Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Why do ye refuse it?” The question escaped Edith as the last drop of warm water touched her hand, and her breath almost caught in her throat.
Och, Edith.
She straightened, her face flushing slightly as she took the satchel from him. Her fingers brushed against his, and a thrill rushed through her, causing her to tremble slightly in the late evening breeze.
’Tis only the cold.
She set the satchel aside, hesitating for a brief moment before turning back to face Aaron, his expression indiscernible in the dark.
She had not meant to ask him the question. She had held her tongue all afternoon, telling herself that she wouldn’t and even believing it. But it had escaped her anyway, and now it hung heavily between them.
Her chest tightened as she caught a glint in his dark green eyes.
Scarlett was wrong. Asking Aaron why he did not wish to marry was a dangerous idea. She should never have asked. She knew that now as Aaron’s gaze lingered on her.
He had not said a word in response.
Her lips pressed together slightly. She could swallow her curiosity along with her pride. She could step back into the carriage as though she had not just asked him a question. Instead, her mouth opened again.
“Why do ye refuse marriage?” Her voice was steadier than she felt.
Silence.
Her chest stirred with a growing mix of irritation and something else as she watched Aaron’s jaw tighten.
Why would he nae answer?
She knew for certain that Aaron was not like Martin, even though he’d said the same words. She had seen that look in his eyes countless times, which told her he wanted something.
She knew what she had felt the two times he had kissed her, and she knew how his hands had held on to her during those times, refusing to let her go.
What she did not know for certain was whether he had felt the same things she had.
Her fingers curled into her dress, tightening at the thought.
It made sense that Aaron would not want her. She was a maid’s daughter, a lowborn who had forgotten her place in their fake betrothal. Surely she would have understood it if that was what Aaron had said. But it was not. He had said he did not want any woman.
Perhaps he thinks himself too good for anyone.
“That lady the people speak of.” She swallowed, forcing herself to continue. “Laird MacFaris’s daughter. They say she is a beauty.” Her chest pinched with an ache that felt deeper than she had expected.
Aaron’s jaw tightened further, his green eyes darkening.
“Do ye nae want her either?”
Silence.
She had not expected Aaron to ignore her questions for the third time.
She swallowed and turned to climb into the carriage, before he caught her wrist. His grip was not cruel, but it was firm enough to make her pulse quicken. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she turned back to face him, unable to help herself.
“I am what I must be, Edith,” he said, his low voice edged with something she had never heard from him before. “A brute, if need be.”
Her heart thumped against her ribs. It was loud enough that she was certain he could hear it. But she did not pull away. She could not have, even if she wanted to.
“Ye speak as though ye are the only man in the Highlands with burdens.”
“Ye ken nothin’ of it,” Aaron said, each word measured and heavy. “Ye ken nothing of what it takes to hold this clan together. To keep the peace. To carry it all without fault.”
Edith blinked.
He doesnae think himself capable?
The realization dawned on her, and slowly, almost without deciding to, her free hand rose between them, her fingers brushing against the line of his jaw with a softness that surprised even her.
Aaron’s expression hardened. “Ye think this is a jest?”
“Nay.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
For a moment, Aaron did not say anything. He only stared at her.
The wind tugged at the loose strands of her hair, throwing them into her face and obscuring her vision.
Aaron moved closer. “Ye daenae like me, Edith. Ye ken that.”
“That isnae true,” she whispered, her breath catching in her chest.
“It is.”
“Only when ye daenae wish to be liked.”
Something shifted in his expression, a crack, before his control snapped back into place. “Every man in Hallow depends on me.”
“And…?”
“And men like me cannae choose to be liked.”
“Everyone chooses.”
Aaron laughed then, a low, humorless sound. “Ye truly believe that? Just like ye chose this arrangement? Just like ye chose to be here?”
Edith swallowed, her hand dropping from his face. “It isnae the same.”
“How so?
She lifted her hand back to his face, intentionally this time. She brushed her fingers against the stubble on his chin. “I am doin’ this by choice.”
Aaron’s gaze darkened dangerously. His breath brushed against her hand as he leaned in closer, his heat touching her.
“Stop.” The word was almost a groan.
Edith knew she should listen to him. Every careful lesson she had taught herself over the past few weeks told her to step back, to let the distance between them settle into something manageable again.
But she did not.
“I will do as I please,” she said instead, the words leaving her with more conviction than she had expected.
A muscle ticked in Aaron’s jaw. He moved before she fully registered it, closing the distance between them and guiding her backward with a deliberate slowness until she felt the solid frame of the carriage against her spine.
His presence closed in around her, his heat enveloping her. His hand was still on her wrist, though he no longer held her back.
“Unfortunately for ye,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower than she had ever heard it, “ye cannae do whatever ye wish.” He paused, his dark gaze flitting across her face before turning back to her lips. “Ye are under me protection. For now.”
Edith’s breath caught. The words landed somewhere between a warning and a dare, and she found herself unable to look away from him.
If he had said it hours ago, she would have argued. She would have reminded him exactly how temporary his protection was and how he had no claim to her outside their arrangement.
Yet standing here now, with the evening wrapped around them and his hands warm on her skin, she found herself wishing the words meant something entirely different.
Her breathing slowed. She leaned in despite herself, rising on her tiptoes until her words could brush against his ear.
“Me Laird,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That isnae the same as being yers.”