‘I think he regrets marrying me,’ she answered in a rush. ‘I think it is because I was sorely beset by my uncle’s death, and our fall into poverty was so swift and unexpected. Our marriage was sudden, you see, and I had no time to prepare myself for what it entails.’
‘Aye, and as I have it, you had no choice either, impoverished as you were. And that is plain to see from the martyred look on your face.’
Hot tears welled in Tara’s eyes and slid down her cheeks. ‘I fear I am a bad wife. I try, I do, but I don’t understand Callum at all. I fear I am not enough for him.’
‘Not enough, with that angel’s face and pert young body? Whoever heard such a thing. Not enough, indeed. You have the greatest arsenal of weapons a woman can hold. Don’t blubber before me, lass, because I cannot abide a weakling. Get some fight in you. Hold your ground. I have nothing against you other than that you are English - a capital offence in the Highlands, I fear. But I am prepared to overlook it for the sake of family.’
Meg gestured to a chair. ‘Sit,’ she commanded, and Tara did as she was told. Meg took the chair opposite.
‘I suppose you must regret having to take whatever was on offer. I have heard rumours of your fall from grace, and you were high-born, were you not?’
‘My fall?’ asked Tara with great trepidation.
‘Oh, I know it all. Didn’t Callum take you from an almshouse or whorehouse or whatever it was? I must say, that adds a bit of spice to your character. Otherwise, I would venture that you are a bland, wan little thing. God love him. Callum never did have much sense when it came to the fairer sex. Always dazzled by a bonnie face.’
‘Whatever you may have heard, I did not lose my honour before I was wed,’ said Tara, provoked by Lady Mortimer’s implication that she was a fallen woman.
‘Aye, but you’ve lost it now, haven’t you?’
Tara’s face burned. She looked down at her hands and nodded.
‘Well, that’s something. I am glad my nephew is not wanting on that score. Now, you must rally, lass and try to do better. I will say this in my nephew’s defence. He is a bit of a brawler and a drinker, but never to excess. He enjoys the odd wager, but what man doesn’t? It is the way of it with Ross men. As to whoring, he steers clear of that, for the most part, so I would say you have a man who is neither pious nor reprobate, which is a happy medium. I doubt Callum will stray, no matter how miserable you make him, not for a good while anyway.’
‘Oh, I would hope that he does not stray, and you do not need to defend his virtues,’ cried Tara. ‘I think Callum is a good man. It is just that I cannot be the wife he deserves. And I think he regrets marrying me.’
Meg Mortimer rolled her eyes. ‘All men regret marriage once they have taken the prize from a woman. ‘Tis the chase they relish, or the dowry, not the rest. But I will let you in on a secret. Men can be managed, and there is one way to do it. You must service his needs, or he will get restless and stray.’
Tara swallowed hard. ‘Oh, I do not think I am up to that task.’
‘You must try. Is that what you want, to have some other lass take his affection, for ‘tis there, his regard? ‘Tis plain as day in the way he does not take his eyes from you - the gazes, hot with lust, thrown your way? Now, pull yourself together, lass. We all have misfortune in this life and must overcome it and make do. I am sure you yearned for some soft dandy back in England to sweep you off your feet, but my nephew is a good man, an excellent provider and protector. Get him on your side, and you can make a good life for yourself and come out on top.'
‘I want to be a good wife and make him happy. I just don’t know how. And he does not say much. He does not give much of himself.’
‘Bah! I would judge that as a good thing in a man as nought but nonsense comes out of their mouths at the best of times. Do whatever he wants abed, and do it well. And remember, Callum is a canny lad, and he will know if you do not want him, so pretence is everything.’
***
Tara lay in bed beside Callum in the east chamber. He had been quiet since they had supped with his aunt and come to bed. The meal had been a fraught affair, filled with talk of reivers, thievery and other villainous deeds committed by Lady Mortimer’s enemies. The woman had largely ignored Tara, which she was thankful for, though Callum had thrown her a kind smile when gaps in his aunt’s conversation allowed. Whenever he did, Meg Mortimer would narrow her eyes at Tara. So, eventually, she cast her eyes down, avoiding Callum’s.
‘Your aunt is very forthright with her opinions,’ said Tara, trying to draw him out.
‘Rude, you mean. Ignore her. She was good to me as a lad, and God knows, I am fond of her, but she has a foul mouth and is too free with her opinions. What did she say that irked you especially?’
Tara raised herself on one elbow. ‘She said you would stray and get bored with me. All husbands do. Would you?’
‘No,’ he said gruffly. ‘It has been a long day. Go to sleep.’ Callum rolled onto his back and flung an arm across his forehead, revealing a thick down of dark hair under his arm. For some reason, Tara had the urge to stroke it.
When her fingers found him, Callum jerked away from her as if he had been bitten by a flea. Tara bit her lip and reached for him again. She placed a hand on his chest and trailed her fingers down its broad, hairy expanse. She had never before noticed how silky his dark hair was, how smooth to the touch.
Callum grabbed her wrist and turned to look at her. ‘Lass, tell me you are not trying to seduce me because my aunt told you to?’
‘Of course not.’
‘What are you about then?’
‘I…I don’t want you to stray. I want to please you so that you don’t return to Cora Adler’s establishment and find a whore to lie with.’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘I will not. And I don’t think Cora will welcome me back any time soon.’ He frowned and let go of her. ‘Lass, I made a vow to you before God, and I’ll not break it. Leave me be and go to sleep now.’