Chapter 5
“Ye’ve damned us,” one of the councilmen said with a shake of his weary head. “Me Laird, what is the purpose of havin’ a council if ye daenae heed our advice?”
Another man joined in, his voice rough. “Ainsley will retaliate, me Laird, and it’s too soon for us to fight back with any real strength. We’re nae prepared. We still daenae ken just how many were lost in the battle. If they attack us, we’ll lose.”
“Why have ye done this, me Laird?” a third man asked with sorrowful eyes.
As his father’s heir, Killian had sat through his fair share of council meetings, but he was still getting used to chairing them.
In truth, when he had set out for Castle Ainsley, he had forgotten that he was accountable to these men and that he was not supposed to act without at least prior notice.
I’m a warrior, nae a talker.
That was becoming clearer every time he entered the council chamber.
“Can we nae have a moment of peace in our lands?” a fourth man added, speaking not just for himself but for the entire clan.
They were tired of war. Killian himself was tired of war.
Unfortunately, the feud between the Ainsleys and MacNairns was a two-sided fight.
The war only ended when one side was defeated or surrendered, and Killian knew that Laird Ainsley would sacrifice every one of his clansmen before he would concede defeat.
“I meant to end it,” Killian said evenly. “I meant to fulfill me faither’s last wishes by savin’ me braither and killin’ Laird Ainsley in his bed. I was executin’ me faither’s orders, and I would have done it, but I couldnae find either. We wouldnae be havin’ this conversation if I’d succeeded.”
“But ye didnae,” one of the men pointed out. “Ye stole that lassie instead, and now ye’ve put us all on the gallows. It was dangerous and foolhardy, me Laird. What were ye thinkin’?”
Killian was not foolish. He knew he shouldn’t have brought Ailis here, that he should have left her where he found her.
But when he hadn’t been able to find his brother or Laird Ainsley, and she had appeared, he had seen an opportunity.
At the very least, the means to keep Fraser safe.
As long as Killian didn’t do anything to Ailis, Laird Ainsley wouldn’t do anything to his brother.
That was how he had tried to justify his decision afterward, at least.
In the moment, however, his motivations had been simpler. He hadn’t wanted to leave a frightened woman, clearly scared of her own brother, to face a cruel punishment for the crime of feeding Fraser. It had been a kindness, rather than a desire to take a captive in revenge.
“Ye should take her back at once,” one of the councilmen demanded, eliciting murmurs of agreement.
“Negotiate first, then take her back,” another interjected. “Meet at the border—they return yer braither, we return the lass.”
“Daenae admit that it was ye,” a third remarked. “Write and say it was a rogue soldier, who ye’ve dealt with. Then, take her back. That would show strength without them blamin’ ye for it. They mustnae think it was ye.”
Voices battled across the long table, each man eager to have his opinion heard above the rest. But they had one thing in common: all agreed that Ailis shouldn’t stay in the castle and that, by bringing her here, Killian had put them all in danger.
“Yer faither never would have acted so rashly.”
“Perhaps ye ought to let us make the decisions for a while.”
“What possessed ye?”
“Ye never could’ve ended a war by yerself, me Laird. That’s yer pride gettin’ in the way.”
A confident sea of dissent, intended to make him feel as if he had no idea what he was doing.
Maybe he didn’t, but he wasn’t about to let a bunch of old men who hadn’t held a sword in years tell him that they knew better.
“At least I did somethin’!” he roared, slamming his fist on the table.
The vibrations ran the full length, startling the councilmen into silence.
“Me faither was an honorable laird, aye, but ye cannae do the same thing over and over and expect a war to end without change,” Killian continued, his eyes narrowing on the shocked men.
“Doin’ nothin’ is how ye end up in another battle…
and another… and another, with the same enemy, until their heirs inherit the feud and the fightin’ carries on for another generation… and another… and another.”
How often had they heard news of other lairds in the Highlands and Lowlands who had been locked in bloodshed for decades?
How often had they rolled their eyes and insisted that they would never allow a feud to last so long?
How often had they judged other clans and lairds and councils for doing exactly what was happening between the Ainsleys and the MacNairns?
Killian said as much before adding with a growl, “That lass is mine. Am I understood?”
One of the councilmen raised a shaky hand. “But… what if her family attacks in revenge? As I said before, we’re nae in a position to fight another battle so soon.”
“And ye think they are?” Killian countered curtly. “They lost as many men as we did. So, if they want to take her from me, let them come.”
A wave of unease rippled across the table, the councilmen exchanging dubious looks. Killian watched them whisper and mutter, both hands braced against the wood, and realized how hard he was breathing.
What is it about her?
He couldn’t quite understand his sudden possessiveness.
Ailis was as good as a stranger to him. Beautiful, certainly, with a wavy mane of the most lustrous red hair and autumnal green eyes that spoke of a dimmed spark.
He had caught glimpses of a fiery spirit within and had no doubt that her family made a habit of dampening it.
And after seeing her in that nightdress last night, he couldn’t deny that she had the most exquisite figure. A sumptuous feast for the eyes, the thin fabric leaving just enough to the imagination to keep him awake longer than usual.
Is that reason enough to risk the revolt of me council and the wrath of the Ainsleys, though?
It wasn’t as if Ailis was the only woman in the world who endured cruelty, so why had he not been able to let her go? Or rather, why had he not been able to leave her where he had found her? Why could he not bear the idea of sending her back, when he didn’t know her at all?
“Me Laird, the lass is a plain thing, or so I hear,” one of the older councilmen piped up, a nervous twitch in his lips.
“If this is about havin’ a lass to warm yer bed, ye can have yer pick among the lassies at the castle.
Havin’ her willnae bring ye any satisfaction, unless ye like the thrill of wonderin’ when she’s goin’ to put a blade to yer throat. Or ye like bein’ smothered.”
A different man snorted. “I hear she’s as large as a whale.”
“Some men like that,” someone else remarked.
“Some men cannae get anythin’ better, but our Laird can have whatever lass he wants,” another man said with a smirk, each unsavory word a poker in the fire of Killian’s ire, stirring it to a scorching heat.
Killian glowered at the men and slowly drew his sword.
He couldn’t help it. He wouldn’t allow his councilmen to speak ill of the woman who had had ample opportunity to kill him.
An entire journey to try and end him, one way or another.
A woman who, to his mind, was the most exquisite he had ever seen.
“How dare ye!” a familiar feminine voice shouted at the same moment. “Ye take that back! Ye daenae even ken me!”
The entire room turned toward the door, where the sound had come from.
So, she’s awake.
Killian resisted the urge to smile and strode over to the door, before pausing to see whether she would burst in. But she was a laird’s daughter through and through; she needed to be invited in, her manners holding her in the hallway.
A second later, he pulled the door open. And there she was, her face a charming shade of bright red, wringing her hands in consternation.
Ailis Lyall, the woman who had caused such uproar by doing nothing at all.
Haloed by a shaft of light that filtered through the windows behind, the thin layer of dust on the glass making the light around her almost angelic in its haziness, she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. More, in truth.
Her face was heart-shaped, her plump cheeks never without their youthful roses, her chin dainty and her lips full. At that moment, her lower lip was pinched between pearly white teeth. Anxious, despite her rude interruption.
“Ye’ll bruise yer lip doin’ that,” Killian wanted to tell her, but she jumped in ahead of him.
“I apologize, me Laird,” she said quickly, lowering her green gaze.
“I didnae mean to overhear. I was waitin’ to speak to ye when I heard what those men said about me.
They werenae… nice things to say, even about a captive.
With respect, whoever said that, I have to wonder how ye were raised. Such ill manners.”
The councilmen who had derided her had the decency to look chastened, a touch of pink tingeing their faces, too. They mumbled under their breaths like young lads who had been caught in some mischief or other.
“Everyone out,” Killian ordered calmly, sheathing his sword.
No punishment needed to be delivered by a blade when Ailis had just lashed them with her tongue.