Callum’s brother did not hide his feelings nearly as well as Callum. Surprise settled on his face. “I will?”
“Aye,” Callum said jovially—almost too jovially. True, she did not truly know the man, nor had she ever, but his lightheartedness seemed forced. Cedric’s annoyed face revealed no sign that he sensed something being off as she did. Callum patted his brother on the shoulder. “Brice has taken a liking to the other wench ye won, and he wishes to fight ye for her instead of coin. What say ye?”
Cedric laughed. “I’ll fight you, Brice Grant, but you’ll not win the woman. And I’ll only fight Brice if you agree to battle me, as well, Callum. You’re the only one I truly believe to be close to my equal.”
Callum quirked his mouth as if in thought. “I already told ye I dunnae wish to take yer coin.” As the words left his mouth, his dark, penetrating gaze settled on Marsaili, and faint amusement swept over his face. “Mayhap if ye wish to wager the hellion?” he suggested, motioning to her as if she were some sort of good to be bartered at the market. Fury had her curling her own fists. What was this ruse he was about, and why was he about it?
Cedric chuckled. “Very smart of you to instill a leman to produce an heir before you wed my barren sister.”
A soft gasp escaped Marsaili and caused both men to look at her. God’s teeth, she wished she had not made a sound, but what the devil did Cedric mean when he said Callum was to be married? He was supposed to be married already! Had Edina passed? Cedric frowned at Marsaili, but she could not make herself care when her mind whirred with the shock of learning Callum was unmarried.
Callum winked at Cedric. “Let us nae tell yer sister, aye?”
Marsaili swallowed her disgust.
“Of course,” Cedric said smoothly.
“Excellent.” Callum’s gaze flickered to her once more, but his dark eyes were hooded, like a hawk, unreadable. He abruptly turned away toward Cedric. “A man needs a leman to give him pleasure as wives never do.”
Beside Callum, his brother looked as if he were just barely holding in words. Or was it laughter? Marsaili clenched her teeth so hard, she felt a stab of pain and feared she’d cracked a tooth. Callum was despicable! Never would Marsaili allow him to touch her, and never would she tell him of their son.
“I’d rather be under the dirt in my grave with worms crawling in my eyes than let ye lay hands on me, yelan dhen cac, poor excuse of a man!”
“I don’t believe the wench likes you, Callum,” Cedric mocked.
“I believe ye’re correct, but that tends to make things rather interesting in my experience,” he replied, turning his attention to her.
“Exactly what I believe,” Cedric crowed. “Come, then. Let us see what you and your brother can offer me as sport in hand-to-hand combat.”
Marsaili was furious with herself for being so shocked that a man who had lied to her and used her would not blink an eye at trading her with another man as if she were a piece of cloth. Callum had no morals, and he was probably not married because Edina had been smart enough, unlike Marsaili, to see the sort of man he truly was.
“Do you have a favor for me, wench?” Cedric said, reaching for her breasts.
She smacked his hand away. “If I had a dagger, I’d plant it in yer heart—and then his,” she spat, motioning toward Callum. “That is the only favor I have in mind for either of ye. So beware: whichever of ye is the victor, ye’ll nae be able to rest easy at night if I’m forced to lie by yer side.”
“Such threats!” Cedric chuckled, looking amused as he gripped her arm and dragged her past Callum, out of the tent, and into a thick throng of people.
