Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Gordon found Rowan sitting on the low stone wall near the courtyard just before dusk, a small bundle of wildflowers clutched in one hand.
He stopped and stared at his brother for a long moment. Rowan did not look up. He was so completely engrossed in handpicking the flowers that he did not notice Gordon’s presence until he turned.
“What are ye doin’?”
A startled gasp left his lips before his face lifted in a smile.
“What does it look like?” Rowan answered in a light voice, his smile even wider. “I am pickin’ these for Sorcha and Elspeth,” he said, his tone so matter of fact that it somehow made the gesture more ridiculous.
Gordon folded his arms and watched the boastful look on his face. Rowan looked purely excited to be picking wildflowers. Gordon could not understand the gesture.
“Why?”
Rowan blinked at him, and Gordon suspected he was truly confused at the question.
“Well, because…” Rowan trailed off. “It is romantic,” he eventually added. “It shows affection, that ye care. Surely ye have given Miss Ailis flowers once since she arrived here, have ye nay?”
Gordon blinked at him in turn now.
Rowan paled, his eyes widening dramatically. “Ye have nae?” he questioned in an alarmed tone.
“I have nae thought of it.”
“Oh, brother,” Rowan exclaimed and rubbed a hand on his forehead for a bit before breathing out deeply.
He planted a hand on Gordon’s shoulder and walked with him toward the garden’s pavilion now.
“When ye care for people, ye show them how ye feel with gestures like this… gifts,” he explained. “Miss Ailis will appreciate that ye thought of her when she looks at these flowers. She will swoon at the gesture.”
“Why would she swoon? She is nae ill, is she?”
Rowan quaked with laughter now as he exhaled again. “Ye, me brother, are completely hopeless and clueless on matters of the heart.”
Gordon knew that very bit was true. He did not think he would want Ailis to feel faint when she thought of him.
If she swoons and falls, she might hurt herself.
He frowned again. He did not want her hurt because of him.
Gordon snorted as the confusing thoughts all raced through his mind, and he lowered himself onto the wall beside his brother.
The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and heather from beyond the walls. For a while, neither brother spoke.
It was an easy silence. A strange thing, considering how much of their lives had been filled with bitterness, suspicion, and everything neither had known how to say in the past.
Rowan turned a small white flower between his fingers. After a while, he nudged Gordon’s shoulder.
“Ye ken Sorcha says ye smile now. She caught ye smilin’ at supper yesternight. In her words, it was the first time she had seen ye that way. She thinks it is because of Ailis.”
Gordon rolled his eyes. “Everyone seems very invested in me face these days.”
Rowan laughed softly. “Because we genuinely worry for ye, brother.”
Gordon looked down at his hands and at the scars across his knuckles, caught the fading light.
“It is good to ken that ye remember how to be happy.”
“I remember,” Gordon said after some time. His voice had grown quieter. “I just never had much reason.”
Rowan’s smile faded. For a moment, neither man spoke again.
Then Rowan leaned back against the stone. “Ye do now.”
Gordon gave a low scoff. “Because of Ailis?”
“Aye. And it is a good thing,” Rowan answered. “If she makes ye happy, Gordon, then it isnae a thing to be feared.”
“Daenae be very certain how she makes me feel, brother,” Gordon said, shaking his head as he tried to derail Rowan from his thoughts.
Rowan’s smile returned. “I am.”
Gordon opened his mouth to argue, but a muffled giggle sounded from nearby.
Both men turned. A small pair of boots protruded from behind a wooden barrel.
Gordon stared, and the boots disappeared before he raised an eyebrow. He already knew who was hiding there even before he called.
“Lileas.”
Silence followed his voice. Then a tiny voice came from behind the barrel.
“I wasnae spyin’!”
Rowan’s shoulders shook with laughter.
Gordon looked toward the barrel. “Of course, ye were nae.”
Lileas appeared with the solemn expression of someone deeply offended by the accusation. Brochan was nestled in her lap. She scrambled out from behind the barrel and marched toward them.
“I was only hidin’ because I thought ye would be cross if ye saw me out here with nay supervision” She climbed directly onto the wall between them then proudly lifted Brochan. “Are ye cross with me, Me Laird?” she asked, batting her lashes as she looked down at Gordon.
“Nay,” he answered her as his heart softened from her hesitant smile. “Nay, I am nae.”
“Do ye want to hold Brochan?” Lileas asked next as she held the hedgehog out to him, and Gordon froze.
Brochan waddled after them like a tiny Highland warrior, his brown-and-cream quills bristling proudly along his back.
Gordon did not think taking the thing was a good idea, but Lileas’ eyes held his with that brightness he could not resist. Eventually, he took Brochan and nestled him close to his chest. He heard his brother’s light chuckle as he held the hedgehog, and Lileas beamed with excitement like she had wanted him to do this all along.
“Will ye two dance at the games?” Lileas asked suddenly, sliding into the tiny space between them as if she belonged there. “I heard the servants in the kitchen talkin’ about it. They say there will be dancin’ and music, and the Laird will fall in love with Ailis. They say ye will have nae choice.”
Lileas’s plain curiosity as she retold the words she heard to both Gordon and Rowan made Gordon’s insides prick with another flush. It was almost as if the words made him nervous.
A faint color climbed the back of his neck. He cleared his throat and found an urgent reason to study the hedgehog he held.
Rowan came alive with laughter at his side, though, and when he turned to look at his brother, he laughed some more.
“I love this bairn,” Rowan said.
“Will ye dance at the games too?” Lileas asked Rowan.
“Aye, wee one,” Rowan replied with a smile to her and rubbed her hair, ruffling the golden strands a little. “With me wife and daughter.”
“Ye have a daughter?”
Rowan answered with pride this time. “Aye, I do. Her name is Elspeth. She is about yer age. I think ye two will be good friends.”
“Me too,” Lileas said with a wide grin at Rowan, and when she faced him with that full smile, Gordon felt his heart stutter in its usual rhythm.
“What about ye, Me Laird? Will ye dance?”
“Absolutely nae,” Gordon told her.
Lileas pouted immediately. “At least dance with Brochan and me.”
“Ye willnae be dancin’ either, wee one. Ye are much too young to even be at the games, and ye will only…”
The girl’s pout deepened as she batted her lashes at him then folded her arms across her chest.
Gordon looked at her, and the tears were already misting in her eyes. He did not wish to terrify her or worse make her cry.
“All right, wee one,” he finally said. “Ye will dance, and I will dance with ye.”
Her expression lifted almost immediately, her eyes regaining that spark that made them dance. “And Brochan?”
“He will dance too,” Gordon told her.
“Thank ye, Me Laird.”
She flung her tiny arms around his neck, and he stiffened. Every muscle in his body locked at once, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides as though he had forgotten what they were meant to do. He stared down at the dark curls pressed against his chest.
He did not know what to do with a little girl’s arms wrapped trustingly around him, so he simply sat there, still, until she pulled back. He cleared his throat once. Then again. Neither did anything to restore the dignity Lileas had just stolen from him.
As though summoned by his name, Brochan wriggled against his arms, climbed onto Gordon’s knee, and settled comfortably in his lap.
Gordon stared down at him. The little creature curled into a ball.
Rowan laughed as Gordon realized that his brother was watching him.
“Ye are becomin’ fond of him.”
“I am toleratin’ him.”
“Aye,” Rowan said, rolling his eyes.
Gordon gave him a warning look, but Rowan only smiled.
Lileas leaned against Gordon’s side, perfectly comfortable now. He looked at the two of them. His brother, the child and the hedgehog.
For one strange moment, a softness shifted inside his chest. It was warmth but not the restless heat Ailis stirred whenever she came near.
This was quieter.
He looked down at Lileas’s curly hair, the at Brochan again, and his lips lifted in another smile.
This felt like joy.
The thought came so suddenly that Gordon nearly rejected it aloud.
It could nae be.
Happiness had never belonged to him. It had been something other people possessed. Something he had watched from a distance and learned not to want.
His uncle had taught him early that wanting made a man weak.
Wantin’ family or comfort… wantin’ peace was a weakness. A clever enemy could use that against me.
He could not want any of that, but despite himself, Gordon’s mouth softened.
Then movement caught his eye. He looked across the courtyard and saw Ailis was walking toward them.
She appeared to be searching for Lileas.
Her light brown hair had come loose around her shoulders, and the fading sunlight caught in the strands. She wore a simple gown, her skirts gathered slightly as she walked. There was a crease between her brows as she searched the courtyard.
Gordon watched her. His heart gave one slow, heavy breath then another.
And an absurd thought entered his mind.
It would be nice if she sat here with us.
Just for a little while.
Beside me.
Close enough that he could reach out and touch her hand.
He imagined it before he could stop himself, and the images came clear in his mind.
Rowan laughing beside him, Lileas nestled between them, and Brochan warm against his leg.
Ailis sitting nearby, smiling at something Lileas said.
Her sister would be here too, laughing and holding Rowan’s hand.
They would seem like an ordinary family, and he would lean in to kiss Ailis once on her lips, and she would beam at him.
What he imagined was an ordinary evening. It was nothing grand, and yet he could never dare dream of it.
Because he knew exactly what had been stolen from him.
He knew what it was to have family taken away before a child was old enough to understand why. He knew what it was to grow up believing belonging was something granted only to those strong enough to fight for it.
He could not stop wanting Ailis, and yet he could not let his mind conjure up a life in which he would have her. Because if he did, he would lose himself. If he softened, he would not be able to protect anyone.
Even her.
He could not allow himself to want it.
Wanting such a life was dangerous. Because once a man allowed himself to imagine something good, he could begin to fear losing it.
And that fear made him weak.