Page 4 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

A ileen would have cursed there and then if she wasn’t terrified of further giving her position away. She did her best not to hurt Mollie, covering her panicked squeal with a hand as soon as she’d cried out.

But the man—the stranger—had already picked up on their presence, and soon began to circle Marcus’ study, sword hilt grasped and at the ready.

Her mind went completely blank, exhaustion and hunger making it hard to focus.

What on earth was she supposed to do against this man?

Even if she wasn’t starving, the fight was wildly scaled against her.

The man’s steps drew closer. Through the crack of the wardrobe, Aileen watched as the warrior’s sword drew upright, his hand reaching for the knob.

She pressed her back against the wardrobe, pulling Mollie behind her to the best of her ability.

This had been a terrible idea; she should never have come back to the keep.

The moment she saw the flames, the rioters, the death and destruction, Aileen should have known it wasn’t safe. But they had been traveling for weeks, their scavenged food all but non-existent. She’d been so dizzy, she hadn’t been thinking straight. Now Mollie was going to pay for her weakness.

If he ran them through, could she fully stop the sword with her chest?

If he slashed across, could she push Mollie down quickly enough?

And if he didn’t want to kill them right away …

if his mind was far more creative than simply offering death?

Everything blurred and swirled in her head, the touch of Mollie’s face all that kept Aileen from losing herself completely.

The moment the man’s hands grasped the wardrobe’s knob, Aileen’s body tensed, ready for whatever was to come. But instead of the doors being thrown open, she watched as a dark shade crashed into the stranger, taking him to the ground with a snarling growl.

“Bannock!” With whatever strength she had left, Aileen barreled out of the wardrobe, using the door to slam against the man’s face for further damage.

He staggered back, hitting Marcus’ work desk as Bannock’s teeth clamped tightly around his arm.

His sword clattered to the ground, his fist curling as he tried to shake the massive black deerhound off, trying to pry her jaws open and free himself.

Snaking her arm around Mollie’s waist, Aileen made a mad dash for the door, keeping her hands firmly wrapped around the child as she could finally scream out in protest.

“Bannock, go back! Leelee! Go back!”

Aileen ignored her sister, grasping the door’s handle while shifting Mollie’s weight under her arm.

“Leelee!”

She blinked back tears at Bannock’s pained whine, finally managing to yank the door open.

But she wasn’t fully ready for the weight shift, and suddenly, Mollie squirmed free from her grasp.

She took off across the room, her arms outstretched toward Bannock as the man tried to shake the deerhound free from his arm.

“Mollie!”

“Daenae hurt Bannock, ye bully!”

Gerald barely had time to register Marcus’ face as it suddenly appeared beside him. At this point, the hellish hound released its grip on his arm, bounding back and standing before Marcus with bloody and frothed spit dripping between its fangs.

Marcus—no, it wasn’t him. She was too young—she was a she —but it truly was like seeing the ghost of the man he once called a friend.

Gerald cradled his arm close to his chest, unable to stop himself from staring at the flush-faced child.

Did Marcus have a daughter? He’d never been married—or was this simply another lie to add to the ever-growing list?

He quite suddenly found his own sword pointed at his face. As his eyes trailed to the thief, Gerald found himself somewhat taken aback. The woman had to hold the weapon with both hands, trembling and dangerously thin, as if she were merely a walking skeleton playing pretend.

Even with her gaunt appearance, he found himself taken in by the way she held herself, the glimmer of determination in her soft brown eyes.

The three of them were almost … otherworldly.

As if Gerald had somehow stumbled upon a troupe of fair folk crossing through, only to have gotten completely turned around within MacGunn’s keep.

“Stay back,” the woman demanded, though her shaking voice and hoarse tone hardly registered as a threat.

Gerald raised his uninjured arm, leaning as far as he could away from the sword’s point.

She watched him like a wild animal pinned in the corner.

If she wanted to, Gerald was certain she might’ve managed to get in a hit before he took her down.

Not that he wanted the encounter to end in bloodshed. “I’m nae goin’ to hurt ye, lass.”

The woman scoffed, swaying slightly. God, but she was so thin. The girl hiding behind the nightmarish beast didn’t fare any better, though she only seemed dirty and cold. Perhaps not well-fed, but certainly faring better than the woman was.

“I’m nae goin’ to hurt ye,” Gerald repeated softly. “Ye have me sword and yer beast has wounded me arm. I’m hardly in a position to fight back.”

That seemed to grant some reassurance to the woman. Not enough for her to lower his sword, but if he kept talking, Gerald was certain she’d pass out soon enough.

“Ye tried to hurt Bannock,” the little girl sobbed.

“Mollie,” the woman hissed.

“I … I didnae want ye to hurt her.” Mollie poked her head out from behind the deerhound’s frame, though the beast shifted herself in an attempt to block the girl from view. Mollie persisted, stepping out from behind the dog as the woman tried to block her.

“Yer beast gave me a bit of a fright,” Gerald admitted. “I just tried shakin’ her free; she had quite the grip, though.”

Mollie glanced down at his arm, fat tears welling up in her eyes as she spoke. “Bannock was mean to ye, too. I … I didnae want ye to get?—”

“It’s all right, wee one,” Gerald reassured. “Yer hound did her job well. But I would like to treat the wound. If ye could tell …” His eyes flickered to the woman, looking weaker by the second.

“Leelee,” Mollie said, though she earned a slight scowl from the woman in return.

“Leelee.” Gerald nodded slowly. “Aye … if ye could tell Leelee to put me sword down, I promise I willnae harm either of ye.”

Neither Leelee nor the massive deerhound looked convinced. But Mollie seemed eager to believe him, carefully approaching Gerald with her small hand extended outward. “Ye shake on it, will ye?”

An unfamiliar warmth bloomed across Gerald’s chest, and he gently lifted his good arm to grasp Mollie’s. “Aye. A laird’s promise, wee one.”

“L—Laird?” Leelee asked.

“Aye,” Gerald nodded. “Laird MacLiddel, of the wintry clans up north.”

Laird MacLiddel. The Beast of Braeriach.

Her brother’s closest ally, and he was here, of all places.

And she’d pointed a sword— his sword —directly at his face.

Aileen felt her legs give out beneath her, dropping the sword to the ground as she quickly fell before the man.

“Me Laird,” she managed to get out. “I…I’m so sorry, I didnae realize it was ye. ”

“Would that have stopped ye from attackin’ me?”

Aileen bit her lip, still staring down at the floor. It wouldn’t have, of course. She would take on the whole of the Highlands to keep Mollie safe. Bannock seemed to reciprocate the feeling, a low growl rumbling deep within the back of her throat.

“Bannock really doesnae like ye, sir,” Mollie said.

Much to Aileen’s surprise, the terrifying laird of the winter lands chuckled in reply.

“Titles and names daenae mean much to beasts, wee lass. I’m very much still a stranger to her.

” The sounds of shuffling soon followed after, and Aileen dared to lift her head and watch as Laird MacLiddel began to step around her brother’s study.

He peered through shelves and opened various drawers, his injured arm still held against his chest.

“Do ye need help, me Laird?” Immediately, Aileen scolded herself internally. Why would a great laird need the help of some bastard’s daughter?

“Nay. I’ve been in this study plenty of times to ken where he kept everything …

” Laird MacLiddel suddenly paused, slipping what appeared to be a bottle of whisky hidden between the books on the shelves.

With a nod, he proceeded to down the entirety of its contents, leaving Aileen to stare in wonder.

Now that her vision wasn’t obscured by the wardrobe’s interior, the Laird of the MacLiddel clan really was a sight to behold.

He appeared just as powerful and well-built as she expected, with dark curls of hair tied off at his shoulder, along with a neatly kept beard that likely helped fight back against the bitter cold found in his territory.

But it was his eyes that caught her off guard; a brilliant emerald-green that was more reminiscent of the rolling hills of summer than the cold wintry land he was known to hail from.

Aileen watched him quickly tend to his arm.

He first undid the arm guards and rolled his sleeve to check for damage.

She nearly swooned at the sight of his well-toned forearm, thick with hair and hardly a scratch across its surface.

“Aye—yer beast nearly bit through the leather,” Laird MacLiddel remarked, almost sounding impressed.

“Bannock is … incredibly protective of Mollie,” Aileen explained. “Especially now, with our clan having seemingly lost their minds.”

The Laird glanced up, curiosity sparking behind those enchanting green eyes. “Yer clan, lass? Ye’re part of the Hughes family?”

Perhaps she had said too much.

“Marcus never spoke of siblings,” Laird MacLiddel continued. “Nor of a wife and child.”

“He’s nae me husband,” Aileen quickly refuted.

“Could have fooled me,” Laird MacLiddel replied, gesturing to Mollie. “She’s practically his mirror’s reflection.”

It was too late to lie, now. Aileen shook her head once more, still kneeling on the ground out of respect.

Or perhaps her body had finally given up, too weak to rise on its own anymore.

“We … our maither wasn’t the proper lady of the castle.

But Marcus let us stay within the clan until …

recently.” She felt the Laird’s eyes run across her, seemingly fixated on her scarlet dress.

She hadn’t the time to change from it, but was regretting not doing so.

At least in a plainer frock, she had a better chance of portraying herself as a simple stranger.

Though she had a suspicion Laird MacLiddel would have gotten the truth out of her, regardless of how she looked or what fibs she told.

Marcus had siblings. No, more than that. Marcus had a pair of sisters he’d told nobody about. Gerald shouldn’t have felt as surprised as he had, nor felt the sting of betrayal any more powerfully than learning his ally had been a traitor for the entirety of their friendship.

And yet, as he stared down at the disheveled state of the pair, of Leelee still bowing across the ground, something inside him snapped. He turned toward Mollie, her dirtied face still somehow holding fast to childish hope, and posed a question. “Mollie, would ye like to come with me?”

Immediately, Leelee’s head rose, her expression wrought with panic. Mollie seemed to pick up on her sister’s worry, as her own brow knitted with a level of concern no six-year-old should ever display. “Can … can Leelee and Bannock come, too?”

Gerald nodded. “Aye. They’re welcome as well.”

A delighted squeal escaped the girl’s throat as she turned to her sister, her hands excitedly pushing against Leelee’s shoulder. “Leelee, Leelee! We’re goin’ to have a home again! Come on, let’s go!”

Bannock immediately joined Mollie’s side, nuzzling underneath the girl’s chin before giving a warning growl at Gerald’s way. Even so, Leelee continued to stare at the floor, her face pale and her gaze distant.

“I think yer sister’s a wee bit surprised,” Gerald said.

“Aye. I think she is, too,” Mollie agreed.

Well. Nothing to be done about it, then. Gerald suddenly stepped toward the pair, Leelee visibly flinching with each thud of his boots. She recoiled as he slipped his arms around her waist, only to turn her to his right side and position her in a more bridal-style hold. “I?—”

“Ye’re nae goin’ to leave yer sister, are ye, Leelee?” Gerald asked.

Her pallid face turned beet red, her hands hiding her eyes as she managed to mumble out, “It’s … it’s Aileen, me Laird.”

Aileen. He was committed to burning the name into his memory.

God, but she really weighed nothing at all.

He was easily able to keep her steady with one hand as the other went to retrieve his sword.

Then, with everything accounted for, Gerald left the study and headed back outside, Mollie trailing close behind as Bannock chased after her.

“Ah, Laird MacLiddel!” Rory’s sentence froze as he stared at the new company.

The rest of the warriors remained stone-faced, though the rioting kinsfolk all let out a collective gasp.

Murmuring whispers built through them like the fires to their clan’s banner, and as Gerald reached his horse proper, the guard from earlier dared to approach.

“Me Laird,” he managed to stammer out. “Ye found the Hughes sisters?”

Immediately, Gerald felt Aileen shift farther into his grasp, felt Mollie grasp his leg and cower behind him.

“This … this is perfect!” The guard exclaimed. “Now these bastards can finally do right by their clan and take the mantle of leadership.”

“What’s a bastard, Leelee?” Mollie asked, her eyes watery and her grasp tightening around Gerald’s leg.

“Here. We’ll be happy to take them off yer hand, me Laird.” The guard approached, arms outstretched toward Aileen. Instead, he found himself staring down at the point of Gerald’s sword, as well as the glimmering, sharp teeth of Bannock.

“Ye’ll nae speak such harsh words around the child,” Gerald stated, his tone frigid and sharp. “Nor will ye be takin’ them off me hands.”

The guard looked clearly taken aback. “Me Laird, we hardly expect ye to find her a betrothed. It’s as ye said. Our council should handle matters, and they’ll find a proper laird for her to stand beside.”

“Ye insult me, lad.”

The keep went deathly silent. Everyone’s eyes were on Gerald as they waited to see what would happen next.

Uncertain if the guard would be struck down before them for speaking seemingly out of turn.

Gerald gestured for Rory to draw close, kneeling as if to speak to Mollie face-to-face.

“Ye’ll ride with me man-at-arms, wee one. I’ll have yer sister ride with me.”

Mollie nodded, though she looked up toward Rory with uncertainty.

“Daenae worry, wee one,” Gerald reassured, speaking loud enough for all to hear. “Yer sister is me betrothed now. I willnae let anything happen to her, or ye.”