Page 29 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)
O nce tea was brewed and everyone joined together within one of the sitting rooms, Gerald found himself unable to focus on the idle conversation being held between his guests.
Mollie had taken her tea elsewhere in the castle, still obviously embarrassed at her slip of the tongue, and Aileen had insisted that she would be all right and simply needed the space.
And, though he was determined to abide by his wife’s request, Gerald found himself desperate to track down Mollie and clarify that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Those mistakes happened, and she shouldn’t feel shame for seeing him as a fatherly figure.
He stared down into his cup, contemplating the thought further.
He truly didn’t mind the mistake, and the realization pulled Gerald in conflicting directions.
He was never meant to be anyone’s father, and yet, the moment that word had tumbled out of Mollie’s mouth, it had simply felt right for her to say it.
Da … how could one, simple word send him into such a spiral?
“Gerald, did ye hear me?”
Gerald blinked, looking across the settee to his questioning wife. She offered a curious smile in return, glancing down at his cup.
“Perhaps I made a blend the Laird doesnae like?” Olivia spoke, sipping her drink and nestled against her husband.
“Why would he keep tea he doesnae like in his own keep?” Arthur asked, only to receive a furrowed brow in reply from his wife. Instead, he took a long drink from his own cup, allowing Olivia to handle whatever unspoken goal she had set out to accomplish.
“Aileen, ye should take the Laird to the kitchen and make a proper cup. I would hate for the chill to sink too deeply into his bones,” Olivia mused.
That was the most ridiculous statement Gerald had ever heard. He’d lived all his life amidst the chill; his bones were practically made of ice. But before he could open his mouth to say otherwise, Aileen offered a nod and stood, her hand out to receive her husband’s cup.
“I can carry it,” he insisted, rising as well before the pair left under the sitting room’s doorway. They stepped down the hall in lingering quiet, Gerald eyeing his wife curiously. Now that they were alone, he could finally see what Olivia must have seen. Aileen clearly had something on her mind.
“Would ye like to share yer thoughts with me?” Gerald asked.
Aileen found his gaze, those soft, brown eyes of hers swirling with golden contemplation. She hesitated for a moment longer, inhaling deeply before simply firing off the question she’d clearly been sitting on for quite some time. “Why do ye nae want me to give ye an heir?”
If Gerald had a mouthful of tea, he was certain he’d have spat it out there and then. He stopped in place, causing Aileen to do the same, allowing the bluntness of her question to settle in his head. “I … where did that come from?”
Aileen’s face immediately flushed brightly. “I just … ye’re so good with Mollie, and every laird demands an heir to secure his clan when he passes on. Yet the subject between us hasnae ever been …” Her voice trailed off, awkwardly staring at the painting hanging behind Gerald’s head.
He couldn’t help himself, offering her a teasing smile before musing aloud, “For one who denied any form of physical contact, ye certainly have been rather forward. If ye truly wish to give me an heir, I wouldnae complain.”
It certainly worked. Aileen’s attention was back on him, but Gerald realized too late what he had just said. For someone wanting little to do with a wife, he was certainly quick to propose consummation. He cleared his throat loudly, trying his best to regain control of the conversation.
“I cannae explain why Mollie adores me so. I’ve had little experience with them; a world overrun with war isnae a proper place for them.
Perhaps, if me brither had the chance to wed …
” He stopped himself immediately, clearing his throat even louder than before.
“What brought this on? Was it Mollie’s slip of the tongue? ”
Aileen partially nodded, though she didn’t seem fully committed to that reasoning.
“I suppose I’ve been thinking about it for a while, now.
When I heard of Carswell’s attack … it made me think of what me life may have been like, had he nae called off our wedding.
How eager he may have seemed to have me with his child …
if, perhaps, that’s all he would have seen me good for. ”
The thought burned Gerald in a way he hadn’t expected.
“So, I suppose it’s a bit off-putting,” Aileen continued softly. “That ye daenae have similar ambitions for me. That, seemingly, ye daenae wish for an heir of yer own.”
“Ye sayin’ Mollie wouldnae be good enough to run the clan?”
Aileen nearly choked on her own spit. Had she just heard him correctly?
Her husband had spoken in such a hushed tone, but—no, he couldn’t have just said that.
She could believe Mollie would make the mistake of calling Gerald her faither—that made perfect sense, especially given her sister’s age and lack of paternal figure in her life—but the Laird of MacLiddel had just openly admitted that a child not of his own blood could rule.
No, more than that. He’d suggested that the youngest of Marcus’ siblings could do it, without any regard to the deceased laird’s traitorous acts. That he’d break a long-standing tradition of male heirs, of a male leader, for Mollie’s sake. It was unheard of—she had to have been mistaken.
But no; even now, as she looked to Gerald for a sign, his expression was anything but regretful.
Surprised, perhaps, that he’d openly said such a thing to her, but he didn’t seem to want to take it back.
There was a part of him that may be wrestling with the idea—that wasn’t expecting such willingness in the first place—but he wasn’t trying to take it back.
And that alone meant more to Aileen than anything he’d done previously. To trust her sister … to trust herself with the future of his clan … was he really beginning to see her as more than a contractual obligation?
Aileen didn’t have the chance to ask any further, though. Before she could even open her mouth, the clattering of footsteps echoed throughout the hall, bringing forth a dozen or so kinsfolk armed to the teeth.
Rory trailed behind them, the majority of his bandages gone and only a few faded scars left to add to his overall collection. His eyes briefly met Aileen’s, then swiveled to Gerald. In that brief moment between them, Aileen knew exactly what he was going to say.
“Carswell approaches the main gates, me Laird. It’s time.”
Gerald nodded, the warmth from his face reduced to ice as his voice became akin to a growl. “Have the men stand by until I arrive. If we’re lucky, the fools will realize how outmatched he is and turn tail.”
Aileen doubted such conflict could be resolved so easily, but she wanted nothing more than to believe in her husband’s words.
“Aileen,” Gerald’s hand suddenly found hers, filling her chest with a fluttering warmth. “I need ye to ensure all members of staff are within the walls. Have Olivia help ye find them, and tell Arthur to meet me at the keep’s main gate.”
“Aye,” Aileen answered breathlessly. She watched as Gerald took off down the hall after Rory, joining the swarm of warriors ready to lay their lives on the line for the safety of the clan.
Meanwhile, she backtracked toward the sitting room, warning whoever she passed to return to their quarters and alert any others they came across.
When she did finally stumble through the doorway, the MacDonnells were already on their feet, Arthur preparing his cloak while Olivia helped to fasten it against his chest.
“Carswell,” Aileen managed to gasp out, finding herself more out of breath than she realized.
“Aye, lass. We heard footsteps pass us by just now.” Arthur placed a quick kiss on his wife’s lips, then turned to pass Aileen by. “Where’d Gerald want me?”
“Top of the main gate,” Aileen replied.
As he hurried past, Oliva approached next, her expression far more serious than Aileen was used to.
This must have been what a real lady was like in dire situations.
Olivia looked ready to do whatever it took to keep everyone safe—she looked prepared to kill someone, if she had to.
Aileen couldn’t help but feel inferior to such a bold, confident woman.
“Aileen, focus,” Olivia ordered. “This is yer keep and yer people to protect. What will ye have me do?”
Her keep. Right, she was a lady as well. Aileen exhaled the breath she’d been unintentionally holding, tightening her fists at her side as her mind settled into her new role. “I need to ensure the servants are within the walls. If ye can.”
“I’ll do as ye command,” Olivia clarified.
Aileen nodded, changing her wording. “I need ye to find Nathan and ensure the hounds are ready. We daenae ken how many men Carswell brought, and though I trust in the strength of me kinfolk, there is nay need to waste any advantage we have.”
Olivia nodded dutifully, the faintest hint of a proud smile crossing her lips.
“And …” Her eyes suddenly widened, a terrifying thought crossing her mind. “Mollie! I daenae ken where Mollie is. I have to find her.”
“Go. Find her and the other servants. I’ll ensure me task is completed.
” As Olivia passed Aileen, she offered a comforting hand against her shoulder before speeding down the hall.
Aileen, meanwhile, did her best to remain level-headed, forcing herself to believe that Mollie was still within the walls, that she was safe.
Gerald is relying on me to take care of everyone. It’s nae only Mollie who needs me.
Even so, she couldn’t help but start her search near the east wing, where Mollie’s and her rooms resided.