Page 3 of Claimed By the Heartless Highlander
I dinnae want to even consider marryin’ him. The way he’s actin’ now, being married to him would be like spendin’ the rest of me life as a pretty paintin’ on a wall. I’d sometimes be admired and showed off, and the rest of the time I’d be forgotten, never heard, never truly seen as a person with feelings of me own.
Even so, she forced a pleasant smile on her face as he approached her and bowed.
“Laird MacMicking. I didnae ken ye were seeking me.”
“I understand, and I apologize for disruptin’ yer visit with yer friends. But when I arrived at yer faither’s keep, he said ye were here, and I didnae want to wait to meet ye, and to see if we might come to ken more about each other. Ye see, I’m lookin’ for a wife, and yer faither mentioned he had a lovely daughter of marriageable age.” Laird MacMicking chuckled. “I can see he wasnae exaggeratin’ about how comely ye are, and I must confess, I’m fairly pleased on that front.”
He didn’t really care that he’d disrupted her time with her friends, only that it might have inconvenienced Keith. She could see that in his eyes, hear it in the way he spoke. Not once did he look at the other ladies, nor show any interest in what they were doing, though any man could have seen the books and sheaves of paper in her hands, as opposed to the expected sewing or weaving, or other project.
Not once did he seem to make note of anything other than the fact that she was “comely.” As if that was all that mattered to him.
He might be a good man, but her mind shied away from the idea of entertaining his suit. She blushed and lowered her eyes.
“Ye’re very kind to compliment me so, Me Laird, and I thank ye for the honor ye do me, in seeking me hand. Alas, I fear it wouldnae be kind to lead ye on. Me faither is mistaken, ye see, about me availability. I’ve nae spoken much about it, save to me friends, but I’m afraid I’ve already given me heart to another, and I cannae break faith with him unless he decides he’d rather nae have me.”
Some of the warmth faded from Laird MacMicking’s eyes. “Well, I cannae deny I’m disappointed. Still, ‘tis the way of things.” He shrugged. “Might I at least ask the name of the lucky laird who’s won yer affections?”
Ailis froze. She hadn’t actually thought that far. In her panic, she spoke the first name that came to mind. “’Tis Laird Muir.”
Laird MacMicking blinked. Then he laughed, deep and long. “Dear Lady Ailis, I didnae hear ye had such an imagination, nor that ye were the sort to tell foolish tales and lies.”
“She’s nae tellin’ ye anythin’ of the sort,” Maisie interjected, her eyes flashing. “’Tis true she’s not spoken much about it, nae even to me or her kin, but that was a matter of courtesy to Laird Muir. He’s been hard at work these past years, rebuildin’ his clan after the attack that burned down his castle. Ailis didnae want to place more strain on him by makin’ their courtship public, until he is ready to step forward.”
Laird MacMicking blinked slowly. He looked very much as if he wanted to respond but was afraid of insulting the Lady of the castle. Finally, he glanced back at Ailis. “And if yer courtship has been as quiet as ye say, then how has it progressed?”
“Through letters, of course. His lands are quite close to Laird MacDean’s, and we happened to start exchangin’ correspondence some time ago.” Ailis fought to keep from blushing, which surely would have given her away. “I send the letters with messages from Laird and Lady MacDean, and they give me his replies when I come to visit.”
Laird MacMicking looked as if he were about to demand proof, so she jutted her chin like she used to when she wanted something. “In fact, I was just goin’ to pen a reply to his latest missive. I had nearly forgotten, but of course, it’s best to nae delay.”
She turned to Keith and curtsied. “Beg yer pardon, Laird MacDean, but can I have use of yer study? I’m afraid I didnae seal me letter, for I hoped I’d have another to reply to when I arrived.”
“Of course.” Keith moved smoothly to the door and held it open for her. “I’ll unlock the door for ye. If ye’ll excuse us, Laird MacMicking.”
Ailis heard the man murmur an answer, but she was already walking in the direction of Keith’s study. She wanted to put some distance between herself and Laird MacMicking before she said or did something she might truly regret later.
Keith caught up with her a few seconds later. “I hope ye ken what ye’re doin’, Ailis.”
Ailis forced a soft laugh. “All I’m doin’ is givin’ meself some time to breathe and think.” She shrugged. “And really, where’s the harm in it? I’ll write a letter or two, to make it look like I spoke the truth, and when I dinnae get any letters back, I’ll tell me faither and everyone else that he decided to break off the courtship, or that I’ve received word that he died. I’ll play the heartbroken lass for a time, and by then, hopefully, I’ll have found a man I’d be more happy to wed.”
The next laugh was sad. “If that doesnae work, mayhap I can at least resign meself to choosin’ a laird who I can live with, and who will let me pursue me reading.”
“I hope ye dinnae have to settle for that.” Keith’s voice was soft as he opened the door to his study. “Here. I’ll give ye privacy to write yer letter. When ye’re done, seal it and leave it on the desk, and I’ll have a messenger deliver it.”
Ailis nodded, then breathed a sigh of relief as the door clicked shut behind her. Hopefully, by the time she was done, Laird MacMicking would be long gone.
Slowly, she approached the desk and grabbed a piece of paper, a pen, and an inkwell. She made herself comfortable in the well-worn chair as she contemplated the parchment in front of her.
After a few moments of contemplation, she dipped the pen into the inkwell and began to write.
My Dear Laird Imaginary Muir,
I don’t know if you are a ghost, a dream, or one of the Fae Folk come to the Highlands for reasons of your own. Regardless, it does not matter, for phantom, man, or Fae princeling, you should know I have claimed you as mine…
CHAPTER3
One Month Later
Ailis glancedover the beginning of her latest letter to Laird Imaginary Muir. After four weeks of writing letters to him, she was beginning to enjoy the task. It was fun to put all the things she’d imagined and dreamed about to paper, knowing no one would ever read them.
