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 expectedsomeof 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?”
