Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
By the time Gordon rode beneath the keep’s gate, dusk had surrendered to night.
The torches along the bailey walls had already been lit, their flames bowing beneath the restless Highland wind. Men nodded as he passed, offering weary greetings that he returned with little more than an incline of his head.
He was exhausted. The day had begun before sunrise and had scarcely allowed him a moment to breathe since.
A washed-out bridge had needed inspecting.
Two neighboring crofters had nearly come to blows over grazing rights.
Patrol routes along the eastern border had required changing after another sighting of Kerr’s men.
Every problem found him. Every decision rested upon him.
It seemed that each morning, the weight upon his shoulders grew heavier than the one before.
By the time he climbed the stairs toward his chambers, the muscles across his back burned with fatigue.
His jaw ached. He realized, with mild irritation, that he had been clenching it for most of the day.
He pushed open the chamber door.
Silence greeted him.
Blessed, welcome silence.
He shut the door behind him and let out a long breath.
At last.
Without bothering to light a fire, Gordon crossed to the bed. He sat heavily upon its edge, bent forward, and tugged one boot free before doing the same with the other.
His shoulders rolled, and his neck cracked. He stretched his arms once before allowing himself to fall backward onto the mattress.
The ropes beneath it groaned softly then he closed his eyes just for a moment. But something did not feel right, and he sensed it immediately.
His chamber felt colder than it had in recent days.
His gaze traveled in the dark to the windows and across the walls then he realized the difference.
The colorful tapestries that had once hung beside the hearth… The embroidered blankets, the cushions stitched with absurdly cheerful sheep… Even the little cloth draped across the chest had vanished.
It was all gone.
A pang settled in his chest as he rose to his feet, confusion ridiculing him as he turned around.
“What in the heavens…” He rubbed a hand over his jaw as the words trailed off.
The chamber should have pleased him now. It was exactly as it had been before Ailis arrived. Exactly as he preferred it.
So why… why does it suddenly feel so cold?
Gordon rubbed a hand over his face. “It doesnae.”
He did not like the sheep. They had stared at him every morning like woolly little judges, and he could not understand why she liked them.
One of them had even seemed lopsided.
He was almost certain of it. And yet…
The chamber seemed strangely lifeless without them.
His eyes drifted toward the empty wall where the largest tapestry had hung. He could still picture the blue sky and the rolling green hills. Three absurdly content sheep grazing beneath embroidered clouds.
His mouth twitched despite himself.
“Nay.”
Absolutely nay.
He refused to miss sheep… especially embroidered sheep.
That would be madness.
The woman had invaded his chambers.
Twice.
Without permission.
She had filled his chamber with flowers, wool, and impossible colors. Then she had taken everything away again without so much as asking whether he minded.
His jaw tightened again.
I mind.
Not because she had removed them. Because she had somehow managed to make him notice they were gone.
“Saints preserve me.”
He strode toward the door determined to find and speak with her. She could not simply alter a man’s chambers whenever fancy struck her.
There had to be…
Pain exploded beneath his bare foot.
“Hell,” he hissed sharply and jerked backward.
Something small rolled across the floor. Gordon looked down.
Brochan.
The hedgehog blinked up at him with complete innocence before indignantly curling into a little ball.
Gordon stared.
The hedgehog stared back. “How…”
He looked around the room. He covered his face with both hands.
Heavens.
He had spent the entire day avoiding Ailis and deliberately choosing the longest patrol routes. He had chosen to remain in the village longer than necessary, inspecting fences that Malcolm had already declared satisfactory and anything to stay away from the keep.
Anythin’ to stay away from her.
He had told himself it was discipline. Yet the moment he stepped into his chamber, he had noticed her absence before anything else.
His throat tightened as he realized he missed all of it.
I miss her.
And he did not know what to do with that feeling.
Gordon rose to his feet with Brochan in his arms and gently stroked the hedgehog while staring around his chamber one more time. A knot twisted in the pit of his stomach as he realized the place did not feel right.
Nae anymore.
He moved without thinking much of it afterward, heading out of his chamber and down the hallway to find Ailis.
Gordon slowed when he reached the end of the hallway and noticed a chamber door standing open. Brochan leaped from his arms as he neared the door and dashed into the chamber. From outside, Gordon spotted Ailis inside the chamber with Lileas, and they laughed together.
His heart melted as he watched the sight. Her hair wasn’t in its usual Highland plait today. It flowed free down to her back in numerous waves, and they bounced as she moved.
Lileas said something that made her laugh again, and this time, she tipped her head back. He saw her lips part and felt his head spin as a surge of energy swept through him.
The sensation left a shiver in its wake, and he allowed the feeling to rush through him while he watched her.
What am I to do now?
Gordon knew with certainty now that his plans to send her away had failed. He could not deny that to himself anymore.
The whisper of rain came sometime after supper. It wasn’t the wild sort that battered castle walls or howled through the Highlands with the voice of winter.
Ailis carried herself to Lileas chamber slowly after her walk around the keep. She had still not seen Gordon today, and even though she noticed there were more guards than usual around the castle, he was never around.
The familiar ache his absence left in her settled deep once more. She wondered if she would ever get rid of the feeling as she pushed the door open quietly.
“Lileas?”
There was no answer. Only the steady rise and fall of sleeping breaths.
Ailis stepped inside. “Oh…”
Her smile softened immediately. Lileas had disappeared almost entirely beneath a mountain of embroidered sheep blankets. One tiny hand rested around Brochan, who appeared to have accepted that becoming a pillow was now part of his daily duties.
The hedgehog’s little nose twitched once.
Ailis laughed beneath her breath. “Ye poor soul,” she muttered.
She bent carefully, tucking another blanket around the sleeping child.
“There now.”
Lileas sighed happily without waking.
Ailis brushed one dark curl from her forehead. “Sweet dreams, wee one.”
She straightened then turned; the firelight caught her eye from the open door of the adjoining chamber.
Gordon’s chamber door lay open, and there was a fire burning from the hearth tonight… a fire that was never lit.
Gordon sat before the hearth. His back rested against the chair, one ankle crossed over the other. His sleeves were rolled carelessly to his forearms, revealing strong, weathered arms, while a small block of wood rested in one broad hand.
His knife moved with patient precision as he scraped the edge. Tiny curls of wood littered the floor beside his boots, and he did not notice her at first.
Or maybe he did, but he didnae wish to acknowledge me.
Either way, Ailis found herself drawn to him and lingered in the doorway to watch him in silence.
He seemed peaceful and less burdened as he sat there, and she couldn’t help but walk closer to him, wanting to be near him… and craving that closeness she knew she shouldn’t.
Ailis reached the doorway before he finally looked up, and when their eyes met, a low, raspy gasp escaped her lips.
Heat flooded her insides and spread through her in a flush that climbed to her cheeks. She remembered to breathe as she took another step close, and this time, she entered the chamber fully.
“What are ye makin’?”
Ailis did not expect him to answer her.
But he held her gaze for a longer moment before he finally shook his head. “I daenae ken what it will be yet,” he answered.
Ailis shocked herself by walking even closer into the chamber to sit on the ground next to him, and he continued carving for a long moment without saying a word.
The silence stretched on for a longer moment as she thought of what to say to him then her gaze wandered to the chest.
The fire crackled softly between them as she watched him. “May I ask ye somethin’?”
Gordon did not immediately look up from the little sheep taking shape beneath his knife. “Ye generally do.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “The paintings in the chest.”
His hand stopped carving, and the chamber grew quieter as he looked at her.
“Why do ye keep them locked in there and not displayed?”
Gordon’s gaze lowered to the carving, and when she saw his jaw tighten, her stomach sank a little because she believed he would not answer her questions.
Ailis waited a moment before she sighed. “I shouldnae have opened it,” she admitted softly. “I ken they were private.”
He was silent for so long that Ailis feared she had overstepped.
Then he set the knife upon the table beside him. “I had forgotten they were there.”
“They’re bonnie.”
He gave a faint shake of his head. “Nay.”
“They are,” she insisted. “I paint a lot, so I am a good judge of artwork. The lines are delicate yet real; the brushstrokes tell a story… It is clear that whoever that woman is meant a lot to the painter, simply from how ye were able to bring her face to life… Even the tiniest details, like that trinket, show it. Ye cared deeply for that woman.”
His jaw tightened some more, and Ailis wondered if that ever hurt him. His voice was gruff as he finally spoke. “They’re unfinished.”
“So are most worthwhile things.”
That earned her a glance. He studied her for a long moment before looking back toward the fire. “I painted them years ago. I was a lad.” His voice grew quieter. “There was little else to do in winter.”
Ailis folded her hands in her lap. “And the woman?”
Gordon swallowed. “Me mother.”
The answer settled heavily between them.
“I remember very little of her.”
His eyes remained fixed upon the flames. “The color of her hair.” He hesitated. “The way she smiled.” He paused again then said, “And her voice…” His brow furrowed slightly. “That part has nearly gone.”
Ailis’ heart squeezed painfully.
“I feared if I didnae paint what I remembered…” He let out a slow breath. “… I might lose her altogether.”
She looked toward the chest. “So that is all that remains of her in yer memory?”
“Aye. What little I could still recall.” His fingers tightened around the piece of wood. “Me uncle found me paintin’ once. He said it was a waste of time.”
Ailis frowned as he continued, and she heard the ache in every word.
“He broke the brush, and I never painted again.”
Ailis looked down at her own hands, charcoal still gathered beneath one fingernail. She could not imagine what she would do if anyone stopped her from painting or imagining.
“Me mother taught me to paint young and then me sister.” Gordon looked at her. “She said every paintin’ keeps a moment alive.” A soft smile found Ailis’ lips. “I was forever chasin’ butterflies instead of learnin’ proper embroidery.”
His mouth twitched. “I can believe that.”
She laughed quietly. “I painted trees, clouds… sheep, and even me sister. I wanted to remember her laugh.”
Ailis lifted one shoulder now as she exhaled. “I suppose we paint for the same reason.” Her eyes met his. “So that we may never forget these memories.”
“So…” she finally murmured then glanced up and caught him watching her.
Ailis felt heat burn his cheeks and nearly steal whatever coherent words she could have made.
“Perhaps paintin’ wasnae such a waste of time,” she said to him. “If it helped ye keep yer mother’s memories alive for a while, it was worth it. Yer uncle was a fool to think otherwise and a monster to try makin’ ye think that way.”
“Me uncle was a terrifyin’ man. Ye would have feared him.”
Her chin hiked up immediately. “Do I look like I scare easily, Me Laird?”
“Nay,” he answered, and she saw a smile dance on his lips before he shook his head again. “Ye would have definitely troubled him, that I am certain of.”
Ailis smiled. “I thought ye might arrive at that conclusion eventually. I am nae the kind of person who is frightened easily. I may have the weak and feeble body of a woman, but me heart is fierce and strong.”
She placed a hand on her chest as she said the words.
A quiet huff escaped him that might almost have been a laugh.
Ailis got lost in the warmth his expression carried as he chuckled to himself. Blood surged upward until her head felt strangely light while every instinct urged her toward him.
It is all too much… these feelings.
She was aware of them now more than ever, and she knew that was dangerous.
Because what happens if I let meself feel this way and he doesnae feel the same?
The soft scrape of steel against wood soon mingled with the whisper of bristles across cloth.
He already fled from her once, and she still could not understand that either.
“Gordon, why did ye flee the other night?” she asked before she could stop herself. “After what happened in yer chamber?”
He looked at her for a moment, and she held her breath, wondering what he would say to her.
Gordon lowered his gaze after that. “I am sorry it happened. It was a mistake,” he answered without meeting her eyes again. “I shouldnae have happened, and it willnae happen again.”
Ailis stayed quiet as his rejection stung through her.
Neither of them felt any need to speak again as they sat there.
Outside, rain continued to fall upon the keep. Inside, the fire burned steadily, wrapping them in a comfortable silence that asked nothing of either of them.
Ailis lost track of the night fading away.