Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Gordon arrived late to supper, and yet Ailis was nowhere to be found.
Even though I explicitly ordered her to be on time.
Marion gestured around the table set for their supper. There was roasted venison, trout, and even pottage made with herbs, using Marion’s favorite recipe. Gordon could inhale the fresh scent of herbs from it and the smile on her face as her eyes scanned the room.
“Will Ailis be joinin’ us tonight? Or is she too tired from her travels?”
He glanced toward the dining hall’s doorway again and felt a tickle of expectation. He had spent most of his evening with his man-at-arms, Malcolm, listening to reports on the western patrol. He then spent another good part of his time with the village head, Tam.
Gordon expected to return to his keep for a quiet supper before spending the rest of his time in the study. And this supper with his aunt, expectant of Ailis’ arrival, would not be quiet.
The door opened, and his gaze went to it. A maid entered with a fresh platter instead of Ailis, and his muscles tightened even further while his fingers tightened around his cup.
Marion noticed it this time as her smile thinned. “Is everythin’ all right, dear? Will she be joinin’ us?”
Her eyes were sharp enough to pierce through him, and he knew she would not drop the question.
His gaze moved from hers to Malcolm’s then he cleared his throat. “She must be too tired from the road. I am sure she will eat when she is ready.”
His aunt shook her head almost immediately. “Nay, nay… if she doesnae feel well, then ye must go to her.”
Gordon was lifting his cup to his lips when she suggested that, and the ale spilled down his throat a little too fast, making him choke. His throat burned with the flush of heat that crept through him.
“Why would I do that? She has servants, and she is provided for. She will eat when she is ready.” The table fell silent, but he felt eyes on him, staring… judging. “Ye daenae really mean that I should go to her?”
Marion nodded. Malcolm cleared his throat, but the silence in the room had heavy meaning, and he knew what it was.
He clenched his fists even tighter and allowed the ripples of tension smack right through him.
“Ye should check on her and make sure she is all right,” Marion continued, urging him.
His jaw tightened as he finally rose, knowing he could not escape this. Then he pushed back from his chair and headed out of the hall without a backward glance.
The passage beyond the hall was cooler, lit by torches that smoked against the stone.
As he walked, the noise of supper faded behind him, replaced by the deeper sounds of the keep.
Boots overhead and a laugh from the kitchens.
He descended the side stair, and with each step, displeasure sharpened in him though he could not tell whether it was aimed at her or himself.
I cannae decide what to do with her.
Ailis was clearly defiant, and he did not know whether to admire it or ignore it.
He finally stopped outside her door and noticed a light glowing beneath it. Gordon heard movement inside… soft movement like the scrape of wood and the rustle of fabric.
Then he knocked hard and waited. A second later, the door opened, and a maid curtsied by the threshold.
“Me Laird… we were nae expectin’ ye,” she rambled, her eyes wide and face ashen like she had seen a ghost.
Gordon ignored her and looked past the doorway inside the chamber.
“Where is Miss Ailis?”
He heard whistling from inside as Jane, the maid, stepped aside to let him into the chamber. The chamber did not look like it had when he first showed it to her.
Fresh rushes had been laid around the room, and a small bundle of heather sat in a clay cup on the table.
Someone had filled the pitcher and set a basin beside it.
A bright blue cloak hung against the dull stone wall, and two candles burned near the bed, their small gold light softening the low beams overhead.
Ailis stood near the table, holding a length of embroidered cloth, frowning down at it as if deciding whether the miserable thing deserved to live.
She looked up, and Gordon forgot, for a breath, why he had come.
Her hair had loosened, and the soft brown strands fell near her cheek and along her neck, catching the candlelight in threads of gold.
She had taken off her traveling cloak, but she was not dressed for supper.
Her gown was plain, deep-green wool, fitted close enough at the bodice to make him aware of the line of her waist before he forced his gaze back to her face.
Too late.
Her lips parted before he could look away, and heaven help him, those lips.
They looked full and soft, still faintly pink from where she had likely bitten them in thought.
Staring at them left him with another surge of heat.
This one stirred fierce and hot, burning through him like whisky down an empty throat.
He set his jaw, but the damage was done. The image of her lips stayed in his mind, and the frightening ease of the warmth that broke through him was all he could dwell on.
“Me Laird,” Ailis greeted and curtsied, dismissed the maid with a nod, and moved away from where she stood to come closer to him. “What brings ye here?”
Her eyes danced. He knew she asked the question to taunt him.
“I was explicit that ye ought join us for supper on time. Me aunt has been expectin’ ye.”
Ailis tilted her head. “Is that why ye have come here?” When Gordon said nothing, she immediately added. “Because I fear ye have wasted yer time, Me Laird. I daenae wish to dine tonight.”
“Is it that ye daenae wish to eat, or do ye simply mean to defy me?”
A rough chuckle escaped Ailis at that. “Defy ye? Why would I do that?”
That teasing in her tone made his face tighten into an even deeper scowl.
“We eat supper together in this keep,” he said, gesturing with a hand and stepping closer to her.
“And if I daenae wish to, will ye drag me down there and force me?”
Her eyes held his steady as her chin hiked a notch higher. Gordon suspected she enjoyed watching out for his reaction.
And I willnae give her the satisfaction.
“I willnae force ye,” he answered, and this time when he gestured, his hand brushed against her skirts and toyed with the soft fabric.
Her gaze dropped down to his fingers grazing gently over the embroidered garment, and he quickly withdrew when he realized how long she stared at the hand.
Ailis lifted her gaze to his once more, and a tense silence filled the air. It throbbed through them like a drum and pumped energy faster through his nerves. Gordon cleared his throat and looked away from her first.
“It will be yer choice,” he said to her more sternly. “This is yer home now, and it is me duty to make sure ye are well cared for. I expect to see ye at supper tomorrow.”
“But it is me choice?”
“Aye, it is. But ye will also be Lady of the Keep, and so ye daenae have an option nae to dine. Ye belong at me table, and I prefer that everyone stays where they belong as long as they are under me name.”
That last sentence annoyed her. He saw it in the flare that sharpened her eyes on him, but he did not give her the chance to say a thing.
Gordon marched out of her chamber without another word, aware of her glare burning into his back. It was only a matter of time before she decided she could not stand him.
Before she decided she could nae go through with the bindin’ after all.
Runnin’ isnae an option.
Ailis had that thought lingering in her head throughout the next day. The thought followed her down the narrow stairs like a whisper pressed to the back of her neck.
Her fingers slid along the cool stone wall as she descended, her skirts brushing the steps, the scent of smoke and supper thickening with every turn.
Runnin’ would mean lettin’ Sorcha down, and she has already sacrificed so much for our clan and me.
Besides, even if she did try to run, Ailis doubted she would make it far. This castle was heavily guarded with Gordon’s men, and she saw them watching her each time she stepped out of her chambers.
There was no escaping this castle.
And even if she could run, where would she go?
The thought made her stomach twist.
Callan would send men after her. Rowan would be forced into the matter. Sorcha would suffer whispers, worry, and shame she did not deserve. And Gordon…
Ailis’ mouth tightened. Gordon would likely drag her back and throw her to the dungeons.
Nay. She would not give him that satisfaction.
She paused on the last stair and pressed one hand to her middle.
Ye are trapped. The thought struck harder because it was true, and she felt the weight of it pressing into her.
Ailis finally stepped into the great hall, and the voices around vanished as curious eyes followed her from every corner. Her cheeks warmed as she wondered what they all thought while they stared at her.
Ailis’ fingers curled at her sides. Their glances were enough to allow her to suspect what they murmured about.
Is that her? The Sinclair sister who fled?
She suspected even the servants in the hall knew of her previous betrothal and her cowardly way out of it.
Gordon’s gaze met hers then, and he rose to his feet. “Miss Ailis. It is great that ye decided to join us.”
Ailis managed a smile even though her insides were in turmoil. “Me Laird, thank ye for havin’ me.”
Her pulse skipped when he moved around the table to hold out a chair for her. She sat, and he pushed the chair in with careful restraint, not touching her, not even brushing her sleeve, yet his nearness moved over her skin like warmth from a banked fire.
Gordon took his seat beside her.
For several breaths, neither spoke. The hall slowly resumed itself. Cups lifted. Platters moved. Voices began again, softer now, shaped carefully around Gordon’s displeasure.
Ailis reached for her cup only to find Gordon watching her.
“Are ye settled?” he asked. The question sounded stiff. As if he had not wished to ask it but could not stop himself.