Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Aaron tore his gaze away from Edith’s door.
He was the Laird. Edith was living under his roof. She was his betrothed, if he were to consider their arrangement. He had no reason to burden his mind with thoughts of her. And yet he could hardly bring himself to walk past her chamber without thinking of her.
Damn me.
His footsteps slowed despite himself, and he lingered for a moment near her door, listening for the faintest sound from within her chamber.
Nothing.
Is the lass alright?
A frown creased his brow. Leaving her undisturbed was a struggle against himself.
Twice, he had had to keep himself from knocking on her door. Once, he had turned around, returning to his chamber so he would not have to pass by her door.
Surely the lass is testing me.
The thought settled in his mind far more easily than the truth would have.
It was the beginning of the second week. They were due for their second outing, and he already wanted to avoid it.
He turned away from her chamber and headed out of the castle regardless. Perhaps the weather would turn. Perhaps one of the villagers would arrive with a dispute that required his attention. Perhaps something—anything—would give him reason to postpone the damned thing.
But by the time he reached the courtyard, it was already clear that fate had no intention of helping him. They were going to the fields.
Edith had not planned on leaving her chamber today.
The morning sun felt warm against her skin, relieving some of the ache that had settled in her bones as she walked toward the stables.
Her chest tightened as she approached, and she forced her gaze to stay on the horse rather than the man beside her.
Standing in such close proximity to Aaron was harder than she’d expected, even after their time in Scarlett’s old chamber the previous day. But she kept staring ahead, determined not to let him see through her.
“Good mornin’, lass,” she said to the horse first.
Sirius huffed, stomping her hooves on the ground with familiar impatience.
Edith smiled despite herself. She could feel Aaron’s burning gaze on the side of her face, but she refused to look at him. Instead, she brought her hands to the horse’s face, gently stroking the white blaze between her eyes.
It was as though Sirius could sense her nervousness. The horse snorted and turned her head to the side, out of Edith’s reach.
“Ye daenae like to be touched,” Edith said quietly as she stepped back from the horse, her cheeks reddening slightly in embarrassment.
She glanced toward Aaron, half expecting to see a smirk on his face.
Heavens.
He looked different, but perhaps it was her memory of him in the healer’s chamber that caused her heart to skip a beat.
She dipped into the deepest curtsy she’d ever given, grateful for the opportunity to avoid his gaze for at least a moment.
“Good mornin’, me Laird.” Her voice was slightly hoarse in this position.
She straightened slowly, her throat tightening as she looked at the face that had haunted her thoughts for the past two days.
His expression was as unreadable as ever, his arms folded carelessly across his chest. But Edith had spent more than enough time thinking about him not to notice the small differences.
Her eyes caught the tension in his jaw, different from his usual mask of irritation and arrogance. She noticed the stiffness in his shoulders and the way his oddly brooding eyes held hers for a fraction too long.
For a quick second, she wondered if he had been getting enough sleep.
Aaron cleared his throat and blinked, the gloominess vanishing from his eyes at once.
Of course he has.
A strange knot formed in Edith’s stomach. To imagine that Aaron would lose a wink of sleep over her was wishful thinking. She should have known that much.
“Ye summoned me,” she said, keeping her voice calm.
“Aye,” he uttered, offering no further explanation.
Only a few weeks ago, silence from him would have meant nothing to her. But now, it felt unnatural.
Edith shifted slightly on her feet, thinking of something to say. “I suppose it is time for our second outing.”
“Aye,” Aaron said again.
She bit her bottom lip, looking away as she felt her cheeks redden further.
“We are going to the fields,” he added, a fraction too late to save her from the awkward tension she’d been trying to avoid.
Edith nodded faintly. She turned her attention back to Sirius, whispering a brief prayer before attempting to mount her. A small smile curved her lips once she was safely atop the mare, and she heaved a sigh of relief.
She rode behind Aaron in silence, grateful for the very first time that she did not have to mount the same horse as him.
Her thoughts wandered briefly to his broad, muscled chest, and she shook her head, not daring to imagine what it would feel like pressed against her back.
Soon, they found themselves in the fields near the border.
Edith inhaled, allowing the fresh air to fill her lungs. A morning like this was precisely what she needed to function properly. A slow ride in the warm sun, fields that stretched wide beneath the open sky, green and golden under the late morning light, and company, even if that company was Aaron.
Aaron dismounted once he had decided on the perfect spot, then offered her a hand down from Sirius’s back.
“A fine place for a picnic,” Edith said, looking around. She rubbed her hands together, trying to mask the tremors that lingered in her fingers where Aaron had touched her.
“Aye,” he replied. “’Tis visible enough.”
Edith nodded slightly.
Of course.
This outing was part of their arrangement. She could not allow herself to forget that.
She watched as Aaron reached behind the saddle and untied a small wicker basket she had not noticed before. He lifted it free from the cantle.
“Ye brought food?” Her surprise was evident in her tone.
“Did ye think I’d bring ye out here before breakfast to starve ye?” He glanced at her, and she blinked.
She had not expected him to be thoughtful enough to even consider it.
She peered into the basket as he set it down, and her brow furrowed in disbelief at what he had prepared.
Bread. Cheese. A flask of whiskey.
“This is yer grand effort?” she asked lightly.
Aaron’s mouth twitched faintly. “It will do.”
He spread out his plaid, settling down first before patting the space beside him.
Edith shook her head. She considered him for a moment before sitting next to him, keeping as much distance between them as possible without touching the grass.
“Romance is truly wasted on ye,” she scoffed.
Aaron laughed loudly, the sound startling her more than it should have. It was rare enough to see him smile and rarer still to hear him laugh.
“Ye expected roasted pheasant?” he asked.
She nodded, holding back a smile. “At the very least.”
“Before breakfast?”
“Aye.”
Aaron let out another laugh. “Yer expectations are unreasonable.”
“So I have been told.”
Edith broke a piece of bread and handed him the first bite.
A cool breeze rolled across the hills, carrying the scent of freshly turned soil. Workers moved steadily through the fields, their voices drifting toward them despite the distance.
Edith squinted her eyes a little as she watched a group of older men far ahead. “What are they arguing about?” she asked.
Aaron followed her gaze, leaning forward slightly. “I cannae possibly see that far, lass.”
She raised a brow in mock disappointment. “Truly?” she asked, as though his admission was unfathomable. “Then I was wrong to think ye have an extra pair of eyes.”
Aaron leaned back. His shoulders flexed beneath his tunic as he braced one palm against the grass behind him, tilting his head as he looked at her.
“And why would I?”
Edith averted her gaze. Her stomach fluttered at the look in his eyes, and she swallowed, feeling her traitorous cheeks redden. It was as though he was not aware of the effect he had on her.
A cart rattled past them, one of its wheels wobbling badly as it rolled over a rut. She pointed at it, grateful for the distraction.
“That thing is one stone away from collapsin’.”
Aaron glanced over. “Aye. Any moment from now.”
Right on cue, the cart lurched, one of its wheels popping off the side.
Edith covered her mouth, her eyes widening as she glanced at Aaron. “Ye planned that,” she teased.
“Nay. Ye did.”
“I didnae.” Her voice rose slightly as Aaron laughed again. She drew her brows together and folded her arms across her chest. “Ye ken I didnae.”
“’Tis an empty cart,” he murmured once his laughter died down. “It would be terrible if it were packed with grains.”
Edith nodded, her face softening again. “Aye, it would.”
She reached into the basket then. Her hand brushed against his as he reached for the cheese at the same moment, and she almost jumped, pulling back as though she had just touched hot iron.
It was impossible to hide. Her reaction was so abrupt that Aaron straightened, looking quickly into the basket.
Oh my.
His brows drew together once he realized what had happened. There was nothing in the basket. Nothing that would have caused a person to startle.
“Are ye alright?”
Edith bit her lip. “Aye.” Her voice was thinner than it had been only a moment ago. Her fingers tightened around the cheese in her hand, but she did not look at him.
Aaron leaned back slightly, watching her with narrowed eyes. “Ye arenae.” Then he seemed to hesitate before adding, “Ye’ve spent the last two days runnin’ from me.”
Edith’s brows drew together.
He noticed?
Her gaze sharpened as she looked at him, her hackles rising. “I havenae been avoidin’ ye.”
“Aye,” Aaron countered. “Ye have.”
Her jaw tightened at the certainty in his voice. “Ye cannae accuse me, me Laird. Ye daenae have proof.”
“I daenae need proof when I have seen it with me own eyes. Ye fled. From breakfast, and from the healer’s chamber.”
Edith’s breath caught in her throat. She set the cheese down a little too carefully, lifting her chin.
“Do ye have a problem with where I go or what I do?”
Her question was an attempt to throw him off, but his expression did not change.
“That isnae what I said.”
“But it is what ye mean,” she shot back.
Aaron paused. The wind shifted between them as he leaned closer to her, and his voice dropped to a dangerous murmur.
“Ye are still me betrothed.” His words sent a shiver down her spine. “And for as long as ye remain so,” he continued evenly, “ye cannae behave like ye are free to do as ye please. Ye must behave as I—” He stopped abruptly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed the rest of his words.
Edith’s eyes lifted slowly to his.
He kens. It bothers him as much as it bothers me.
Her eyes softened slightly, only for a moment. “Then perhaps ye should decide what it is ye want from me, me Laird.”
The words left her mouth before she could think better of them.
Aaron’s expression shifted, something sharper settling beneath the calm.
The fields suddenly felt very quiet. The distant voices of the workers seemed very far away now. The breeze stirred the grass around them, but Edith barely noticed it.
Aaron’s gaze lingered on her a moment too long, and she swallowed, unable to move.
Perhaps I have gone too far.
His eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened in that familiar way that had plagued her thoughts for the past two days.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Heaven help me.
Aaron leaned closer, though not enough to draw attention.
“Ye are right,” he whispered, and heat immediately rushed into her cheeks. “I will be the one to decide that.”
Edith’s breath caught.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Aaron simply watched her, and she found herself unable to look away.
The silence stretched between them, and she knew with certainty that neither of them had forgotten about the kiss on the stair landing or anything that had followed it.
I’ll be damned.
“We should head back,” Aaron said eventually.
She nodded, unable to respond with anything more than a simple word. “Aye.”
She rose from the ground without his help, brushing small blades of grass from her skirt.
“Thank ye, me Laird,” she said as they walked toward their horses. “It has been a pleasant morning.”
Aaron nodded.
They rode back to Hallow Castle in the same silence in which they had ridden out, but the air was more charged than it had been earlier in the day.