Chapter 23
Is a weddin’ feast usually so glum?
Having never been to one before, Ailis couldn’t tell if this was unusual or if all wedding festivities had a funereal air to them. She supposed it must depend on the couple.
“I said that gown would suit ye far better than it ever would me,” Paisley said, flopping down into the empty chair beside her.
Killian had been there throughout the somber speeches, made by people she didn’t know, who had mostly rambled on about his father, but he had wandered off a while ago and had yet to return.
Despite herself, Ailis kept searching the Great Hall for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“I’ve never thought to wear red before,” she admitted, tentatively sipping from a cup of spiced blackberry wine. “Certainly nae to a weddin’. I daenae ken why, but it doesnae seem like a color ye’d wear as a bride. But I’ve changed me opinion.”
Paisley smiled and reached up to brush a lock of hair from Ailis’s face.
“I’m sorry it’s nae the weddin’ ye’ve dreamed of since ye were a lassie.
Ordinarily, there’d be dancin’ and music and such merriment that ye’d feel like ye’d wandered into a faerie realm.
” She sighed. “Everyone is too nervous to celebrate properly.”
That answered at least one of Ailis’s questions: this was not a normal celebration. Then again, she wasn’t in a particularly celebratory mood either.
“It’s befittin’,” she murmured, her gaze flitting to the window and the distant glitter of the sea. “Who could smile and laugh and make merry in a time of war anyway?”
Paisley nudged her in the arm. “That’s precisely what people should do in a time of war, or else what are ye fightin’ for? Ye have to remember the good things in between the bad.”
Remember the good things in between the bad…
Ailis’s mind flashed to the journey back from the beach and Killian’s dismissive behavior.
Forcing her thoughts to see the good she might have missed, she remembered how he had wrapped his arm around her so she wouldn’t fall off the horse.
She recalled how carefully the fleece had been draped around her, though he had risen first; how he hadn’t woken her, letting her sleep for as long as she needed; how he had taken her hand and helped her down from the cave, then up the cliff steps.
His words mightn’t have matched his actions, but which spoke truer?
“Ye’re mine to protect and more… I daenae think enterin’ yer chamber that night was an accident … I think I was guided to ye. I think ye were always meant to be a MacNairn. A Lennox.”
She heard his voice in her head, murmuring those sweet words. What could have changed between him bringing her a world of pleasure and dawn?
Chewing her lip in thought, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had judged the events of that morning too harshly.
He must have been anxious about the day ahead. Anxious about Skye’s rescue, about his braither, about the possibility of an attack and somethin’ happenin’ to me. He said he had thought he’d lose his mind.
That roar echoed in her mind. There were certain things she believed might be subterfuge or trickery, but not that. No one could fake the urgency that had laced his voice.
“He’s upset ye, has he nae?” Paisley asked, perceptive as ever.
Ailis took a sip of her drink to wet her dry throat. “Nay, he did me a favor.”
“What happened?” the healer pressed. “I havenae had the chance to ask, between findin’ ye a new gown, appeasin’ the seamstresses, frettin’ over Fraser, and contendin’ with Rachel’s temper tantrums.”
Ailis shook her head. “It was nothin’.”
“It doesnae look like nothin’. If ye chew that lip any more, ye’ll gnaw it right off,” Paisley insisted, sounding more and more like Kristen by the minute.
She had been able to see straight through Ailis, too, and always with a hint of humor.
Ailis hesitated. “I got confused; that’s all.”
“About what?”
To that, Ailis had a thousand answers. Each one clamored in her skull, desperate to be chosen.
She was confused because Killian had kissed her, touched her, tasted her, and then ignored her come morning.
She was confused because he had been dismissive, but then he had called out to her as she had marched away from him.
She was confused because she thought she might have misunderstood, one way or the other.
She was confused about it all.
Me sister once warned me that a man will say anythin’ to get a lass into bed.
She hadn’t known what it meant back then, but maybe she had experienced it now. Although she guessed those men didn’t usually marry the lasses they took to bed, so maybe not.
Turning to Paisley, she asked outright, “Will a man say anythin’ to get a lass into bed?”
The healer looked startled for a moment… and then burst into laughter, a rich sound that brought a blush to Ailis’s cheeks.
“Some will,” she replied, still chuckling. “But if ye’re referrin’ to the Laird, then nay. He’s like his braither; they daenae say aught they daenae mean. Why? What did he say?”
Ailis fidgeted with the embroidered hem of her sleeve. “This and that.”
“Did he…?” Paisley wiggled her eyebrows, a grin on her lips.
Believing she understood the meaning, Ailis spluttered, “Nay! We… werenae married then. I wouldnae have—he wouldnae have… It was just… We just fell asleep; that’s all!”
“Ye ken there’s more to bein’ ‘taken to bed’ than fallin’ asleep though, aye?” Paisley teased, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I just want to be sure. Ye’d been trapped in yer faither’s castle for so long, and I wouldnae want ye to be oblivious when the feast is over and yer weddin’ night arrives.”
So flushed with heat she feared she might ignite, Ailis gulped down a mouthful of her wine. “Me sister… enlightened me some.”
And last night enlightened me some more.
“Anyway, ours isnae that sort of marriage,” she hastened to add. “Our duty to one another was done the moment we left the chapel.”
Paisley sat back in the chair, a sly smile quirking her mouth as she brought her own cup to her lips. “If ye say so.”
“I do, actually,” Ailis insisted, and might’ve gotten away with it if Killian had not stepped back into the Great Hall at that moment.
Her gaze drifted toward him, drawn to him despite everything. He stood windswept just inside the towering double doors, as if he had been riding. Even now, she had never seen a finer man in all her life, and it beggared belief that he was hers.
“If ye say so,” Paisley repeated with a wink, darting away from the table before Ailis could protest again.
At that moment, Killian’s sharp blue eyes found her.
She stared right back, taking in the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest and the open collar of his shirt, revealing a slick triangle of skin.
Her memory spouted forth a torrent of images of him entirely naked, running across the sand and up the cliff to fetch her something warm. Perfection in male form.
But remember, that was his sole concern—keepin’ warm. It wasnae more than that, and he willnae come to ye tonight.
Her throat constricted at the very thought of him knocking on her chamber door with that hungry look in his eyes, coming to confuse her some more.
Indeed, she had been so overwhelmed by the wedding and all the moving parts around it that she hadn’t stopped to think about her wedding night at all.
It might have been the first wedding Killian had ever attended where the bride and groom did not say more than a handful of words to each other throughout the entire feast.
Fraser would have laughed and remarked that it was exactly what he had envisioned his brother’s wedding being like, but he wasn’t there to make his quips and jests; he was rotting away in a dungeon.
Fortunately, as no one seemed to be in a festive mood, the feast didn’t last long. By nightfall, it was over, everyone retiring… the bride included.
“Is this yer plan for yer weddin’ night then?” Paisley asked, lowering herself into the chair opposite, the only guests at an empty feasting table in an empty hall.
Killian looked up from the whiskey he had been nursing. “If distance is what me bride wants, then distance is what me bride shall get.”
“With nay respect whatsoever, Killian, the two of ye are idiots,” Paisley scoffed with a shake of her head.
Irritation flared in Killian’s chest, right below the dull thud of a heart that longed to race to the moans and sighs of his wife.
Until he became the Laird, Paisley had always called him by his name. The informality jarred him now, after just about getting used to being referred to as ‘me Laird.’
“Watch yer tongue, Paisley,” he warned.
“I willnae, when the two of ye are wastin’ precious time,” she retorted, with a pointed sip from her wine goblet.
Judging by the sheen in her eyes, she had already had too much, but he figured he shouldn’t judge. She was missing Fraser as much as he was, probably more. Whatever helped her survive his absence wasn’t to be commented upon.
“If Fraser were here right now, and this was our weddin’, do ye think he or I would be sittin’ here alone, mopin’? Even if we’d argued, do ye think anythin’ would keep him from me door?” Paisley mumbled, her voice thick with sadness.
Killian sighed. “That’s a different situation, Paisley. Ye’ve been betrothed for a while. Ye love each other.”
“See, I daenae think it’s that different.
” Paisley waved her hand wildly. “I think ye like her and she likes ye, and somethin’ happened last night that has ye avoidin’ each other like bairns who’ve had a fallin’ out.
And all I’m sayin’ is, she’s yer wife now, and her faither could march on us tomorrow and kill us all.
Do ye want to spend this one good night alone in this room, or up there with her? ”
Up there with her.
“Ye daenae understand, Paisley, and I willnae explain meself to ye,” Killian said coolly. “The rescue party should be back tonight; I cannae concentrate on anythin’ but that until they’ve returned.”
Paisley’s eyes widened. “Fraser?”
“That’s the hope, aye,” Killian replied.
It wasn’t just Skye that his men had gone to retrieve from Castle Ainsley. And, thanks to the map Ailis had diligently drawn, they had a good chance of saving everyone they had set out to.
The encounter with Murdock in the woods had been the catalyst for altering Killian’s plans somewhat. After that meeting, Killian knew without a doubt that the Ainsleys would never give Fraser back. They would hold him hostage indefinitely as a taunt.
Still, the priority had been clear: Skye first, Fraser second.
With a sniff, Paisley shrugged. “All the more reason to go and put yer wife at ease, and yerself too. I’ll stay to receive word, if and when it comes. The moment I have it, I’ll come and inform ye.” She paused, forcing a smile. “I’ll knock first.”
“I should let her rest,” Killian insisted, though that was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Fine. Do as ye please,” Paisley said tartly. “But remember that she isnae truly yers, isnae truly yer wife, until ye claim her. If someone comes to steal her away before ye do, then it means she’ll never be yers. Just somethin’ to think about down here, all alone.”
With that, she got up, raising her goblet to him, then turned and sauntered off. As she did, she tossed back over her shoulder, “I’ll be up in the guard tower, waitin’ for news anyway, if ye change yer mind.”
With that, she headed out, a little unsteady on her feet.
Killian’s hand clenched around his cup, frustration rising inside him like the licking flames of a bonfire.
Paisley had certainly given him something to think about. A nagging thought that, before the night was over, he would have to do something about.