Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
The grand hall was filled with too many voices as Gordon tried to keep his mind on anything but the woman… his betrothed, sitting next to her sister, her face pale and her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall.
He did not think she heard a word they said. She did not look interested, but, heaven help him, he could not take his eyes off her. Her brown hair was braided over her shoulders tonight; some stray strands swayed down the sides of her face, but it was not that that caught his attention.
It was her mouth. Those soft folds pinned in a frown that also puckered her forehead.
His eyes trailed down her face again as he noted her freckled skin.
This time, heat swept through his insides, making him shiver.
The sensation felt swift, like fire catching dry heather.
It ran beneath his skin and left him with a shallow breath.
Gordon could not shake off the uncomfortable feeling as he tore his eyes away from her face but not before she caught him watching her. Ailis was indeed a beauty. Any man would jump at the chance to have her hand in marriage.
But I am nae any man. And he could not want her. Or trust that their alliance would amount to anything.
“We celebrate in three weeks,” he heard his brother saying as he directed his thoughts back to the present.
“The joinin’ of our clans will be even stronger if we pursue this.
We have alliances each with the southern clans, and together, we can protect our borders here in the east and secure our trade routes. ”
Rowan and Callan seemed to agree on everything as they continued their discussion, and Gordon sat stiff in his seat, facing Sorcha, his jaw so tight he could feel the ache.
He did not hear the next question from Callan, but he felt the prick of inquisitive eyes on him, and that made him look up.
“I daenae wish to discuss this any further,” Gordon said as his gaze skimmed past every face at the table. “The marriage has been decided. The preparations are in process. It is an alliance, nothin’ more. We daenae need to speak of anythin’ else.”
He heard a light scoff after his words and glanced sideways to find Ailis glaring at him, her displeasure evident in the way her features tightened.
Someone else cleared their throat, and this time, Gordon saw his brother’s wife, Sorcha, rise before Ailis could say anything.
“Perhaps we should give the betrothed some respite,” she suggested, “so they can talk to one another.
“I agree,” Rowan said with a nod then rose too and patted Gordon on the shoulder before walking away.
Sorcha followed then Callan too, leaving only Gordon and Ailis at the table.
Ailis’ stony gaze remained fixed on him.
“Of course,” she finally muttered, not taking her eyes off him.
“Ye daenae wish to discuss marriage because ye daenae want it. I daenae want it either, so is it nae best we save ourselves the trouble and nae venture into this…” She trailed off. “Partnership. Whatever it is.”
She hiked her chin and kept her eyes on his.
“Ye arenae the only one displeased with the arrangement, Me Laird.” That stubborn jut of her chin caught his attention and made him stare at her.
The tension in the air sizzled as the room fell into a hushed silence. Gordon held her blue gaze, surprised by how distant yet bright it seemed. There was an intensity in the way she looked at him.
Gordon did not know if it was bravery or simply that unlike everyone else, she did not cower in his face. That intrigued him so much that he nearly forgot to keep the scowl on his face.
He rose at the same time she did, and she cleared her throat like she intended to speak.
“Me Laird,” she said with a small curtsy.
“Ma’am,” Gordon responded without batting a lash.
They glared at each other again, neither speaking or looking away first. Then her brows furrowed into a tight knit, and she arched her brow.
“Is that all ye have to say, Me Laird?” she queried, eyeing him still as she moved from where she stood. She scoffed again, the dry sound tickling his ears. “I see ye are a man of few words.”
Gordon did not miss the dryness in her tone, but he did not respond to it either.
Does she think she kens the kind of man I am after only a few minutes in me presence?
“Is it that ye have nothin’ to speak of? Or ye simply daenae wish to speak to me?”
“Would ye wish me to say more?”
“Aye,” she fired with an eager nod.
“Why?” he argued right back, his eyes burrowing into hers as he tried to understand. “Is there something ye wish me to say?”
Her cheeks flared crimson as she took another step toward him, striking her point with a gesture of her hand.
The move brought her scent to him.
Lavender… It was a blend that reminded him of fresh linen and heather. Warmth instantly spread through his insides as he inhaled another breath, dragging her into his lungs before he realized it.
A low heat pooled in the pit of his stomach just from that quick whiff of her scent. He instantly remembered the night she had walked into his study two years ago. He also remembered how every part of him had hardened when she had gasped in shock at seeing him in his undergarments.
Ailis challenged him again now. “Ye daenae wish for this marriage any more than I do. Ye can at least admit that, and we may come to an agreement that we need nae bother each other.”
“If it is ye freedom ye desire, rest assured, ye will have it still. And I will have mine. I only agreed to this because of me brother.”
And I willnae be able to deny him this, unless, of course, ye daenae want it.
She went very still at that. Like his words struck a raw nerve. He saw her fingers tighten in the skirts of her earasaid then her chin lifted a notch even higher.
“Daenae insult me!” she said, her expression hard. “This marriage is a farce, and I willnae let ye think that ye opinions matter much to me. If it is freedom I seek, I shall have it, and I have nay need for yer permission.”
He nodded. “Very much so. I daenae intend to make ye take leave from me for any reason. We’ll simply wed because it is what our family wishes.”
“Or we can nae wed at all?” She took a step toward him, still countering. “That is still an option, ye ken.”
“Is the thought of a weddin’ to me that distressful?”
“Daenae tell me it isnae for ye, either.”
“Ye wound me, Ma’am.”
She rolled her eyes, dismissing his words as she let out a rough chuckle that did not reach her eyes. “Ye arenae easily wounded, I am certain,” she replied. “And we both ken I am right. Disagreein’ to this weddin’ is best for us both.”
“It isnae.”
“Why nay?” That crease formed on her brow again, but he found himself drawn to her lips instead as she asked, “Do ye wish to wed me?”
Gordon felt that terrifying surge of energy rush through him again from that glance. This time, it tightened his muscles. He forced his gaze to meet hers, commanding himself not to stare at her lips or anywhere else but those blue eyes pulling him in.
“Because our families wish that we marry.” His voice kicked up a notch with that response, but she still did not flinch. “Our brothers wish it. And they might be right. An alliance between our clans will strengthen us.”
She shook her head. “Our clans are already in alliance.”
“We must strengthen our bonds further,” he explained again. “I daenae wish for this anymore than ye do; I must make that clear.”
“Then we neednae pretend to endure each other. This alliance shall be what it is, and we’ll expect naithin’ from each other. I daenae intend to allow ye the liberty to control me.”
“Neither do I wish it,” he answered immediately. “I understand if ye daenae look forward to this weddin’. Ye fled from one two years ago.”
“And ye brought me back!”
“It was me duty.” The words came out clipped and flat. There was no softness in them, and he did not bother to hide that.
Her mouth pressed tight, and he knew she thought of a reply for him. “Yer duty. Do ye think I daenae ken what duty is?”
She stepped closer, her skirts brushing the rushes, her blue eyes bright enough to cut. “How noble of ye. How very grand it must have felt, ridin’ through the rain to drag a foolish lass back where she belonged.”
Gordon’s jaw hardened. “I did not drag ye.”
“Nay?” she asked, a bitter laugh breaking from her. “Ye found me frightened and too proud to speak. Ye wrapped me in yer cloak, set me before ye, and brought me back to face every choice I had tried to outrun.”
“I did what was expected of me. And in return, ye got yer wish. Yer sister married me brother, and ye were free. But now, duty calls ye again, and it is me ye must marry.”
Gordon did not realize she had taken another step closer to him, so they were now face-to-face. In the closeness, he could see the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks and her full lashes as she blinked at him.
Gordon felt his thoughts stray as his eyes swept over her face. She was too near, and his fingers curled at his sides with a sudden shameful want to stroke a hand down the side of her face and feel that lock of hair.
It was a forbidden thought, yet it took seed in his mind.
“We shall perform our duty and nothin’ more,” he said through gritted teeth now. “I shall have nay more argument about this.”
She went too quiet for a moment, and he expected her to fight him on his words. Instead, a calm smile spread across her features.
Ailis dipped her head, all false sweetness and polished manners.
“All right,” she said. “If that is what ye wish, Me Laird.”
Gordon’s eyes narrowed. The words were obedient enough. Soft enough. Proper enough to be spoken before a priest.
But her eyes betrayed her. Bright blue and wicked, they gleamed with a mischief sharp enough to cut. She looked at him as though she had just accepted a challenge he had not meant to offer.
“I shall look forward,” she added, her voice honeyed, “to every moment of this arrangement.”
A cold unease moved through him when she added, “We will do what we must and what is expected of us.”
Gordon nodded, his own resolve tightening as she gave him one last look, then turned and headed for the door. He watched her walk away, taking in that rigid set of her spine and the sway of her skirts as she retreated.
Ailis hadn’t fully made it out of the hall when he realized the faint trace of lavender that was her scent lingered around him and tickled his nostrils.
He banished the thought.
Four weeks, he reminded himself. For now, he had to make sure not to forget what he had to do.