Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Malric’s reply to her letter came a week later, after Ailsa had sent it discreetly with Martha’s help.
As soon as she reached her quarters, Ailsa drew the letter from the folds of her dress and tore it open excitedly.
She had not expected to hear back from Malric so soon, but here he was, responding to her as though it had been at the very top of his list of errands.
Of course, she was sure that Tavish would have had something to say about her reaching out to him the way she had, but she had already learned that her husband was stubborn.
If she wanted to make things right between them, then it would be better for her to reach out to him privately and not give him a chance to overthink everything once more.
Hope flickered in her chest as she skimmed over the letter; it was courteous enough, if brief. No doubt Malric was still questioning just what it was that had led her to reach out to him, given that her husband seemed to be the one to have put the distance between them in the first place.
But she wanted to do her part to try to make things right between them, even if she knew it was a risk.
Whatever had happened, it had to be in the past now; they had to be willing to open themselves up to the possibility of reconciliation, to put the mess of their history behind them once and for all.
She hurried from the room and towards her husband’s study, her heart thudding in her chest as she made her way towards him.
She was sure he would have something to say about her going behind his back to contact Malric without his permission, but when he understood the reason for her missive, surely, he would forgive her.
She slowed as she approached his study, hearing raised voices from within. For a mad moment, she thought that she had been found out and Tavish was already raging about what she had done. But, as she paused and listened in, she could make out a little more of what was being said.
“I dinnae care how they found their way so close to the Keep,” Tavish growled. “I want them gone. That’s all that matters.”
“Aye, I ken that,” Ewan replied. He sounded wary, almost worried about how Tavish might react. “But we cannae keep the place entirely free of visitors. There are roads that lead back and forth around this place, people are going to pass through them—”
“You know as well as I do that these people were not simply passing by,” Tavish fired back, his voice dropping precipitously. “They were trying to get close to the Keep. To what end, I dinnae ken, but I don’t intend to give them the opportunity to show me.”
Ailsa chewed her lip, wondering for a moment if she should keep this all to herself for the time being.
Tavish already seemed worked up enough, and she was sure that the letter would do little to salve his fury.
But then, perhaps it was better to just get it over with now, when he was already in a bad mood.
She was certain that he would notice her excitement when he saw her again. Better to come clean and say what needed to be said than to try to hide it from him—she had learned that a long time ago.
Before she could stop herself, she leaned around and knocked on the door, drawing the attention of both Ewan and her husband.
“Lady Ailsa! We’ve missed ye in the field this week.” The look on Ewan’s face seemed to warn her that she would have been better off keeping to herself than intruding on whatever chaos was unfolding here.
But she was Tavish’s wife. If anyone should have been open with him, it was her.
“I ken, Ewan. I’ll join ye again soon. May I speak with the Laird now?” she asked, sweetening her voice as best she could.
Despite himself, Tavish’s face softened slightly, and he gestured for her to come in.
“What is it, lass?” he murmured, lifting his chin to look at her. She took a deep breath and reached into her dress to pull out the letter.
“I hope you willnae take this the wrong way,” she began, speaking carefully, every word out of her mouth a risk. “But I reached out to Malric MacCairn about potentially mending our relationship, and he has written back to me already, suggesting a meeting—”
He snatched the letter from her hand and flipped it open, scanning across the page. She held her breath as he set about taking it in, and she felt Ewan’s eyes boring into her, half-warning her that she should be anywhere else but here.
But the letter had been nothing but open to the idea of starting anew, fixing whatever it was that had gone wrong between the clans over the years. She could still recall when they had been children and had played together, and the warmth and joy that had emanated from those memories.
Surely, a bond shared over something like that could not be entirely wiped away, no matter what happened in adulthood to follow it.
After a moment, Tavish tossed the page down on his desk, letting out a derisive snort. He looked past her and to Ewan.
“Ready the troops,” he ordered him. “We march on the MacCairn Keep at dawn.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest at the sound of those words, pure horror gripping her with no warning.
“What on earth are ye talking about?” she exclaimed as she snatched the paper from the table, returning her gaze to it as though there might have been some instigation in there that she had missed on first reading.
“Ye think this is some kind of game?” he demanded, rising to his feet, splaying his hands on the table, and leaning towards her. Ewan had backed towards the door, clearly not interested in getting stuck between the two of them as they fought out this matter.
“I think ye have a chance to make things right!” she exclaimed. “To-to talk things out, as real adults would, and here you are, turning it into a declaration of war.”
“Ye’ve gone behind my back,” he growled. “Writing to my enemy.”
“And ye willnae even tell me why he is yer enemy,” she protested. “He was a friend to this clan, the last I knew of it. A friend to me, Tavish! Why should I take on whatever rage ye have towards him when ye won’t even tell me where it came from?”
“Ye dinnae ken him like I do.”
“Then let me,” she pleaded with him. “Let me see what it is that ye know about him that I’m so ignorant of. It makes no sense to me, Tavish. He was a friend to this family, and then I come back here, and all of a sudden—”
“Ye think I’m daft?” he replied. “Ye’re in contact with my enemy. Who knows what kind of danger ye have put yerself in—and all of us.”
Her jaw dropped. All at once, the progress that seemed to have been made between them had shattered into pieces, leaving nothing but a mess in its wake. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, the way that he spoke to her, like she was nothing but an annoyance he wanted to get rid of.
“He was Callum’s friend!” she reminded him furiously. “Maybe that’s the problem, maybe ye were jealous of him.”
She stopped dead as soon as those words were out of her mouth, sensing in an instant that she had overstepped the mark.
His face hardened, eyes darkening. He leaned across the table towards her, and the man that she had shared a bed with, the man who had been so willing to open himself up to her, had vanished just as soon as she had laid eyes on him.
“Ye dinnae get to speak to me like that, lassie,” he warned her, and she recoiled slightly, her eyes widening.
Something stirred in the pit of her stomach, something she had not felt for a long time in his presence. Nervousness. Maybe even fear.
“Ye can train wi’ my men, and ye can brandish that sword, but dinnae forget who is the one in charge here,” he continued. “Who ye’re answering to. Ye understand me?”
She gritted her teeth, clenching her fists at her sides. She could barely believe that he would dare speak to her like this, as if she was no more than a pawn he could use at his will. She didn’t reply. She would not dignify such a thing with a response.
“Ye obey me,” he told her. “Ye hear me, lass?”
She shook her head slowly. If that was what he had wanted in a wife, someone who would drop to her knees to follow every detail of what he said to her, then he had chosen the wrong woman to marry.
“Then ye should have picked someone willing to bow to ye,” she spat back at him. “That’s no’ me, Tavish. It has never been.”
Compassion seemed to leak from his face in an instant. He straightened up, not breaking her gaze for a moment. There seemed to be a part of him that wanted her to back down so he would not have to go through with whatever it was he had planned for her.
“Ewan,” he called out, and the captain ducked back into the room. He must have heard the whole thing. The expression on his face certainly seemed to indicate as much.
“Aye?”
“Fetch a pair of guards to escort my wife to her chambers,” he told him coldly. “And make sure she doesnae leave until I say the word.”
Ailsa glowered at him. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it hurt her to hear him speak about her like that, as though she was hardly in the room at all. She snatched the letter pointedly.
“I told ye, Tavish, ye dinnae have to shoulder this alone. I won’t stay still. This is my home too now, my people, my clan. I will not cower away from hard decisions if it means the best for them!”
Ewan did not hesitate in attending to his duty, but Ailsa just stood there, her feet rooted to the spot, as she waited for the guards to collect her.
And collect her they did.
They each took an arm, which she made no effort to fight.
She could have kicked and screamed and insisted that they get their damn hands off her, but she knew it would have done no good in the long run.
He had the power in this place, and if he had decided that she was to be locked away, then that would be the end of it.
She didn’t feel sad, as she had thought she might, nor angry, nor anything, really.
A heavy numbness settled over her body, the knowledge that he would never trust her, not really.
He could put on an act that he cared about her and saw her as an equal, but with this, he had proved to her once and for all that he would never truly see her the way that she saw him.
Never truly trust her or believe her capable of the same kind of power that he owned.
The door closed behind her, leaving her in the empty silence of her chambers, the guards outside to make sure she didn’t try to make a break for freedom.
But if he thought this would be the end of it, he would find himself with much more to contend with than he was prepared for.