Page 20 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

T he next morning, Aileen practically dragged herself out of bed and down to breakfast. Mollie immediately took a chair beside Rosie and Bonnie, chatting excitedly away as they planned their entire day while sneaking goodies for the trio of deerhounds loyally sitting beside them.

While it warmed Aileen’s heart to see her sister forge bonds so quickly, a part of her wished she were still needed. At least then, she wouldn’t be forced to deal with her own problems straight away.

“Leelee, Leelee! Can I be excused?” Mollie sang, holding her empty plate out for all to see.

“Me too, me too!” Both Bonnie and Rosie chorused, holding their platters out in a similar manner.

The Ladies all shared a smile, glancing Aileen’s way. “Daenae ask us,” Katie began.

“This is Lady MacLiddel’s home,” Alison added. “It’s she who ye need to nae insult.”

Aileen suddenly found all three little girls staring her way, their eyes wide and pleading as they pushed their plates toward her.

“Gracious me!” She laughed, feeling some of her misery begin to dissipate.

“Ye’re perfectly fine, wee ones. Go off and play, but I’d best nae hear ye pilferin’ the kitchens for snacks! ”

The trio loudly agreed, quickly dropping out of their chairs and racing to find their cloaks for a day of snow-filled play. Maids quickly chased after them, nearly tripping over the deerhounds as they, too, bounded after their mistresses.

“They’re going to be such a handful when they get older,” Katie mused as the double doors closed behind them.

“Older? I’d say they’re quite the handful now,” Hector grumbled, though his smile was plain as day.

“Imagine, our own keep will soon be just as noisy,” Alison chuckled.

“Nothin’ we cannae handle, love,” Duncan replied, taking his wife’s hand and placing a gentle kiss between the knuckles.

Aileen dared a glance at Gerald’s way, feeling quite left out herself.

She hated to put a name to it, but ‘jealously’ was certainly present in her mind after watching happy couple after happy couple pass through her home.

She cleared her throat loudly, Sarah’s encouraging words fueling her to do something at last. “I do hope Mollie takes heed of me warning. Ms. Blair will hardly allow those wee pixies to ransack her kitchen once breakfast is over.”

Gerald only offered a nod, spooning a portion of porridge into his bowl.

Aileen repressed the urge to grimace, injecting more warmth into her growing, bubbly tone.

“It’s a shame I didnae get to meet all of Lady MacKimmon’s family.

Perhaps, once we settle the matters of my brither, and the late Laird MacGunn’s territory, we could plan to visit the MacKimmons at their castle? ”

“Oh, I would love that!” Katie interjected, her own smile somewhat forced at the obvious, growing tension in the air. “Dear, do ye think we could arrange that? It would be nice to have the Lady of MacLiddel visit our home, especially after she so graciously hosted us at such short notice.”

“I daenae see why nae,” Hector replied. “So long as Gerald can pull himself out of his work.” He flashed a knowing smirk at Gerald, who only offered a shrug in reply and continued to eat his breakfast.

The knots in Aileen’s stomach tightened; why couldn’t she and Gerald be as witty and flirtatious?

She allowed herself a drink from her ale, gulping at least half of it before blurting out, “I suppose I could travel meself! With the Laird so obviously busy, I’m certain he wouldnae mind his lady traveling alone throughout the Highlands? ”

The dining room went deathly quiet, everyone staring Gerald’s way with bated breath. Aileen knew very well she had just poked the beast, but frustration had begun to override her personal anxieties.

At this point, she would accept him scolding her before the other lairds and ladies than this unbearable silence. She needed some form of reaction from him. She needed to know she meant something to him.

Gerald carefully set his spoon against his bowl, wiping his beard of porridge before grasping his own cup of ale. “If that’s what ye wish, wife. I’ll be certain to keep Mollie safe while ye’re gone.”

It was like he’d stabbed her in the chest with a knife.

Trembling, Aileen slowly stood from her seat, determined not to show her disappointment in her voice, or to allow tears to form in her eyes.

Instead, she mumbled something about feeling unwell and started for her room, fighting the urge to break into a sprint.

Gerald hid his face behind his cup as Aileen left the breakfast room. The ale ran bitter across his tongue, and as he finally lowered the goblet back to the table, he found the other ladies quickly moving from their chairs to go and follow after his wife.

“Apologies, Hector,” Katie began.

“We really should see if she’s all right,” Alison added.

Both their respective husbands offered their own version of assurance, and as their wives hurried after the Lady of MacLiddel, their attentions immediately turned to Gerald, both equally shooting an assortment of daggers his way.

Gerald grimaced but stared down at his plate, trying to find interest in eating what remained.

“What in God's name was that, Gerald?” Hector snapped, his irritation more than obvious in his voice. “Ye treat yer man-at-arms with such disrespect?”

“Man-at-arms?” Duncan asked, visibly taken aback. “I thought she was his wife.”

“She is! I mean, she should be.” Hector pointed an accusatory finger at Gerald’s way, growling between each sentence he managed to spit out. “This fool’s convinced himself that he doesnae need to get personal with her, and look how that turned out!”

Duncan frowned, pushing his plate aside. “Obviously, I shouldnae trust the two of ye alone. What sort of dribble did ye fill his head with last night, Hector?”

“I didnae do any?—”

“Enough.” Gerald’s command was emphasized by the stab of his breakfast knife into the table.

Both lairds quieted, though their expressions still clearly depicted their disappointment and their frustration.

“Me personal life is nae any of yer businesses. How I handle me wife is me decision, and if I daenae wish to be as personal as the pair of ye, that is me choice.”

“Daenae wish to be!” Duncan blinked, looking completely aghast. “Gods, is that how we sounded before?”

“Daenae ask me,” Hector grumbled. “I never kept Katie at such a distance.”

Gerald raised a brow to that.

“Gerald, we’re nae tryin’ to tell ye how to handle yer marriage,” Duncan began. “I ken Aileen’s bloodline may be causing a few personal problems?—”

“It doesnae—” Gerald interrupted curtly.

“But regardless if I’m right or nae,” Duncan cut off as well, irritation clear in his tone.

“This new alliance of ours willnae work if we arenae a united front. Not just between us lairds, but with our ladies as well.” His tone softened as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. “Aileen seems willin’ to put her past aside and work toward the future we want.

If ye two cannae be together on that, what was the point of marrying her? ”

The obvious answer only served to pull the tension tighter between them.

Anger bubbled deep in Gerald’s chest, and he made it clear with the dark, smoldering expression shot toward each of his supposed allies.

But more than anything, his anger was directed inward; they were right, much as it pained him to admit it even to himself.

His behavior just then was deplorable, giving the obvious impression that he had only married the woman for the sake of her land. To gain the largest parts of Marcus’ territory, for revenge against the man who had killed his older brother.

“One might think the pair of ye would go to war for the sake of a woman ye daenae ken,” Gerald said icily. “For a woman whose brither ruined all our lives.”

Both lairds exchanged looks with each other, an unspoken agreement between them. “We would go to war against a tyrant whose views are clouded by revenge,” Duncan corrected.

“I’d go to war against anyone who hurts me wife,” Hector growled. “And me wife is quite taken by Aileen.”

Duncan nodded in agreement.

Gerald’s shoulders stiffened, his hand itching to grasp the hilt of his knife once more. This was ridiculous. The pair of them were fools, so easily swayed by their wives’ opinions. They’d only all just come to an alliance, and these two were willing to throw it away for her?

For her. The words turned Gerald’s blood to ice. When had Aileen become the enemy to him? The woman whose smile lifted his chest, whose soft demeanor and obvious pain filled him with an uncontrollable instinct to pull her into his arms and protect her from the world.

Whose little sister had filled a hole in his heart, whose presence had brightened a castle once fully entrenched in his territory’s cold, wintry grasp. The day he’d learned of Marcus’ betrayal nearly killed him, and the day he found Aileen hiding in her brother’s study brought him back.

When had she become the enemy to him?

“Gerald?”

He blinked, glancing toward Hector with surprise. He’d known the man just as long as he’d known Marcus—a fellow survivor of an alliance built on manipulation—and in all that time, Gerald had never heard concern enter Hector’s tone. Not until now, at any rate.

“I daenae claim to ken what yer sufferin’ is,” Hector began, the unfamiliar gentleness of his tone completely out of place from a man whose default emotion was anger.

“Marcus hurt each of us in his own, twisted way. Of all the men within our buddin’ alliance, it’s ye who I …

” he paused, obviously struggling to find the right words.

“Of everyone, ye are still me closest friend. And watchin’ ye make yerself miserable for seemingly arbitrary reasons … it’s infuriatin’.”

Who on earth was the laird who sat across from Gerald?

“If I could simply take me axe and slice through whatever’s still causin’ ye grief, I would in a heartbeat.

” Some of Hector’s familiar anger rose back up from his chest, but he was visibly fighting to keep his tone even.

“But I daenae think this new world, this future we made this alliance for, can be made through violence alone. It’s the easier route, aye, but, since when have ye or I wanted easy? ”

This had to be so hard for Aileen. To try to find hope in a world that didn’t want her. To try to connect with a man who wanted nothing to do with her. Gerald found his anger slowly twist into something unfamiliar. Guilt, perhaps?

Duncan’s laughter broke through Gerald’s self-reflection, and he watched as the Laird of Marsden clapped a hand against Hector’s shoulder. “Hector Kaysen, I didnae think I’d see the day when ye’d say somethin’ so sentimental.”

“Oh, get yer hand off me, ye old bampot!” Hector quickly shoved his arm away, shifting his chair to try to put distance between himself and the Laird of Marsden. “I daenae say it for yer sake.”

“Nay, of course nae,” Duncan smirked. “Ye just said it in front of me. Who ken marriage would make ye soft.”

“What about ye? Alison practically has ye wrapped around her finger!” Hector argued, face reddening as his temper once more bubbled to the surface. “Oh, if we werenae allies, I’d cleave ye straight in half, ye softie!”

“Ye daenae need the excuse of war between us to challenge me to a fight.” Duncan grinned. “I’m certain our gracious Laird would be happy to share his sparrin’ grounds with us.”

“Good! We can settle what we started, then!” Hector snarled. “I’ll wipe that smug look off yer face in two seconds flat!”

Duncan’s boisterous laughter soon filled the dining halls, and even Hector couldn’t hold back a smile. Gerald found himself completely taken by the pair’s banter, suddenly realizing how many allies—no, friends—he truly had.

This was no longer about the Highlands being torn apart by violence; he no longer had to hide his pain to protect himself and his clan. He had people to lean on, now, to share his worries and troubles with. And … Aileen could be one of those people as well.

“Ye wish to join us, Gerald?” Duncan asked. “I never had the honor of fighting ye on the battlefield.”

“Oh, daenae try to wriggle out of yer fate, scunner,” Hector teased. “Gerald will be busy talkin’ with his wife. Yer opponent’s goin’ to be me and me alone.”

Before Gerald could nod in agreement, the double doors suddenly flew open, slamming loudly against the stonework walls.

Rory came practically sprinting inside, stumbling to a halt before doubling over and heaving.

Blood covered his cloak and tabard, his face covered in growing bruises and cuts.

All three lairds were immediately on their feet, the cheery atmosphere immediately iced as their expressions fell.

“Rory,” Gerald moved quickly from his chair, his goblet still in hand, as he offered it to his breathless man-at-arms. “What happened?”

Rory immediately grasped the ale and drained it in one go, dropping the goblet to the ground as he tried to find his words. “Laird Carswell! He attacked us. Killed the others … I’m the only one left.”

The frigid atmosphere plummeted further, rage bubbling deep within Gerald’s chest. “ Why?”

Rory gasped, gripping his chest before managing to straighten himself. “He thinks ye’ve stolen his bride. He’s declared war against ye, me Laird. He’s bringin’ his army in a matter of days.”