Page 34 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

B reakfast the next morning was a melancholy affair.

Aileen hardly touched her own plate, feeling no need to hide her malaise with Mollie still fast asleep in bed.

Gerald sat across from her with a similarly full plate, trying to catch her gaze every so often between lulls of conversation.

She couldn’t make herself meet his eyes, and instead kept hers forward on their guests.

“It’s a miracle the hounds hardly had a scratch on them,” Olivia said.

“Aye, but that’s the magic of a talented hounds master,” Arthur teased, ribbing Nathan as the man-at-arms tried not to choke on his drink.

“Ye flatter me, me Laird,” Nathan coughed, setting his goblet aside. “But I daenae think the hounds would’ve fared as well if MacLiddel’s men werenae so fierce.”

The MacDonnells expectedly turned to look at Gerald.

Aileen didn’t follow suit. Olivia seemed to notice first, gently brushing her hair over her shoulder in an attempt to catch Aileen’s attention.

She did look up, but at Olivia’s worried frown, Aileen simply shook her head.

“Ye’ll be headed out soon, aye?” she asked instead.

“As soon as all our supplies are loaded up,” Arthur replied through a mouthful of eggs.

“And with those magnificent steeds of yers, we’ll make it back to the shores in nay time!

Suppose I could convince ye to let us keep a few, what with us being such a big help and all?

” he added a boisterous laugh after the fact, clearly not serious with his demands.

“They’re yers to keep,” Gerald said.

Whatever light atmosphere the MacDonnells had attempted to foster was immediately snuffed out.

Arthur offered one more chuckle, then returned to his plate, eyeing his wife with a furrowed brow.

She simply rested her hand against his shoulder, once more casting a worried look Aileen’s way.

But Aileen didn’t have the energy anymore to express herself, and went back to stirring her fork amidst the mushy mess on her plate.

When it came time for the MacDonnells to leave, Aileen stood stiffly at her husband’s side, bidding their allies goodbye and safe travels.

Mollie had been roused at this point, and she eagerly hugged and kissed each and every one of the hounds, whispering a quiet thanks for all they’d done.

Bannock, uncharacteristically, sat patiently beside Aileen, her front leg no longer bandaged as she offered the occasional gruff yip toward the pack.

Olivia pulled Aileen into one more tight hug, whispering into her ear as she did so. “Are ye all right, hen?”

As she pulled away, Aileen could only offer a nod. It was far easier to lie than try to explain the emptiness inside her.

“See ye around, Gerald,” Arthur said, offering his fellow laird a firm handshake. “And daenae worry about writing to the others about Carswell. I’ll make sure it’s handled. Wouldnae want ye tryin’ to take all the glory for yerself, aye?”

Gerald offered a cold nod of his own, dampening Arthur’s smile immediately. He offered an arm to his wife and, with a quick boost onto her silvery-dappled horse, the MacDonnells set off from the main gate, the hooves of their horses leaving a trail of deep tracks behind them.

After watching them for a long moment, Mollie suddenly spoke up. “Do ye think they can come back for a visit?”

Aileen glanced her husband’s way, but he did not look at her. With a gentle sigh, she knelt down and lifted Mollie onto her hip, doing her best to offer as genuine a smile as she could. “We’ll have to see, Mollie. It’s a big job, cleaning up after a fight.”

“They could’ve helped us clean up,” Mollie pointed out. “And I wanted Nathan to teach me more.” She turned to Gerald, outstretching a hand to tug on his cloak. “Gerald, can we write again so?—?”

Gerald shifted his shoulder away from Mollie, turning his back to the pair as he trudged back to the castle. The little girl blinked, looking back at Aileen with a tearfully hurt expression.

“He …” Aileen bit her lip, pulling Mollie closer to her side.

“He has a lot of thoughts in his mind, love. Daenae fret. He still cares a great deal for ye.” The reassurance felt like ash against her tongue, and as she moved to head back into the castle, Aileen wondered if this was to become the new normal.

Outcast once more by those she thought of as her family, trapped in a stranger’s keep, where love was entirely absent.

He shouldn’t have done that. Gerald knew that well, had screamed in his mind not to move away from Mollie’s outstretched hand. Yet he did it all the same, and now, as he sat alone in his study, the weight of his past actions finally began to crush him.

Regret skittered across his thoughts like insects, biting and stinging with a venom poisoned by bitter hindsight. He had it all: a loving wife, a little girl who idolized him entirely—and Gerald had finally pushed too hard against them.

His attention lingered against the bookshelf, eyeing the details of the woman’s carved face.

It was undoubtedly Aileen now, from the slight crinkle of her brow to the dimples that formed whenever she smiled.

It felt as if he’d started the project a lifetime ago, brought on by a destructive anger for the last person he’d been as open and honest with. At least, until he’d met Aileen.

Someone knocked on his door, and, as expected now, it swung open. Rory grimaced as he stared at the knob. “Still havenae fixed the latch, I see?”

Gerald gave him a withering glare.

“Right … sorry.” Rory did his best to close the door behind him, slipping what looked to be a missive out from within his robe. “A letter came from Marcus’ … MacGunn’s main keep.”

Gerald couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He extended his arm, grasping the letter as he noticed the seal had already been broken.

“Ah, it was nae me,” Rory insisted. “I passed her ladyship in the hall. She wished to ken what was going on in her old territory, and I didnae have a reason to deny her request.”

Gerald nodded, unfolding the message as he gave it a brief skim.

His arm twinged slightly from the action, and as he continued to read, a headache began to bloom alongside it.

“Seems Carswell had a touch more sense than I thought. He had a small section of his men strike against MacGunn’s keep as well. ”

“And?” Rory asked, clearly intrigued.

Gerald crumpled the note in his hands, tossing the paper to the ground. “They handled it well enough. A bit of a mess to clean up after, and they’re requesting I come and offer a hand.”

A snort escaped from Rory’s throat. “Awful bold of them, ye think?”

“Suppose I am in charge of their safekeeping,” Gerald grumbled, audibly annoyed. As if he needed any further problems to deal with.

“Oh.”

Gerald glanced up, brow raising as his man-at-arms’ expression shifted to one of realization. “What?”

Rory suddenly grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “That … did they specifically request ye by name?”

It took a beat before Gerald reached the same conclusion. His chair nearly crashed to the ground with how quickly he stood, storming across the study and nearly taking Rory to the ground.

Gerald whipped through his door and took off down the hall, his pace increasing alongside the tight panic in his chest. “Nay, she couldn’t possibly try something like that, could she?”

He reached Mollie’s room in record time, not bothering to knock before throwing the door open.

It banged loudly against the stony wall, causing Aileen to jump and nearly drop a partially folded gown in her hands.

Various clothes had been laid out across the bed and chairs, with a smaller packed bag set beside an empty closet.

“Ye are leaving,” he growled, unable to hold back his dark scowl.

Aileen stood stiffly in place, and for a moment, Gerald wondered if his wife was considering lying to his face. But her expression shifted as she exhaled, curtly turning back to another open bag set on top of a chair. “I didnae wish to disturb yer work.”

“Is that yer best excuse?” Gerald spat.

Aileen’s face hardened, those usually warm eyes as cold as the ground in wintertime.

“It’s nay an excuse. Ye have this keep to put back in workin’ order.

Ye hardly have the time to offer aid to me traitorous brother’s keep.

” She stuffed the gown into the bag, undoing her folding work before tightening the drawstring.

“I am the Lady of MacLiddel and a MacGunn by blood. It’s a job clearly meant for me. ”

She tried to move across the room, only for Gerald to step across and block her path. An irritated huff escaped her, and she attempted to move around him. “Daenae be so childish,” Aileen said.

“Takes one to ken one,” Gerald snapped.

A spark of rage flashed across Aileen’s eyes, and she darted to escape him.

In return, Gerald’s hand snapped out, grasping around her waist before forcefully pulling her in.

Panic slipped out from Aileen’s throat, and she shoved violently against Gerald’s chest, her breath hitching in her chest. The moment he felt his wife begin to tremble, Gerald immediately released his hold, taking a handful of steps away.

“I’m sorry,” Gerald apologized. He allowed Aileen to step around him, watched as she collected the scarce number of mementos she had brought with her to his keep. Her shoulders hunched terribly, her body still visibly trembling; he could feel his soul tighten terribly in his chest. “Aileen.”

“I will always be grateful to ye, husband.” She fought to keep her tone even, fought to keep the obvious sob out of her voice.

Aileen’s back remained turned, cradling a small, patchwork doll in her hands.

Gerald had never noticed it before; could it have been something from her own childhood?

He realized, there and then, how little he really knew about Aileen, how much of a distance he’d truly kept from her.

“I will always be grateful … but I cannae do this anymore.”

Gerald’s heart sank; he didn’t want to hear the rest of her words, but Aileen continued.

“I spent me life before this unloved and unseen. And when I came here, I made a promise to finally start carin’ for meself. Put in as much effort for me as I would with Mollie.” She finally managed to face him, tear-stained and wearing a smile so bitter, Gerald could taste it.

“I … I daenae think I will ever fall out of love with ye, dear husband. But this is nay marriage … and I daenae wish to pretend it is, anymore. What small scraps of love ye offer—it’s nay right of me to cling and hope it will ever be more.”

She stepped across the room, pausing—hesitating—as she crossed his path.

Gerald leaned forward, desperate to catch her in a kiss, but he remained still, the weight of his brother’s spirit pressing against his shoulders.

This is what he deserved, after all. He took this from Ewan, and Aileen shouldn’t be dragged into this punishment with him.

And yet even as the thought passed his mind, Gerald still found his will weaken as his wife delivered a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Goodbye, Gerald. I will write to you about me progress at MacGunn diligently.” And that was it. That was all his wife had to offer before stepping out of the room, gently closing the door behind and leaving Gerald amidst her packing.