He didn't look convinced. Whereas Jean’s sharp look made Mhairi shift uncomfortably on her chair. The woman saw a wee bit too much, Mhairi couldn't help thinking with a hint of resentment. The bewilderment and doubt assailing her were purely private matters and not for others’ speculation.
The Mackinnon settled in the chair opposite her and poured two glasses of wine from the gilt jug. "An hour ago ye wanted my guts for garters."
"I still do."
A faint sound from the other side of the room might have been Jean smothering a laugh.
"Well, nice to think everything hasnae turned on its head in the blink of an eye, then," he said dryly. "May I serve ye some of this chicken, Mistress Drummond?"
She was hungry. Brigid had brought her a meal after her bath, but she'd been too angry and afraid to do the food justice. Briefly she recalled her earlier resolution to accept nothing from the Mackinnon, but she needed to keep her strength up if she was to carry on with her fight.
Mhairi watched him prepare a plate for her. She already knew those tanned hands were strong and competent. Now she recognized that they could be graceful, too.
No, he wasn't altogether an uncivilized barbarian and life at Achnasheen clearly had its good points. But her newly softened attitude toward her clan’s foes didn't mean she was lining up to become the laird's lady.
***
Jean remained in the tower room as they ate. A pox on her and her suspicions. She'd been Callum’s nurse and knew him too well. She clearly didn't trust him to stick to his good intentions when it came to the lassie. She was a canny old besom, and she saw that his interest in the Drummond girl extended beyond mere political ends.
After the meal, Jean cleared away the empty dishes. The girl had been quiet, suspiciously so, but she'd eaten. To his relief, she'd also stopped eying him across the table as if waiting for him to toss her onto that big bed without a moment’s warning.
He didn’t bother telling her yet again that she was safe. She’d find that out for herself.
Callum played a longer game than mere assuagement of his lust, powerful as that lust was becoming. Marriage shouldn’t be a battleground. He wanted to trust the woman he took to wife. While he'd noticed an easing in Mhairi’s hostility, welcome if unexpected after her antics downstairs, it was still too soon to push for a physical union.
At this moment, the lassie was w
ound as tightly as a watch spring. Better by far to give her time to accustom herself to becoming the Mackinnon bride before he took her into his bed.
Which didn't mean it was a simple matter to keep his distance when Mhairi sat mere feet away, beautiful as dawn on a clear Highland morning. He’d hardly tasted any of the delicious food. His senses were too closely focused on the beautiful woman so close to him. The short distance between them might as well be a hundred miles, for all the use he could make of her.
"Away with ye now, Mackinnon," Jean said, clearing away the plates. "The lassie needs her sleep."
Aye, he could see Mhairi was weary. In body and spirit. Violet shadows marked the skin under those deep blue eyes, and the proudly upright body showed a tendency to sag against her chair until she recalled she supped with her enemy and straightened her spine. The girl’s fire burned low, banked after food and wine and an hour when he deliberately avoided any subject likely to send her flaring up again. The conversation had been notably one-sided with long silences, but she'd responded with reluctant courtesy.
He sat back and stretched out his legs, a half-empty glass of wine dangling from one hand. "Och, Jean, ye ken I have to stay."
"No, Mackinnon." Jean went back to frowning at him. "It's no’ right when you're no’ wed."
A sardonic smile curled his lips. "But we will be. This willnae be the first Highland match where the bride and groom are too impatient to wait for the vows to be spoken."
The girl’s languor evaporated in an instant. With a lurch, she rose from the chair and backed away from the table. "Ye said…"
The brief armistice was over. He bit back a sigh and raised one hand. "Ye raised the stakes when you threw that wine in my face. I cannae let such a challenge go unanswered."
"So my good reputation is the sacrifice." Her tone was bitter.
"Aye, lassie, it is. If you’re worried about the damage to your name, ye can repair it by marrying me this minute."
When Jean entered the rising argument, the old biddy wasn't on his side. "Aye, Mackinnon, most people excuse a handfasted couple for anticipating the wedding, when there’s no minister nearby to make all proper. That's no’ the case here."
"It's too late to go back, Jean," he said. "When I carried the lass upstairs, I convinced everyone in Achnasheen except ye that I meant to have her."
"You're forcing my hand," Mhairi said bitterly. "When ye swore you’d await my consent."
Callum shrugged, although under his ruthless manner, he felt for her. He didn't like to be compelled either. But ending the war between the Drummonds and the Mackinnons was more important than her injured feelings.
"I'm fighting with what weapons I have, lass."