Chapter 3
Hannah Leon.
Aiden watched as the girl bravely held her chin up, as she thrust what may be the best bottle of whiskey he’d ever had into his chest, and as she gave in to his demand and repeated her request to be allowed into his garden.
He was impressed by how she’d managed to fight the clear urge warring on her face to try to run for the door. By how she’d stood before him and bravely insisted he take the bottle from her shaking hand.
He drew a long breath, considering, and then nodded and jerked his head to the side.
“Go on.” He trusted she had seen enough on her way into his home to find her way into his garden.
He had no notion what plant she was so desperate for, but he knew Peter had a remarkable hand in the garden, and if it could be coaxed to survive in the Highlands despite preferring the Lowlands, then his gardener would be the one to do it.
From the way she spoke so confidently, he supposed she’d either seen the plant through the window in his study, or someone had told her it was there.
Once she’d left the room, he blew out a long breath and took another swig from the bottle in his hand.
He’d never tasted a whiskey quite like it.
It was far smoother than he recalled having in a very long time, if at all.
It held notes of honey and a sweet finish that rested nicely on the tongue and in his chest without being cloying.
Strolling back to his desk, Aiden examined the cork he’d removed from the bottle, seeing an L burned into the top of it. He had heard of the distillery, though he didn’t recall the last time he had partaken of their product.
Glancing up from his desk, he dropped the cork and made his way to the window, the bottle still held between two fingers, watching as she carefully moved through his garden. Respectful of the other plants despite her desperation for the one.
She was a pretty thing, with long chestnut-brown hair that she’d gathered into a braid down her back.
A few strands that looked to have snuck free curled around her cheeks.
Her eyes were a moss green that had nearly knocked the breath out of him when he’d seen them after she’d turned around to face him.
She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever met, but she had a unique mix of quiet pride and soft loveliness that had made him blurt out his demand. More bottles, more visits, more chances to lay eyes on her pretty face.
His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw his trusted gardener come up behind the girl and catch her hand before she cut. Aiden watched as the two spoke for a moment before Peter nodded and guided her lower to the root of the plant, helping her unearth it and clip there instead.
He was glad his gardener was well and happily wed—and then realized how strange it was that he was feeling bothered by the interaction in the first place.
“Must have been a while if I’m this focused on a mere lass in a garden.”
Aiden huffed at his own nonsense and forced himself away from the window and his spying on the girl and his gardener as they continued to chat while she tucked her clippings into the satchel from which she’d drawn the bottle she’d given him, returning to the chair that groaned loudly and pointedly beneath his weight.
They’d been in a war of attrition since he’d begun rebuilding this castle. One of them would break first. He was relatively sure it wouldn’t be him. Though at this point, the familiar wooden chair had become a reliable enough companion that he hoped it would continue to hold.
After another generous swig, he placed the bottle down, eying the hue. In contrast to the whiskey he was well used to, pale liquid that burned all the way to the belly, the hue was slightly yellow, and the burn was deeper and more satisfying.
He had no idea what had been added to the drink, but he knew he’d never had it before, and he wanted more of it. He also wanted more of her, which was a foolish thought for a man who had spent so many years avoiding complications.
Thudding steps sounded at the door. For a moment, he thought the girl had returned, though a glance through the window told him that was not the case. He relaxed, glancing up to see Lucas striding into the room.
His closest friend stood several inches shorter than him, which was no surprise given how unusually tall Aiden was.
His hair was a light brown that leaned more toward blonde, and his hazel eyes were identical to those of his father, the man who had been talking to the lass and seemed to have left her to her own devices.
“We’re back from the…” Lucas stuttered when he noticed the attention Aiden was paying to the window, and he followed his gaze. “… the market—a thief?” His hand went to the sword on his belt out of reflex.
Aiden’s head whipped away from the window he’d been peering through thoughtfully as if he’d never heard a more preposterous thing in his life.
“That little thing?” he scoffed. “Nay. A distraction. One we’ll keep safe.” He pushed to his feet and clapped Lucas on the shoulder. “Yer faither’s already taken a shine and showed her how to prune his garden. Ye’ll see she’s home safe, aye?”
Lucas heaved a sigh that was significantly more annoyed than he actually was. “The things I do for ye. The girl left her horse, I assume, since one was wanderin’. I’ll see it’s ready, aye?”
“See.” Aiden stood, then paused. “See what she brought.”
He passed him the bottle easily and then crossed the room to pick up the book she’d been examining when he’d caught her in his study.
A collection of the works of Tacitus that he’d paged through a few days before and set aside to promptly forget.
He returned the book to the table and then turned back to his friend.
“I’m sure the bottle was all that caught yer eye.” Lucas didn’t bother hiding his knowing smirk even as he took a swig. His eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”
“Aye,” Aiden responded knowingly, grinning at him. “Reminds ye of mead, but burns like good whiskey should.”
Lucas nodded and took another swig, before passing the bottle back when Aiden held out his hand.
After helping himself to another sip, Aiden retrieved the cork and placed it, setting the bottle on this desk to be appreciated later.
“Send word to the council while ye’re at it. They’ll come here for our next meeting, I’m nae going to them this time. See to it that the lass finds her way home safe, she neednae ken ye’re accompanying her. From what I’ve gleaned of her, she’s the independent type.”
He clapped Lucas on the shoulder as he passed and left him to his devices, trusting he would take care of everything without further oversight.
Lucas had been his closest friend for quite a while, and had only earned further affection when he’d snuck an invitation to a wedding at a neighboring laird’s castle and finally coaxed his recluse of a friend into leaving his home and making himself a new ally.
Strolling down a familiar hallway that boasted bold paintings, some of which he’d been gifted and some of which he’d paid far too much for during his travels, Aiden passed through a side door into his garden.
It was a lush and generous space, the sort that eased the tension in his shoulders and made him appreciate the beauty of the world around him against his will.
Peter had truly outdone himself over the years.
Making no effort to cover the sound of his boots, Aiden noticed the lass was deeply focused on her trimming of the base of the plant with its rounded flowers and not paying attention to his approach. What had she called that thing? Angel? He would need to ask his gardener about it later.
“Did ye find what ye wanted?”
The girl jerked where she knelt and nearly dropped her knife, which was markedly better than cutting herself with it, and he felt a twinge of guilt for startling her so much. Still, the way her head whipped up just as it had in his study left him fighting a grin.
She was a skittish little creature. Her hands were covered in dirt, and she scrambled to stand. Aiden held his hand out for her to take and helped her the rest of the way to her feet.
“Aye,” she finally answered, withdrawing her hand from his quickly and brushing both against her skirt to return the soil to the ground. “Thank ye.”
“Good. I’ll expect ye next week then, aye?” Aiden scooped her knife from the soil, watching her careful green gaze follow the weapon in his hand. With practiced ease, he flipped it and caught the blade between his fingertips, offering her the hilt.
She visibly swallowed and stepped away from the plant she’d been harvesting, taking the knife from his fingers delicately and sliding it back into a sheath that waited inside her satchel.
“Aye. Yer gardener showed me where to clip, so as nae to kill the plant,” she said begrudgingly, as if she’d thought she should already know.
“Even better.” Aiden made sure his hands were gentle as he steered her to face toward the front gate. “Yer horse is ready. We’ll be waitin’ for yer return.”
The girl didn’t argue, nodding slowly and moving the way she’d been guided, looking exhausted. He almost suggested she stay the night, but she looked so skittish that he chose not to overstep and make her feel trapped.
He guided her to the gelding instead and even convinced her to let him give her a leg up instead of trying to do it on her own out of pride on a generously sized fourteen-hand pony.
“Next week,” he repeated sternly, patting her mount’s flank to see them on their way.