Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Aaron had not expected convincing Edith to be so much of a task, but perhaps he should have.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched her wrestle with her decision. He could already tell how much she disliked giving him this satisfaction.
Her lips had thinned into a stubborn line, matching the deepening frown on her face, and her chin lifted slightly as she glared at him.
“What must I do?” she asked, the reluctance in her voice amusing him further.
He straightened. If his plan was to work as he intended, he had to set some ground rules.
“We will be formal,” he said firmly. “At all times.”
Edith huffed softly. “I have no care for whispers, me Laird,” she replied, her tone devoid of humor. “I care only that this ends in a month, and ye keep yer promise.”
Aaron’s jaw tightened slightly. “I give ye me word.”
Her frown had not eased in the slightest, and somehow it made the freckles across her cheeks look even bolder under the afternoon light. She looked away.
“Ye will move to the chambers in the east wing,” Aaron continued, and she nodded once, her hazel eyes fixing somewhere in the study behind him.
“As I told ye, there will be four official outings. The market. The fields. The village fair. And the harvest festival.” He moved closer.
“And at the festival, ye will dance only with me.”
A smirk tugged briefly at his mouth when her back stiffened slightly.
The harvest dances were never brief affairs. Half the clan would be watching them, and the other half would talk after.
Her tight dress forced her shoulders back once she breathed deeply, and color rose to her cheeks, painting them light pink.
Good.
“After each outing,” Aaron continued, his gaze lingering on her rosy cheeks, “ye’ll receive a lesson from Martin.”
He folded his hands behind his back, and she finally met his gaze, reacting better to that piece of information than to anything else he’d said that afternoon. “And ye will attend every supper at me side. No absences. No excuses.”
He straightened once he finished, waiting for her response.
“Is that all?” she asked, irritation thinly veiled beneath her voice, though her face had already softened.
I am asking for a month, Edith. Nae a lifetime.
“For now,” he answered, choosing to ignore her tone.
His eyes flicked over her then. They went first to the maid’s apron around her waist, ill-fitted to the rest of her outfit, though he had no mind to question it. She always did what she wanted, even as a young girl.
He noticed the dirt stains on the sleeves of her dress and several loose strands of auburn hair clinging stubbornly to her flushed face.
She had likely come directly from outside.
“Go clean yerself,” he said. “And change into an evening gown. Tonight, we make the announcement.”
He had meant to dismiss her there. Instead, he stepped forward, gently taking her hand in his own without fully thinking it through.
Edith stilled. Her eyes flashed, and he bowed his head, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand—a simple formality to seal their deal, though there was no one present to witness it but them.
Then he caught her scent.
Wild lavender.
It was a scent that suited her too well. Raw and distinct. Subtle, unlike the heavy floral scents worn by the Highland ladies, and yet strong enough to wrap around him instantly.
Aaron went still, his breath catching. His mouth lingered on her skin a moment longer than it should have. Long enough for her to shift faintly, pulling her hand back ever so slightly. He straightened, releasing her at once.
He cleared his throat, averting his gaze briefly.
“Be ready when the dinner bell rings,” he said, his voice lower and rougher than it had been moments ago. “Ye will be announced first. Do ye understand?”
“Perfectly,” Edith responded coolly.
He studied her a moment longer before speaking again. “I shall assign ye a guard.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Ye daenae trust me?”
Aaron nearly scoffed aloud.
Trust had little to do with it. If Edith were anything like his sister, then she would be unpredictable. He had no reason to believe she would not bolt if given a chance to.
Still, he chose not to press the matter further. If a fake betrothal was going to work, he needed to trust her to at least commit. Perhaps it would keep her from changing her mind before the announcement.
He closed the distance between them again in a single step.
Edith inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed the side of her face, her eyes widening slightly at his proximity. His fingers slid briefly against a loose strand of auburn hair, soft against his calloused skin, before he curled them into a fist.
He could barely resist the urge to pull her closer.
It was an unwelcome thought, and he pushed it away at once. That was not part of the bargain. Not yet, anyway.
He leaned into her ear. “Ye willnae run, Edith.” His voice was barely a murmur. “If ye do… I will find ye.”
He caught another whiff of wild lavender in her hair, then he stepped back, gesturing toward the door.
Edith did not hesitate, not even for a breath. She reached for the door, pulling it open as though she could not bear a second more in his presence.
“Daenae be late,” he said, and she walked out of the room without looking back once.
Perhaps I should assign that guard straightaway.
The Great Hall was packed by the time Aaron went down for dinner that evening.
The room thrummed with anticipation, voices carrying loudly across the space as laughter filled the air. Firelight flickered from torches lining the high walls, casting restless shadows over the gathered clansmen, and the air smelled faintly of ale and wine.
Aaron spotted the councilmen immediately, standing at the front beside the elders. They looked perfectly pleased with themselves. Wide smiles spread across their faces as they clinked their tankards together, several empty bottles of ale littering the table in front of them.
This was an evening of celebration.
More than once, Aaron heard the name MacFaris drifting through the hall in careless conversation. They thought they had him cornered, but he would soon prove them wrong.
He crossed the hall slowly, acknowledging no one beyond the occasional nod before taking his place at the head of the high table.
The first bell rang, then the second. A few heads lifted, and conversations thinned around the edges as servants moved more quickly through the hall. By the third bell, the loud chatter had faded into scattered whispers, and much of the laughter had stopped.
Aaron remained still through every bell, watching the hall in silence. Then the seventh bell struck.
He rose slowly to his feet, his gaze sweeping over the now-quiet hall.
“Before we begin,” he said, his voice cutting clean through the air, “I want to make a toast.”
All eyes turned to him in anticipation, and he lifted his cup, turning his gaze toward the door.
“To me betrothed.”
He gave Caelan a slight nod, and the guards walked toward the great doors, ready to pull them open.
Aaron did not look away from the entrance. His jaw tightened. His breath stalled only for a moment as he watched closely, hesitating before giving the final order.
If Edith decided to challenge him before the entire hall tonight, she was about to learn why no one in the Highlands ever did.
She’d better nae have run.