Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Callum

I stayed away last night, thinking it was for the best. The wedding is almost upon us. I told myself I could wait this short time until we could be together as a man and a wife and that I wouldn't take her in a barn ever again… unless it was for nostalgia's sake.

I would definitely be congenial to that once I have had my fill of the other kind of fucking, which takes place in the comfort of a bed.

So last night I worked late with my father in the workshop because the quicker this job is done, the quicker I can spend time with my wife.

Wife.

A few months ago, I had no desire for marriage, nor could I have imagined how much joy these anticipated changes would bring.

Thankfully, the hard work has paid off, and the large commission of swords is complete.

It is now mid-morning, and the customer arrives with a cart into which they load up all their goods.

The merchant shakes hands with my father and parts with the agreed coins. As the cart lumbers away, Anders turns up at the workshop doors.

"There was trouble last night," he says. "I thought you might want to know."

I lift my head as my father goes over to speak to him.

"What sort of trouble?" my pa asks.

"In the tavern. Incident with that shifter bastard."

I feel the prickling of unease. He is talking about Gray, I'm sure of it. But he is not talking to me, so I stay where I am, sweeping up the dust left behind from the packing crates so I can surreptitiously listen in.

"… killed two men…"

"Why the fuck did he do that?" I demand and, giving up all pretenses of working, stalk over to stand at my father's side.

Anders looks from me to my pa and back again. "There was a fight. It was rowdy, by all accounts. A man known for cheating at cards clearly picked the wrong sailor to fleece. Your lass was standing close by when it happened. They knocked Ada flying, and that's when the shifter stepped in."

"Ada? Is she alright?" Fuck. My mind is all over the place. I cannot think fucking straight. I need to go to her. I need to go to her right now.

"Steady, lad," Anders says, putting his hand on my shoulder. "The lass is well, thanks to the shifter. Although he could have used more subtlety in his method of killing." He grimaces. "I had to pay off no end of people to cover the ruckus up. I thought the two of you should know, given this involves the lass you're due to marry in a couple of days."

"Thank you," I say, my heart galloping in my chest. "I need to go and see her, Pa."

"Of course, son," he says. "Go on over and check. Send my regards to Ada and ask Tim if there is anything we can help with."

The two men fall into a conversation. I charge out the back, grab my cloak off the hook beside the kitchen door, and turn into the alleyway at a run.

Gareth is the first man I see, carrying a barrel of ale over one shoulder between the cellar and the tavern.

"Gareth, where's Ada?" I call.

"Aye, Callum, lad," he says. Slowing his steps to a stop, he turns back to look at me. "Your lass is fine, if that's what you're worried about. I was coming over to tell you once I finished changing these barrels."

"A city guardsman came by with the news," I say. "I wanted to check on her."

"Of course," he says. "Go on through. Although I happened to hear her and Betsy talking about going to the markets. If you hurry, you might catch them."

I enter the back door of the tavern, startling the cook. I wouldn't normally come in this way, and further, the tavern is not even open at this time of day, but my urgent mind doesn't care.

"Go on through, lad," she says. "Such a kerfuffle last night. And a relief Gray was there."

I growl under my breath, trying to temper the feelings that rush through me. Why didn't Ada send word to me last night? Had I known, I would have come straight over.

She probably didn't want to worry me. But, fuck that. I am to be her husband, and I have a right to be worried and to be there for her.

Also, why did that bastard have to be the one to step in? If anybody should be protecting Ada, it should be me.

My thoughts are irrational. I'm grateful he did. I really am. But also, I fucking hate that he did.

Tim is in the main tavern room, taking inventory of several broken chairs. My fists tighten as I see the evidence of the fight.

"Tim, I'm looking for Ada," I say.

His head whips around, and his face softens. "She has gone to the market with Betsy. She mentioned calling in your workshop on the way back." He rubs his brow. "Poor lass was bowled over when the trouble started. Thank the Goddess that Master Gray moved so swiftly and snatched her out of harm's way."

I want to growl at that bit about Gray's hands on my woman, even though I'd sooner rip my own heart out than have Ada hurt.

"I should have booted the lot of them out after the first fight started," Tim continues, oblivious to my rising rage.

"You weren't to know," I say distractedly, although I really wish he had kicked everybody out, and then Ada would never have been involved. It feels like the puzzle pieces are falling altogether at once, yet they still do not make any fucking sense. "Might see if I can catch up with her."

I am definitely going to look for her, but I don't want to sound like a sap when everyone else is so fucking calm.

"Aye. They're looking for some ribbons and such." He smiles. "Something to do with your wedding."

The franticness inside me softens a little. We shall be wedded in two days. I feel foolish, yet urgent. I don't need to go racing off after her, do I? She is obviously fine, or she would have sent for me. And now she is buying pretty things for the wedding: I feel like an even bigger fool when maybe she only wants to surprise me.

Yet the irrational part of me still needs to see her with my own eyes before I can be calm.

"Thanks, Tim," I say. "I'll have a quick look to see if I can spot them."

I head outside into the cold streets. The snow's been falling steadily for days, and it's starting to form drifts against the buildings. Pulling my cloak tightly around me, I head for the part of the market where the craft stalls are found.

I walk up and down, asking at stalls, but I don't see them anywhere, and no one remembers seeing them, either.

A strange premonition of danger settles in my belly, along with a restless need for action and for the relief that will be mine only when I see Ada's pretty face—her smile.

On the third pass, I admit defeat. For all I know, they've gone off to look elsewhere. Maybe they went to the workshop, wondering where I am. I take a final look over the crowd to see if I can see their heads anywhere, and as I turn, a woman barrels straight into me.

"Whoa." I take her shoulders, and she steps back, trying to dart around me.

"Betsy?" My confusion lasts only long enough for me to realize she is alone. "Where is Ada?" I demand.

Her whole body sags when she recognizes me, and then she starts to stammer, her eyes wide, chest heaving but not getting a single word out.

"Where the fuck is Ada?"

"Gone," she finally bursts out. "He took her."

"Who took her?" Fuck, I am about to lose my mind. I take her by the shoulders again and give her a little shake. "Betsy, tell me what happened; right now."

"Gray," she says, gulping deep breaths between the words, "Gray took her… to the docks… I wanted to follow… Ada told me… She told me to go, lest I find myself taken too…. You have to get her back, Callum. You have to!"

I growl. My vision is like a kaleidoscope of color before I can blink it away.

"Callum! Your eyes… "

I brush past her, ready to charge for the docks, but she hangs onto my cloak, dragging me to a stop.

"You can't go after them like this. There are two of them, and they are shifters. You do not even have a weapon!"

I look down at myself, acknowledging all she says, yet still ready to rip the world apart with my bare hands. Betsy is right. I do not have a fucking weapon.

"I followed them a short way. They put her on a longboat which had the words The Minstrel on the side. They were making for a ship anchored just off the shore, one that bears the flag of a foreign land. More longboats bearing that name are at the wharf, loading with supplies enough for a long journey. They will be leaving soon. I know they will."

"I need help," I say as realization dawns. "And a weapon."

"Go get what you need," she says. "I shall run back to the tavern and tell my pa too, and he can send for the city guardsmen as he trusts."

We part ways. I run all the way back, only to find the workshop empty and the door locked. My father is not here.

Where the fuck is he?

I turn on the spot, frantic, knowing I don't have time to find him when Ada has been taken and is on a ship that might leave at any moment.

I take the stairs two at a time and reach under my father's bed without hesitation. The cloth-wrapped bundle is still there. I toss it on the bed and open it out.

The scabbard is still well-oiled, and the leather is soft and supple. Chest heaving, I unsheathe the sword and watch it glisten in the light.

I have limited skills with a sword, having trained only a few times with my pa using a blunt practice weapon.

Today, the woman I love more than life is in danger.

Today, I need a true sword—a master's sword.

I know the fucking basics, and I pray that will be enough.

I also know I do not have hope against two shifters with nothing but my fists. So I slip the belt around my waist, tighten the buckle, and return to the kitchen.

Here, I snatch a piece of paper and scribble down a note, leaving it on the mantle where, Goddess willing, my father will find it.

I leave for the docks, to find the ship called The Minstrel , and the shifter bastard who has taken my woman.