Chapter 21
Killian awoke slowly to the cry of seagulls, disoriented at first. It took him a second to remember that he was in the sea cave and that the warm, soft body in his arms was his bride.
Ailis slept soundly, no hint of a nightmare making her squirm or furrow her brow.
He smiled and pressed his lips gently to her hair.
“What are ye doin’?” a voice whispered in the back of his head, and his smile faded.
What was he doing?
Carefully pulling away from Ailis, he sat up and glared out at the cave mouth. The sky outside had turned inky with dawn, the shriek of the seagulls now sounding like a warning.
He had been asleep for too long. He had lowered his guard, and now it was a new day, while his entire castle was probably wondering where on earth he had gone.
They’ll think I’ve been taken or worse.
He looked back at Ailis’s sleeping figure and softened again, the effect immediate.
I care for her more than I should.
The realization didn’t come as a shock, but it came with a wariness and an understanding that he couldn’t let down his guard like this again.
If she had that effect on him, then it was his duty and responsibility to keep his distance from her until all of his plans had come to fruition.
Then, and only then, could he allow himself to care for her as much as he pleased.
Indeed, he had already admitted that he hadn’t been thinking of his brother when he had taken her from her home. If he hadn’t been distracted by her rescue, would he have Fraser back already?
There was no way of knowing, but he couldn’t allow this… weakness to make him lose sight of everything else.
“Until Fraser is safely home, until there’s a semblance of peace,” he whispered, before leaning down and pressing one last kiss to Ailis’s forehead.
With that, he quietly padded out of the cave and into the chilly autumn dawn to clear his head.
A dull rhythm woke Ailis from a deep slumber, her eyes struggling to open.
The thick fleece was warm and comforting around her, but as her senses slowly awakened, she became aware of her solitude.
Where there had been a furnace behind her, holding her as she slept, there was now just the drape of the fleece.
He’s a laird. He doesnae lie in bed like a lazy creature.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, a gasp escaping her as she noted the color of the sky outside. It hadn’t yet, but the sun would soon rise. They had spent the entire night there, asleep in each other’s arms.
“Paisley is goin’ to kill me,” she muttered, jumping up to dress herself.
She didn’t put the woolen shirt back on, but chose her dress instead. It had dried by the fire, though parts of the skirt were still damp.
As she looked down at the beautiful piece of emerald and embroidery, she grimaced. It was salt-stained, many of the beads torn off during her foolhardy swim. In essence, it was ruined.
“Rachel is goin’ to kill me,” she groaned, filled with such remorse for her panicked antics.
Wrapping the fleece around her so she wouldn’t have to see too much of what she had done, and praying it wasn’t a bad omen, she wandered out to see where Killian was.
She found him on the shore, just below the opening of the cave, splitting driftwood.
For a moment, she didn’t make her presence known, content to watch him swing the axe—another treasure of the cave, no doubt—and cleave the wood in half.
He had put his shirt back on, but she could see the muscles of his back and arms rippling beneath the thin fabric as he brought the axe up and down in an arc.
“Are we stayin’ longer?” she called out, for there was quite a pile of split wood beside him. “Shall we just forget the weddin’ and live here?”
She meant it in jest, but his blue eyes were stony as he raised them to her.
“Ye’re awake. Good. We should be leavin’,” he said. “The castle will be wonderin’ where we are.”
A frown creased her brow, but she shrugged off the uneasy feeling in her stomach.
Of course, he wasn’t all smiles and good humor. He had tasked his entire castle with finding her after she had run off, and he hadn’t returned yet to inform them that she had been located. Last night, she had had him all to herself, but now that it was morning, the Laird had reappeared.
“I’m ready to leave when ye are,” she told him.
He gathered up the split driftwood and climbed up to the ledge outside the cave, walking past her to deposit the wood deeper in that shelter of stone. Taking one last look around to make sure they didn’t leave anything, he moved back to her side and offered his hand to help her down to the beach.
See? Everythin’ is well.
She took his hand and let him guide her, holding on tighter as he escorted her up the steep cliff steps. There, his stallion grazed, the sleek beast raising its enormous head with a snort of greeting.
“Have ye been here all night?” Ailis cooed, reaching out to scratch between its ears.
The stallion snorted again.
“I didnae bring a saddle,” Killian said flatly as he took the fleece from around her shoulders and threw it onto the horse’s back. “There wasnae time, but ye willnae fall.”
Without warning, he picked her up and practically draped her over the stallion like she was a blanket. He pushed her foot up as she clumsily scrambled to right herself, the patient warhorse casually continuing to graze as she struggled into a sitting position.
To add insult to injury, Killian smoothly pulled himself up behind her, as if it were no challenge at all. His arm wound around her waist, and he grabbed the reins, steering the horse toward the castle with that same, stony expression on his face.
They had made it a fair distance into the woodland before Ailis mustered the nerve to speak, feeling as if she might burst if she didn’t.
“Thank ye for helpin’ me yesterday,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m truly grateful that ye arrived when ye did, and that ye… came after me. And for everythin’ afterward.”
She cringed inwardly. Was it appropriate to thank him for what he had done with his tongue?
Was it customary to express gratitude for the most intense and magical feeling she had ever experienced?
Or was that weird? Did saying ‘thank you’ make it strange, giving the feeling of a service rendered and received?
“Ye’re welcome,” he replied.
Fixing her gaze on the path ahead, the shapes and foliage and undergrowth just beginning to emerge from the darkness of night, she tried again. “What ye said about feelin’ like ye were supposed to meet me,” she began. “I just wanted to say that—”
“We daenae need to talk about it, lass,” he interrupted. “Me blood was still rushin’ after the rescue; I cannae recall everythin’ I said.”
She frowned.
Is he tryin’ to take back what he said?
“It’s just that, what happened—”
“Kept us warm,” Killian finished.
She resisted the urge to twist around, certain that his expression wouldn’t aid her confusion any more than his flat tone. “Warm?”
“Aye, so neither of us caught our death,” he replied. “But I’m sorry that I broke yer rule. In the moment, it was necessary.”
If he was trying to wound her, he was doing a rather good job of it. If he wasn’t trying to wound her, then he must be a fool not to notice how hurtful his words were.
How could he say that it was just to keep them warm? For that, they could have just lain together beneath the fleece. But all the things he had done and said—no, they hadn’t been ‘necessary’ at all. They had been life-altering and earth-shattering, and now he was undoing it all.
Ailis didn’t want to believe that she had been tricked, but her theory about him softening her up, making her malleable to his plans, rushed back in with force.
I willnae give him the satisfaction of seein’ that he’s stung me.
Marriage was still the only hope of any change in the endless war between their clans, but that didn’t mean she would be submissive. If he could pretend that last night wasn’t worth discussing, then so could she.
But she had to time it right. So she glared at the woodland ahead and said nothing, settling into the sway of the horse while trying to ignore the warmth at her back.
It felt more like an illusion now. Indeed, it was like they were standing on the edge of the cliff again, his hand on the small of her back, and she didn’t know if he was going to pull her back or push her over the edge.
She sat in silence until the horse passed through the gates of Castle MacNairn, much to the relief of the guards in the towers.
That was when she seized her moment.
“Ye’re right, me Laird,” she said, deliberately refusing to use his name.
Killian cleared his throat. “Pardon?”
“Ye were right before. I’d be dead if ye hadnae warmed me. So, thank ye again for that diligence,” she replied. “And now that I ken how concerned ye are with me rules, I think I ought to add another one, just to prevent any future misunderstandings.”
His posture stiffened. “What rule is that?”
“I daenae want to see ye until the weddin’,” she declared.
“Aye, that’s—” he began, but she didn’t let him finish.
“Or after.” She pushed his arm off her, then, with little difficulty, slid down from the horse and looked up at him. “This was only meant to be a means to an end, to end the war between our clans, so we’ll just do our duty and let that be that. Only what’s necessary.”
She turned and walked off toward the main doors, refusing to do him the courtesy of glancing back. He called after her, but she ignored him, striding onward.
Last night, he had had complete control of her body, and she had relished it. But today was a new day—her wedding day, in fact—and nobody would control what she did except her.