Untamed {Mature Reading}

Chapter XXXVIII

Bianca hated how she lingered outside Callum's office filled with uncertainty. She could not count the times she had raised her hand to knock on the thick wood nor the time she had turned to leave, shoulders hunched.

It was the welling pit in her stomach that made her hover - that hot flash of embarrassment and that flare of anger that followed. She could not stop thinking about her public announcement of her feelings for the Laird nor how she had, in many ways, confessed the extent of their relationship - their intimate relationship.

Her cheeks burned at the thought, of how everyone knew. And how he had just stood there and had not said it back.

Why had he not said it back?

The question plagued her in a way that she was unfamiliar with. The priestess was so unused to matters of the heart, to the courtship rules and mannerisms. Has she done something wrong? Should she had done it differently, confessed when they were alone?

The endless questions are what sparked her anger - for the priestess was unaccustomed to being unsure of herself. And least of all, to be made unsure by a man who owed her more than a thick wall of silence as he hid in his study.

Her ire rose once more, hot and fresh like bile burning up her throat until she almost choked with it, feeling it fill her veins. With renewed determination, she raised her hand like she had done so many times before this moment and unlike the others, she knocked.

The force of her determination caused her knuckles to smart in a dull ache as the echo sounded around her. She did not hear any sound from behind the door.

The lack of response knocked some wind from Bianca, that flare of embarrassment rising once more. Has she overestimated his feelings for her? Or did Callum, now with Grey angry and Rosalind gone, think she was too much trouble than she was worth? He was in there, that much Bianca knew.

Should she just walk away? Maybe not just from Callum's door but from Callum entirely. The castle and the people in it may have grown on her, but she didn't, couldn't, belong here.

Shaking her head, the last of the priestess's resolve willed her push open the door, regardless of what met her on the other side. She deserved answers and she was not going to leave until she got them.

The warmth of the study is what she first noticed, her gaze jumping to the lit fireplace and the dancing orange and yellow flames. It cast a soft, warm glow in the room that was somewhat akin to the lingering light of the sun as it faded beyond the skyline.

But as ever, Bianca found herself searching for him as if his being would always call to hers, always want to find him, to rest upon him.

Callum had his back to her, the glow of the fire striking against the hard planes of his back and shoulders so that she could see every curve and angle of his muscles. They looked taunt, tense as if the Laird was fully expecting a blow to the back.

She heard the clink of glass and spied a decanter, half-empty with amber liquid, the stopper discarded beside it, slowly rocking back and forward as if it had only just been put down and had not had time to still.

No words were spoken as Bianca eased the door shut behind her, her gaze never wavering from Callum's back as she heard the lock click into place. Softly, she uttered. "Callum?"

He did not turn, but the way his muscles jumped in his shoulders, corded with tension, made the priestess all too aware that he had heard her, even if he wished otherwise.

The knowledge that he was purposefully ignoring her stung, sharp and swift but she pushed through it. Steeling her spine, Bianca willed a firmer tone. "Callum, look at me."