Chapter 18
Ailis shook so violently that she could feel her bones rattling. Her jaw ached with the strain of clenching her teeth. No part of her was still, not even her mind, what with the sort of cold that made a person feel like they would never be warm again.
She didn’t know where Killian had gone, but he had left her at the mouth of a cave with his dry shirt and his plaid wrapped around her. Indeed, it only occurred to her in his absence that he mustn’t be wearing anything at all.
Has he left me? Has he abandoned me for me stupidity?
Just then, she saw him on the cliff steps, descending at a pace that sent her heart to her throat. It didn’t help matters that he was entirely naked, the rain and the faint moonlight making his bare skin gleam.
He was carrying something in his arms, mostly hiding his dignity.
It became clearer as he ran across the bay toward her that he had a giant fleece with him, and the thought of its warmth lifted her spirits ever so slightly.
“Once ye’ve warmed up a little,” he said without preamble, “we should get ye back to the castle.”
Her teeth chattered, allowing no reply.
“Aye, well, let me wrap this around ye.” He exchanged the fleece for his plaid, quickly belting the latter around his hips before she could see too much. “Can ye walk a few steps?”
Ailis attempted to wiggle her toes, but nothing would cooperate.
“That’s what I feared.”
Killian scooped her off the rock where she sat and carried her into the dark cave, where the drum of crashing waves became a deafening thing, like being inside a heartbeat.
She couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face, but Killian seemed to know his way around in the dark. He set her down carefully on something solid and dry, then disappeared for a few moments. When he returned—or rather, the sound of him grew closer—she had no notion of what he was doing.
Then, a bright spark flared in the darkness. Another joined the first, landing in what appeared to be a small pyramid of kindling. The wood caught, the thinly peeled strips of bark and frayed twigs smoking as a meager flame devoured the offering.
By that light, Ailis saw Killian kneeling, his hands cupped around the kindling as he blew on it. The flames responded to his attention with a sultry waver, and as they licked higher, trying to reach his mouth, he added a few larger pieces of wood.
Soon enough, he had a good fire going, heat radiating outward to chase off the chill of the cave. Ailis reached her shaking hands closer, moaning a little as warmth caressed her palms.
“Ye need to get out of those clothes,” Killian said.
Ailis blinked, wondering if her moan had stoked him by accident.
“The fire willnae dry them fast enough, and ye’ll catch yer death,” he explained. “Until ye can make it back to the castle, this is how ye survive.”
Ailis huddled deeper into the soft, comforting fleece. “I’ll be perfectly fine in this.”
“Ye willnae. Ye need bare skin for the fleece to warm ye properly. The longer ye sit there in those wet clothes, the colder ye’ll get,” he replied sternly.
She shot him a stern look of her own, mainly to hide the guilt that she had to be rescued. “Aye, well, I’m nae… undressin’ in front of… ye, so ye can… forget it.”
The cold had her voice in a vise, every word an effort when her jaw was numb and her tongue felt like a lead weight in her mouth.
“We’re to be married tomorrow,” he uttered, as if she needed reminding. “I daenae think me seein’ ye without yer clothes on for half a moment is improper. Ye’re to be me wife.”
“A wife ye’re nae… allowed to touch!” she retorted, thinking about the ties at the back of her gown.
How on earth was she supposed to unfasten them by herself?
With a growl of frustration and a roll of his eyes, Killian got to his feet. “I’m nae a brute, lass. I can give ye whatever privacy ye desire. I just thought ye’d want help, when ye’re shakin’ so hard ye cannae even speak properly.”
He made an annoyingly good point. Her hands, too, would be a problem. Even without the laces at the back of the dress, she doubted she could grasp the fabric well enough to be able to pull it over her head.
“What would I wear instead?” she sniffed. “I have nothin’ dry, and I’m nae sittin’ here with ye wearin’ nothin’ at all.”
Without a word, he disappeared again, his footsteps echoing somewhere in the back of the cave. The stone walls and the murmur of the sea distorted the noise a little, until it sounded like he was everywhere, all at once, disorienting her already feeble sense of direction.
Had he gone out of the cave or deeper into it? Now, she wasn’t sure.
“This ought to suffice,” he said, reappearing so suddenly that she jumped in fright.
A woolen shirt in a shade of red was in his hands. It would have been too short on him, but it would fit her rather nicely. Better yet, it appeared to be dry.
“Where did ye get that from?” she asked, her tone suspicious.
Killian handed her the garment. “People keep clothes here in the summer, so they have somethin’ to wear after they’ve gone swimmin’ or crabbin’ or divin’.
The tide never comes this high up, so everythin’ stays dry.
There’s also some dried meat and a jar of water in the back. Plenty of wood for the fire and all.”
“Why store so many things here?” She glanced toward the rear of the cave, but the firelight didn’t stretch that far.
Killian shrugged. “People like to spend all day on the beach when the weather is good, and they’ve got nothin’ else to do. They daenae want to traipse back and forth to the castle, so they just leave things here.” A smirk lifted his lips. “Never thought it’d be useful.”
A frown creased Ailis’s brow. She couldn’t imagine her father ever permitting the castle residents to just…
spend a day at the beach. If he had heard of such a thing going on, he would have made an example of those who thought they could waste time, or he would have given pointless tasks to those who lived in the castle so they wouldn’t have time to waste.
“What’s that look for?” Killian asked.
Ailis shook her head. “Nothin’. I was just wonderin’ when ye were goin’ to turn yer back so I can take off me dress.”
She heard a huff of breath that might’ve been a chuckle, but he had already turned around to give her privacy. That meant she would have to unfasten her dress alone, or swallow her pride and ask for his assistance.
Grumbling under her breath, she chose the latter. “Ye can turn around for exactly two minutes to help me undo the laces. There’s a knot at the top that I cannae undo by meself.”
As he turned back to her, she managed to rise to her feet and turn away from him. Her legs were unsteady, the bone and muscle and sinew as weak as bread dough, and she doubted that having him unfasten her gown was going to help matters at all.
He’s nay better than yer braither. He killed those men without an ounce of regret. Aye, he’s handsome, and he’s… breathtakin’, but that’s nae a reason to be swayed. If anythin’, that’s more of a reason to be wary.
“So, I’m allowed to touch ye?” he asked.
Unable to see his face, she didn’t know if he was taunting her or not. It didn’t sound like it, but then his tone was often hard to read.
“Ye’re allowed to undo the ties,” she corrected. “Ye shouldnae touch any part of me that isnae covered in fabric.”
She could almost feel his sly smile as he replied, “In that case…”