Page 21 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)
G erald insisted that the other lairds return to their territory immediately. Though they protested and insisted that the three of them would destroy Carswell’s army in mere seconds, there was the matter of their wives and children.
“I willnae put them directly in harm’s way,” Gerald emphasized, staring down his allies from across his study desk. “If somethin’ happened to yer ladies, to Bonnie or Rosie, I wouldnae forgive meself. And,” he added somberly, “I daenae think ye would forgive me, either.”
Thus, in a matter of hours, both clans, Marsden and MacKimmon, were packed up and supplied with the fastest horses Gerald could offer.
They would do little against an encroaching enemy, and his steeds were bred and born to tear through the snowy landscape.
The sooner both lairds could escape his border, the better.
At the cost of a handful of horses, it was a loss Gerald would willingly take.
“I wish ye didnae have to go,” Mollie sobbed, holding her new friends in a long, tight embrace.
“It’s all right, Mollie,” Rosie whimpered. “Yer new Da will make sure those bad people?—”
Duncan cleared his throat loudly, causing Rosie to pause.
“Um … I mean,” Rosie shook her head, insistent on giving her new friend a reassuring smile. “It willnae be long before we can play again.”
“Aye!” Bonnie agreed with tears in her eyes. “And me sister said ye can come to our castle next time! I can show ye me room, and ye can meet Lyall, and Flyn, and Grannie Isla, and …”
The trio went on for another few minutes, excitedly planning their next adventures as their deerhounds eagerly wagged their tails in anticipation. Gerald couldn’t help but sigh quietly, receiving knowing looks from both Duncan and Hector.
It had been his choice to keep Carswell’s arrival a secret from Mollie—the poor child didn’t need to be frightened over a man who would soon be dead, after all.
Aileen soon placed Mollie on her hip, allowing her a higher vantage to watch the lairds and ladies ride away.
And as Mollie continued to wave goodbye to her friends, he caught the brief flicker of disappointment that crossed his wife’s expression.
Clearly, she hadn’t approved of keeping such a major secret from her sister.
Nothing about this made any sense to Aileen. She tried her best to concentrate on her sewing, but the fabric felt all wrong in her hands, the needle dull and frustratingly impossible to work with.
She’d barely finished her first stitch before giving up completely, setting her project aside before slouching into her armchair. The keep was a flurry of activity after the lairds and ladies had departed, with Gerald completely unavailable as he prepared for the oncoming battle.
A battle she could not fathom Carswell ever starting in the first place.
It was a fight with the major lairds that had forced her out of his keep in the first place, and yet it was a fight he was willingly starting after learning of her marriage.
Aileen had always seen Laird Carswell as a shrewd man, one who was cautious with his territory and the enemies he made.
And yet, he treated this situation as if he were still a young man, scrambling for land in an attempt to appear stronger than he was.
It simply made no sense, especially if he were willing to kill himself over her.
Aileen found herself staring at the flickering hearth, her mind as twisted as the flames within.
She wanted to stay out of Gerald’s way, to give him the space to prepare for a fight spurred on by her.
Yet, as she sequestered herself and Mollie to one of the many sitting rooms, Aileen felt as if she should be doing so much more.
“I’m the Lady of MacLiddel, for goodness’ sake,” she grumbled. “I should be organizing the servants, or checking the stores in case of a siege.” She wanted to do anything— anything —but be an obstacle to push aside.
But this is what she deserved, wasn’t it?
Aileen replayed that morning’s meal over and over in her head, wincing at her childish behavior toward her supposed husband.
It took all she had to reassure the other ladies that all was well, that Gerald was a kind and gracious husband, and that it was she who was feeling uncertain about their relationship.
It was her first day married—of course, she would be uncertain as to how a lady should act. Her anger in the wood cellar bubbled up to the front of her mind, knotting in her stomach and sending waves of shame across her body.
Aileen sighed, glancing at Mollie as she lay out across the ground beside Bannock, practicing her letters with a thick piece of charcoal.
Part of her wondered if, perhaps, she should have sent her sister with one of the lairds.
If Mollie would truly be safe with such a terrifying threat coming their way.
She had told Mollie of Carswell’s arrival, of course.
Gerald’s insistence on keeping her sister in the dark was an order Aileen simply couldn’t follow through with.
So, once Gerald had long since left to prepare for war, she explained the situation to her sister. That Carswell was coming back, that he was angry with Gerald for marrying her, and he wanted to take Aileen away.
“Leelee?” Mollie glanced up from her work, her eyes still red and puffy from the tears shed after her new friends left. “Is … is Gerald goin’ to beat Laird Carswell?”
“Of course he will, love,” Aileen reassured.
“Gerald wouldnae let anything bad happen to us. He promised, remember?” The words rang so hollow in Aileen’s chest, and Mollie seemed to immediately pick up on it.
Her lower lip quivered, her gaze falling back to her paper.
Tears began to stain the charcoal scribblings, and Aileen suddenly found her poor sister breaking down completely.
“Oh, Mollie,” Aileen moved to embrace her sister, only for Bannock to snap at her irritably.
She then shifted her head to try to lick the poor girl’s face, and Aileen felt her heart crumple in her chest. No longer was her indecision simply affecting her.
Now, poor Mollie was suffering from Aileen’s lack of action.
Her fists tightened at her side, and Aileen suddenly stood from her chair, a fire stirring in her chest to finally take action at last.
“Mollie.” Aileen forced a brilliant smile across her face. “Why daenae we go outside and find some flowers? I heard the maids keep a patch of land covered from the snow. We could fill the castle with flowers, help keep everyone’s morale up with something pretty to look at.”
Immediately, Mollie’s expression brightened considerably. Both of them needed to do something more substantial to feel at ease.
She scrambled to her feet and grabbed her sister’s hand, and Aileen allowed herself to be pulled out from the sitting room and back into the chaos of the castle. Enough was enough. Even if the timing wasn’t perfect, she was going to resolve things with Gerald once and for all.
It was well into the afternoon when both Aileen and Mollie finally emerged from the garden scape. They’d managed to pluck several wildflowers and pretty-looking vines, with the maids more than happy to supply vases to aid in their endeavor.
Sarah seemed especially thrilled, somehow knowing full well what Aileen was working up toward. Even Ms. Blair, typically tight-lipped and stone-faced, offered a soft expression at Mollie as she excitedly showcased her haul.
As they filled the castle with their collection, Aileen forced their path toward Gerald’s study, knowing that her husband would have to pass by it eventually.
The pair of them crossed his door, and she couldn’t help but grimace as it stood wide open, allowing anyone and everyone to peer inside.
“Seems the latch is still broken,” Aileen noted awkwardly.
“He should fix it,” Mollie added matter-of-factly, with Bannock growling in agreement.
“Well, I’m certain he’s been quite busy as of late,” Aileen said. “He’s had to make his home pleasant to live in for us, and now with Carswell on his way?—”
“Oh, me gosh, Leelee! Look at that!” Mollie nearly dropped her armful of flowers as she stumbled into the study, Bannock tumbling after as she tripped over several books and papers.
“Mollie!” Aileen followed after in a panic, though she noted the unusually messy exterior in the back of her mind. Gerald truly had to be under immense pressure if he allowed his inner sanctum to be left in such a state. “Mollie, ye cannae simply barge into someone’s private space!”
“But look, look!” Mollie shifted her grasp on her flowers, freeing her hand to point at the woman’s face carved along the bookshelf. “It’s ye, Leelee! Gerald’s carved ye into the shelf!”
Aileen smiled awkwardly. “Oh, nay, love. That’s meant to be the divine hag of winter.”
“Nay, look!” Mollie pointed beneath the carving’s cheek, indicating what looked to be a small mole beneath her eye. Aileen’s hand covered the same mark on her face, her heart practically skipping a beat.
It had been days since she’d last seen the carving—Gerald insisted it was meant to be Cailleach—but the longer she stared at the wooden visage, the more certain she became.
The spacing of her eyes, the curl of her hair, the mark under her eye.
There were simply too many specific details for it to be anything else but …
“What are ye two doin’ in here?”