Page 10 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

T hat evening was filled with a flurry of clothes and colors, with Mollie at the center of it all.

Gerald wasn’t sure a child could possess so many gowns, and yet, she continued to burst out from behind a makeshift curtain hung by the maids in one of the spare sitting rooms, twirling about in another new frock bought in town.

He’d manage to dismiss a few of them from the forced showcasing, gently insisting to Mollie that they had work to do around the castle, that Ms. Blair needed help to keep everything neat and tidy.

Aileen looked horrified every time Mollie argued against it, but Gerald waved the concern away every time.

He knew for a fact that, given the choice, each and every servant in the castle would have much rather stayed and spent more time with Mollie.

Soon, only the three of them were left in the room. Gerald had taken over one of the armchairs, while Aileen sat just on the edge of a cushioned bench. Bannock lay just underneath, her tail thumping loudly every time Mollie came bounding out to show off another dress.

Aileen offered an enthusiastic round of applause, gushing over the pretty craftsmanship as her sister’s smile spread from ear to ear. It was amusing to watch—certainly better than working alone in his study—and Gerald would offer a nod of approval every so often.

“The seamstress said these flowers are called snowdrops!” Mollie squealed, pointing to several small, delicately stitched florals that ran across the hem of a sapphire dress. “Did ye ken they grow in the snow, Aileen?”

“I did nae,” Aileen beamed, fingers brushing across the white flowers with fascinated content.

“I bet ye ken that, Gerald!” Mollie bounded over to Gerald’s armchair, holding the hem of her dress outward so he could see every snowdrop properly. “I bet ye see them all the time.”

“I do, aye,” Gerald replied lightly. “Though they only appear when winter’s just about to end and spring is on its way.”

“Is that goin’ to be soon?” Mollie asked. “I want to see a real one!”

Gerald shook his head, feeling genuine sadness as the girl’s expression fell. “We’re too far into summer, I’m afraid. They’ve long since died off.”

“Aww, really?” Mollie huffed, arms crossed tightly against her chest. Bannock slid out from beneath Aileen’s bench, trotting up to the girl as she gave her arm a gentle lick.

“I’m sure we’ll see them one day,” Aileen assured.

“But what if we’re nae here anymore when spring comes?” Mollie asked.

The question took Gerald by surprise. He turned to Aileen, who let out a nervous laugh. “Mollie, daenae be silly. Of course, we’ll still be here for spring.”

Mollie wrapped her arms around Bannock’s, clearly thinking hard about something. “Oh … aye, ye did promise, did yeh?”

Gerald’s concern only grew greater at the vagueness of it all.

How often had they moved in Mollie’s lifetime?

If Marcus was her brother, wouldn’t they simply stay at the castle?

Then again … with how secretive he seemed about them, it made sense that Marcus would shuffle them around his territory.

Keep the focus off of the ‘stain’ on his family’s bloodline.

“Did ye move between keeps often, Mollie?” he asked, wanting to confirm his suspicions.

Before Mollie could reply, Aileen suddenly sprang from her seat, rushing across the room and scooping her sister up into her arms. Bannock let out a yelp of annoyance, pacing around Aileen’s legs and whining up toward Mollie.

“Oh, gracious me! It’s almost time for bed.

We should get yer bath started, Mollie dear. ”

“But the snowdrops—!” Mollie insisted.

“Thank the Laird for spendin’ his valuable time with ye today.” Aileen’s tone was surprisingly stern, and Mollie let out a huff in reply, seemingly knowing she wouldn’t win the fight. Still, the look she shot Gerald’s way was nothing short of deadly.

Gerald had been stabbed before. Multiple times, in fact. And yet, as that little girl glared daggers his way, he could confidently say it hurt far worse than any physical assault he’d suffered in his thirty years.

“Thank ye for spendin’ time with me, me Laird,” Mollie grumbled under her breath.”

Aileen’s brow furrowed, but Gerald waved his hand. “Thank ye for allowin’ me to join ye, Mollie.”

The girl’s sour expression sweetened slightly, and she wrapped her arms around Aileen in a pseudo-hug. Aileen shifted her little sister against her hip, offering a nod of thanks to the Laird’s way before moving toward the door.

“Oh, but, Aileen?” Gerald asked. “Come and see me back here when ye’re finished with Mollie. I never got to see the gowns ye chose for our wedding, and I’d like that done before ye retire for the night.”

Aileen visibly paled. “Oh. Um … aye, Gerald. Of course.”

“Aww, that’s nae fair,” Mollie complained. “I wanted to see ye dress up, too.” She let out a huge yawn, her head nuzzling against Aileen’s shoulder while blinking furiously. “I’m nae even tired, yet … and y—ye promised I could sew flowers on …”

“I’ll ensure ye can do so tomorrow,” Gerald promised. “But ye cannae hold a steady needle with a poor night’s sleep.”

“Aye. The Laird’s right, love.” Once more, Aileen nodded her thanks toward Gerald, though he could tell she was clearly nervous.

The woman had been through far too much to truly believe he only wanted to go over dresses with her, but Mollie’s implications were far too disturbing to let them slide.

As the pair slipped out of the room—with Bannock predictably following behind as their living shadow—Gerald let out a tired sigh and sank further into his chair.

“What sort of mess did I attach meself to?”

Oh, but she was in so much trouble.

Aileen swore internally as she washed her sister’s hair in the tub, wishing they’d walked past that silly dress in the first place. She had no idea what she was supposed to say to Gerald, what explanation wouldn’t sound like some sort of pathetic excuse.

And as the maids helped get her nightdress on, and Aileen tucked both Mollie and Bannock in for the evening, she found herself shaking with each step she took back toward the room. She knocked gently against the door’s frame, partially hoping the Laird had been called away for some urgent business.

“Come in, Aileen.”

Laird help me .

Aileen slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. Gerald remained in his armchair, though he seemed to have pulled another one for her to sit directly across from him. With a nervous grimace, Aileen took her place in said chair, folding her hands stiffly in her lap.

The pair stared at each other in silence, the Laird stroking his beard and leaning against the arm of his seat.

She furrowed her brow slightly. Was she supposed to start the conversation?

She didn’t even want to bring it up in the first place.

It had no bearing on Gerald, and it just made her sound … undesirable as a bride.

She sat for another beat, squirming uncomfortably in her chair. Finally, she sighed, opening her mouth to speak, to try to explain away Mollie’s outburst.

“Did Laird Carswell treat the pair of ye well, Aileen?”

That wasn’t where she’d expected their conversation to start. “Treat us … well, he wasnae physical with me, if that’s what ye mean. We hadnae been properly married when we were expelled from his castle, so?—”

“I daenae care about yer virginity being intact or nae,” Gerald interrupted coldly. “I asked if ye were welcome amidst his clan.”

Again, Aileen squirmed under the Laird’s gaze.

Those eyes really were like the forest—beautiful and alluring one moment, then terrifying and vast the next.

She never quite knew what to expect from him.

At least with Marcus or Laird Carswell, she knew her place.

But Gerald made it consistently … difficult to pin. “His kin welcomed us fine enough.”

“Yet Mollie implied ye were moved around.”

Aileen wrung her hands tightly. “It was for security purposes. With the wars ragin’ unpredictably across the Highlands, Laird Carswell thought it best nae to keep us in the same place for long. Until the wedding, we didnae stay in the same keep for more than a few weeks.”

“And ye were all right with that?”

No. Of course, she wasn’t. Watching Mollie burst into tears as she was torn away from the friends she had managed to make killed Aileen every time.

The maids who showed kindness to her, the routine she’d started to build for herself and her sister, it was thrown to the wayside, without her having an ounce of say.

But Aileen said none of this. Instead, her shoulders stiffened as she sat upright, nodding a bit too furiously. “Of course. I trusted me betrothed to do what was right by us.” Lies. All lies.

Gerald shifted in his chair, staring Aileen down as if she were a child who had been caught in the sweets pantry.

She gritted her teeth, praying they didn’t delve too deeply into the subject.

She didn’t need his sympathy, didn’t need him seeing her as weak or unable to take simple directions.

Whatever was asked of her, she would do.

“If ye’re reconsiderin’ yer offer about me visiting yer study, ye daenae need to spare me feelings?—”

“Daenae assume what I want,” Gerald interrupted sharply. “And daenae assume someone kens what’s best for ye. If Laird Carswell sold yer sister’s hand to one of his family members, would ye let him?”

Aileen’s cheeks burned, hands squeezing tightly together. “If … if the family were kind to her?—”

“What if they werenae?” Gerald persisted. “What if they were ken to beat their staff and lord their position over others?”

Something sour welled up in the back of Aileen’s throat. “Why do ye ask this? It didnae happen, so why must I answer?”

“Because I need to ken where yer loyalties lie,” Gerald said. “And how much ye’d break yer own rules for the sake of another.”

Was she trembling? Was she scared? Aileen glanced down at her hands, now pulled apart and balled into fists. Was … was she angry ?

There was such a powerful urge to stand up from her chair, to strike the Laird sitting across from her for even suggesting she’d allow anything—anyone—to hurt Mollie. But was that really true? Would she have gone against Laird Carswell if he’d commanded it? Was she angry at Gerald … or at herself?

“The fact ye cannae answer is concerning.” Gerald stood from his chair, stepping and leering over Aileen as his expression darkened considerably.

“As the soon-to-be lady of this castle, yer word will hold far more weight than ever before. Ye cannae bend yer back to another just because they want ye to, as it affects me own image as well.”

“And if ye want me to?” Aileen dared to ask. “If ye wish me to bow down to yer decision?”

A wry smile crossed Gerald’s face, and Aileen felt a wave of warmth wash over her. He was terrifying, but—no, she couldn’t actually be enjoying the thought of obeying him, could she?

“I would hope ye’d fight me,” he spoke so softly, a whispering winter’s wind between her ears that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. “Though, I wouldnae deny ye if ye offered to … bend over for me.”

A panicked squeal escaped her lips as Aileen quickly pushed against his chest, stumbling to her feet and hurrying to the door. “I … I will defer to ye for judgment, as ye’re the Laird and me soon-to-be husband!”

“And I would hope ye would snap back if I ever ordered ye to do something unreasonable,” Gerald replied with a slight smirk.

Aileen quickly slammed the door behind her, back pressed against it as she tried desperately to catch her breath. What was that supposed to mean? Did he want her to argue with him?

He’d made it explicitly clear that she was not to interfere in his life, and yet, here he was, spouting the absolute opposite. Was this supposed to be a test? To see if Aileen would keep her word and stay out of his business?

“All men are the same,” she scoffed, exhaling sharply before storming off to her room.