Chapter 18
“Idaenae ken how ye do it in England, but here in Scotland, women are the bedrock that keeps the clans together. We make sure that our people are fed, that they are looked after. We plant, we harvest, we caulk, we weave,” Moira said serenely as she helped Lilliana dry some herbs.
“Seems quite daunting. Especially for me. I’m not sure people accept me quite yet as the Laird’s wife.”
Moira gave a tired sigh. “That will change, eventually.”
“You mean if Kayden starts to treat me as his wife?”
Moira pursed her lips but said nothing.
Lilliana flung her herbs down on the table in despair. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this, Moira,” she said.
Moira gazed at her in alarm. “Do what, Me Lady?”
“Endure this strange position your Laird has put me in, where I am neither one thing nor another.”
“Ye ken ye’re nae powerless, aye? Ye can change yer marriage too. If the Laird is being stubborn with ye, ye can go around him. Win over the clan, and he’ll have nay choice but to accept ye.”
“But how do I do that?”
“Slowly. With care. Ye’re already doing quite well. I like ye, and so does Old Fergus.” Moira grinned at her.
Lilliana smiled softly. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I, me dear. With how ye care for the sick with patience and understanding, they’ll be eating out of yer hand faster than a thought.”
Lilliana gave her an earnest look. “Even if the clan accepts me, I’m not sure Kayden ever will.
I don’t want to keep living this way. In London, men would hardly look in my direction because…
well, because of my bluestocking tendencies and wanting to heal others.
They thought me inferior in some way because I wasn’t vapid and accommodating. That’s why my father sent me here.”
“Well, it’s good that he did. Highlanders have nay time for empty-headed lasses.”
Just then, a maid poked her head around the door, looking at Moira. “Ye’re wanted in the kitchens, ma’am,” she said. “Gaelis and Gilbert are fighting again. Almost threw poor Ghislaine into the fire.”
Moira put down the herbs she was holding and gave Lilliana an apologetic look. “I have to go before I lose me entire kitchen. Will ye be alright?”
Lilliana nodded, giving her a shaky smile. “I’ll be fine.”
She watched Moira leave before she collapsed on the bench with a sigh.
She could not help but think of London and the sisters she’d left behind.
The ache of their absence reared its head, a burning churning sensation in the middle of her chest. She rubbed at it, swallowing past the lump in her throat.
As if he could feel her distress, Rua appeared in the doorway, before coming over to her and laying his head in her lap.
“Oh, Rua…” She stroked his head as a few tears leaked from her eyes.
She exhaled slowly and let her shoulders sag, staring at the herbs in her hands as though they might give her an answer.
“Well, Rua,” she murmured, glancing down at the hound, “if I cannot win the clan over through sheer usefulness fast enough, perhaps I must try something else.”
Rua’s tail thumped once against the stone floor.
She tilted her head, eyeing him narrowly. “Do not look at me like that. You are meant to be the wise one between us.”
He blinked at her, wholly unimpressed.
Lilliana huffed a quiet laugh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Moira says women are the bedrock here. Very well. If I am to win the clan over, then perhaps I must begin with its Laird.”
Rua’s ears perked up.
“Yes, I see that you approve,” she said dryly. She rose from the bench and began pacing slowly, gathering her thoughts rather than her sorrow. “He expects me to be meek or offended. Perhaps that is the mistake. Perhaps I have been meeting him on the wrong ground.”
She stopped beside the table, fingers tapping absently against a jar of dried lavender.
“He is stubborn,” she mused aloud. “Proud. Entirely convinced he must carry the world on his shoulders.” Her lips curved faintly. “Which means he is also predictable.”
Rua huffed softly, as though encouraging her.
“Oh, do not pretend you have not noticed,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “He watches me when he thinks I am not looking. And when he does speak, it is rarely to scold me.”
The realization sank in fully, warming her from the inside out.
“What if I stopped arguing?” she continued, thinking faster now. “What if I made him come to me instead?”
She paused, then laughed under her breath, a spark of mischief lighting up her face. “Perhaps what this marriage needs is not another lecture, but a little seduction.”
Rua’s tail wagged more vigorously, and she leaned down, scratching behind his ears.
“Yes, yes, you traitor. I see you entirely approve of the plan.” She straightened, smoothing her skirts as though already rehearsing the role. “Not foolishly,” she added to herself. “Not desperately. But… deliberately.”
A faint sound in the corridor made her freeze.
She turned her head slightly, uncertain whether she had imagined it, then shook it off and reached for another bundle of herbs.
She looked up and saw Kayden filling the doorway. The hairs on her arms stood on end at the sight of him, and she looked away, hoping her face did not betray that she’d been crying.
“My Laird, have you come to have the poultice removed?”
He stepped into the room. “Aye… unless it’s nae a good time?”
She shook her head, still avoiding his eyes. “No, it’s fine.” She gave a shaky smile, aiming her gaze at his shoulder. “Besides, it is time to clean your wound again.”
He took another step closer. “Very well then.”
Before Lilliana came to the castle, Kayden had rarely found himself unsure of what to do, especially in the last few years. But hearing her weep, watching her miserable and hunched in on herself, made him want to take action.
He just did not know what he should do. What monsters he should slay for her. He was not sure if he should tell her that he had heard her crying.
He sat down, noting her shaking hands, and decided to throw caution to the wind. “What’s the matter, Lilly?” he asked gently.
She gasped, her eyes widening. “What do you mean?”
“I can see ye’re upset. What has ye so worried? Did someone hurt ye?” He clenched his fists at the thought, ready to murder whoever it was.
She sighed tiredly, and he turned slightly so he could watch her. “It’s nothing. No one has hurt me. I was just thinking about my sisters. I miss them.”
His heart twisted at the sadness in her eyes. “Tell me about them.”
She smiled wistfully. “Well, I’m the middle child. My older sister, Cecily, cannot wait to have a household of her own.” She sighed. “I hope she gets it. My younger sister, Jane, is headstrong—”
“Like ye?” he interjected.
She gave him a sidelong glance. “And kind. She’s very kind. She wants to become a writer. Lucky for her, she keeps her ambition quieter than I did mine.”
“I suppose yer faither wouldnae like it either?”
“Exactly,” she muttered. “We keep each other’s secrets, you know?”
He reached out and touched her hand briefly, where she was fiddling with his bandages. “Once we’ve dealt with this illness and it’s safe, ye can invite them to visit.”
Her eyes met his, wide with shock. “You mean it?”
“Of course I do.”
She put the poultice aside, then sneezed.
It was his turn to look at her in surprise. “That annoys ye?”
She laughed. “No, something tickled my nose.” She poured something into his wound, poking at it before nodding. “I think it will be fine now. No need to wrap it again.”
“Good. It was a fair nuisance.”
She grinned. “I’m surprised you kept it on the whole time. I fully expected you to discard it at the first opportunity.”
He gave her a droll look. “I did think about it. But I thought ye might be angry at me for it.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of me, a big strapping laird like yourself,” she teased with a grin.
He grinned back. “Oh, I’m terrified.”
She hit his shoulder lightly. “Liar.”
He moved his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. “We’ll never ken, I suppose.” He got to his feet, looking around the room. “It’s getting late. Are ye done here for the night?”
She looked around as well. A bundle of rosemary rested on the counter. She picked it up and tied it with a string before hanging it up. “Yes, I’m done.”
“Will ye allow me to escort ye to yer chambers?”
She gave him a coy look. “Only if you ask nicely, since I’m so terrifying.”
His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Well then, Me Lady.” He made a leg. “Would ye do me the honor of letting me escort ye to yer chambers?”
She lifted her chin, a smile playing on her lips. “I suppose that would be fine.”
He bowed low, offering her his arm. She took it, and they walked out the door together, pausing only to lock it before they made their way to the main keep.
Kayden frowned, looking around at the darkened corridor.
“We need to add more torches here,” he stated.
“Yes, that would be nice. It’d save me from stumbling about when I don’t have an escort.” She smiled up at him.
He resolved to have that done as soon as possible.
“Ye ken that ye can ask for what ye need at any time. Ye’re the lady of the castle. Ye can have whatever is within me power to give.”
He was gratified at the high color in her cheeks as she gave him a shy look from beneath her lashes. “Thank you,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “Nay need to thank me. It is me pleasure.”
If he was not mistaken, her cheeks grew even redder. He wondered if he could make her combust just with his words.
“Ye blush so prettily when I give ye the slightest compliment. Yer face flushes, and yer creamy skin looks so soft and tender. I cannae help but want ye,” he murmured.
Her eyes widened, and she almost choked on her breath. “I… hardly know what to say to that.”
He smiled, coming to a stop and turning to her. She stopped as well, staring up at him with wide eyes. He took a step towards her, and she took one back, stopping short as her back hit the wall.
His hand came to rest beside her head, palm flat against the stone, caging her without touching. The corridor suddenly felt too narrow, the torchlight flickering over her flushed skin.
“Ye always have something to say,” he murmured.
“Not when you look at me like that,” she whispered.
His gaze slowly dropped to her lips. She arched her back, breath catching, and his eyebrow lifted in quiet surprise at her response. The shift in her posture stirred something dark within him—something he had tried very hard to keep buried.
He leaned closer.
Their kiss was slow, tentative, almost cautious. Her lips softened beneath his, hesitant for only a heartbeat before answering him. A low sound escaped her, and his hand curled slightly against the wall as though he were bracing himself.
He drew back just enough to look at her.
“Ye should push me away,” he said quietly.
“And if I do not wish to?” she replied, voice barely above a whisper.
That undid him more than resistance ever could.
He kissed her again, deeper this time, his restraint slipping just enough to let heat edge into the moment.
His free hand hovered near her waist before settling lightly against her side, thumb brushing the seam of her gown.
She shivered, leaning into him, fingers curling into the front of his shirt.
His hand slid lower, tentative at first, as though testing a boundary she had not yet defined.
The silk of her skirt whispered beneath his fingers.
She drew in a sharp breath when he gathered a small fold of fabric, lifting it slightly so that the warmth of her seeped through the thin layers between them.
“Kayden,” she breathed, the sound more warning than protest.
He stilled, searching her face. She did not push him away.
That was all the permission he needed to linger there, his knuckles grazing the curve of her thigh through her gown, heat pooling between them in a way that made the narrow corridor feel suddenly too small to contain it.
Her head tipped back against the wall, lashes lowering. One hand slid up his chest to the back of his neck, anchoring him there as though she had forgotten the world beyond that moment.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Kayden froze instantly.
The spell shattered.
His hand dropped from her skirts as though burned, breath ragged as he stepped back just enough to put distance between them. The echo of the approaching footsteps grounded him, reminding him exactly where they stood and who might see them.
For a heartbeat longer, he watched her, eyes dark, jaw tight with tension.
“Christ,” he hissed. “Another moment, and I would have forgotten meself entirely.”
Lilliana blinked up at him, lips still parted, as though the world had shifted beneath her feet.
“Forgive me. I didnae mean to start something we cannae finish here in the corridor,” he said softly.
She swallowed thickly. “I-I…”
He offered his arm, more gently now, urging her onward. They walked in silence, but the air between them was fragile. He watched her out of the corner of his eye; her hand kept rising to touch her lips.
All too soon, they were outside her door.
He bowed to her. “I’ll bid ye goodnight, Me Lady.”
“Good night, My Laird,” she replied, and it was his turn to feel as if he might combust.
With a bow, he watched as she stepped into her room before heading to his own with an inward sigh.
It’s going to be another long night.