Chapter 16
“What has ye so distracted from the thrill of ledgers and correspondence?” Peter asked, the bulk of him blocking the study doorway.
Killian struggled to tear his gaze away from the gardens, where Paisley and Ailis were wandering.
They were laughing about something, too far away for him to hear the jest, but it lifted his spirits to see Ailis smiling like that again.
Had she been aware of his eyes on her, he had no doubt that her joy would have vanished in an instant.
“Anythin’ could distract me from this,” he said grimly as he set down his quill and stretched out his arms. Stealing one more glance through the window to where Ailis and Paisley had paused to pick herbs.
Peter entered the room and walked right up to the window to peer out. “Ah, I see.”
It had been three days since the incident in the forest. Three days since Killian had been in Ailis’s company. She dined in Paisley’s quarters in the evening and had been doing her very best to ensure that they were never in the same room.
They had crossed paths no more than a handful of times.
He had seen her in the hallway with an armful of books, though she hadn’t seen him.
He had felt eyes on him while out in the training yard, and when he had turned, he had seen her figure retreating swiftly.
He had seen her twice in the gardens, once in the cloisters, and once in the entrance hall, where she had promptly turned around and walked in the opposite direction.
“It doesnae matter,” he said firmly. “She doesnae trust me, but the weddin’ will still take place, and the maids tell me that she’s been eatin’ more lately. As long as she’s nae around me, she seems happy enough.”
Peter gave a pitying smile that Killian didn’t appreciate one bit. “Ye ordered the maids to spy on her?”
“They’re reportin’ on her welfare to me,” Killian corrected. “That isnae spyin’.”
Peter took the seat opposite. “I imagine Paisley isnae sayin’ much to ye, though. She’s taken her side.”
“I daenae mind that,” Killian said. “The lass could use a friend here, and it keeps Paisley from comin’ to me every five minutes, askin’ me what I mean to do about Fraser. As if that doesnae occupy at least half of me mind all the time.”
Peter brushed a patch of dried mud off his knee. “Aye, well, the plan is mostly in place. All depends on Ailis’s map now, but Paisley told me she’s in the midst of drawin’ it.” He paused. “Do ye think they’ll come to the weddin’ after all?”
“I cannae guess, at present.” Killian let his gaze wander back to Ailis as more laughter rose to greet his ears. “But, either way, we’ll get them both—Fraser and the wee lassie. I ken it willnae be easy, and I wish it were me leadin’ the rescue, but I have faith in ye, Peter.”
Peter laughed, though his eyes betrayed an inner pride. “I’m just sorry I willnae get to see the great Killian Lennox married at last. Ye’ll have to save me a cup of good whiskey for when I return triumphant.”
“I’ll save ye a whole barrel,” Killian promised, the first wave of unease writhing in his stomach.
The wedding was just a few days away, looming with so many unknowns and such high stakes that he couldn’t help worrying that it would all fall apart.
And that was if Ailis even showed up. She had claimed that she would go through with it, but he couldn’t forget the look in her eyes as they had parted ways in the woods—a look of such disappointment, such dismay, such contempt, as if she had been staring into the eyes of the enemy.
I’m nae yer foe, lass. Far from it.
But he doubted there was anything he could do to convince her of that now. She had seen him in a different light, and he couldn’t undo that. All because he had almost killed a man who wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her, given the chance.
In hindsight, Ailis wasn’t sure that her decision to stay away from Killian was the right one. If there hadn’t been a wedding coming up, perhaps it would have been easier, but the days had passed so quickly, hurtling toward her nuptials to the man she had shunned.
To his credit, he had left her alone, though she had glimpsed him here and there. A beautiful shadow moving out of the corner of her eye.
But now, it was the night before the day that would change everything, bringing peace or doom. And she wished she could have seen him for a moment, to reassure herself that this wedding was not going to be the worst mistake in the history of this bloody war.
“How’s the bonny bride feelin’?” Rachel burst into her bedchamber without knocking.
Ailis jumped at the disturbance, her stomach doing anxious somersaults. “We really must talk about ye learnin’ to knock, Rachel. Ye’re goin’ to kill me one day.”
“Apologies, me Lady.” Rachel grinned and held out a linen-wrapped package. Large and softly rectangular.
Ailis’s stomach lurched again at the sight of it; there was no mistaking what was inside.
“I just got it from the seamstresses,” Rachel enthused as she set the package down on a nearby table and began to unwrap it. “They’re giddy, they are! Truly, ye’d think the Laird is marryin’ a lass from another clan—they’re that pleased about it.”
Ailis froze, heavy dread slipping down the back of her throat and into her stomach like mad honey. Her nerves were already teetering on a knife’s edge; she didn’t need the reminder that practically no one was in favor of this union.
How did Killian even get his council to agree to it?
Unless, like her father, Killian didn’t listen to his councilmen. She wasn’t quite sure how many of her father’s councilmen were still alive.
“I come bearin’ flowers,” a welcome voice interrupted her anxious thoughts. Paisley swept into the room. At least she gave a half knock upon entry. “And a tonic that, by the looks of it, ye’re goin’ to need.”
She cast a concerned glance at Ailis, who did not doubt that she had gone very pale. It wasn’t the same dreadful sensation that the sea conjured up, but it was certainly close, her legs bouncing, every breath laced with a hint of nausea.
“Aye, well, Her Ladyship can choose the flowers once she’s put the gown on,” Rachel declared, bringing over the dress in question.
Ailis had to force herself to look at the wedding gown the way one might force oneself to look at a terrible injury to see what could be done about it.
Oh…
It was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. The most exquisite garment she had ever seen in her life, a shade of emerald so rich and vivid that she was afraid to touch it.
The gown sparkled in the low light of her bedchamber, drawing her eye to the ocean of adornments and embellishments that had been painstakingly sewn into the fabric: burnished gold spangles, thin gold beads, and the most intricate embroidery of autumn leaves, in hues of gold and bronze and paler green.
“Let’s get ye into it, then,” Rachel said excitedly. “I cannae wait. Och, it’s like it’s me own wedding!”
Ailis rose from the armchair where she did most of her fretting.
Come now, it’s just a dress. Ye’ve worn dresses every day of yer life. This is just another one.
She neglected to remind herself that this dress was nothing like any she had ever worn. At her family home, she had been clothed in drab colors, the seamstress instructed to make her dresses out of coarse, itchy fabrics as a sort of perpetual punishment.
She had figured out ways around it over the years, stealing a few léines to wear as shifts instead of the uncomfortable ones that were made for her, creating a nice barrier between her skin and the rough material.
Slowly, taking it step by step, Ailis stripped out of her dress and allowed Rachel and Paisley to help her into her wedding gown.
The fabric was as soft as a kitten’s fur, gliding over her skin, the craftsmanship so perfect that it fit her like a glove.
Although that was helped by ties that weaved up the back, which Rachel yanked tight with an alarming amount of strength and enthusiasm.
Even then, it wasn’t so restrictive that Ailis couldn’t breathe. It just felt… snug.
“Well, that is… quite somethin’,” Rachel gasped, coming to stand in front of her to get the full impression. “I feel like ye ought to have a crown on yer head, me Lady. Mercy, I havenae seen aught like it in all me life.”
Paisley’s eyes were similarly wide as she awkwardly held out two bouquets of flowers.
One had sprays of lucky heather and bright purple thistles, amid fronds of fern and laurel; the other was smaller, with a center of white crocus and light purple asters, surrounded by the rusty pink blooms of sedum flowers, which, in turn, were bordered by laurel.
“I daenae think either are bonny enough for that gown,” she said, “but there arenae too many fresh flowers to be found in autumn. This is the best I could do.”
Ailis took the smaller bouquet and turned to face the looking glass, nervous to see herself in something so grand.
She gasped upon seeing her reflection. Nothing had been done to change her hair or her face, yet it was like looking at a stranger.
She couldn’t recognize the woman staring back at her, wild-eyed and clearly terrified.
“See, if it were me wedding to Fraser, when he’s finally free,” Paisley continued, “I’d have a whole bouquet of medicinal plants. Their color doesnae matter so much as their properties, which makes it easier.”
She chuckled, meaning it as a joke, but Ailis could find nothing funny in her reflection.
Suddenly, the ties at the back of her gown were too tight, a crushing weight bearing down on her chest. The dress was too bright, too luxurious, too unlike her. And she must have had some aversion to the flowers, for her throat began to constrict, her eyes watering, her stomach twisting into knots.
Deep down, however, she knew it had nothing to do with what she was wearing or what she was holding, and everything to do with what it all represented: the wedding, Fraser’s freedom, the attack in the woods, the fate of her niece, the fate of two clans…
It was all too much, slamming into her at once.
And Killian. Me captor and soon-to-be husband.
He made her feel things that she shouldn’t. He kept turning her mind upside down, her thoughts ricocheting between desire and distaste, yearning for his closeness and desperate to be as far away from him as possible, knowing she should hate him yet feeling quite the opposite.
It was more confusion than one woman could bear. More pressure than one woman could possibly endure.
“I need a moment,” Ailis croaked. “Please… I need a moment.”
She hiked up the velvet skirts of her exquisite gown, bouquet gripped so tight that petals began to fall, and ran.