to do? And right now I knew Callum expected me to continue along at his side, going through the motions to get this over with, and I’d had quite enough of it.
“Hey,” I called after him, not budging. The bustling square around me shuddered to a stop, and I wondered if it was because I was shouting in public or if it was the first time anyone had raised their voice to Callum MacDougall.
Callum froze, and from the rigid set of his shoulders I guessed it was the latter. He turned to look at me with a hard expression on his face.
“What?” he bit out.
“What’s with the ‘tude?” I crossed my arms and glared back at him. I heard a titter of laughter somewhere to my left; our audience had grown. I’d never liked being the center of attention and my cheeks burned at the thought, but I also wouldn’t let Callum keep treating me like I was something that had crawled out of a bog. And if that meant making a scene in public, then so be it.
Callum turned to face me, his green eyes flashing. “’Tude?” he asked, glancing to the side at the crowd of people watching us.
“Yeah, the ‘tude,” I repeated, taking care to keep my voice steady and gaze trained on Callum. So long as I didn’t look
at the people around us, I wouldn’t lose my nerve—not in theory, anyway.
“I dinna ken what yer talking about.”
I scoffed, hands going to my hips. “Liar.”
“That’s right! Tell him, lass!” a voice jeered, prompting a round of murmurs of agreement and encouragement. Callum shook his head and glared at someone just over my shoulder.
“Och! Stay out of this, Sheamus,” he ordered, jabbing a finger in that direction, and stomped over to me. “And ye come with me,” he said, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted over my cheeks.
The man was beautiful even when he was ticked off. How annoying.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I told him, making a face. His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer to me, until his lips brushed against my ear. Goosebumps covered my arms and I shivered despite my warm clothing. I had to fight back a moan when he started speaking, the low timbre of his voice making my breath catch.
“I’ll toss ye right over my shoulder, I swear it,” he said.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I hissed, but I made no move to pull away.
He reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. To any one of the townsfolk it looked like we had moved to sharing a tender moment, rather than continuing to have it out. “Ye dinna ken what I’ll do with half the town watching ye pitch a fit,” he warned.
I bit my lip. As tempting as it was to consider, I didn’t want to experience being thrown over his shoulder with an audience.
“Fine,” I growled, with a stomp of my foot that had Callum rolling his eyes and our audience laughing. Callum reached out, catching my hand in his, and pulled me behind him away from the square. Only when we had taken several steps did I look back and see that there had be almost twenty faces staring at us. Forty eyes—eyes that couldn’t have missed the way Callum’s hand gripped mine or how I leaned into his side as we moved. The crowd of scrutinizing townsfolk parted like the Red Sea in front of us, but not without comment.
“At least she’s got spirit!”
Callum glowered. “Stop your havers, Sheamus!”
“What was that shite?!”
Callum whirled around to face me. We stood in the printing press front room, arms crossed and glaring at one another.
“That’s what I should be asking you!” I exploded, not budging an inch. The walk to the press from the town square had been quick and silent. The only bright spot had been the warm feel of Callum’s hand wrapped around mine, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it the few minutes we’d held hands had almost made our public argument worth it.
“You picked a fight with me and you have the nerve to—” Callum broke off and shook his head hands going to rake through his ginger hair. “Are ye mad, woman?”
“Stop calling me woman! I’ve got a name!”
“Damnable, maddening woman,” Callum spit out, making me see red.
“Me? Damnable? You started treating me like shit for no reason. Agnes was right! You are a bawbag,” I shot back.
“And what does Agnes know, eh? She’s running her mouth about the fey folk and ye’ve been here not three days and you’ve set yerself to encouraging it.”
“What?” I jerked back from Callum as if his words had bitten me. “What are you talking about?”
Callum’s eyes narrowed. “Ye ken exactly what I’m talking about. I know my aunt is eccentric but ye dinna ‘ave to agree with her.”
I gaped. “That’s what this is all about?”
“What else would it be about?”
I went silent. Save for our conversation the day before, we hadn’t come into contact again until his appearance in the bakeshop, when I had gone along with Agnes’s claim that fairies would help her bake through the day’s orders. Somehow Callum had been angered by it.
There had to be more to the talk of fey folk and their family. I understood family drama, and whatever their particular issue was was, I had stepped into the middle of it. I sucked in a deep breath, preparing to apologize.
“Callum,” I began, “I didn’t think—”
“That’s right, ye dinna think. If ye had ye woulda known not to encourage an old woman with an imagination that’s always gotten her in trouble,” Callum growled, the venom in his voice making my hands clench. His expression was stormy, all dark eyes and clenched jaw.
And yes, I was angry with him too, but what shocked me more was how much I wanted to wipe away the crease between his brows, run my hands over his hunched shoulders, and tell him I was sorry.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want him mad at me, but rather that I didn’t want him mad at all. I wanted to wipe the worry and hurt from him, to erase whatever had happened between him and Agnes—and that shocked the most of all.
“I’m going to go now,” I said, my voice shaking.
Callum said nothing as I turned on my heel and strode toward the door that led to my apartment. I didn’t stop walking until I was alone, and only then did I sag against the door and let the first hot tears spill from my eyes.
“Those look lovely, Del,” Agnes’s happy voice sang in my ear. I had just mastered Scottish shortbread, and just in time, too. There had been another dozen or so orders from families demanding only the finest for their first-footers.
Agnes had been patient and shown me where I’d measured wrong the previous day. Once corrected, I’d turned out exemplary shortbread, so much so that Agnes swore no one would be able to tell mine from hers.
It helped to have such a supportive and patient teacher. Her guidance had turned my insecurities on their head and now I felt more prepared than ever for the homestretch before New Year’s day. Agnes informed me that there would be a town-wide Hogmanay celebration to ring in the New Year properly, and everyone expected me to attend.
“They’ll all want to get a look at ye and make sure Callum didn’t run ye off,” she told me while we mixed the batter for the black bun together that afternoon. I’d never liked fruitcake until then, but making it was giving me a new appreciation.
“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning ignorance even though I knew what she meant.
“Lass,” Agnes murmured with a knowing look that had my cheeks turning pink under her motherly gaze.
I cleared my throat and looked away from her, down at the bowl of candied fruit in my hands, before I spoke. “He’s so pigheaded. And a bully, too.”
“Aye, I ken that.”
I gaped. “You do?”
Agnes nodded. “I raised him. Of course I ken what kind of man he is.”
I paused, considering. The missing pieces as to why Callum had been so protective over his aunt clicked into place as I processed it. “You raised him?” I echoed.
“Aye, since he was five.” Agnes wiped the back of her hand along her forehead and smiled at me when she noticed my worried expression. “Dinna fash. I won’t be mad at ye for saying a thing about him. He can be pig-headed, rash in his decisions, and his temper can run hot, but…” Her voice trailed off.
“But what?” I pressed, eager for more.
“He’s loyal, caring, and true,” she said with a faint smile. “If the fight I heard about between the two of ye is true, then I reckon Callum will make amends.”
“I don’t know about that,” I whispered. All I wanted was to see him again, to explain myself, but after our heated exchange I wasn’t counting on seeing him any time soon.
Agnes reached over, squeezing my hand. “Trust me. He will come ‘round. Don’t be too hard on ‘im when he does. Make him work, but don’t torture him, aye?”
I frowned at her hopeful tone but nodded along. If I could pretend I believed in fairies, then I could suspend disbelief for this.
“Aye.” I gave her my best smile, and if she saw through it she didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. Instead, she pointed a flour-covered finger over my shoulder and said, “Now go fetch the pans so we can get these baking.”
And that had been that.
The entire afternoon flew by in a flurry of measuring ing
redients, labeling orders for pick-up, and greeting customers, who seemed curious and relieved that I was still in town after my scene with Callum. I did my best not to let on that I was annoyed by their comments.
A blonde woman my age flashed me a smile. “He’s prickly, that one. Ye don’t pay him any mind.”
“Aye,” her friend agreed with a nod, “I’ve never seen ‘im in a good mood.”
“He’s in a good mood plenty,” I said, my voice stiff as I handed them their items.
The woman in front of me shook her head with a giggle. “I dinna think there is a woman alive who could put that bear in a good mood.”
They both tittered and opened their mouths to say more, but the bell above the door jingled, pulling our attention to the man striding in with the confident step I’d recognize anywhere.
The room seemed too small. I froze, one hand holding their change, as my eyes drank in the sight he cut walking toward me. His green eyes were bright and intense.
There wasn’t a thing capable of making him look away from me. I knew this because the women in front of me tried their best.
“Callum.” The blonde who had just been remarking on his bearlike behavior tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave him a dazzling smile. “How are ye?”
Callum nodded at her but didn’t look away as he came to a stop in front of me. “Fine,” he answered her, before he extended a hand to me. “Del, may I have a word?”
I swallowed hard, eyes sliding to the side. Agnes had been right, and that meant I was wrong, which also meant I had no idea what to do. I hadn’t prepared for this scenario. What I had done was anticipate a week filled with work at the bakery, followed by a New Year’s celebration in my new home. I hoped to meet new people, have fun and maybe indulge in a drink or two, and all of that had been woefully absent of Callum’s presence.
But now here he was, in front of me and asking me to have a word with me.
Callum cleared his throat. “Please, Del.”
My eyes snapped back to his at those two words. Two simple words that meant so much, said so much, I could hear the tenderness—the pleading in his voice—and I softened.
