Page 16 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

T hough the sounds of laughter and music continued to fill the castle, Aileen had long since retired to her new, shared bedchambers. She lay in the massive bed for what felt like hours, tucking herself tightly under layers of blankets before throwing them all off the bed.

Her indecision continued for what felt like hours, and in that time, the Laird of MacLiddel—her new husband—had not once come to visit her.

“He is expected to remain amidst the festivities for quite some time,” Aileen reasoned with herself.

“He has to make a good impression on MacGunn’s councilmen. ”

Though she was certain an even better impression would have been following her to bed soon after.

Aileen let out a groan, grabbing a pillow and burying her face into it.

On the one hand, she was relieved that she wouldn’t be forced to perform her marital duties so soon after meeting Gerald.

“But on the other hand …” She sighed lightly.

“If we never consummate this marriage …does our contract still hold any weight?”

He’d promised time and time again not to up and abandon her, but those words didn’t mean much to her. Her brother had promised similar stability, and yet, she couldn’t even count on her hands the number of marriage contracts he’d found and broken. All for the sake of stirring up trouble, perhaps?

The thought of having any part in Marcus’ traitorous plans forced Aileen upright. Sleep eluded her completely, and she finally gave up on the idea altogether. Finding a heavy shawl, she wrapped her small frame and slipped out of the bedroom, somewhat surprised to find a guard placed just outside.

“The Laird asked me to come up,” he explained. “To ensure ye were safe amidst this many MacGunns.”

Suppose this shows he cares somewhat for me , Aileen thought. “Is me husband still in the dining hall, then?”

“He mentioned retiring to the wood cellar for the evening, me Lady.”

The wood cellar? Aileen nodded her thanks, though found herself utterly baffled as she made her way down the hall. Was spending the night with her really so distasteful to him?

“He’d rather be among fallen trees than his own wife?” It sounded ridiculous when she said it aloud, and yet, Aileen was certain he believed just that.

It took some navigating, but eventually, she managed to find her way toward the lower sections of the castle. By her luck, Aileen managed to find a candlestick, its soft glow illuminating the dim halls as she climbed farther down the staircase.

Eventually, the steps smoothed out into a floor, the new room surrounded by stacks of boxes, drying herbs, and other preserves for the harsh winter to come.

A distinctive thunk of metal striking wood rang out, and Aileen followed the sound quite easily, holding her candle out to illuminate the corner of the room.

It wasn’t entirely necessary, as a handful of candles were already lit on a nearby table. Orange flecks of light shimmered across the polished surface of an axe, and as Gerald’s outline swung the weapon clean through a slab of wood, Aileen found herself staring in awe.

He’d long since removed his wedding garb, opting for a simple pair of trousers, boots, and a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

His muscles flexed as he reached for another log to chop, and Aileen wondered how a kiss would taste with the scent of pine lingering in the air around them.

What am I thinking? This isnae the time for that!

“Couldnae sleep?” Gerald asked, his attention remaining on the chopping block as he adjusted the log.

Aileen blinked, nervously straightening the hem of her nightdress. Though she soon felt foolish for doing so, as he still hadn’t looked her way, already cleaving through the log with his axe. What did it matter if she looked unruly?

“Ye held yerself well against that councilman,” Gerald grunted, readjusting the recently split log against the chopping block.

“Yer presence certainly helped,” Aileen admitted sheepishly.

Gerald nodded, swinging his arm back as the log split in two and clattered to the ground. “I’m glad. It would nae look good if the new Lady of MacLiddel had nae a spine to speak of.”

A spark of anger filled Aileen’s chest, chasing the chill in the air immediately away. “That’s all that really matters to ye? Appearances?”

Again, Gerald nodded.

“Ye really meant it, then.” Aileen’s stomach churned, venom dripping between her words as she spat them out his way. “Ye daenae plan to have anything to do with me after we were wed.”

Gerald seemingly ignored her, reaching across toward the pile of uncut logs for another piece.

“Gerald.” Aileen’s gaze narrowed, crossing the room quickly as she suddenly grasped the same log his hand went for. His eyes flashed, staring into hers like a wolf whose meal had been interrupted. Much to her surprise, it didn’t scare her as much as it should have.

“Ye’re nae making this easy,” he began.

“Good! Because ye cannae simply ignore me like ye hoped.” Aileen’s mind raced, realizing how close their hands were to touching.

Focus, Aileen. This isnae the time.

“We’re married, Gerald. A laird and lady of two clans that are still trying to figure out how to come together. We never could have simply lived separate lives.”

“The clans are me problem to solve,” Gerald said, though he made no move to yank the log out of Aileen’s grasp. The axe remained hanging at his side, and Aileen wondered how quickly he could raise it to her neck. She swallowed nervously, keeping her nerves in check as she continued to speak.

“Gerald, I ken ye didnae wish for a wife?—”

“Do ye ken?” Gerald asked snappishly. “Because ye seem awful keen on pushin’ me otherwise.”

“But ye painted the situation far too simply!” Aileen insisted. “I cannae simply sit and watch as ye rule on yer own. Me kin will become suspicious. We’ll all be back where we were before, without an ounce of trust between us.”

“Then they’ll be dealt with as Alistair was.”

“Ye cannae simply ostracize any man ye daenae like!” Aileen’s grasp tightened around the log, her chest burning with indignation. “If ye want to bring MacGunn under yer banner, ye cannae isolate them like ye did tonight.”

“Then next time a man speaks through ye, I willane bother humanizing ye!”

Aileen’s shoulders stiffened. She watched as Gerald’s own posture grew rigid, the flames of candlelight dancing behind his eyes like a forest set ablaze. Her grasp loosened, and Gerald seized the wooden log from her hands, hurling it to the ground with a loud clatter that made her jump.

He stared long and hard at her, and for a moment, Aileen could see his mind racing behind his fury. Then, suddenly, he turned and slammed the axe into the chopping block, splitting the wood as sharp cracks splintered across its surface.

“I made meself clear when we entered this contract,” Gerald hissed dangerously. “I warned ye that this wouldnae be a proper relationship. And yet, ye insist on makin’ this more than it should be.”

But he was the one who offered his home to her.

Who treated Mollie as if she were his own daughter.

Who allowed Bannock to run about the castle, who allowed her within his study, and who offered to teach her woodcarving.

Aileen’s hands trembled at her side, balling into fists that clutched her growing frustrations.

Her gaze swiveled back to the chopped pieces of wood, the question bubbling up her throat and spat out before she could think it through.

“I daenae have the luxury of simply cuttin’ through obstacles with such brutality.

I cannae say one thing and do something opposin’ to it.

I had nay say over any aspect of me life until I came to this keep. ”

He was seething. He was clearly upset, yet Gerald remained silent.

“If ye’d like, ye could send me away the next day without a word of protest from anyone here.

” Aileen blinked furiously; she was not about to cry in front of this man who, clearly, cared so very little for her.

“That councilman … he may nae have treated me as a person, but he at least understood the precarious situation I’m in.

At least I ken he only sees me as a bargaining chip. ”

“I told ye from the start ?—”

“I heard yer words,” Aileen snapped bitterly.

“I’ve heard words like that all me life.

Promises, plans, vows of protection and a life for Mollie.

Ye’ll have to forgive me if words nay longer hold such sway over me.

” She suddenly felt exhausted, the wind quite literally rushing out from her chest. Her hand found the edge of the table and held on for dear life, the weight of her body suddenly far too much for her to handle.

And he immediately moved to her side.

The moment Aileen felt her legs give out completely, Gerald’s arms were suddenly around her waist, easily able to keep her upright.

His touch ached, stirring old memories of Laird Carswell’s ice-driven voice, of his constricting arms as he tried to rip her from Mollie’s life.

The shame rose from deep within, burning her face and pulling tears from the corner of her eyes.

“Ye’re safe, Aileen.”

She blinked furiously, staring back up at the Laird—at her husband—and found his gaze far more compassionate than before.

No longer did a forest burn behind his eyes, but a subtle campfire amidst the pine trees; a flicker of genuine warmth amidst a swath of unspeakable darkness.

His voice was no longer aggressive, combative, but a gentle coolness that tempered the shame across her face.

“I’m sorry for lashin’ out at ye,” Gerald continued, carefully adjusting his grip so as not to make Aileen feel trapped.

“Ye’ve been hurt terribly before, and I daenae wish to add to it.

” There was a spark of recognition in his expression; maybe not for the specific source of her pain, her anxiety, but an understanding that something lurked beneath the surface.

Something that, maybe, she would share with him one day, when she felt ready to do so.

“I cannae offer everythin’ ye need to better yerself.

But I want to offer what I can.” He shifted his arms, indicating his desire to lift Aileen off her feet and carry her in his arms. Aileen offered a slow nod, and he swiftly pulled her up into a bridal-style hold.

“When I tell ye I will keep ye and yer sister safe, I mean it with every fiber of me being. I want ye to ken how much weight is put behind that promise, even if ye daenae feel it yet.”

He began to carry her easily up the staircase, and Aileen felt herself begin to nod off in his embrace. “I … I’m sorry. For pushin’ ye like I did.”

“Ye’ve been trapped in a corner all yer life,” Gerald chuckled humorlessly. “I was mad to think I wouldnae be bitten a few times.”

His words struck a chord in Aileen’s chest; tears flowed freely down her face now, and she pressed herself against Gerald’s chest. He smelled of pine sap and sawdust, of malty ale that lingered from a celebration meant to bring her security.

He felt like comfort, a particularly heavy quilt that smothered Aileen’s worries and fears whenever she slid underneath it.

“Go to sleep now. We can speak more of this later.”

She nodded weakly, barely registering the physical blanket her hand tugged on, the pillow suddenly beneath her head. A flicker of candlelight barely illuminated her husband’s frame, and to the sound of her little sister’s gentle snores, Aileen found herself drifting off completely.

As Gerald quietly closed the door to Aileen’s room, he allowed himself to feel once more. Anger rushed back to the surface of his mind, smothered beneath self-control once Aileen began to collapse before him.

Her words lingered in his mind, poking and prodding like the quills of a trembling beast; it was a rare moment where her voice wasn’t riddled with stammering fear.

He slowly made his way down the hall, his own fury building in his chest. An anger that burned for the way she spoke to him, for the expectations she imposed and he so very clearly denied from the start.

From her insistence on crossing his boundaries, her willingness to trample past and grasp for his affection in a way he knew he couldn’t provide.

But he also burned for the people in her life.

The kinfolk of MacGunn, who must have ignored her for something she couldn’t control.

The Laird of Carswell, who so carelessly threw her to the side like a child who had seemingly grown bored with a toy.

And to Marcus, whose influence had once more ruined something Gerald cared for.

“Cared for …” He sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted.

He did care for them—both of them, in wholly unique ways.

Mollie had captured his heart in an unexpected way, shown herself to be far more resilient than any man he’d fought beside amidst a blood-soaked battlefield.

And Aileen …“We were never meant to be more than strangers.”

Only now, as he said that aloud, did Gerald realize how foolish that truly sounded.