“You make your peace.” He raked her with a disgusted glare. “But in my heart, I know I am right and when I die and see father again, I know I shall be able to look him in the eye with a clear conscience. Tell me, will you?”
Callie flinched at his words. “Of course, I will.”
He snorted in derision. “Then I wish you happiness with the lies you tell yourself.” He stalked off.
Callie shouted after him. “Tell your rebel friends to be here tonight. My husband wishes a word with all the men of the clan.”
He paused and turned to face her with a wry grin. “Oh, I’ll tell them all right. This is one meeting I wouldn’t miss for anything.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Whatever was she to do with Dermot? The lad had no sense to be following the others. But then he’d always been that way. Always let others lead him into mischief. She only hoped this time, they didn’t lead him to his grave.
Sin retired late in the afternoon to his chambers. He didn’t tell his brothers of the ache in his shoulder or the fact he hadn’t slept the night before. Much like Ewan, he’d spent the night in the hall.
He breathed a sigh in relief as he discovered the room empty of his wife’s vivacious presence. He wished to be alone for a bit with nothing to cloud his mind.
After doffing his clothes, he slid himself into the bed. He should be able to take a brief nap before meeting with the men of her clan.
And for some strange, morbid reason, he was actually looking forward to it. But he would need his head clear. His mind fully alert.
Closing his eyes, he let out a long, exhausted breath.
To his dismay, the door opened.
He froze, steeled for action should the intruder be an enemy.
It wasn’t. He heard the light footsteps of Callie as she crossed the room oblivious to him. He slit his eyes open a hair to watch her set her laundry down on a small desk by the window. As she turned, she spied his clothes folded on the floor where he’d left them.
Her gaze traveled along the floor, then up the bed to where he lay. Sin didn’t move. For some reason, he didn’t want her to know he watched her.
A gentle smile curled her lips as her gaze fell to him. Very quietly, she pulled the shutters closed to darken the room for him, then she moved silently toward the bed.
She stopped by his side and placed one graceful, cool hand against his brow.
“You’ve a fever,” she whispered. “Do you wish me to send for a physician?”
“How did you know I was awake?”
“You didn’t flinch when I neared you. If you were asleep, you’d have me on the floor by now.”
Her words cut him. “I would never harm you in such a way, Callie.”
She smiled at that and brushed his hair back from his damp forehead. “I know, Sin. Do you wish a healer?”
He shook his head. “I just need to rest for a bit.”
Callie traced her hand through the softness of his hair. He looked almost boyish lying there with his cheeks pinkened by his fever. She glanced to the wound in his shoulder. There was no sign of infection. It appeared to be healing well, yet his fever concerned her.
“I sent a summons to all the men,” she said quietly.
“Thank you.”
She ran her hand from his hair, down his neck and arm to his hand. She held it in hers, staring at the scars that marked his flesh. His hand was so rough and masculine. Strong. Capable. And as she held it, she remembered the way his hands had felt on her body last night. The way his hands could both comfort and protect her.
She wrapped her other hand around his, holding it tight and hoping that she would have many afternoons like this where she could spend a quiet moment with him.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
Sin looked to where she toyed with his hand. The paleness of her soft, delicate skin was a sharp contrast to the dark roughness of his. Her hand was so tiny in comparison. So fine and dainty.
