Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Less than three weeks, Aaron reminded himself as he tried to keep his attention on the papers in front of him. Then the arrangement will be over.
His chest tightened slightly at the thought, and he told himself that it had nothing to do with Edith.
He almost believed it.
He had expected the lass to argue with him in the fields. He had expected her usual feisty defiance, but what he had not expected was the way she interacted with the servants.
She was truly different from what he had imagined. She was kind and graceful, treating the people with kindness despite her new status.
Just like Scarlett.
He shook his head, dismissing the thought before it had fully settled in his mind.
But the truth was far too obvious to ignore. Edith had lived in Hallow Castle longer than some of his men. She knew the servants and their families. She considered the things that Aaron had never paid mind to and treated his people as though they were her own.
He had watched her in the fields. He had noticed how the maids waved at her and how she had waved back despite being with him, her smile widening in the unguarded way it never consciously did around him.
He sighed.
He had spent the better part of two weeks telling himself that Edith was an inconvenience. But perhaps she was more. Perhaps she was everything he lacked. Everything Hallow Castle needed.
“Ah,” he groaned quietly in the empty study, leaning back until his head rested against the back of his chair.
He stared up at the high ceiling, his mind drifting slightly before the door opened. He did not need to look to know who it was.
“Are ye free?” Caelan asked.
Aaron shook his head slightly, shifting in his seat with another low groan.
Caelan drew his brows together. “Ye look like ye havenae slept in a week,” he said.
“That is because I havenae slept in a week,” Aaron replied sharply.
Caelan shut the door behind him and crossed the room, even though Aaron had not invited him in.
“Aye, I see that,” he said. “Yer temper’s worse than usual.”
“I daenae have a temper.”
Caelan nodded, not bothering with a reply. He leaned against the wall opposite the desk and folded his arms, his expression far too amused for a man standing in front of his Laird.
Aaron frowned. “If ye have come here to waste me time…”
“Nay,” Caelan said, his expression turning mildly serious. “Believe me, ’tis a serious matter.”
Aaron cocked a brow, leaning forward slightly.
Perhaps it is about MacFaris.
“I heard something interesting in the courtyard.”
Aaron frowned. “Ye’re always hearing the wrong things.”
“That depends,” Caelan said lightly. “Was it wrong to hear that ye took the lass out to the fields?”
Aaron’s jaw tightened. He returned to his papers, turning a page before him, though he had barely read it.
“I take many people to many places,” he muttered.
“That isnae what I asked.”
He cast a look at Caelan. “It is the answer ye are getting.”
Caelan hummed, clearly unconvinced. “So it isnae true that ye took yer betrothed out for a picnic?”
“I wouldnae call it a picnic.”
“What would ye call it, then?”
“An outing. ’Twas only for the people to see and talk. And clearly, it worked.”
Caelan let out a soft laugh. “The field hands also say ye spread out yer plaid for her.”
Aaron’s expression did not change. “I didnae.”
“Ahem…”
“It was necessary.”
“Aye,” Caelan said. “Very necessary. A man who spreads out his plaid on the grass for a woman he has no feelings for… Happens all the time.”
“The ground was damp,” Aaron stressed.
Caelan nodded slowly, the way he nodded when he had decided not to argue because the argument had already been won.
“And the whiskey ye brought?” he asked pleasantly.
Aaron’s brows drew into a small frown. “The whiskey was purely incidental.”
“Incidental?”
“Aye.” He looked up from his papers. “What else was I meant to bring?”
“I daenae ken. Water?”
Aaron stared at him. “For a picnic?”
Caelan covered his mouth, laughing. “Ye truly are hopeless.”
“The whiskey was practical.”
“Of course it was. But the servants seem to disagree. The housekeeper and maids have decided ye are courting her properly now.”
Aaron narrowed his eyes. “The housekeeper also believes she can predict what suits me taste.”
His sarcasm was not lost on Caelan.
“Aye, but she isnae alone.” He shrugged. “Half the castle has decided yer betrothal is real.”
Aaron rubbed a hand across his jaw. “The betrothal is real.”
“Ye ken what I mean.”
He did not answer. In truth, that had been the entire purpose of the arrangement. The council wanted him to take a wife, and all he wanted was to be left alone in peace.
But why has the betrothal brought more troubles to me mind in the past few days than peace?
“One of the field hands swore ye looked happy.”
“Happy,” Aaron repeated flatly.
“Aye.” Caelan’s expression remained entirely innocent. “His words, nae mine.”
“Then perhaps he should get his eyes checked.”
“His eyes function perfectly.” Caelan tilted his head slightly. “Described ye in great detail. And yer loud laugh.”
Aaron’s jaw hardened. “I wasnae laughing.”
“Ye were.”
“I wasnae—” Aaron stopped, aware of exactly where this was going and equally aware that denying it further was only going to make it worse. He reached for the report with deliberate calm. “The field hand must have misheard.”
“Aye,” Caelan said. “A laugh. He misheard a laugh.”
He was clearly enjoying this.
Aaron ignored him, flipping to another page of the report and studying it with more seriousness than it demanded.
“Pray tell, me Laird,” Caelan continued, sitting in the chair opposite him. “Will yer next outing be soon?”
Aaron shook his head slightly. “Edith has her lesson with the healer,” he said, biting off the last word.
Caelan perked up. “The healer,” he repeated, a note of amusement in his voice. “Martin is teaching her.”
“Aye.”
“And that troubles ye?”
Aaron’s stare was answer enough.
Caelan leaned back in his chair. “Martin is a decent lad.”
“I didnae say otherwise.”
“He kens his work well.”
Aaron grunted, annoyance flaring in his chest.
“He’s a braw lad too,” Caelan continued. “Very popular with the lasses.”
Aaron already knew that. Half the unmarried women in the castle found reasons to visit the healer’s chamber daily. He had never paid attention to it before, but now he found himself regretting it.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
Caelan paused, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Och.”
“One more word, and I’ll have ye digging latrines,” Aaron growled.
“Ye prove me point every time.”
“Get out.”
A small smile touched Caelan’s lips. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone slightly less amused now, “she suits ye.”
Aaron ignored him, letting out a rough breath. For a brief moment, he looked at him, wondering how his man-at-arms could read him so easily like an open book.
“We havenae received word from MacFaris,” Caelan added, serious now, as though he had not been teasing him merely moments ago.
Aaron was grateful for the change of topic. Clan matters were familiar ground. He had been navigating men like MacFaris since he was eighteen years old, and whatever the man’s silence currently meant, it was at least a problem he knew how to handle.
Unlike the other problem currently occupying his castle.
He sat up in his chair, his face hardening.
“That is unusual.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “When did the last report come in from the border watch?”
“Three days ago,” Caelan replied.
MacFaris was not known for his silence. He enjoyed announcing his presence and influence whenever possible. If there was a complaint to be made, a demand to be issued, or an opportunity to posture, he would not miss it.
Surely, he is up to no good.
Aaron clenched his jaw. “Has anyone crossed the border?”
“A handful of traders,” Caelan replied. “Nothing noteworthy.”
Aaron frowned. “And the roads?”
“Clear.”
“We shouldnae read too much into his silence,” Aaron said, though his tone suggested otherwise. “Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, and double the watch. Especially for the harvest festival.”
Caelan nodded once. “It will be done.”
Aaron rose from his chair and crossed to the window. The harvest festival was approaching quickly. That alone would require another appearance with Edith.
His jaw tightened.
He did not doubt that she would play her role properly. Still, an unfamiliar feeling stirred in his chest at the thought of standing next to her again.
A knock sounded at the door, interrupting his thoughts.
“Are ye expecting someone?” Caelan asked, his hand already moving toward the dirk on his belt.
“Aye.” Aaron nodded, raising a hand for him to stand down. “’Tis Edith’s maid. I sent for her before ye arrived.”
The door opened, and Violet stepped inside, dipping her head. “Ye sent for me, me Laird?”
“Aye,” Aaron said. “Tell Lady Edith to meet me here before supper.”
“Aye, me Laird,” she said, then turned and left.
Caelan’s gaze lingered on the door a moment longer than necessary, and Aaron noticed the familiar look of amusement on his face.
“Something ye wish to say?” he asked with a slight frown, expecting more teasing about Edith.
Caelan glanced at him, then back at the door. “The lass has caught me eye,” he admitted.
Aaron’s brows rose slightly in surprise. “And?”
“She seems to be occupied,” Caelan added thoughtfully. “With another man, perhaps.”
Aaron let out a breath, his lips curling slightly. “Then ye may find her difficult to win.”
Caelan huffed a quiet laugh. “A challenge.”
Aaron paused briefly. “I wish the lass luck,” he said.
Caelan scoffed. “Luck?”
“Aye,” Aaron said. “She’ll need it.”
Caelan laughed loudly. “And here I thought ye were encouraging me.”
“I was,” Aaron teased. “She wouldnae hope for a better man than ye.”
Caelan grinned, before walking out of the study to return to his post. He shut the door behind him, and silence settled over the room once more.
Aaron returned to his desk and reached for the report he had abandoned earlier. He read the first line, then the second, then the first again.
Damn it.
Edith would be here before supper. And now, for reasons he refused to examine too closely, it suddenly felt impossible to focus on anything else.
He tossed the report back onto the desk. The damned thing might as well have been written in a foreign language.