Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
By the following noon, the keep grew even busier with the arriving guests for the binding in one week.
Sorcha and Rowan had arrived with Callan to help prepare for the binding, and somehow, their presence made the reality of her marriage feel more real.
Ailis had been grateful to see her sister.
Now, seated beside her at supper, she found herself wishing Sorcha would stop smiling at her as though she already knew every thought inside her head.
“Ye’ll need to decide upon the flowers tomorrow,” Sorcha said, breaking a piece of bread. “And the ribbons. I thought blue would suit ye, but perhaps, white would be prettier.”
“Flowers, ribbons, guests,” Ailis murmured. “Ye make it sound as though I am bein’ marched toward me own funeral.”
Sorcha’s lips twitched. “Ye are being married.”
“That is precisely what concerns me.”
Across the table, Rowan laughed quietly.
Sorcha nudged Ailis’ arm. “Ye’ll be happy.”
Ailis looked at her sister. “Ye said that before.”
“And I was right.”
Ailis opened her mouth then closed it again. She could hardly argue.
Sorcha had once been terrified of her own marriage. Now, she looked at Rowan as though he were the only man in the world.
Ailis lowered her gaze to her plate.
What if that never happens to me?
At the other end of the table, the men had turned to matters of the clan. Rowan spoke with Gordon about patrols. Callan questioned the number of men stationed along the western boundary, while Malcolm leaned forward to discuss supplies for the arriving clans.
Gordon listened more than he spoke. And once or twice his gaze skimmed across the table and landed on her. She shivered each time she caught him watching her. That familiar tingle that made her nerves burn with a fiery sensation was present.
Ailis tried to distract herself from it, but she could not. She found herself remembering how they sat in silence in his chamber the night before and how she had enjoyed the silence.
Her days were usually full of noise and her own thoughts, and she had not realized one could simply be still and yet at peace.
Sorcha still spoke of flowers and ribbons while Ailis looked at Gordon some more. He spoke to Callan and Malcolm now, gesturing with his hands as she remembered how they felt when they trailed down her skin.
He looked different tonight. His hair was slicked back, and his lips were not set in that tight grimace they usually held.
He did not look merely like the gruff man who ordered her to muck stalls or tried to frighten her with his stern silence. He looked steady as he listened to the men at the table, and they also listened when he spoke.
Ailis found herself watching him despite herself.
Stop starin’, Ailis.
She reached for her quaich and gulped down the ale a little bit too fast, choking on it with an intense cough when the liquid slid quickly down her throat.
Gordon set his quaich down at the same time and looked at her again.
“Since the guests arrive the day after tomorrow,” he said, “we should hold the games two days before the bindin’.”
Ailis frowned. “What games?” she whispered.
Marion leaned closer to her and took over this time. “The usual Highland games. Tossing the bar, huntin’, ye ken? The clans’ warriors use the events to test their strength, and a lady is always the prize in the end.”
Callan had a boastful smile as he added, “The winner chooses a lady to spend time with and perhaps woo her. Ye, me dear sister, are the lady in question.”
Ailis’s eyes widened. “I shall be the prize? I thought I was already betrothed?”
Sorcha laughed next. “Ye are, sister, but that even makes ye a higher prize. While the other men compete for yer attention, yer intended shall fight to keep ye to himself.”
There was a gleam in Sorcha’s eyes that Ailis did not like so much.
Marion squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together. “It is all very thrillin’, is it nay?”
Ailis glanced toward Gordon and tried to gauge what he thought of all this.
Surely, he would nae see the need to compete for me, would he?
He was not the kind of man to. Yet she could not shake off the restless energy fizzing beneath her skin. She looked at Gordon again, and her stomach fluttered with a strange weightless sensation.
His mouth twitched faintly before he returned his attention to the men. “That leaves us one full day to secure the patrols and reinforce the western post. We want everyone here in the keep to be secure durin’ these activities.”
Malcolm nodded. “Especially with the chance of Laird Kerr attendin’.”
Ailis noticed Callan stiffen right then. “Ye have invited Kerr?”
“Merely as a formality. I daenae think he will attend.”
The table quieted, and Gordon leaned back. His expression revealed nothing still.
“I ken how to guard what falls under me protection,” he replied calmly.
Ailis’ fingers tightened around her cup. Something about the way he said it made her heart beat harder.
Then his gaze moved straight to her.
“And I daenae intend to lose any treasures to anyone. Nae even Laird Kerr.”
For a heartbeat, Ailis forgot how to breathe. His words sounded too much like a vow to protect her.
His eyes remained upon hers, and she felt the color rise beneath her skin before she could stop it.
Her cheeks burned.
Treasure? Surely he couldnae mean—
No. He could not.
Yet when she dared glance at him again, Gordon was still watching her. And the faintest curve had appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Ailis swallowed. Her heart gave another traitorous beat as she tried to look away from him and not imagine what treasure he spoke of.
But he kept watching her with those intense eyes that nearly made her squirm.
Later that evening, Sorcha stole Ailis away to her chambers with the solemn declaration that future brides required sisterly supervision.
“Supervision?” Ailis repeated, following her through the doorway. “I am nae a bairn. Besides, this weddin’ was nae of me choice. It is ye who is excited about it, nay me.”
Ailis feigned a pout that she could not sustain as she followed Sorcha into the chamber.
Sorcha shut the door behind them. “Ye say ye daenae want this marriage, and yet here ye are. Ye havenae fled like I expected ye to.”
Ailis’ frown deepened. “I promised ye I wouldnae.”
Sorcha laughed and tugged her onto the bed.
Ribbons lay scattered across the blankets, half-finished embroidery sat forgotten beside them, and several of Ailis’ painted cloths had been folded into a colorful pile.
For a while, they simply sat together. Then Sorcha turned her head and studied her sister. “Is it because ye have come to enjoy yer time here? Do ye fancy the Dragon?”
Sorcha teased her with laughter as she questioned, and Ailis burned even hotter inside her till she felt the flush kiss her cheeks and ears because she knew the truth.
Sorcha’s jest was the truth. She fancied Gordon and wondered about too many things lately.
Like if he ever thinks of me.
“What I speak and what I feel are completely different things,” she said to Sorcha now, exhaling slowly. “I did intend to run and ruin all the plans, but I made ye a promise.”
“Ach, please. Ye are terrible at lyin’. If ye had wanted to flee, ye would have done so already.”
Sorcha poked her side and gave her a suspicious yet knowing look.
“Last time ye fled, ye fell and broke yer ribs before ye even reached Uncle’s. Ye are terrible at ridin’; I worried that ye might have broken yer neck before ye made it far.”
Ailis snatched up a pillow and nudged it against her sister’s shoulder. Her cheeks burned with the horrors of that embarrassing memory. “Ye neednae remind me.”
Sorcha laughed as she grabbed the pillow and hit Ailis with it too. “I shall, if it keeps ye from doin’ it again.”
“I have learned from me mistakes.”
“Have ye?”
Ailis sat up, adjusting her skirts now. “Ye ken, I almost rode again.”
Sorcha’s teasing expression vanished. “Ye did?”
“Aye.” Her memory drifted to Gordon helping her onto that saddle and trying to get her to ride again.
“And ye were nae terrified?”
Ailis swallowed hard as she recalled how that ended with her almost falling again, and then their kiss. Heat gathered beneath her skin until she feared even Sorcha might see precisely where her thoughts had wandered.
“I was,” she eventually said. Ailis looked down at her hands and noticed how they quivered lightly. “But I did it anyway.”
A proud smile slowly spread across Sorcha’s face. “I am proud of ye.”
Ailis glanced up. “Daenae be. I still daenae ken if I will be as brave as ye are.”
“I mean it.” Sorcha reached over and squeezed her hand. “Ye have always been brave, Ailis. Even when ye thought ye were bein’ foolish.”
Ailis laughed, and Sorcha smiled.
“Perhaps ye are learnin’ that fear doesnae always mean ye must run.” Ailis’ smile faded slightly as Sorcha’s eyes softened. “It is good that ye daenae wish to flee this time,” she added.
Ailis opened her mouth, but no words came.
The door opened before any could, and Callan stood there with a bottle of whisky in one hand and three cups in the other.
“Am I interruptin’?”
“Always,” Sorcha said sweetly.
Callan sighed. “I feared as much. There is always somethin’ to interrupt when ye two are together.
Ailis laughed as he entered and set everything down. He poured three generous measures for each of them then lifted his cup.
“To me sisters,” Callan cheered.
Sorcha raised hers. “To us.”
Callan looked directly at Ailis. “And to ye.”
Ailis blinked. “To me?”
“Aye.” His expression softened. “I am proud of ye, Ailis. Ye have grown. Ye have taken responsibility. Ye are facin’ somethin’ ye once swore ye never would.”
Her throat tightened as Callan lifted his cup higher and smiled at her.
“That is reason enough to celebrate.”
Ailis smiled eventually. “Thank ye, Callan. I ken ye wish me well regardless.”
Callan nodded then exhaled with much more bravado. “To the Sinclairs.”
“To the Sinclairs!” they chorused as their cups met.
For a while as they drank, they were simply siblings again. They spoke of childhood adventures, of Sorcha falling into the stream and blaming Ailis for pushing her, of Callan hiding their mother’s ribbons because he was tired of seeing them everywhere.
Ailis laughed until her cheeks hurt.
Then Sorcha’s eyes suddenly gleamed.
She looked at Callan then at Ailis. “Perhaps ye, Callan, will be next in line after Ailis,” Sorcha said softly.
“Daenae start,” Callan warned.
Ailis grinned because she knew what her sister intended to say.
“Ach, Callan, it is only fair that ye take a wife after I marry,” she said to him, intent on teasing him. “Ye, after all, should take on yer responsibility of makin’ heirs to inherit yer lairdship.”
“I daenae intend to wed anyone yet,” Callan told them firmly as he drank again.
“Laird Callan Sinclair,” Sorcha declared grandly, “the mighty Lion of the Sutherlands, afraid of women?”
“I prefer me peace.”
“Ye are doomed,” Ailis sang.
Callan pointed at her. “Daenae encourage her.”
“I am merely tellin’ the truth.”
Laughter filled the chamber as they continued their chatter and Ailis enjoyed the night more than any she had enjoyed in years.