Without any niceties, she gave her opinion. ‘Who is this dandy I see before me? What are these fripperies, or do you don your finest for your old aunt?’ She poked in disgust at Callum’s grey wool jacket, which Tara thought suited him rather well.
Callum sighed, kissed his aunt and stepped back. ‘I wear it to honour you, Aunt.’
Her beady eyes veered to Tara, but she kept speaking to him. ‘No, you don’t. And don’t flatter and scrape. It does not suit you. You look thin, Callum. Is no one feeding you at Raigmoor?’
‘I eat well enough, Aunt.’
‘Hmm. It is a wife’s duty to provide a good table and a warm heath to return to at night. So, you have come at last in great state to see me, and I suppose this is the one?’ She sniffed like a hound. ‘I can see why you chose her. A bonnie young thing, hmm, dainty, refined, I would say. But you are not suited, no, not at all.’
‘Aunt. Don’t,’ said Callum.
Meg Mortimer put her face in Tara’s. ‘See how he comes to your defence, lass. What spells have you weaved with that bonnie face and golden hair, eh?’ Before Tara could answer, she waved her into silence. ‘Never mind. You are welcome in my house. Run along with my housekeeper now, and take some rest. I have serious matters to discuss with my nephew. Not for your ears.’
Callum gave Tara an apologetic frown, and she was whisked away into the bowels of Sedgemoor.
***
‘What is wrong with a sturdy Scots lass?’ snapped Meg Mortimer.
‘Nothing, I just didn’t find one I wanted,’ Callum replied with a sigh.
‘I see. And you want this one, do you?’ Aunt Meg’s jaw moved as if she were sucking a stone from a cherry without opening her mouth. ‘Does she do her duty by you with no complaint?’
‘Aye.’ Callum rubbed the back of his neck. His aunt had taken an uncomfortable turn.
‘Well, by the sour look on your face, you don’t get much pleasure out of it. I have seen many summers, lad, and buried three husbands, and I can tell a satisfied man from a miserable one. And that lass has a fearful look about her. Do you give her no rest?’
‘She sleeps soundly enough.’
‘I don’t mean sleep, you fool. Do you not leave her be at night.’
‘I do, and at her request,’ snapped Callum.
‘Ah, now I see it. That is why you have a face like curdled milk. So you are backed up, eh, lad?’
‘Do not be coarse, Aunt. I am six and twenty now, no lad.’
‘Men are always boys, no matter how many summers they see, and forever foolhardy. You are the same as when you came here as a wee lad. Always so serious, and mooning after the servant girls and crofters daughters, wearing your heart on your sleeve. Did you not learn a thing or two from them when they let your wandering hands into their skirts?’
‘I learnt plenty.’
‘Then why are you not satisfying your wife? Is there something wrong with her? Is it because she is English? Cold and unfeeling, the lot of them, in my estimation.’
‘Must you meddle, Aunt? I have ridden a long way to come to your aid.’
‘Alright. But you need to leave the poor lass be, now and again. You cannot always be at her like a stallion on a mare.’
Callum winced inwardly. ‘I beg you. Do not talk of us in that way.’
‘I speak as I find, and you would do well to listen. Now hear me. I have given you the grand chamber in the east wing. It is a tradition in our family for newlyweds, as many a wedding night was spent there with a bairn coming nine months later. I trust you will not disappoint me.’
Callum rolled his eyes, and his aunt took him by the forearms. She was small, and he was huge in comparison, but the memory of the childhood beatings he got when he crossed a line with her, still lingered. Meg’s face softened, and she tip-toed and kissed his cheek. Her fingers dug in.
‘I want you happy, Callum, that is all. Fired with lust, you have made a hasty and ruinous attachment. That soft, wee lass will ever be shivering and timorous in your presence.’
‘No, it is I who trembles in her presence.’
‘How can that be?’