Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ailis woke feeling as though she had been emptied overnight.
Her body was stronger than it had been the evening before. The dizziness had passed, and the soreness in her feet had eased to a manageable ache. Yet a heaviness beneath her ribs remained, untouched by any amount of sleep.
She had expected Gordon to come.
Even after everything he had said, some foolish part of her had waited for the sound of his footsteps outside her chamber. Perhaps he would knock. Perhaps he would enter with that stern expression and tell her that he had been wrong.
But the night had passed, and he had not come.
Ailis pressed her lips together and refused to let the thought hurt.
It did anyway.
She dressed slowly that morning while trying not to dwell on the ache in her heart, but when she opened her chamber door, flowers lay on the floor right in front of her chamber.
A small bundle of them, still fresh despite the morning chill.
Their stems were tied together with a simple piece of twine.
Ailis bent and picked them up then her gaze darted across the hallway to see if she would find who placed them there.
“Lileas,” she murmured, smiling faintly.
It had to be the child. Who else would leave flowers outside her door? Besides, they were the same kind Lileas liked to pick from the garden.
She brought them inside, placed them in a little vase, and forced herself to leave. She was not going to spend another day lying in bed, feeling sorry for herself or wishing Gordon wanted to see her. She would fill her days and enjoy her time with her sister while she was here.
The drawing room proved mercifully occupied when Ailis finally got there. Sorcha sat near the window with Marion while Jane was arranging ribbons across a table. Harriet, the village seamstress, had also arrived with several pieces of cloth draped over her arm.
“There she is,” Sorcha said immediately. “Our runaway bride.”
Ailis gave her a look. “I didnae run.”
“Ye wandered away and got lost to our dismay. The Laird has ordered that ye arenae to come to me store anymore. It is safer if I come to ye.”
Ailis rolled her eyes as a small smile appeared on her lips. “I became temporarily unfamiliar with the road.”
Jane snorted. “That is a very elegant way of sayin’ ye got lost.”
Ailis dropped into the nearest chair. “I was frightened and exhausted. If I am honest, I daenae think I have wandered that far on me own before.”
Marion’s expression softened. “Ye are safe now, and each time ye go to the village, a servant will join ye to make sure ye never lose yer way again.”
Ailis smiled softly at that then turned to Harriet, who was displaying the clothing she had brought.
Harriet smiled. “Yer dress is nearly finished, Ma’am. Though I have made the sleeves slightly wider.”
Ailis brightened. “Why?”
“So ye can move yer arms and hide yer honey cakes.”
Sorcha laughed. “Harriet has discovered me sister dislikes bein’ trapped inside her clothin’.”
“I dislike bein’ trapped inside anythin’.”
The words escaped before Ailis could stop them. A brief silence followed as the ladies looked at her for a bit, as if they understood the hidden meaning behind her words. Then Marion smiled.
“Ye willnae be trapped, dear.”
Ailis looked at her. “The bindin’ is only days away now, Marion.”
“Aye.”
“And Gordon hasnae even come to see me.”
Sorcha’s smile faded. Marion reached across and gently touched Ailis’s hand.
“He has been occupied.”
“With searchin’ for Laird Kerr?”
“Aye.”
The name brought a shadow across the room.
Ailis lowered her eyes. “I suppose there are more important things than spendin’ time with yer intended.”
Marion’s fingers squeezed hers.
“Daenae make yerself small simply because Gordon is a difficult man. Ye still have me, and Lileas to fill yer days here. I am glad that ye will be a part of our family, Ailis.”
Ailis gave a weak laugh. “That sounds like somethin’ ye have been waitin’ to tell me.”
“Aye.”
For a while, the conversation drifted to lighter things.
Harriet complained about the difficulty of finding enough good linen. Sorcha argued over ribbon colors. Jane insisted that Ailis needed more embroidery on her sleeves.
Ailis listened and smiled for most of it. She even laughed too, but beneath it all, her heart remained fixed upon one person.
Where is he?
She hated herself for wondering. She hated that every footstep in the corridor made her glance toward the door.
She hated that she still wanted him to come to her.
Most of all, she hated that she would have forgiven him almost anything if he had simply walked through the door and looked at her as he once had.
Eventually, she rose. “I think I need some air.”
She left the drawing room and entered the corridor.
She had barely gone a few steps when she caught sight of Gordon. He was walking with Malcolm and several guards, speaking quietly.
Her heart lurched, and she stopped instinctively.
Gordon did not look toward her. Not once.
His attention remained fixed upon the men beside him.
“Still nay word on Laird Kerr?” he was asking.
“Nay,” Malcolm replied.
“We have searched the western road twice,” she heard one of the other guards say. “There is nay sign of him.”
“What do ye think he is plannin’?” Malcolm asked.
Gordon’s expression hardened. “I daenae ken.”
They continued past her, and he still did not look her way.
She wondered if he even saw her. Ailis remained where she was until they disappeared around the corner.
They are still searchin’ for Laird Kerr.
The name made her uneasy.
She turned to continue down the corridor then noticed some servants carrying a wooden box, brushes, small pots of pigments, and a fresh roll of cloth.
Ailis stopped in her tracks. “What are those for?”
The young servant looked at her and smiled. “The Laird is paintin’ again, Me Lady. He sent for these things.”
Ailis stared. “He is?”
“Aye.” The girl adjusted the box against her hip. “Me mother worked here before me. She told me the Laird used to paint when he was a wee lad.”
Ailis’ heart gave a strange little pull.
“And he hasnae done it since he was a child,” the servant added with delight.
Ailis’ throat tightened, but she managed a smile at the girl. “Go along then.”
She curtsied, and so did the other servants following her before they continued down the hallway.
Ailis watched her walk away, her heart fluttering with a rush of adrenaline.
Curiosity was what it was. The thought of Gordon picking up a brush again after all these years left her wondering what he would paint.
Before she could reason herself out of it, Ailis found herself standing before his study. The door was not fully closed, so she pushed it open, knowing he would not be in there.
The room smelled faintly of paint when she stepped inside, and her eyes widened when she saw the paintings everywhere. Some rested against the walls, others across the floor. Several were scattered over his desk, still unfinished.
Ailis slowly crossed the room then she stopped.
Her heart seemed to forget how to beat when she realized she was in all of the paintings. She stood in the garden in one and laughed in another. There was one of her bent over a flower and another of Lileas sitting with her with Brochan.
Every painting was vivid. They captured the curve of her face, every angle of it.
She reached down and lifted one carefully. It was unfinished, and yet somehow it was unmistakably her. The tilt of her head, the softness around her eyes, even the little curve of her mouth.
Ailis stared as the ache in her chest changed into a delicious throb that melted her insides. Warmth threaded through her as she picked another painting then another.
Each one showed her differently, as though Gordon had been watching when she had never realized.
Her fingers trembled against the edge of the canvas.
Why?
He had told her he did not want this marriage. He had told her he would release her. He had barely spoken to her since bringing her home. And yet here, in the quiet of his study, she was everywhere.
Ailis turned slowly and took it all in. Soon, she forgot even that she stood in Gordon’s private study, surrounded by pieces of himself he had apparently never allowed anyone to see.
She simply stood there, admiring each one. And with every painting she discovered, a quiet question grew inside her.
If he truly doesnae want me…
Her fingers traced the edge of the painting in her hands.
Then why does it seem like he thinks of me?
Ailis had spent enough of her life with a long list of things she could not do. She could not ride or wander around alone.
I cannae decide me own future or marry a man of me own choosin’.
She wanted to feel some sort of control, and there was one thing she believed could help her feel that way.
Overcomin’ me fear of ridin’.
She had always been terrible at it, and after that fall two years ago, when she fled her betrothal to Rowan, she had completely given in to fear.
Until the day Gordon tried to help me ride again.
She intended to win against her fear this time. By the time she reached the stables that afternoon, her mind was made up.
“I want to learn how to ride,” she murmured to herself.
The words sounded strange, but they steadied her.
She wanted to do all the things she had once convinced herself she would never have the chance to do. And if Gordon intended to dissolve their binding, then she would not spend the remaining days hiding in her chamber and mourning a future he had already decided she could not have.
The stable smelled of hay, leather, and warm animals. Ailis approached one of the quieter mares, speaking softly as she stroked her neck.
“There now.”
The mare shifted beneath her hand, and the movement scared her for a bit.
Ailis swallowed and steadied her breath.
I can do this.
She had ridden before, and she could do it again.
I am nae that frightened lass anymore.
Or at least, she wanted to believe she wasn’t.