Chapter 11
"Igave ye today to sort out what ye think of me," Aaron said as he took her hand and drew it to his lips.
"And I hope that I've given ye a different perspective than the one ye came here with.
" The sound of the door closing behind Aaron rattled Izzy.
She hadn't noticed before how much space Aaron took up.
Not just physically but mentally as well.
And the fact she was about to marry the man confused her more now than it did before.
Why did her body betray the way it did? After all, wasn't he supposed to be the bad guy?
Was this not the same man who humiliated her in front of all of English society?
Yet, he saved her not once but twice now, and it was starting to wear on her.
Izzy paced the length of the room as the fire slowly burned to nothing but embers.
Yet, despite the fact she was to marry in the morning, Izzy couldn't rest. Her mind was a whirlwind jumping between the things her mother had allowed to seep into her subconscious and the reality Aaron had shown her.
Throwing herself on the bed, she stared at the ceiling, hoping she'd be able to sort out her differences. She chewed her lower lip as her chest tightened. The fact that she was to be married in the morning should have bothered her far more than it actually did.
"Well," she mumbled to the dark empty room, "I suppose there are worse men I could be marrying."
The sharp knock on the door rattled Izzy, and before she knew it, she'd tumbled from the bed to the cold, hardwood floor. She looked up just as the door flew up.
"What did I tell ye? I kent she'd make a run for it." Izzy heard and the rush of footsteps entering the room. "Now pay up."
"Oh me word," a second servant gasped the second she came around the bed to find Izzy flat on the floor. Embarrassment rushed through Izzy as she jumped up, wishing no one had caught her, but the confusion on the women's faces only added to Izzy's chagrin. "What are ye doin' on the floor?"
"I fell out of the bed," Izzy explained as she dusted herself off and glanced at the dress the servant held in her hands. It was a lovely sheen fabric that reminded Izzy of the stream cutting through her father's land in the country.
"That means I won," the smaller of the two servants said with a sheen to her gaze that made Izzy wish she had been a part of their scheming. "So ye owe me. Ha."
"Are ye sure ye dinnae want to slip out the back or somethin'?" the taller servant asked with hope burning in her eyes. "We can tell the Laird that we dinnae find ye and give ye a good start if ye wish."
"I'm not running if that is what you're implying I should do."
"Are ye sure?" the servant pleaded as her voice was laced with sarcasm and empathy. "We ken several ways out of the castle."
"And if ye're worried about where ye'll go from there, we can get ye back to England. Me brother is a fisherman. He can sail ye back this very hour. Ye just say the word," the second servant chimed in. Izzy shook her head.
"I can't. The King… There's no telling what he'd do to the Laird or my family. I can't risk it."
"Ye're a brave soul," the servant said as a sharp knock on the door pulled the women up short. All heads whipped to the door the moment it flew open.
"Ye're nae ready? How long do ye think the Laird is goin' to wait?" the man said in a stern tone as he glared at the servants. "Get her dressed. We're expected at the kirk any minute now."
"Aye, right away," the servants said with a bow. The man was familiar, but Izzy couldn't put her finger on his name. It was clear by the servant's response to him, he had to be someone of great importance.
"Who was that?" Izzy asked as the servants spared no time stripping her from her shift and placing the gown on her. As they fixed Izzy's hair into a loose bun on top of her head with little ringlets curling down around her neck, Izzy let out a heavy sigh.
"Ryan Gilmore," the smaller of the two servants replied. "He's the Laird's man-at-arms and nae to be crossed."
"I think he might even be more of a tyrant than the Laird himself," the taller servant said in hushed tones. Izzy's chest tightened as she looked at the servants, wondering why they were so terrified of the Laird. Surely, he wasn't nearly as bad as they made him out to be.
"The Laird's a tyrant?" Izzy whispered, completely dumbfounded by the news. From what she'd gathered about Aaron, he seemed to be intelligent and ruggedly handsome. But a tyrant? He didn't seem to be cruel — at least, not from what she'd experienced so far.
"Are ye ready?" Ryan's muffled voice silenced the servants. The girls looked at Izzy with a pitiful gaze as Izzy walked to the door to open it. Ryan's eyes widened the second he saw her.
"Yer husband is a lucky man," Ryan observed. "Shall we then? I doubt the Laird will want to postpone any longer than he already has."
"I'm ready," Izzy said despite her frayed nerves. Rolling her shoulders back, she took Ryan's arm. Every nerve in her body tingled as she looked about, wondering what was in store in her future. The way the servants had been acting made her wonder if they knew something she didn't.
"Ye shouldnae be nervous," Ryan assured her as they stepped out of the manor and started for the carriage to take them to the kirk.
"I'm not." Izzy's answer caused Ryan's eyebrow to arch in suspicion. He glared at her a moment and shook his head as if nothing she said he would believe. "You don't believe me, but that's fine. I'm not here to impress you."
"Aye, well, ye'll impress the Laird," Ryan declared as he held the door to the carriage open for her. "That much is certain."
Izzy felt heat rush through her as she settled in the seat of the carriage. She glanced at Ryan as he came to the window mounted on his horse.
"Ready?" Ryan asked. Izzy nodded as she fiddled with the tips of her fingers.
"Why is every so afraid of the Laird?" Izzy blurted as she glanced at the castle to see servants staring out the windows. Each one sharing the same baffled and pitiful expression.
"What makes ye think that the people daenae like the laird?" Ryan asked. His voice was even and unaffected by her question, yet, even in his stoic nature, there was a secret she felt he was hiding.
Izzy chewed her lower lip. There was no way she was going to rat out the servants who were kind enough to offer to smuggle her out, but if she told the man at arms of such things, surely they'd be punished.
"Just a feeling I get when I'm around the staff. They all seem to shift the moment the Laird's name is mentioned or when he comes around."
"Are ye sure ye're nae just seein' respect and loyalty?" Ryan asked as they made their way down the bumpy road. "After all, yer in Scotland now, and we tend to be a bit more traditional in certain matters."
Izzy shook her head and let her attention shift to the trees. The morning dew clung to the field like a blanket as they passed by the wildflowers and wheat. Izzy's heart fluttered "It's not respect and loyalty. More like fear and worry. What is it that you're not telling me?"
"Whatever questions ye have about the Laird, best ask him yerself. I'll nae betray me master and put me position in jeopardy to satisfy yer curiosity."
"I wasn't asking you to betray anyone," Izzy argued as the forest gave way to a large green field with a rock wall surrounding the plot of land. "Just wondering why everyone thinks of him as a monster."
"If I recall, ye once used that very name against him too, did ye nae?" Ryan asked with a knowing smirk that made Izzy uncomfortable. Was there anything the Laird didn't share with his man at arms?
"You're right," Izzy mumbled. "I called him that once."
"And what? Now ye've seen the error of yer ways and see him as worthy of yer time; is that it?" Ryan asked, his tone far more mocking than Izzy had liked. She shook her head, trying not to get offended by the snarkiness of his tone.
"I doubt the Laird is a saint," Izzy countered as guilt pricked her.
She too had once thought of him as nothing more than a brute.
But after yesterday, it seemed there was more to Aaron than met the eye.
He wasn't mean or ruthless. By her account, she couldn't even call him a tyrant.
He was too protective of her, too kind and far too patient to be anything more than a man looking to marry for convenience.
"I called him such a name out of fear. He'd killed before my own eyes. "
"From what I heard, it was to protect ye," Ryan said.
"And I'm not proud of saying such things, but unlike you, I've never been around such violence or so much blood. But surely the scars play a part in what people think, don't they? Is that why everyone sees him as a monster?"
"Ye've got questions, so ask the Laird. Gettin' yer answers from the horse's mouth is better than listenin' to the rumors that spread like wildfire."
The carriage came to a stop as did Izzy's heart.
Her palms felt clammy and wet as the carriage door opened.
Out of all the ways Izzy had envisioned her wedding, she never thought it would be like this.
Steeling herself to her fate, she stepped out of the carriage.
Ryan offered his arm. Izzy slipped hers into his and started for the door.
Every nerve in her body tingled as they moved closer to the church doors.
Doom seemed to settle on her shoulders as the bells rang through the countryside announcing the celebration.
But what was there to celebrate? Was it the fact that she was about to be tied to a man she barely knew?
Tears pooled in her eyes, but there was no way she was going to let them loose.
She'd get through this moment, somehow, someway.
Ryan paused at the steps of the church. Izzy swallowed the lump of uncertainty clogging her throat. For just a split second, Izzy allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to flee. She'd run for the coast and jump on the first ship willing to take her away. But then what would she do?
It wasn't like she could go home. Her family would no doubt just send her right back here to fulfill her obligations.
She pressed her lips into a tight line and glanced at Ryan.
He arched his bushy eyebrow and took the first step.
The question in his eyes made Izzy nervous.
It was clear he was plotting his next move based on what she did.
"Are ye comin'?" he asked. "Because quite frankly, I daenae want to have to go chasin' after ye. But if ye're thinkin' of boltin', I can tell ye right now, ye willnae get far."
Izzy shook her head and pulled in a long breath to calm her frazzled nerves. Despite the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, she remained in place.
"I'm not going to run if that's what you're hoping for. My family would be ruined. I can't, I won't do that to them."
"I've got to say, that's rather admirable.
I dinnae think ye had it in ye. Well, if that's the case, then let's get this over with," Ryan said at the ringing of the bells.
Izzy stared at the door for a moment, trying to will her legs to move.
Yet, no matter what command she gave them, Izzy didn't budge.
"You wouldn't happen to know who all is in there, would you?" Izzy asked as panic settled in her heels, planting her to the spot.
"And who exactly are ye hopin' to see in there?" Ryan asked as he arched a suspicious eyebrow. Izzy glanced to the stone steps and let out a remorseful sigh.
"I was wondering if my family had shown or if they were even invited," she whispered as her chest tightened. She wasn't certain she really wanted to know the answer to her inquiry.
"Cannae say," he answered. "Me task was to bring ye to the kirk, and so I have. Who was on the invite list would be somethin'—"
"I'll have to ask the Laird about, right?
" she interrupted. Ryan flashed her a wry smile and knocked on the kirk doors.
The oak doors of the kirk moaned in protest as they parted for her.
Izzy's heart fluttered wildly as she stepped into the dimly lit room.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but as she blinked, the room became clearer, and to her humiliation, no one but Aaron was there to greet her.