Page 25 of Tangled in a Highland Conspiracy
She felt a sudden pleasant fluttering between her legs and a feeling of warm moisture that she had never experienced before; she was hot and her cheeks flushed. When Ramsay looked up, he met her gaze and they stood frozen for a split second before Ailsa turned to the food that a maidservant had put on the floor in front of them.
Despite the traumatic events of the evening, Ramsay fell on the food and began to wolf it down without another word. It was a delicious mixture of meat, vegetables, and bread with the best ale he had ever had, but even if it had been utterly tasteless he would still have eaten it.
Ailsa watched him with pleasure as he emptied his plate in a matter of moments and sat back, replete. She poured him some more ale from the pitcher that the maid had brought. Finally, she sat back and asked him, “Better?”
When he smiled at her, Ailsa felt as if the sun had come out. Despite what had happened, something good had come out of it. She had come to know Ramsay Ormond better, and although that in itself was not worth the death of a human being, it was a good outcome. If Ramsay had turned out to be a brute she would never have stood up for him, but he had awakened a protectiveness in her that she had never felt before except for her little sister.
However, this was not the same feeling at all. Katrina was small and physically helpless, and Ramsay was most decidedly not, but emotionally he was extremely vulnerable, perhaps because of the way he had been treated all his life.
She realised a moment later that she must have been staring at him because he said abruptly, “Ailsa? Are you all right?”
Ailsa snapped out of her reverie and gave him a wavering smile. Then she frowned deeply. “Fine,” she replied. “Except that I am extremely angry.”
“You need not be,” Ramsay answered. “All this is my own fault. I should never have let my brother go out, and now I must bear the consequences of my actions. I do not blame your father. If I were him I would likely have done the same thing.” He shrugged and lay back on his pallet.
“I have brought you a few things,” Ailsa said, as she gave him the blanket. “And here is one of my cloaks. It is far too small for you, of course, but it should keep your shoulders warm. I will make sure you get some edible food too.”
“Thank you,” Ramsay beamed as he took the blanket and cloak from Ailsa’s hands.
Ailsa watched two dimples appear on his cheeks and once more experienced the same strange but pleasurable sensation that she had before. Was this love? Desire? Both?
To distract herself, she said, “Ramsay, you said that nobody cared about you in your family. Does that mean that you are treated badly?”
Ramsay said nothing for a moment. He picked his fingernails distractedly and frowned, looking thoughtful. “My Aunt Moira, my father’s sister, and Larry, her son, absolutely loathe me,” he began slowly, “but I can cope with that. At least they are honest. I suppose it is how I amnottreated that hurts me most.”
“I knew you were going to say something like that, Ramsay,” Ailsa’s voice was gentle, and she had to resist the temptation to reach out and pull him into her arms. He might have been a grown man, but at that moment she felt as though she was sitting with a little boy who had fallen over and hurt himself. Yet the wounds could not be seen unless it was in the depths of his eyes.
“I cannot pretend to understand,” she murmured, “but I want to, and I want to tell you that I am here for you, and I support you.”
He looked baffled. “But why?” he asked. “You hardly know me, and I have never done anything that should make you grateful to me.”
She gazed at him for a moment before smiling warmly. “I don’t have to know you well to see the love you had for your brother and the way you have managed to grow up with hardly any emotional support from your family or anyone else. I think you are an extraordinary person since the moment I first saw you.”
Ramsay was stunned, unable to believe what he was hearing. For the first time ever, he was looking for a woman who not only liked him butadmiredhim. For a few moments, he thought she might have mistaken him for someone else. How was that possible? But what had she said? An extraordinary person? He felt himself smiling, not just with his face, but with his whole body, and her words gave him the courage to confess something he had been feeling for a long time.
“Thank you, Ailsa,” he said warmly, “but I really do not feel as though I deserve your regard. You hardly know me, after all, and there are things about me you might not like.” Then he smiled. “But I often think of you as you looked the first time I saw you—so beautiful.” Then his eyes widened as he thought she might have misunderstood him. He put up a hand and went on, “I do not mean to suggest that I have any thoughts of?—”
“Ramsay.” AilsaF leaned over to take his hand. “I am flattered, but I am merely offering you my friendship and my support.” She shrugged. “There are many kinds of connections between people, are there not?”
“Your friendship and support are very gratefully received,” Ramsay’s voice was deep and husky as he spoke. This beautiful woman was offering him a greater gift than he had ever received in his life before, and his gratitude knew no bounds. “Thank you,” he breathed. “You have no idea how much this means to me. No one but John has ever cared enough to help me before.” Then, before he realised it, he had picked Ailsa’s hand up and kissed it. He would have let it go but she held on, then squeezed it between both of hers in a gesture that was caring and affectionate.
He had no more words. He looked at their joined hands, his heart overflowing. Then abruptly, the memory of his brother landed heavily on his shoulders. If John had still been alive Ramsay would have been ecstatic; they would have shared his experience, talked and laughed about it, and his happiness would have been complete. But John was gone, never to return.
Ailsa saw his expression change, and she said softly, “Can you tell me about him?” She could see that he was barely holding himself together, but he spoke at last.
“He was the best brother anyone could ask for,” Ramsay replied wistfully. “Ever since I could walk he looked after me. He protected me from every kind of hurt, and I will miss him more than I can say.”
He lay down again, and to his surprise, Ailsa lay down on the straw-covered floor beside him, with only the bars separating them. His hand was still trapped in hers but he was in no hurry to take it back as he faced her, looking into her startling green eyes as he spoke about his beloved brother. It all poured out of him; the moments of laughter, anger, and sadness, the jokes they had shared, and the times when they had fought over the same girls.
He told her about the times when they had raced each other on foot and on horseback, and the many occasions when they had had to be almost scraped off the floor after falling down drunk.
Ailsa was reduced to helpless giggles as he described these incidents, but when Ramsay finally slowed down and then stopped talking altogether, she could see the sadness returning to his face.
It was almost evening, and though it would not be dark for hours yet, it was time for everyone’s evening meal to be served. A maidservant brought down a watery stew with a hunk of hard bread and a glass of weak ale for Ramsay, setting it down on the floor.
“The Laird would like ye tae come upstairs for your dinner, Mistress,” she said politely.
“Please tell my father I will be eating here,” Ailsa replied. “And bring us two plates of whatever the family is eating.” The girl looked startled but did as she was told.
