Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Gordon felt awful.
Not merely tired or troubled. Awful.
The feeling had followed him through the corridors all evening, settling heavily beneath his ribs as he tried to convince himself that he had made the right decision.
He wanted to believe he had. But the truth was that every thought brought his mind back to her, and whenever he thought he had convinced himself he did not need her, he remembered her all over again.
But I cannae need her.
He had told himself that enough times that he had almost begun to believe it. But the thought of her leaving MacLaren Castle still made something inside him ache.
Gordon had prepared the words he would say to Callan.
He would end the betrothal because Ailis deserved freedom. He had repeated those words in his head until he almost believed them. Then he remembered her laughter, bright and unrestrained, spilling through his halls and warming places he had once thought could never be warm.
He glanced around the keep now. Silence greeted him. No laughter drifted from the kitchens. No soft humming came from the gardens.
The emptiness pressed against his chest. He already missed her.
How can I return to this silence?
His jaw tightened as his desire cemented a strong hold inside him.
I cannae let her go.
Gordon stepped into the great hall while pondering his thoughts.
He stopped when he realized the hall was quiet even though it was full. The fire in the hearth had burned low. Cups remained scattered across tables. Men were slumped in their chairs, heads fallen against their chests.
Gordon crossed the room quickly, taking it all in as the first sliver of panic settled through him.
What has happened here?
He seized the shoulder of the nearest guard and shook him hard. “Wake up.”
Gordon pressed two fingers against the man’s neck when he did not respond. He felt a low pulse. It was slow but steady, and it proved the guard was alive.
Merely asleep.
Gordon straightened, and his eyes swept the hall. Servants, guards, and even the musicians were all asleep.
His pulse quickened, and his breath snagged in his throat as he realized Ailis might be in danger as well.
He turned and ran toward her chamber without a moment’s pause.
Gordon reached her chamber and threw the door open. It was empty; the bed was untouched, and her cloak was nowhere in sight. A knot formed beneath his ribs as dread coiled low in his gut.
Cold turned him inside out as he backed out of her chamber and rushed to the adjoining one belonging to Lileas. That was empty too.
His next stop was Marion’s chamber, and he prayed to the heavens he would find Ailis in there. Instead, his aunt and Lileas sat with Brochan, and the moment the door burst open, Marion turned to the doorway.
“Thank goodness, ye are awake,” Gordon breathed out as he rushed to her. “Have ye seen, Ailis?”
Marion shook her head, and he hurried out of her chamber before she said anything else.
He searched the corridors, calling her name despite knowing there would be no answer. “Ailis!”
His voice echoed through the sleeping keep.
Panic began tearing through him. He rushed toward Rowan’s chambers and struck the door with his fist.
“Rowan!”
Laughter came from inside, and relief flooded Gordon because it meant Rowan was awake in there.
He rammed his fist into the door again, then it opened, and Sorcha stood there, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Gordon?”
He lowered his head briefly. “Forgive me. It is urgent. I must speak with Rowan.”
She stepped aside immediately. “Is somethin’ wrong?”
Rowan was at the door in the next second. “What happened?” he questioned, concern etched into his features as he stared at Gordon.
Gordon stared at him. “Ye are awake while the entire castle sleeps. What did ye drink at the feast tonight?”
Rowan’s frown deepened. “Whisky,” he responded then looked at his wife, Sorcha. “Sorcha and I decided to retire early. I daenae usually drink much ale.”
“That is what has saved ye,” Gordon breathed out as his chest tightened even more from the realization sinking into him.
“What is happenin’?” Sorcha asked.
“I daenae ken. I cannae find Ailis, and the guards… It seems they have been poisoned and made to sleep.”
He heard footsteps then and turned to see Malcolm rushing toward them.
“Me Laird,” Malcolm greeted and bowed. “I just got back from the village, and the entire castle is… What has happened here?”
Gordon took them to find Callan in his chambers first then they all went to the grand hall and pushed the door open.
Malcolm looked toward the nearest guard and asked, “Ye think someone poisoned them?”
“Aye. Whatever was put in their drink was meant to make them sleep.”
Malcolm’s expression hardened.
“Who?”
Gordon rose. “It was definitely Laird Kerr.” His gaze swept the hall before he asked, “Where are the men ye went to the village with?”
“Six came back with me from the village.”
“I have some men with me if we need backup,” Callan added.
“I do too,” Rowan said then gave Gordon a slow nod. “We will brin’ Ailis back together.”
Gordon nodded once. “That will have to do. I will ride with Rowan and Callan to Kerr. Ye stay here, make sure every man is accounted for and keep some guards to watch them while they sleep, then ye come find me.”
“Aye, Me Laird,” Malcolm answered.
Gordon strode from the keep with one purpose burning through him.
I must find Ailis and bring her home.
Because he had been wrong. He had convinced himself that releasing Ailis was an act of kindness, that she deserved a life untouched by the darkness he carried. But the thought of never seeing her again tore through every lie he had told himself.
He simply could not bear it.
Gordon knew his life without her here was nothing.
By the time Kerr’s castle came into view, Ailis could barely feel her legs.
The journey had been a nightmare of jolting roads, oppressive air and Kerr’s relentless presence behind her. Every attempt she had made to pull away had earned a warning grip around her waist or a cold command to remain still.
She had stopped pleading hours ago. There was no mercy in him, and she had begun to understand that he intended to mistake her silence for surrender. She would never surrender.
The first pale light of dawn was spreading across the sky when they entered the castle.
Ailis’ heart hammered as she realized she did not have much time left.
The grand hall waited beyond the doors, cold and vast in the gray morning. And there, beside the hearth, stood an elderly priest.
He looked deeply uncomfortable.
His hands twisted together as Kerr marched Ailis forward.
The sight of him sent a surge of panic through her. “Nay. We agreed ye would wait till me family comes.”
Kerr tightened his hold. “I daenae care about yer family. We shall wed right now.”
Ailis’s eyes darted toward the doors. It was only a few strides away.
I can make it.
She tore herself from Kerr’s grasp and ran. “Ailis!”
She heard his boots behind her. Her fingers were almost around the door latch when his hand closed around her wrist and yanked her backward.
She screamed. “Let me go!”
She kicked backward, catching his shin.
Kerr cursed. Ailis twisted and scratched at his face, her nails dragging across his cheek.
He recoiled with a hiss. “Ye little—”
She bit his hand next because it was all she could think to do.
Kerr jerked away, and Ailis stumbled forward again.
Then pain sliced across her palm, and she gasped.
His dagger had caught her as he tried to stop her. A thin line of blood appeared across her skin as she panted. Fear gripped her so tight, her heart nearly stopped beating.
Kerr stared at it as his patience finally fractured.
“Enough.” His hand tangled painfully in her hair.
Ailis cried out as he dragged her backward. “Let me go!”
“I have been patient with ye for far too long.”
He hauled her toward the priest now, and Ailis fought every step.
The priest looked horrified. “Me Laird, this is hardly—”
“She will be me wife.”
“Nay,” Ailis gasped.
Kerr forced her down. Her knees struck the cold stone and pain shot through her legs. Blood dripped from her palm.
She looked down at it then at Kerr.
Years ago, she might have begged or trembled before him.
She was not that girl anymore, and she would not let him force her.
She lifted her chin, gathering her courage again. “I willnae marry ye, nay matter what ye do!”
Kerr’s nostrils flared, his face reddened with his anger. “Ye willnae refuse me for long.”
“I belong to nay man, especially nae to ye.”
Kerr turned to the priest who watched them with a terrified look. “Do as I command and wed us this instant,” he ordered, and his words shook through the hall.
The priest’s face drained. “Me Laird—”
“Do it.” Kerr stared at the old man as his expression twisted with helplessness. “All right then… if ye willnae wed us, then I shall simply ruin her, and make her mine.”
Kerr grabbed Ailis’ arm to drag her to the exit again, and this time Ailis struggled with even greater force, her despair set into every strain of her voice.
Thankfully, the doors burst open as they struggled, and Ailis froze when she heard the heavy thud of footsteps. For one impossible heartbeat, Ailis could only stare through her tear-blurred vision as Gordon entered.
He was covered in dust and road grime, his hair disordered from the ride, his face hard with fury. His chest rose and fell as though he had ridden without stopping. His eyes found hers, and everything else disappeared.
“Gordon.” His name left her lips as barely more than a breath.
Kerr released her as Gordon stepped forward. “How did ye get in here? Me Keep is heavily guarded.”
Gordon took a step forward. “Yer men are weak. They daenae have the strength to stop me. Now take yer hands off me wife.”
The words seemed to shake the very room.
Ailis’ heart slammed against her ribs.
Me wife.
Kerr turned slowly. “She is nae yer wife.”
Gordon’s expression did not change. “She will be.”
Ailis’ eyes burned with tears. Even though relief flooded her that he was here, she did not want to let hope shimmer through her from his words.
Gordon’s gaze dropped to her bloodied hand, and she saw his grip on his sword tighten as he took another step toward them. Behind him, Rowan and two guards were also poised and ready to fight.
Ailis’ knees gave way as she sank to the ground from relief.
Kerr drew his sword. The scrape of steel against its sheath silenced the hall.
Gordon did not move. “Ye are outnumbered right now, Kerr. Most of yer men fled already. They daenae wish to die for yer foolish cause,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “It is over. Let her go.”
Kerr’s grip tightened around his sword. “She was promised to me first.”
Gordon’s eyes hardened. “Release her, or I will burn this castle to the ground.”
Kerr laughed bitterly. “Ye daenae deserve her. She was promised to me!”
“She is nae a property ye can own.” Gordon took one deliberate step forward. “She is a woman.” His gaze shifted briefly to Ailis then back to Kerr. “And she is me woman.”
Ailis’ heart leaped. The words struck somewhere deep inside her, warming every place the fear had touched.
Me woman. Is he choosin’ me?
Kerr’s face twisted with rage. “I willnae let ye take what is mine.”
Kerr moved first, but Gordon was quicker. Their blades struck, and the clash rang through the hall.
Kerr swung again. Gordon stepped aside and brought his blade across.
One swift movement made Kerr stagger back. His sword fell from his fingers before Gordon struck him in the side of the head.
For a moment, he remained standing, his eyes wide from the shock of the blow. Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the stone.
It was over.
Ailis stared at Gordon through a blur of tears.
He stood motionless for a heartbeat, his sword lowered at his side. When he turned to her, the fury had vanished from his face.
“Ailis,” he breathed out, his chest heaving with slow pants as he looked at her.
Ailis surprised herself by staying steady as she pulled herself to her feet and dusted her skirts.
“Ye came,” she breathed. The words barely carried across the space between them.
Ailis remained where she was, afraid to move, afraid that if she let herself believe what stood before her, the hope would prove as fragile as everything else had been.
Gordon took one step towards her. “I came.”
His voice was rough, almost unsteady. Then he closed the remaining distance in three swift strides, and his arms wrapped around her.
Ailis finally broke into a sob. She sank against him, her fingers twisting into the back of his leine as though she could anchor herself there. Gordon held her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other pressed firmly around her waist.
For one greedy, precious moment, she allowed herself to forget everything. She simply let herself melt into Gordon’s embrace and breathe him in.
He was here. He had come for her.
And she no longer had the strength—or the desire—to pretend that did not mean everything.