Page 8 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

A ileen hardly slept a wink that night. There were so many circumstances that led to this.

Though Gerald had been kind enough to give the sisters a room and bed to share, and though her hand remained around Mollie for the entire time—to ensure the previous day hadn’t been a dream and that her sister, in fact, lay softly snoring beside her still—Aileen found her mind far too noisy to sleep.

The bed was incredible, and the sight of gentle snowfall dancing across the window was soothing indeed. But regardless, Aileen found herself staring wide-eyed around the room, Gerald’s declaration playing on repeat in her mind.

‘We have to discuss wedding details for tomorrow’s ceremony.’

Tomorrow. Did he really want to get married tomorrow? Aileen let out a gentle sigh through her nose, rolling onto her side as her gaze lingered on Mollie’s form. The little girl had been dead asleep for hours, buried beneath cozy layers of blankets while Bannock lightly dozed on her opposite side.

Aileen’s hand gently brushed her sister’s hair away from her face, the slight pink in her cheeks still present well after her bath. “Suppose if he does wish to be wed tomorrow,” she said. “I hardly have the right to say otherwise.”

And yet, as the sun finally rose above the snow-covered hills and the Hughes sisters joined the Laird of MacLiddel for breakfast, Aileen found herself doing just that. “Gerald, is there any particular reason ye wish us to be married so quickly?”

Gerald nodded curtly, digging a fork into a slice of white pudding. “Daenae see any reason we should delay it. The sooner it happens, the sooner I gain control over Marcus’ territory. And the sooner all the fightin’ and riots can come to an end.”

Aileen grimaced slightly, glancing Mollie’s way in hopes the little girl hadn’t been paying attention to their conversation.

She had nothing to worry about, as her sister was still completely enamored with the large array of dishes spread out across the table.

Her hands had long grown sticky after sampling several fruits, with the occasional slice of meat being dropped down for Bannock to immediately inhale.

“Leelee, Leelee!” Mollie held up a butter-smeared scone, her eyes wide and her smile infectious! “Look! It’s tattie scones! They have tattie scones here!”

Aileen offered a sweet nod, glancing up to catch the bemused look on Gerald’s face. “The Laird of Carswell didnae like the flavor of them. Something about being too rich for his gut.”

Mollie made a sour face, immediately shoving the entire scone into her mouth. She chewed noisily, turning to Gerald as well and swallowing loudly. “Did ye say ye’re marryin’ me sister today?”

Shoot. Then she was paying attention.

Gerald nodded once more, though it was far more relaxed. “Aye. Ye daenae mind it, do ye, Mollie?”

“Oh, nay!” Mollie squealed. “Ye’re a lot nicer than that other laird. But, is Sarah goin’ to be able to come?”

Another curious look was tossed Aileen’s way by the Laird. “She was one of the maids who worked for our family,” Aileen explained. “She was moved to a different keep when Mollie and I went to Carswell’s.”

“Could ye point to it on a map?” Gerald asked.

This took Aileen genuinely by surprise. “Ye … ye mean ye’ll bring her?”

“I cannae make any promises,” Gerald warned. “But I daenae see the harm in trying. After breakfast, I’ll have Rory send a few scouts to check the keep. It may nae be as bad as Marcus’ main castle, but …”

Aileen swallowed, staring down at her own plate. She could only hope that the main castle had been the only one overrun by such terrible chaos.

“Suppose that means we shouldnae be married today,” Gerald added, looking somewhat annoyed. “Still, an extra two days willnae make a difference. And it’ll give me time to send letters to the other major lairds of the newest developments.”

“Och! That means I can make ye a pretty dress, Leelee!” Mollie squealed. Before Aileen could reply, her sister immediately hopped down from her chair and started toward the doors, Bannock hot on her tail.

“Not just yet, wee one!” A younger maid managed to grab Mollie under the arms as Ms. Blair stepped out from the corner of the dining room.

“Ye willnae run about this keep with such jammy hands. Into the bath with ye, and we’ll be going to town to buy ye a wardrobe before ye think of making anything for anyone else. ”

A dramatic, disappointed groan escaped Mollie’s throat, and she turned to Aileen with a desperate whine. “Leelee, I daenae want another bath! I had one last night!”

“Ye should have thought of that before takin’ breakfast like a wild dog,” Ms. Blair replied curtly. “Me Lady, if ye have nay objections …”

“Oh, nay, Ms. Blair,” Aileen agreed. “Mollie should have her own clothes, first and foremost. Thank ye for offerin’ time out of yer busy schedule.”

“Nay bother, love,” Ms. Blair assured. “The Laird has instructed me that me new task is to care for yer sister, and I gladly do so with a smile.”

Aileen noted a lack of said smile as Ms. Blair escorted both the maid and poor Mollie out the opposite side, Bannock whining and following in protest. Soon, the dining room was left in a quiet state, with only herself and Gerald left at the table.

“What was that about her makin’ ye a dress?” Gerald asked.

Aileen’s face flushed slightly, and she poked her fork at her uneaten pile of eggs. “Oh … daenae mind her. She wants me to wear somethin’ other than that horrible red dress Laird Carswell forced me into. I told her it werenae a problem?—”

“It certainly is a problem,” Gerald insisted. “No bride of mine will wear what her previous betrothed demanded. Ye should go with Ms. Blair to town and find a new gown.”

“That’s very generous of ye, but I daenae need?—”

“It’s nae for ye, then,” Gerald interrupted, lifting his goblet as he swirled the contents within. “It’s for me own sake. I wouldnae look the part of a good husband, lettin’ me wife wear a hand-me- down. This keep looks to me for order, and havin’ ye dressing as a proper Lady is part of that.”

Aileen sighed, realizing this was a fight she wouldn’t win. With a submissive nod, she did her best to finish the rest of her breakfast, her appetite not entirely back to its proper state.

Once more, Gerald found himself back in his study, staring at his desk as if a task would suddenly make itself known.

It’d been less than an hour since he’d sent the Hughes sisters off to town, and already, the castle sounded entirely too quiet for his liking.

“They’ve hardly been here a day,” he chastised himself.

“And ye’ve already grown feelings for them? ”

It seemed impossible not to feel something toward Mollie.

A young lassie given a terrible lot in life, one she had no say or control over, and yet still somehow found the joy and beauty of it all.

She was a special gift amidst the bleak Highlands, a single snow flower growing through the harsh ground of the cold north.

Gerald could easily see himself adopting her as his own, and he would gladly give up everything he had to ensure she lived the life she dreamed of. And then, there was Aileen …

Gerald suddenly stood upright, moving toward his bookcase as he fixated on the chunks of wood he’d taken out of it last night. It was rough, ugly, and splintered—a chaotic mess that another man might’ve simply broken down further and used for scrap or firewood.

Instead, Gerald took his woodcarving tool and began to shape the harsher edges, a vague image reaching out through his mind and waiting to be released on the wood itself. It was about time he brought his inner sanctum back to order.

A gentle knock sounded at his door, but given how it immediately swung open, Gerald didn’t even bother looking away from his new project. “Did ye send a group off already, Rory?”

“Aye, sir,” Rory said. “They’ll be back in two days, just as ye asked. Hopefully, with this Sarah lass in tow.”

Gerald could feel the eyes of his man-at-arms staring over his shoulder, but he continued to carve through the chunks of wood. “Good. I daenae want the wedding delayed any longer than necessary.

Silence hung in the room for a beat, filled soon after by the patter of footsteps as Rory drew closer. “So, about that screamin’ fit I heard earlier this mornin’ …?”

A slight chuckle escaped Gerald’s throat. “That would’ve been Mollie. Ms. Blair demanded she bathed, and the wee one didnae take it well.”

“Ah.”

Another beat of silence, occasionally broken up by the sound of Gerald’s knife carving out curling strips of wood. His eye trailed one as it drifted toward the ground, only to raise and meet the uncharacteristically concerned face of his man-at-arms. “What is it, Rory?”

Rory’s arms crossed loosely over his chest. “I hate to admit it, but I’m concerned about Laird Carswell.”

“In what way?”

Rory’s frown deepened further. “We daenae ken the reason for Aileen’s departure from Carswell’s side.

She speaks as if the marriage were set in stone, yet she was found with one foot in a grave at Marcus’ main castle.

” He shook his head, letting out a frustrated huff.

“I cannae escape the feelin’ that it’s a loose end in need of tyin’ up. ”

“Ye wish to cut Carswell down?” Gerald asked.

“Nay. He daenae has the same forces as we do, but his territory is on a key piece of farmin’ land.

” Again, Rory shook his head. “Anythin’ short of a full-scale war would be necessary to overthrow him, and his castle’s nestled in the hills.

He could easily hold a siege far longer than our men could last.”

It was moments like these that reminded Gerald why he’d chosen Rory as his man-at-arms. He straightened himself, inspecting his work with a subtle frown. At the very least, the gashes in the bookshelf weren’t as jagged, but they still needed work.

“Go to Carswell’s Castle yerself, Rory. See if he’s perhaps received word of Marcus’ plans. If I were him, and I’d heard me bride-to-be was involved in the greatest feat of betrayal the Highlands have ever seen, I wouldnae want any association.”

“Ye think he cast her out?” Rory asked.

Gerald nodded, though the act fueled a red-hot fire in his stomach. A smaller clan, such as Carswell’s, wouldn’t want to involve themselves in a possible feud with the major clans.

Still, to imagine he simply threw the woman out of his keep—threw a child into the dangerous wilds—it was infuriating how much the answer made sense. He dug his wooden knife back into the bookshelf, furiously carving away against the grain.

“I’ll … go and prepare me horse, then.” Rory’s footsteps quickly left the study, and as the door closed shut behind him, Gerald allowed his anger to work through his fingers and onto the wood.

He wanted nothing more than to be carving into Carswell’s head, to have Aileen and Mollie back behind the safety of his walls. He wanted to hear the excited squeals of the little girl as she explored his keep, of the gentle care Aileen showed her sister through subtle cues and acts.

He wanted his arms around her waist, just like the night before, their faces sharing but a fraction of space between them. He could have kissed her then, touched her in places beyond her waist, her lips, and it all made him burn .

But, instead, he was in his study, carving away at a bookshelf as if his very sanity depended on it. All because of his promise. All because of the walls he hid behind. All because of a vow he made so very, very long ago.