Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
By the following evening, the men were even more relaxed and enjoyed supper in the yard. It was a beautiful night, well-lit outside with the moon brightening the skies and the winds merciful.
Ailis helped Jane and Beth serve the soup then she sat with Marion for a while as Marion told stories to the men about her time as the Laird’s wife.
Ailis realized she had much to learn from Marion, but only if she stayed here as the Lady of the Keep.
And I willnae, she reminded herself because it was easy to forget her intentions when she felt Gordon watching her over the bright red flames leaking into the night’s skies.
Does he even ken how hard he is starin’? Arghh… he irritates me.
But he did not. Not truly anyway. She liked the prick of heat that rose on the back of her neck from his gaze.
Ailis tried to focus instead on the celebration.
She had not planned it so, but helping Beth in the kitchen turned out to be more enjoyable than mucking stables.
She did not cook. She had no skill for it.
But she helped out in the one way she knew how after years of sneaking into her papa’s study at midnight to read his account books.
Planning the budget was easy. It was bringing the people together that had been difficult. They were extremely cautious of their laird.
She now stood beside Jane, near the long supper table, lifting a platter of roasted venison as the servants moved around them with bowls of pottage, oatcakes, trout, and steaming root vegetables.
“Here,” Ailis said, passing the platter to one of the older men. “And mind ye leave enough for those at the far end.”
“Aye, Ma’am.”
Jane leaned closer. “Ye neednae keep watchin’ every plate.”
“I am nae watchin’ every plate.”
“Ye have counted the oatcakes twice, Ma’am. Ye are exhausted. Ye must rest. I daenae want the Laird to scold me for lettin’ ye overwork yerself.”
Ailis glanced at her. “He willnae,” she said softly. “And I overwork meself because Hugh keeps stealin’ the oatcakes.”
“I heard that,” one of the guards commented, grinning from across the table, and Ailis laughed again.
She did all of that while trying not to turn toward Gordon but failed in the end.
He sat at the high table beneath the dark banner, one hand wrapped around a cup of ale. His expression was unreadable, his shoulders relaxed only in appearance. Candlelight struck one side of his face while the other remained in shadow.
His eyes were on her. Ailis’s breath caught, but he did not look away. Neither did she.
For one moment, the hall seemed quieter.
Then Jane nudged her elbow. “Ma’am?”
Ailis blinked and turned away at once.
Jane gave her a knowing look.
Music began near the hearth not long after. One of the younger men had brought out a fiddle, and another joined him with a small drum. The notes rose over the voices, bright and lively, filling the hall with a warmth that made the stone walls seem less severe.
Marion laughed from her place near the center table.
“Daenae sit there like mourners,” she told the men. “Ye are eatin’, drinkin’ and still have the use of yer legs. Let the dancin’ begin.”
“Aye, Ma’am,” one man called out in a loud voice.
Someone pushed back a bench.
A woman laughed, and soon, two of the men were dancing between the tables, boots striking the rushes as the music quickened. Another pair joined them. Even Beth, who had spent the first portion of supper scolding three servants and one dog, clapped along from the corner of the crowd.
Ailis smiled at everything unfolding.
She loved this. The noise. The music. The sudden burst of laughter. The way people forgot themselves when there was enough ale in their cups and music in their ears. But Gordon stayed seated and drank through it all.
Ailis found herself wondering why he did not join in the celebration. She knew she should not care, but she found it inherently hard not to concern herself with it.
She glanced at him again, and he lifted his quaich. Their gazes met over the flames, and the fire between them shifted, throwing gold across his face. His gaze was fixed on her with such intensity that something low in her stomach tightened.
She looked away first.
“Jane is dancin’,” Marion said beside her.
Ailis turned toward her and saw the girl twirling around in Malcolm’s arms, her head tossed back as she enjoyed the moment.
Ailis laughed softly at the sight, her heart warming as she realized the people here in McLaren were different than she had imagined. The rumors of their clan and their dragon laird had made it seem as if there was no room for joy here. But she had felt welcome every moment since she arrived.
Here, the people did not care much about her reputation. They did not care that she was ruined when she fled her marriage to the Laird’s brother.
Ailis did not know if she should be grateful for that, as it was a chance to start afresh.
Or cautious because they will hate me when I leave again.
Her thoughts stayed turmoiled as she watched the dance then her gaze drifted back toward Gordon.
“What is wrong with him?” she asked quietly.
Marion looked toward her nephew. “With Gordon?”
“Aye.”
Marion’s expression softened. “He has always been a man who keeps more inside than he gives away.”
“That sounds exhaustin’.”
“For him or for those around him?” Marion asked.
Ailis smiled. “Both.”
Marion’s eyes twinkled.
Before she could answer, one of the older men called across the hall, “Me Laird!”
Gordon lifted his gaze as the man asked, “Will ye play for us?”
Gordon’s brows drew together in confusion. “Nay,” he blurted, his chin set in that stony way.
The answer came so quickly that laughter broke out around the tables.
Marion only looked amused. “Oh, ye cannae refuse,” she chided softly. “It is a celebration.”
“I have nay wish to.”
“Nonsense… Everyone wishes to hear ye play. Ailis too, do ye nay?”
Ailis glanced between them and nodded.
“The clarsach,” Marion continued with a hand gesture. “Ye have nae played for years. Nae since…” She trailed off when Gordon’s scowl deepened.
Ailis sensed instantly there was more to say.
She looked toward Gordon properly. He had already turned his cup between his fingers. “I am content to listen,” he said.
Marion shook her head. “Ye always say that.”
“And I mean it.”
“Aye, but tonight, I am askin’ ye to play.”
Gordon’s jaw tightened.
Everyone waited, and Ailis watched him, curious despite herself.
She could not imagine Gordon sitting with a musical instrument. The man looked as though he had been carved for sword practice and grim council meetings. Ailis could not imagine his fingers doing anything delicate.
“Please, Me Laird,” one of the children present called.
Someone else joined her. “Aye, Me Laird. Play for us.”
Gordon looked around the gathering then his gaze landed on Ailis.
Her heart stumbled. For a moment, she thought he would refuse.
Then he set down his cup and rose. Everyone quieted. Ailis watched him cross toward the clarsach resting beside the hearth. He sat, adjusting the instrument upon his knee with a familiarity that surprised her.
His large hands settled against the strings. The first note sounded, and Ailis nearly stopped breathing.
The music was soft. Not mournful exactly but tender. The notes moved slowly through the hall, delicate beneath his rough fingers. There was something old in the melody, something that reached beyond the castle walls and the people gathered there.
Ailis’ chest tightened. She knew that melody. Not the exact arrangement but the song itself.
Me mother used to sing it.
Ailis’ fingers curled around the fabric of her skirts.
Nay… it could not be.
Another phrase came, and suddenly, she was small again. Curled near the hearth beneath a blanket while her mother brushed her hair. The smell of lavender and warm wool filled her nostrils. A soft voice singing beneath the winter wind she rarely remembered.
“My wee lass. Close yer eyes,” Gordon sang out as he played.
Ailis swallowed hard, her eyes burning, then looked at Gordon once more. He played with his head slightly bowed, his red hair falling near his face. He looked different like this. His hands moved gently across the strings, drawing something achingly beautiful from the instrument.
A tear gathered in her eyes, but she blinked rapidly to get rid of it.
Nae here. Nae before everyone.
Another note sounded, and her mother’s voice returned in her memory, warm and soft.
Ailis’ throat closed, and she pushed back from the table before she could take another breath.
The bench scraped against the rushes.
Several heads turned in her direction, and Gordon’s fingers faltered.
He looked up at her. Their eyes met, and her heart panged again. Ailis shook her head, a breath escaping her as she feared she would choke.
Gordon finished the song though his fingers no longer moved with the ease they had at the beginning. The last note lingered beneath the rafters, soft and fading, until the hall fell quiet.
For several breaths, no one spoke.
Then a murmur rose through the yard. Someone clapped. Another called his name. Marion smiled from beside the hearth, and Beth shook her head as though she had known all along that he would surrender eventually.
Gordon barely heard any of it.
His gaze remained on the exit.
Ailis had fled. The moment she had risen, something inside him had tightened. He had watched the color drain from her face and her eyes fill before she turned away and hurried from the hall.
He had wanted to follow her, but instead, he finished the song. Now he stood, rising from the clarsach with a strange heaviness in his chest.
Why did she run?
The question followed him as he crossed the hall. He told himself it was nothing. She was probably tired from the day. Or perhaps she disliked the song.
Yet, deep down he knew that was not it. He had seen the tears in her eyes before she hurried away.
Gordon reached the corner, rounding toward the exit with quick strides as the celebrations continued. Before he could leave, voices drifted from the shadowed corner.
He stopped in his tracks.