Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“Ye dinnae ken anything about what happened?” Ailsa pressed as she caught up with Martha, who was in the middle of putting away some freshly dried clothes.
The maid looked at her with raised brows and shook her head for what must have been the dozenth time since Ailsa had started this interrogation.
“I wish I could tell ye more, m’lady,” she replied. “But I dinnae ken a thing. I heard that there was some problem at the village, but I’ve no idea what happened.”
Ailsa sank back onto her bed, her brows knitting together as she tried to make sense of it all.
She’d hardly had a chance to take in what was happening before she had been bundled on to that horse with the guard to be carried off back to the Keep.
It was driving her mad to think that something might have been happening out there that she knew nothing about.
Martha had been making her way out of the kitchen when she had gotten back, and she had tried to coax some information out of her, but she seemed to be as blank on the matter as Ailsa herself was.
The look on Tavish’s face told her most of what she needed to know, that this was serious and he could not risk another second of waiting before he went after it, but that did little to sate her curiosity.
Her head was spinning from the rush of everything that had happened; the way he had kissed her and then the way he had left her behind just as quickly.
She had known, of course, that her new husband would have duties to attend to as the Laird, but she did not realize what kind of state the place would be in when she came here.
Was it so dangerous out here that there was so much dissension, so much to fear? The look on his face had told her one thing, and she did not want to believe it, not when her memories of this place were so idyllic.
“Is there anyone here who might know more?” she asked, cocking her head to the side hopefully.
She could already hear Tavish’s voice in her head, telling her that it was not for her to worry herself about, but she had as much right to know as anyone else. If she was to be lady of this place, she needed to make sure that she kept up with everything that happened here.
Martha lifted her head, and Ailsa could tell at once from her expression that the answer was yes. She sprang to her feet, eyes widening.
“There is, isn’t there?”
“Look, ye shouldnae worry yerself about all of this,” she protested, but Ailsa planted her hands on her hips and gave her a hard stare.
She felt a little bad, nudging the girl to give her something like this, but she needed to know. She had to find out if Tavish was in some sort of trouble, even if he had proven today that he was more than capable of handling himself in the midst of it.
“Emma, the cook, she might ken something,” she confessed finally. “She’s up earlier than everyone else, she feeds the guards before they go out every day, and sometimes she picks up a little gossip about what’s been going on in the clan.”
“Where is she now?” Ailsa asked as she started towards the door.
“The kitchen,” Martha replied, already giving up on trying to keep her away.
Ailsa took the stairs two at a time and navigated her way through the corridors as Martha did her best to keep up with her. The two of them arrived in the large kitchen, where an older woman was in the midst of kneading bread on one of the large tables.
“Och, Martha, ye’ve already had yer breakfast—” the woman began, and then her eyes widened as they landed on Ailsa.
She curtsied slightly, and Ailsa felt a flush come to her cheeks at the sudden deference. She wasn’t used to it yet, and she wasn’t sure she ever would be.
“Sorry, m’lady,” she greeted her. “Do ye… is there something I can get ye?”
“She came to ask about what happened in the village,” Martha replied, and Emma stared at her for a long moment, clearly calculating whether she should have said a word to her.
The older woman had long, gray hair that had been drawn into a braid over one shoulder. Her clothes were covered with flour, so she must have been working all day.
Ailsa couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.
“I dinnae ken if that’s something for ye to be worrying yersel’ about, m’lady.”
“I’m going to worry anyway,” she replied gently. “I just… want to know what happened in the village. Is Tavish going to be alright?”
“He’s going to be fine, m’lady,” she assured her quickly. “He’s capable of taking care of himself, make no mistake about that.”
“So what happened?” she pressed, planting her hands on the table, staring at the woman with an imploring look.
Emma cocked her head at her, a rush of sadness seeming to course through her face as she looked back at her.
“I can remember when ye used to play here wi’ Callum and that boy… Malric, was it?” she murmured. “I cannae… I never imagined that ye would be with Tavish, instead.”
“Well, I dinnae see much of him, if that helps,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.
“Aye, he’s always out, patrolling the hills,” Emma replied, her brow furrowing. “I tell him to come in and get some rest, but he cannae. He’s too worried about something else happening.”
“Something like what?” Ailsa pressed lightly. “Like the attack on the village?”
Emma pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“He’s been having trouble wi’ the MacCairn Clan fer a while now,” she admitted.
“I dinnae ken why, but Tavish, he cut ties with Malric after Callum’s death.
I have no clue if he thinks he has something to do with it, or if it’s something else, but he’s been…
uneasy ever since. Out patrolling on horseback, even though he has guards to take care of that for him. ”
“But it doesnae seem as though the MacCairns have been taking it so well, being left out of proceedings like that,” she continues.
“They’ve been causing commotion after commotion all this time.
Trying to get his attention, that’s what I’d call it, and that’s what I’d wager this attack on the village is about.
I doubt there’s any real malice in it, but they ken it’s the only way to get Tavish to meet wi’ them. ”
An attack… just like the one that they had faced on the road. Was that for the same purpose, too?
For the first time, something twinged in her, some doubt that there could have been more to Callum’s death than the accident she had initially imagined it to be. She could not picture Malric, the little boy she had known him as at least, doing something to cause trouble in the family.
But if she had learned one thing, it was that there was more to people than she could ever have given them credit for.
She paused for a moment, leaning forward and lowering her voice.
“I ken I shouldnae speak of Callum to ye, lassie,” she remarked. “Ye… ye were engaged to him before he passed, were ye no’?”
Ailsa tensed but then nodded. There was no point trying to dodge the truth of her relationships before she had come to be married to Tavish.
Everyone knew that she and Callum were to be married, and she could only imagine the gossip that had sprung up when she had taken Tavish as a husband instead.
Hell, most of it had likely passed through this very kitchen, and no doubt Emma herself had heard most of it.
A flicker of curiosity showed in her eyes, perhaps sensing that she could have gotten some answers herself.
“Did ye love Callum, lass?” she asked softly.
Martha drew in a short start of breath, like she wasn’t sure they should have so much as been approaching this matter.
But Ailsa supposed they had as much right as any to wonder. Not like there weren’t plenty who would have doubted her ability to be a wife to this new Laird, given that she was meant to be his brother’s bride at one point.
She let out a long breath, feeling another pang of grief at the memory of his loss.
“I loved him as a friend,” she replied, speaking carefully, determined not to be cruel about his memory.
She might not have felt any mad passion for him, but that did not mean that she didn’t care for him or appreciate the ways in which he cared for her too.
“Whose idea was it to marry?” Emma pressed.
"Our families decided,” she replied, with a slight laugh.
"And how did you react to the announcement of the betrothal then?" she asked, leaning forward with interest. She knitted her brows together, doing her best to cast her mind back to that day.
"I dinnae remember much about it," she admitted. "I-I suppose I thought it would be fine. We knew each other well, we agreed on most of the important things in life. I dinnae think that I could have asked for much more in a husband…"
"So it wasn’t a love match, then?”
She laughed at the thought.
"Not of passionate love, at least," she replied, shaking her head. "I loved him like… like a brother."
Emma and Martha exchange a glance. She got the sense that such a thing had been speculated over many times in this very kitchen, but it didn’t bother her. She had never claimed to be madly in love with Callum, nor he with her.
At least it would help them make more sense of her new marriage, they understood that her feelings for him had not come from a place of passion but duty.
“And what of Tavish, m’lady?” Emma asked.
Martha dug her elbow into the older woman’s side, but Emma paid her no attention. Ailsa got the feeling that this was far from the first time that she had addressed such thorny territory and that it did not scare her to approach the matters that other people might have done their best to avoid.
“What of him?”
“Do ye love him?”
She pressed her lips together for a moment, not sure how to respond, not sure what she was even expected to respond with.
Because the truth was, she was not sure if she loved him, but there was certainly something that stirred in her at his presence that she had not felt when she was with Callum—or with any other man, for that matter.
But was attraction enough to build some kind of marriage on?
Enough to make a life with? And if she admitted that all she felt for him was attraction, that the only thing she had for sure was a desire for more, then she was sure it would have been spread around the Keep in record time, and there would have been nothing she could do to stop it.
“He’s my husband,” she replied carefully. “He… has provided me with a place to live and taken his brother’s place, as any honorable man would.”
“That’s no’ an answer,” Emma chided her gently, but there was no malice in the way she spoke.
Ailsa smiled at her.
“I should… I should go. Thank ye for speaking wi’ me, Emma, I’m sure ye have better things to do with your day now.”
She turned and made her way from the kitchen. She could feel the eyes of the women burning into her back as she left, likely filled with a hundred more questions that they wanted to ask her.
But she had something to go on now, however small. There was something happening between this clan and the MacCairns. Malric might have been a friend of theirs in years past, but something had clearly shifted in their adulthood, something that had pulled them apart once and for all.
And if it had anything to do with what had happened to Callum, then she would do everything in her power to help. But first, she needed Tavish to come clean with her instead of leaving her cast into the dark as he had done all this time.
And she vowed to herself that, one way or another, she would get answers. Even if she had to drag them out of him herself to do it.