Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was impossible not to think of her.
Aaron sat alone in his chamber, a cup of whiskey in one hand as the clock ticked steadily toward midnight.
He had not bothered getting into bed. There was no point. Not when thoughts of the lass had completely plagued his mind.
His gaze drifted to the door, and his jaw tightened as he imagined Edith in the chamber across from his. He had chosen to have her close by to keep an eye on her, and now he found it incredibly difficult to keep his mind off her, even when he so desperately wished to.
Perhaps she is awake.
His fingers curled tightly around the arm of his chair as he caught himself thinking of her again.
Perhaps she might even leave her door open like she did the first night.
Aaron shook his head sharply, dismissing the thought before he was tempted to check on her as he had done that night.
Surely, she didnae. Nae after what happened on the stair landing.
The stair landing had been a fluke. A mere mishap that should be forgotten without trouble. Or at least, that was how he chose to see it.
But he had kissed her and then left her lying on the floor. Surely, she would not want to risk seeing him at all.
Damn me.
His jaw clenched tighter as he poured the last of the whiskey into his cup. It was a wonder that he was nowhere near drunk. The flask had been half full when he started.
He groaned, pushing himself to his feet.
The fake betrothal with Edith had been a ploy to simplify matters for himself. But now, it had successfully begun to keep him up at night.
“It was only a kiss,” he muttered into the dark room, his grip tightening on his cup as irritation flared in his chest.
Why then could he not stop thinking about it?
He was Aaron Gallaway, the Laird of Clan Hallow. If he wished for a woman’s attention, all he needed to do was raise a finger, and it would be his.
Powerful Lairds fought to have their daughters wed him. And yet, for some reason, none of that brought him comfort now.
None of those women could raise their chins in his presence, much less argue with him. None of them could look at him as though they wished to throw a chair at his head one moment and then kiss him fiercely the next. None of them smelled like wild lavender.
His face hardened. His brows drew together as he downed the rest of the whiskey in one gulp, the amber liquid burning its way down his throat.
He dropped his empty cup with a clatter. Before he could think better of it, he threw on a cloak and walked out of his chamber, careful to avoid as much as a glance toward Edith’s door.
He found his way to the quiet Great Hall, crossing it and stepping out into the cold air. The courtyard was empty.
Perfect.
Perhaps a long walk would finally clear his head.
He knew his way around in the dark. He walked the grounds, reaching the far end before returning to the courtyard again.
The night had deepened around him. The castle grew quieter than ever, and yet thoughts of Edith did not leave him, not even for a moment. By the time dawn began creeping over the hills, the whiskey was long gone from his system, and his legs ached from hours of futile walking.
Edith was like a plague, taking over every corner of his mind.
He stood alone in the pale morning light and let out a frustrated breath.
Perhaps I shouldnae have kissed her.
He had fought all night to refuse the thought, but perhaps it was time to face it.
The kiss had not been ordinary. It had been different. He could not forget it, and truthfully, he ached for it. That was precisely the problem.
I must be going mad.
He headed back to the castle. The day had already begun, and if he was fortunate, he might be able to bury his thoughts under the weight of duty.
Aaron did not leave his study until it was nearly time for supper.
Even then, he almost cursed himself for setting such a rule—that for the duration of their agreement, they would always have supper together regardless of anything else.
He had enforced it without thinking it could one day hold him hostage to her presence. And now…
’Tis a foolish rule.
There were only a few minutes left until supper. A few of the clansfolk had gathered in the Great Hall. Children played at the far end of it, their laughter bright as they danced and clapped to a simple tune.
Aaron sat at the head of the table. His fingers curled into loose fists as he watched them, though his mind barely followed any of it. His face was already creased into a frown that did little to hide the lack of sleep.
His gaze drifted to the doors without his permission, and his jaw tightened as he thought of Edith again.
Surely, she wouldnae miss supper.
One of the children ran in his direction, laughing, before his mother hurried after him. She was the wife of one of the elders and heavily pregnant. She looked older than her years, or perhaps she was simply worn by them.
She caught the boy with practiced ease and bowed her head to Aaron.
“Pardon us, me Laird,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze. “The children are only excited to learn. Perhaps Lady Edith would understand.”
Aaron’s attention sharpened at the mention of Edith. He had been smiling at the little boy, but now his mood soured at the condescension in the woman’s tone.
Just then, the doors swung open.
It was Edith.
She wore a pale blue gown that softened her appearance in a way that made her seem almost unfamiliar at first glance.
Almost. There’s nothing soft about the lass.
Freckles were lightly scattered across her cheeks and nose, and her auburn hair hung around her face in loose waves, catching the light as she moved.
She looked as though she hadn’t lost a wink of sleep.
She moved through the hall with her usual confidence, smiling at the people who greeted her until she arrived at the table.
“Me Laird,” she said, and curtsied before taking her seat next to him.
Her lively tone irritated him more than it should have. She did not sound like a woman who had spent the entire night thinking.
“Me Lady,” the pregnant woman greeted her softly.
Edith offered a polite smile in return.
The woman lingered for a moment before speaking again. “The women of the castle are teaching the children how to dance. I ken ye might nae ken, but surely—”
Aaron cleared his throat sharply, interrupting her.
Her meaning was not subtle. He had sensed the condescension in her tone earlier, and even though Edith frustrated him endlessly, he would not have her spoken down to in his hall.
“’Tis time for supper,” he said evenly.
The woman dipped her head, gathering her child and retreating without another word.
Soon, everyone had settled around the table.
“Thank ye, me Laird,” Edith murmured as servants entered carrying platters of food.
Her gaze was fixed on the table in front of her. She still had not looked at him once.
Surely, the lass is avoiding me.
He did not like that one bit.
He watched her for a moment. Her lips were slightly parted, and her cheeks carried the faintest color. Whether from the woman’s words or something else, he could not tell.
His fingers curled again.
“Daenae fash,” he murmured once the servant had moved away from his side. “I will teach ye to dance meself.”
Edith looked at him, albeit very briefly. Her mouth moved as though she meant to say something, but no words left her lips.
“Tonight,” Aaron added, picking up his cutlery. “In the Great Hall.”
Edith blinked. For a brief moment, he thought she might refuse him outright.
“Very well, me Laird,” she said, and he frowned.
Her tone was polite. Too polite. The lass had spent the better part of the last week arguing with him over nearly everything, and now she simply agreed.
The conversation faded into an uncomfortable silence after that.
The Great Hall emptied slowly after supper.
A few servants still moved back and forth, clearing platters and empty cups. Several clansfolk lingered near the hearth, deep in conversation, while children darted between tables despite repeated attempts by their parents to gather them.
Edith remained seated beside Aaron. Her shoulders were stiff, her movements painfully slow as she picked at what remained of her meal.
Aaron watched her for a moment. He had expected her avoidance to irritate him. Instead, it fascinated him that she was so affected by him.
A small smile threatened at the corner of his mouth, and he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms until she finally glanced his way.
The lass could barely look at him. The moment their eyes met, she looked away as though she had been caught, returning her attention to her nearly empty plate.
Aaron’s lips curled.
Aye, she is avoidin’ me.
For some reason, the realization pleased him far more than it should have.
Eventually, Edith finished her supper and pushed her plate away.
“I suppose it is time,” she said quietly, her voice carrying that familiar edge she seemed to reserve only for him.
“Aye.”
Her lips pressed together into a thin line, and her eyes narrowed only for a brief moment before she rose, walking slowly to the center of the hall.
Aaron followed behind her.
For the first time, he noticed the graceful curve of her back beneath her long auburn hair and the way her hips swayed softly under her dress as she walked.
He looked away at once, only realizing his action after he had already completed it.
His jaw tightened. There was no reason to be staring at her like a fool. She was simply Edith. Scarlett’s friend. Nothing more. And yet his eyes found her again, unable to look elsewhere.
They stopped at the center of the hall, and he swallowed, straightening his back. The Great Hall went silent as they stood facing one another, curious eyes drifting toward them.
Aaron drew a quick breath as the harp began to play a simple tune, cursing himself as the smell of wild lavender enveloped him once more.
He focused on the lesson at once.
He held out a hand to her, and she stared at it, before looking up at him with clear hesitation.
“Must I?” she murmured so that only he could hear.
His brows lifted.
Surely, she hasnae come all the way to refuse me now.
“Aye.” His response was curt.
She obliged, placing her hand carefully in his as though he were a fire that could burn her.
Their first few steps were pure chaos. Edith moved like a soldier, her back completely stiff as he tried to guide her movements.
“Ye must relax,” he whispered in her ear, and her arms broke out into goosebumps.
His eyes narrowed. He had not expected her to be so nervous about the dance, though the sight oddly satisfied him.
He softened slightly.
“Lass,” he added, “perhaps ye should pretend I am someone ye actually like.”
Edith’s lips twitched slightly at the corner. “That would require ye to leave the hall first,” she replied, meeting his gaze only briefly before looking away again.
Aaron smiled faintly.
His smile lasted only a brief moment until she stepped sharply on his boot. She stumbled, but he caught and steadied her.
“Oh.” She laughed nervously.
“Oh?” Aaron repeated.
“Did I step on ye?”
His jaw tightened. “Nay. A horse wandered through the hall and crushed me foot.”
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it, but she quickly regained her composure, raising her chin slightly.
They started over.
This dance was no different from the first. They had hardly completed two steps before she stomped on his boot again, harder this time.
Aaron’s brows drew slightly together. “There is nay possible way ye are this terrible.”
Edith frowned slightly. “Terrible?”
“Aye.” He could not tell if the comment had irritated her.
She stepped on his boot a third time, and he released a long breath toward the ceiling. “Ye are doin’ it on purpose.”
“I am nae.”
“Surely, ye lie.”
She looked away, her cheeks reddening slightly. “I am only learning.”
“Yer learnin’ seems solely focused on destroyin’ me boots.”
Edith did not laugh then. She rolled her eyes, though the stiffness in her shoulders began to ease. Aaron could feel it beneath his palms.
He slowly slid his hand down her back as he settled into a more comfortable position for the dance, and she stiffened at once, stepping on his boot one more time.
“Apologies,” she murmured.
Aaron released a heavy breath. “Ye only need to relax,” he said quietly as they restarted the steps. “Follow me lead.”
Edith looked up at him, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Perhaps I cannae relax because ye are a dreadful teacher.”
Aaron’s brow furrowed. “Dreadful?” The word might have annoyed him if there hadn’t been a small smile on her face. “Ye ken ’tis nae true.”
Edith huffed quietly. “How so?”
“I taught me sister to dance.”
She let out a small laugh, disbelief written plainly all over her face. “’Tis nae possible. Scarlett learned to dance while ye were away, me Laird. Fighting wars, I presume.”
Aaron slowed slightly then. They had finally danced a complete cycle without any stomping, but he was not about to tell her that.
He nodded as she leaned closer, her body moving more easily beneath his hold. His hand slid around her waist, lingering there longer than necessary, and her fingers tightened on his shoulder.
It was time for her to twirl.
Aaron released his grip reluctantly, stepping back one foot as she twirled in the space before him.
The movement carried her long, auburn hair, filling the air with the smell of wild lavender that was so intoxicating that his eyes closed briefly as she spun back into his arms.
His pulse quickened.
She felt as though she were made to fit in his arms. The curve of her waist fit perfectly beneath his palm, and her head came to rest right against his chest.
Aaron looked down at her as the music came to a wrap, meeting her soft hazel eyes. For a moment, he remained still, not daring to move lest the moment be broken.
Edith’s chin lifted, and her red lips parted slightly. He leaned in closer without knowing it. Her breath brushed against the stubble on his chin as her eyes fluttered shut, and—
“’Tis the Laird!”
The small shout shattered the moment.
Aaron blinked. The source of the disturbance was a little boy standing beside him, tugging at his kilt with a wide grin. Behind him, his mother looked absolutely horrified.
“Me apologies, me Laird—”
Edith stepped back so quickly it was as if she had been burned. She dropped her gaze to hide her flushed face a second too late.
Aaron looked down at the boy.
Of all the moments.
The boy stared back at him with a wide, toothless grin, proud of whatever important matter had brought him running across the hall.
Aaron released a long breath through his nose.
How could he be mad? The innocent boy had no clue what he had interrupted.