Page 35 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

A ileen left after lunchtime, wanting to ensure Mollie had a large, home-cooked meal before the long trip back to MacGunn. She sat atop her Clydesdale—a gift from her husband, upon his insistence—watching as her sister gave Gerald hug after hug goodbye.

It seemed his earlier coldness toward her had melted away completely, going as far as to finally pick the girl up and embrace her tightly. She whispered something in his ear and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, the exact place where Aileen had bestowed her own.

Gerald carried Mollie over, helping her onto the front of Aileen’s saddle.

Aileen, in turn, leaned forward to cover her sister with as much of her cloak as possible.

She wondered if, perhaps, Gerald would attempt to grasp her hand, but her husband made no such attempt. “Safe travels,” he offered instead.

Aileen could only manage a nod, and with a tug of the reins, her small party set off into the winter lands.

She’d almost forgotten how warm summertime could truly be.

As Aileen traveled south through the Highlands, the constant presence of snow slowly melted away as greenery filled the land.

Birds twittered loudly overhead as they wove between the foliage of the forests, trotted across the sweet-smelling grasses of the rolling hills, all while the sun warmed their backs.

“It’s too hot,” Mollie complained softly.

Bannock seemed to agree, panting loudly as she trotted beside their steed.

Aileen offered a reassuring pat on her back and as reassuring a smile as she could manage. “It’s only a few more hours now, Mollie.”

Mollie didn’t seem keen about the answer.

Aileen’s nose wrinkled; the heavy silence that hung between them was unfamiliar, and she cleared her throat, putting on an overly honeyed tone for her sister’s sake. “Are ye excited to be headed back to our old home?”

Mollie shrugged weakly.

“I ken I’ll have some work to do while we’re there,” Aileen continued.

“But I’m certain Bannock will be wonderful company.

And, daenae forget that Sarah’s accompanied us, so ye three can all make mischief while I’m stuck behind a desk.

” She thought she sounded playful, but Mollie hardly seemed to react.

Aileen sighed lightly, her hands gripping the reins of her horse.

Perhaps her sister was simply tired from the ride and not interested in conversation.

And perhaps that was simply an excuse to make Aileen feel better.

Dusk painted the sky a rich purple when their horses finally arrived at MacGunn’s front gate.

Even in the twilight, Aileen could make out a dozen or so makeshift graves scattered around the keep’s outer territory, with a handful of men continuing to dig more pits for the pile of shaded bodies.

She ensured her cloak obscured Mollie’s sight, focusing on the main gates as they quickly rose for her homecoming.

Much to her surprise, the courtyard was filled with clan folk, all clapping and cheering for her arrival.

It was, admittedly, an unusual sight. Aileen couldn’t say she entirely hated it.

“Me Lady!” A familiar guard approached her horse, offering a hearty bow and a grateful smile.

“Thank goodness ye’re here; we were beginning to worry our letter hadn’t reached ye.

” He glanced around her, eyeing the other horses as warriors from MacLiddel trotted past. “Where is the Laird, if I may inquire?”

Aileen offered a light, controlled smile. “He had to remain at the northern keep, unfortunately. We were assaulted by Carswell as well. He sends his regards, but kens ye understand the importance of rebuilding the MacLiddel keep as well.”

There was a brief flicker of disappointment, but the guard was quick to correct himself. “Nay, of course, me Lady. We’re grateful ye made the ride at all. Please, allow me to care for yer horse; the council awaits inside to brief ye of the damages.”

Aileen nodded, gently setting a hand on Mollie’s shoulder. “Mollie, love, ye stay with Sarah while I handle some affairs.”

“All right, Leelee.”

Gracious, but her voice sounded so lifeless. As Aileen watched the guard help her sister to the ground, she swore to find Mollie later and get to the bottom of things.

If Gerald had wished it, he could have remained inside his study for the rest of his life. He had taken the week since their departure to clean it meticulously, removing every trace of Aileen or Mollie’s presence. All but the bookshelf, of course.

There had been moments when, with a knife in hand, Gerald considered gouging into the wood once more—destroying the careful detailing of snowflakes and woodland animals he had carved so painstakingly, destroying even his wife’s face, her melancholy gaze downcast and as mournful as he felt in his heart.

Gerald sighed, setting the letter he’d attempted to read aside. Everyone had made it safely home without incident—the MacDonnells, the MacKimmons, the Marsdens—with an abundance of pictures sent from both Bonnie and Rosie addressed to Mollie.

Those he’d tucked carefully in his desk drawer, on top of the multiple requests from the other Ladies for a visitation.

They wrote of tea parties and cèilidhs, insisting to replay their gracious hostess.

All were stored away, in a desperate hope that Gerald could deliver them to their recipients by hand.

Another sigh escaped him as he stood from his chair, crossing toward the shelves for a bottle of whisky.

Before he could uncork it, a knock sounded at his door …

followed soon after by the door itself gently swinging open.

He half-expected Rory to be standing on the other side; the man had come far more often than usual, looking as depressed as Gerald felt.

There were days his man-at-arms didn’t have any news to report; he simply sat in a nearby chair, drinking an offered cup while lamenting the loss of his own lady.

“I daenae think I can hear anymore about Miss Sarah,” Gerald groaned.

“I havenae heard any negative reports about the lass, so I daresay ye’ll hear nothing of the sort from me.”

Gerald turned quickly, startled to see Ms. Blair standing outside his door. She patiently stood, waiting for an invitation, the hard lines on her face as constant as ever. “Ah. Ye may come in, Ms. Blair.”

She nodded curtly, stepping beneath the doorway as she eyed the latch. “Ye havenae fixed it, yet.”

“Havenae had the time,” Gerald replied.

Her expression made her thoughts obvious. ‘Such a terrible liar ye are, me Laird’ . But Ms. Blair kept her thoughts to herself, much to Gerald’s relief. Instead, she crossed the room with another stack of letters in her hands. “More invitations for her ladyship, when she returns.”

Gerald poured himself a serving of whisky, suddenly uninterested in the conversation.

“And one from the lady herself,” Ms. Blair added.

Whisky spilled over the side of the bottle as Gearld nearly lost his grip. He quickly snatched the letter out of his housekeeper’s hand, clutching it tightly before remembering his manners. “Thank ye, Ms. Blair.” He glanced the letter over, noting the pre-broken seal. “Ms. Blair?”

“It’s me job as housekeeper to ensure all letters are worth yer time, me Laird,” Ms. Blair replied smoothly.

Gerald made a slight grimace. It felt good, he realized, to express something after a week’s worth of apathy. “What did she write, Ms. Blair?”

Ms. Blair cleared her throat, clearly pleased to make such a report. “She reports good progress at MacGunn’s, with the people integrating well beneath their new banner. She has noted their respectful attitudes and their willingness to obey her instructions.”

“As they should,” Gerald growled. It was about time those cowards gave her the attention she deserved.

“While she’s been kept busy with work, she noted that Sarah has put a great emphasis on Mollie’s schooling,” Ms. Blair went on. “Her reading comprehension has increased greatly, and at the bottom of the letter, ye’ll find a few words handwritten by Mollie herself.”

Gerald quickly glanced down the page, catching sight of the inclusion of chicken scratch beneath Aileen’s impeccable penmanship. Decoding it would take time, but it still filled his chest with pride.

“Mollie continues to train Bannock, though she has lamented that she cannae throw the stick as far as the Laird can. And …”

It was unusual to hear Ms. Blair hesitate. “And?” Gerald asked.

“And … the Lady writes of how wonderful a young lady Mollie is becoming. How she continues to show generosity and love to all, even amidst those of MacGunn, who still reject her.”

Ouch. “Ye daenae have to make it so obvious,” Gerald chuckled bitterly.

“Would ye request me to do otherwise, me Laird?”

No. If Ms. Blair was anything, she was brutally honest. A trait that had kept her employed for decades. Gerald honestly couldn’t see a future without her in charge. “May I make something obvious, Ms. Blair?”

She nodded curtly. “Though, I suspect I ken what ye wish to make obvious, me Laird.”

“Do ye, now?” More laughter erupted from Gerald, though it felt more genuine this time. “Suppose ye ken from the start how much I fancied the lass, then?”

Another curt nod, though a hint of warmth entered the old woman’s voice. “Ye have been carryin’ a great burden for many years, me Laird. Though I cannae claim to ken what the late Laird would say, I couldnae imagine such a great man would wish to inflict such pain upon his own kin.”

The statement hit him harder than expected.

Never once had Gerald considered any other option, but …

Ms. Blair was right. Ewan was a phenomenal man, a brother he was proud to look up to and model himself after.

If the roles had been reversed—if Gerald had been born the eldest, had died in battle—he couldn’t imagine being at peace, knowing Ewan was sabotaging his future on mere assumptions.

“Is … love supposed to hurt so much, Ms. Blair?”

A rare, gentle smile crossed Ms. Blair’s lips.

She grasped at a necklace tucked beneath her gown—a locket, Gerald realized.

One he’d never noticed before. “There is nae a day I daenae miss me own husband, me Laird. I lie awake in a bed far too big for meself alone, soothin’ the ache in me heart. But …”

She blinked, producing a small linen from her pocket as she dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I wouldnae change a thing. The pain reminds me how much he meant to me, and I’m grateful for all the time we had together.”

Time. Gods, he had wasted so much time. Gerald immediately stood from his chair, his whisky glass left untouched and abandoned. “Ms. Blair, inform Rory that he will be in charge for a few weeks. I have to ride for MacGunn, depart as soon as possible.”

A knowing grin crossed Ms. Blair’s face. “Yer horse has been prepared and supplies packed, me Laird. Ye may leave immediately, should ye desire.”

He did desire it. As Gerald rounded his desk, he paused before his housekeeper, hesitated, then brought her in for a tight hug. “I couldnae ask for a better housekeeper. Thank ye, Ms. Blair, for always caring for me.”

A startled noise escaped the older woman, and for a moment, she was uncertain what to do with her arms. But eventually, she wrapped them around Gerald’s frame, a light sniffle escaping her. “Of course, me Laird. I will always be here for ye.”