Chapter 11
Curse him for sayin’ that.
Ailis had not slept well, lying awake half the night, expecting to hear her door creak open. When she had managed to doze off, the merest sound had woken her again, her mind overly alert.
All because of Killian. Killian and his parting words.
She had assumed he would visit her, as he had done the night before. Now, rubbing her tired eyes, she wondered if he had been talking about himself. Or maybe he had known that saying such a thing would ensure that she didn’t have a good night.
Either way, she was exhausted.
I daenae have to leave me room. I could just go back to sleep.
She considered it for a moment, tempted, but a polite knock at the door put an end to the notion of a lazy day in bed.
The maid, Rachel, entered with an uncharacteristic smile. “I thought I heard ye stirrin’,” she said brightly.
Ailis frowned, squinting at her with bleary eyes. “How long were ye out there?”
“An hour,” Rachel replied, absent the usual breakfast tray.
Indeed, she was strangely empty-handed.
“Ye should have woken me up instead of waitin’ out there,” Ailis said, a little short. She had just woken up, after all. “I wouldnae have minded much.”
The maid waved a dismissive hand. “I couldnae do that, me Lady. A bride needs all the beauty sleep she can get.” She bustled over to the wardrobe and threw the doors wide.
“Now, I’ve already asked Paisley to make ye some concoctions to brighten yer skin and make yer hair even glossier, and to soften yer hands.
But we still have the matter of yer weddin’ gown to discuss, and there’s nae much time to have it made. Is there a color ye prefer?”
Ailis didn’t know where to begin. For starters, she wasn’t aware that her skin needed brightening or that her hair needed glossing or that her hands were particularly rough.
Most of all, she wasn’t aware that she had agreed to be Killian’s bride, unless she had sleepwalked to his chambers in the night and given her enthusiastic consent.
“I daenae need a weddin’ gown,” she said firmly. “There willnae be a weddin’.”
Rachel laughed. “The Laird said ye’d say that.”
“Then why are ye askin’ me to choose a color for a gown that doesnae need to be made?” Ailis countered, her nerves spiking.
Am I really goin’ to marry him? Do I have a choice?
She could think of far worse prospects. Killian was handsome, cared fiercely for his clan and family, seemed to be kind toward his servants, and kissed in a way that made her feel more alive than she ever had.
If she were to make a list, he would be more than a suitable candidate. He would be any woman’s dream.
The trouble was, it would undoubtedly trigger a nightmare.
“I think I can answer that,” a different voice interjected from the doorway. Paisley stood there with a shy smile. “And I’m nae makin’ concoctions for beauty, Ailis, so daenae listen to Rachel. Ye daenae need any help in that regard. I’m makin’ tonics for vitality, stress, and good sleep.”
Ailis heaved a small sigh of relief, despite her annoyance at Paisley for informing Killian about her near-fainting spell.
“Have ye been sent to convince me?” she asked wryly, wrapping herself in a blanket to stave off the morning chill. The fire hadn’t been relit yet, since she preferred to do it herself.
Paisley pulled a face, half-apologetic, half-guilty. “I’ve been sent to tell ye that, as a wedding gift, the Laird means to steal Skye from Castle Ainsley.” She stepped further into the room. “While the weddin’ is takin’ place, men will be sent to the castle to rescue yer niece.”
“What?” Ailis gasped, her heart leaping to her throat.
“Peter has agreed to go—the Laird’s man-at-arms—and there’s nay one more capable than him,” Paisley explained. “Well, maybe Fraser, but I’m biased.”
Ailis scrambled out of the bed, too shocked to stay in the warmth of the coverlets. “Are ye serious?”
“Aye.” Paisley smiled, a touch of nervousness in her eyes.
“The hope is that Fraser will be returned at yer weddin’, so we daenae have to worry about rescuin’ him anymore.
This weddin’, with any luck, will see ye and yer niece reunited, me and me love reunited, and ye and the Laird united.
I’m nae so convinced it’ll unite the clans, but…
there’s a chance, and I daresay we have to take it. ”
Wrapping her arms around herself, Ailis approached the healer. “And ye’re willin’ to take that risk with yer beloved’s life?”
“I am,” Paisley replied, “because it’s either this or waitin’ for him to die in a dungeon.
If nothin’ else, I’ll get to see him again.
Maybe it’ll all erupt, but I’ll get to see him again.
And I ken it’s a lot to ask of ye—to marry a man who kidnapped ye from yer home—but I believe this is the only hope we have, and when ye have hope, however small, ye cannae let it go. ”
Ailis stared at the courageous healer, who raised her eyes as if to hold back her tears.
If this woman could have such faith in Killian’s plan, with her beloved’s life at stake, then perhaps Ailis could find a little faith in it too.
After all, Paisley wasn’t a foolish woman. She was keenly intelligent, she had probably seen more of the ravages of war than most, and she would’ve told Killian it was an idiotic plan if she thought it was. Being his brother’s beloved, practically a sister-in-law, she had that privilege.
“All ye have to do is agree,” she said with a sad smile. “If nae, the Laird willnae force ye.”
“But a lot is restin’ on me sayin’ I will?” Ailis prompted.
Paisley shrugged. “That’s nae for me to say. It has to be yer decision. He wouldnae make ye a captive in a marriage any more than he’s made ye a captive in his castle.”
Breathless with the pressure of not knowing what to say, Ailis turned around and walked to the windows. She tugged the drapes aside to allow the morning light in and narrowed her gaze on the strip of land between the castle and the sea.
Seagulls wheeled and squawked, a trio of rooks glided through the air, while a kestrel hovered over a patch of heath, waiting to strike. She supposed she was looking for a sign, but the sights were conflicting.
Then, she heard it. The gentle coo of a dove, somewhere nearby. Up on the slanting roof that overhung the windows, perhaps.
Peace. The bird of peace.
She closed her eyes and swallowed past the nervous lump in her throat. “Green.”
“Pardon?” Paisley and Rachel chorused.
“Green,” Ailis repeated. “The gown should be green.”
Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t believe she was going to marry Killian, or that she had made up her mind, just like that.
No doubt it would take longer to accept that she was going to be his wife.
But Paisley was right; if there was even the smallest chance that this could work and that Skye would be safe, then she had to try. For all their sakes.
“Any particular shade of green?” Rachel asked excitedly.
Ailis shook her head. “I daenae care.”
“I’ll choose the perfect shade, me Lady,” Rachel promised.
Paisley came to stand beside Ailis and gently took her arm. “What do ye say I take ye on a tour of the castle, now that ye’re goin’ to be the Lady of Clan MacNairn?” She smiled reassuringly. “A walk helps to get thoughts in order and calm a racing mind. As a healer, I must insist on a dose.”
“I think… I’d like that,” Ailis replied. “Just let me dress meself first.”
At that, Rachel chimed in, “A dress, of course! Silly me. I’ve got two for ye to wear. The Laird had them made for ye—the seamstresses have been workin’ all night, and they’ll have nay peace until the weddin’. Still, I think they’re secretly pleased to have a lady to dress at last.”
Ailis frowned at the maid. Of course, she was glad that she would finally have something fitting to wear, but she had had no idea that Killian had gone to the trouble.
“I’ll just fetch them for ye,” Rachel said, before rushing out.
Paisley lightly nudged Ailis in the ribs. “Ye’re one of us now. Yer niece will be, too.” She offered a smile. “The Laird takes care of his own.”
While the thought of being protected by Killian wasn’t at all unpleasant, another thought niggled at the back of Ailis’s mind.
If he already went to the trouble of havin’ dresses made for me, does that mean he had always planned to marry me? Is that the real reason he took me?
He claimed not, but she couldn’t quite shake her doubt that she had always been the linchpin of his grand scheme. And that his ‘kindness’ and his charm were all part of it too.
“Goodness!” Ailis gasped as she stood before a beautiful family portrait, expertly painted, so detailed that she felt as if the figures might step out of the frame at any moment.
Paisley had spent the last hour or so showing her around the castle, pointing out important rooms and places that might be of interest.
Ailis had dutifully taken it all in, making a note of the Great Hall, the library, and the cloisters, but the gallery was the first place that had sparked genuine curiosity.
They didn’t have one at Castle Ainsley. Indeed, Ailis wasn’t even sure there were portraits of her family and their ancestors. She assumed there were, somewhere, hidden away in a location that only her father knew about.
The portrait in front of her showed three men, their dark hair, sharp jaws, pale skin, and blue eyes making their relation clear.
The older man had a proud smile on his face, his eyes twinkling, his hands resting on the shoulders of his sons.
Killian and Fraser were younger in the portrait, their smiles making them look more youthful, more innocent, less drawn by the grim palette of war.
“I didnae think he could smile,” Ailis muttered, mostly to herself.
Paisley chuckled. “Even then, he didnae smile much, but he made an exception for the portrait.”
“Nay maither?” Ailis asked, and immediately regretted such a blunt question.
“She died when Fraser was just a bairn, but Killian wasnae much older,” Paisley replied.
“Fraser doesnae remember her, nae really, but I ken the Laird has fond memories of her. His faither loved her dearly. Never remarried. I doubt he even considered it. Ye’ll hear folks talkin’ about her sometimes.
A fine woman, though I suppose it was a strange mercy that she didnae live to see the war. ”
Ailis nodded in agreement. “Then again, if she were alive, she might have been able to stop Killian’s faither from startin’ it.”
“Pardon?” Paisley turned to stare at her, brow furrowed as if she were trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle.
“I mean, he doesnae look like someone who’d start a war for land, but ye cannae tell everythin’ from a portrait,” Ailis replied, not understanding the confusion on the healer’s face.
“Maybe it all could have been avoided if his wife were still alive. If he loved her as much as ye say, she probably would’ve talked him out of it. ”
A dry laugh escaped Paisley’s lips. “Ailis, it was the other way around. Yer clan started the war.”
“Nay, yer clan did.” Ailis shook her head emphatically. “Though I’m sure yer Laird blamed the other side to try and justify his actions. Still, I’m certain it was him who started all of this.”
Paisley studied her for a moment, her frown deepening. “I’m nae goin’ to argue with ye.” She shrugged, puffing out a breath. “In the end, it doesnae matter who started it—the result is still the same. All I ken is, and all that matters is, the new Laird will do everythin’ to stop it.”
“Aye, I willnae argue with that,” Ailis replied, moving away from the portrait before a quarrel could commence.
She wandered the cavernous hall at her leisure, every wall adorned with paintings without seeming overcrowded.
High windows graciously blocked any view of the sea while offering the most heavenly light to illuminate the paintings.
It was, presumably, to protect the paintings too, so that the sunlight wouldn’t fade the exquisite artwork.
Just as she was beginning to enjoy herself, she passed by the most terrible sight: a large landscape of a violent sea in the midst of a storm.
A tiny fishing boat caught her eye, trapped between the frothing curl of a mighty wave and fanged rocks that protruded from the water.
Somewhere on that fragile deck, a lantern glowed—the light of someone stuck aboard, who couldn’t possibly escape.
The panic was instantaneous. It rushed through her body as if she were the one stranded aboard that tiny vessel, rocked and jostled by the furious waves, her stomach lurching, her breath coming in frantic bursts. She could almost taste the spray splashing her face, the terror weakening her knees.
Worried that she was about to faint from the pressure in her skull, she quickly sank onto the floor before she could fall.
“Ailis?” Paisley’s concerned voice called out, muffled by the roaring in her ears.
There on the floor, cross-legged and hunched over, Ailis willed her breathing to slow, urged her heart to stop racing. Her hand flew to her chest, rubbing tight circles with the heel of her palm, while her entire body seemed to pulse with blood-chilling terror.
“What did ye do to me bride?” a familiar voice boomed, sending her heart racing all over again.