Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Aaron swallowed.
He had asked Edith to smile, but what he had not expected was that her smile would be as soft as candlelight against stone.
Her shoulders tensed slightly as she slid her hand into the crook of his arm, and she sighed quietly, the sound causing his chest to tighten.
It irritated him that he noticed it—any of it.
The pale pink of her dress made her look like a completely different person, softening her features just enough to contrast with the sharp structure of her bodice.
It suited her too well, cinching at her waist in a way that made the rest of her dress flow easily down her hips.
“Good,” he murmured, tearing his gaze away from her.
He took a last sip of ale and then handed the glass to a nearby servant, before sweeping his gaze over the crowd.
The hall had quieted since Edith’s entrance, the earlier excitement absent from the faces of the elders and councilmen as they watched him and his betrothed. They shifted in their seats as the servants finished laying out dishes, confusion and disbelief settling over them like a slow fog.
Aye.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
I’ll see who ye have cornered now.
He pulled out Edith’s chair without thought, then immediately regretted it.
Her scent drifted up between them the moment she sat, wild lavender cutting cleanly through the heavier smells in the hall, even more distracting than it had been earlier in the study.
That scent…
Aaron lingered only a moment before straightening, schooling his features into calm. He took his seat at the head of the table, satisfied. The betrothal looked as good as real, just as he wanted it.
Roasted venison and baked oat bread were soon served, though the atmosphere remained too tense for any true celebration. Servants moved swiftly between the long tables, refilling goblets with dark ale and setting fresh trenchers before the clansmen.
Aaron reached for his goblet, relaxing against the back of his chair as he tasted the fresh ale.
Murmurs slowly began to pick up among the men. A councilman further down the table leaned toward another, muttering something beneath his breath before glancing at Edith again.
Aaron’s jaw tightened. He glanced at her, noticing immediately that she had been watching too.
“Are ye alright?” he asked, half expecting her to roll her eyes or ignore him.
It was already a surprise that she had not run away. And it was an even greater surprise that she was this graceful, maintaining the facade with perfect composure.
Is this the same lass I spoke with earlier?
Edith leaned in slightly, keeping her gaze fixed ahead as though she had done this many times before. “They stare as though they’ve never seen a woman before,” she murmured.
He bit back a chuckle.
She isnae scared.
His chest warmed slightly at the thought. Then he cleared his throat.
“Most havenae seen ye dressed like this before,” he replied, only realizing how the words sounded as he watched her face turn pink.
Edith picked at the venison, eating faster.
He hesitated. “In a proper gown, I mean,” he added before he could stop himself.
She swallowed, her eyes still glued to her plate. “I suppose,” she muttered, her shoulders stiffening slightly beneath the silk of her gown. “I feel ridiculous.”
“Nay,” he said too quickly.
She turned to him, surprise flashing across her face for a brief moment.
His shoulders tensed slightly. He reached for his goblet, feigning greater interest in the ale than the conversation itself, and silence stretched between them until the eldest councilman finally rose from his seat.
“Me Laird,” he began carefully, though he could barely mask the suspicion in his voice. “This announcement comes as a great surprise to us.”
Aaron looked at him evenly. “Aye, that was the intention.”
Low, uncomfortable laughter rippled through the hall before quickly dying down.
The elder bowed his head slightly and sat back down, returning to his meal. But clearly, the councilmen were not ready to let the matter rest.
“Begging yer pardon, me Laird.” One of them rose abruptly, his chair scraping loudly across the stone floor. “Why was this match arranged without the knowledge of yer council?”
Edith shifted faintly in her seat, and Aaron’s jaw tightened.
“Certain matters daenae require yer involvement,” he said coolly. “Choosing a wife is one of them.”
There was no laughter this time. Instead, tension built along the table.
Another elder cleared his throat. “With respect, me Laird, the clan merely wishes to understand how such a match came about.”
Aaron leaned back slightly in his chair. He had expected this.
His eyes flickered briefly toward Caelan, narrowing slightly at the faint smile on his man-at-arms’ face.
I shall deal with him later.
“The clan kens me betrothed well enough already,” he said simply. “She has been living at Hallow Castle for years.”
“Aye, as a maid’s daughter,” one of the councilmen muttered.
The words landed hard. Several people lowered their eyes at once.
Aaron set down his goblet, the sound loud enough to quiet the table. His eyes narrowed on the councilman who had spoken.
“Be careful,” he warned quietly. “Edith is me future wife. Ye will respect her in this hall, or ye willnae speak in it again.”
Edith did not realize she’d been holding her breath until her lungs burned for air.
She stood in the corridor with Violet, the evening replaying in her mind as she waited for Aaron to step out of the Great Hall.
It was only an act.
Her chest warmed as she remembered how he had defended her honor at the table.
He didnae truly mean it.
But it was difficult to convince herself of the truth when the anger in his eyes had looked so real as he spoke those words before the entire clan.
“Edith is me future wife. Ye will respect her in this hall, or ye willnae speak in it again.”
I cannae let this distract me. This is only a temporary arrangement.
Edith had not expected the betrothal announcement to go nearly as well as it did.
The councilmen had changed their attitude toward her after Aaron’s words, and a drunk clansman had even raised a toast to her.
The bonnie bride-to-be, he had called her.
It had truly felt nice, even though she was going to be no one’s bride.
For a moment, she could hardly believe that she had almost fled the castle to avoid it.
She turned to Violet, whose eyes gleamed as she pressed her lips together, clearly trying—and failing—to suppress a smile.
She raised a brow. “Tell me,” she said, though she already knew the answer. “What excites ye so much?”
Violet nearly squealed. “Ye’ll be—”
The doors to the Great Hall opened then, and Aaron stepped out. His gaze immediately settled on Edith and then Violet, before narrowing slightly, as though their presence alone displeased him.
Edith cleared her throat. Perhaps she had misread him. She walked forward to meet him, stopping a few paces away before dipping into a small curtsy.
“Me Laird, I—”
“That maid,” he cut her off. “I presume she is yer closest companion?”
Edith blinked. His tone caught her off guard for only a moment. She had expected acknowledgement, perhaps even a quick word about the success of the announcement. Instead, he was looking past her.
A strange knot formed in her chest.
“Aye,” she replied coolly.
It is only an act, after all.
Aaron gave a nod. “She’ll serve ye for now,” he said, already turning away. “Ye should retire to yer chambers.”
Edith swallowed. Something about the dismissal sat poorly with her, though she could not have said why. This was no different from their usual interactions—short and dismissive.
“As ye say, me Laird.”
She turned to leave, then paused, turning back to bob a proper curtsy before continuing down the corridor with Violet.
They would be formal at all times. That had been his first rule, and she would make sure to follow it for the next month.
Afterward, she would be free to do as she pleased.
Violet smiled too brightly as they walked down the corridor. She pushed open a side door once they had climbed up the stairs, guiding Edith through the quieter wing of the castle.
“I have always wondered what the east wing was like,” Violet squealed, her steps a touch too fast as she walked ahead.
Edith looked around. She had avoided the east wing since Scarlett left, fearing how much seeing the familiar walls would make her miss her best friend.
But now that she was here again, she could hardly think of that.
“I have already prepared yer new chamber,” Violent said, glancing at her with obvious satisfaction. “’Tis the most beautiful chamber. Ye’ll see.”
Edith managed a smile as she followed behind her.
Perhaps it would be Scarlett’s old room.
Her smile faded once they stopped in front of a door.
Nay.
When Aaron told her she would move to the east wing, she had expected proximity. But not this. Not a room across from his.
I cannae believe it.
“Och,” Violet whispered as she pushed the door open. “How thoughtful of yer future husband. Right across from him. How romantic!”
Edith exhaled sharply.
Aye. Romantic.
Her chest tightened as she stepped inside, but not because of the opulence of the chamber, though it was the most beautiful chamber she’d ever been given.
The chamber was four times the size of her old rooms, and a fire burned merrily in the grate, casting a soft golden light over the stone floors. A bed stood near the window, draped with sheets with embroidered edges and too many blankets.
All of her things were there—a few dresses and shoes—already neatly arranged in the wardrobe as though they had not been in the other wing of the castle just that evening.
“I cannae imagine a room as beautiful as this one,” Violet continued. “The Laird must really fancy ye, Edith.”
Aye. Or perhaps he fancies keeping me on a leash.
“Thank ye, Violet,” Edith said quietly.
Violet gave one last excited smile before slipping out and closing the door behind her.
The chamber was suddenly too silent. Edith stood still for a moment, then exhaled.
She crossed the room slowly, untying the laces of her gown as she went, her fingers clumsy with frustration rather than fatigue. The fabric fell softly into a pile at her feet, and she stepped out of it carefully, leaving it on the floor.
She did not bother taking off her shift. She sat on the edge of the bed, before falling back onto the soft mattress.
Goodness.
It was the most comfortable mattress she’d ever lain on, and yet she was the most uncomfortable she’d been in years.
She did not sleep that night. She could not.