But Callum had not so much as raised a hand against the de Nevilles or their property. Neither had his men. This must surely count in his favour?
He cleared his throat, closing his eyes as the great hall lurched to the left. If only his hands were not so tightly bound behind him, he might at least find his balance.
“You know then that I came to Ember Hall with orders to kill the lord.”
Frida’s sharp gasp of shock was almost his undoing, but Callum kept his gaze trained on Tristan.
He nodded, his blond head all but haloed by candlelight. “I do.”
“And you know that I was never informed as to the identity of this lord? That as soon as I arrived here and recognised Lady Frida, everything changed?”
Tristan tapped the arm of his chair with his index finger. “Why then did you keep a stash of weapons beneath your bed?”
Callum’s heart sank, but he did not allow his reaction to show on his face. He had guessed that their loft would be searched.
“No man likes to be defenceless.”
“Especially when he is planning an assassination.” It was a statement, not a question.
Frida’s sob was audible. This time, Tristan turned to her with a mixture of concern and impatience flashing across his blue eyes. “Sister, you do not have to stay.”
Frida gazed bleakly back at him. “I want to.”
He inclined his head. “Then come and sit beside me. Do not scurry about in the shadows like a serving maid.”
Callum could not help his gaze fixing on Frida, silently begging her to go elsewhere, but she did not so much glance in his direction as she carefully sank down into the tapestried chair.
Tristan snapped his attention back to Callum. “You were anticipating my arrival and planning an assassination, yes?”
Was I?
Callum fought to keep his breathing steady.
“My assassination,” Tristan added, as if helpfully.
“It was not as simple as that,” Callum managed. Wherever he looked, he could not escape the stunned expression on Frida’s face. It would be branded across his memory forever.
“Why else did you stay here for so long? Three warriors, four warriors,” Tristan corrected himself. “Laying down their weapons and tilling the land.Englishland,” he emphasised.
Four warriors.
Callum exhaled, realising that Gregor had most likely had a hand in furnishing Tristan with what he saw as the truth.
“Speak, man,” Tristan exploded. The first sign that he was not calmly in control.
“Methinks my long stay here is evidence against your claim. If my intention had always been to assassinate you, de Neville, believe me, you would already be dead.” At Frida’s gasp of anguish, he softened his voice. “In truth, I have enjoyed tilling your English land. Ember Hall has given me a sense of peace I have long been lacking.”
Now Frida’s eyes met his and their gazes locked as lovers. Despite everything, Callum felt that all things may yet be well. With this woman beside him, he might e’en be King of England.
But ’twas not his place to tell Tristan de Neville of an understanding between he, Callum Baine, and Lady Frida de Neville. Those words would have to come from Frida’s lips.
Tristan’s face betrayed no surprise at Callum’s words. “Peace, eh? Is that right?”
“Aye.” Callum drew himself up as best he could on the hard floor. “I brought in the harvest, chopped the firewood and rescued the sheep when the snow came early.” His heart beatpainfully in his chest as he recalled how recently he and Frida had embraced in the shepherd’s hut. “My men fixed the barn roof—in good time, I might add.”
“All of this I know.” Tristan sprang from his chair so quickly that Callum could not help rearing backwards in surprise. In less than a second, Tristan was beside him on the floor, pressing the sharp edge of a blade against his neck. “I also know that while you split my sister’s firewood, you waited patiently for my arrival so that you might run me through with a blade, much like this one.”
Callum wanted to shake his head, but to do so would exert pressure on the blade that was already digging into his bruised flesh.
