Page 9 of The Laird's Unwanted Wife
Aileen’s frown hardened.
Another cold chuckle escaped as Gerald shook his head. “The pair of ye have an odd fixation with handshakes. But very well.” He grasped her hand and pulled her close, their faces barely a centimeter apart from each other. Aileen let out a startled gasp, surprised at how easily he’d yanked her off balance, how muchcontrolhe had over her body.
“We shake on the future of yer sister. And,” he added with a smirk. “For yer own personal safety. I’ll nae lay a hand against ye, unless ye initiate it.”
Aileen’s face flushed at his words—or was it simply from the heat of the flames? She found herself staring long and hard at his face, the rough edges and faded scars from battles long since passed. At strands of thick, black hair that shaped around his brow, the verdant shade of his eyes was still lit up by the orange hues of the flames.
She glanced down at their hands, suddenly aware that he’d long since loosened his hold on hers. Quickly, she pulled away, maneuvering around him to sit beside her still-slumbering sister.
“Very well, then.”
At least for now, there was nothing left to be done.
5
The weather turned quickly the farther the party traveled north. Gerald was already accustomed to the chill, though he found himself having concerns about the Hughes sisters. As the first dusting of snow covered the land, he found himself stopping more and more frequently to check up on the pair.
“If she werenae the spittin’ image of Marcus,” Rory marveled. “I would’ve assumed Mollie was born and raised in these parts.”
It certainly seemed the case. Little Mollie seemed entirely at home amidst the snow banks, wearing her found-in clothes and a modified fur cloak to keep the chill at bay. Quite often, the camp would be filled with shrieks of laughter as the girl tromped through the snow, her big, black shadow of a deerhound always by her side.
More than once, he’d see his men occasionally crack a smile at the child’s antics, going as far as to shake snow from the lowerlimbs of trees for her to dance beneath, or packing tight balls of snow for her to throw over the hillside.
Aileen, meanwhile, seemed to shiver at the slightest suggestion of cold. She’d been bundled up in so many layers that Gerald hardly recognized her anymore. More often than not, she stayed close to the fire and warmed herself with more portions of broth, though it was obvious that whenever Mollie came close and begged her to play, it broke her heart to say no.
“I’m nae as young as ye are, Mollie,” Aileen grinned weakly. “Riding takes a lot out of me.”
“It’s fun, though, right?” Mollie asked, clearly worried.
Aileen’s gaze drifted toward Gerald, and a slight nod sent his way as she spoke next. “Aye. I’m … having a good time, love.”
As Mollie would scamper away, Gerald found his gaze lingering on Aileen far longer than expected. Fair folk indeed; with all the fur around her shoulder and her hair uncombed, she was reminiscent of a red deer having taken on her winter coat. “A fairy’s cattle,” Gerald chuckled under his breath. “And Mollie makes for the perfect fair folk.” Yes, the pair were certainly otherworldly. A wee pixie and her familiar, protecting a rare miracle found within the harshness of the Highlands.
Finally, the group’s journey came to an end at the peak of a winter’s storm. As wind whipped snow about like tiny daggers, the flickering light of torches broke through the grey dim, bringing some relief to Gerald.
The icy stone of MacLiddel keep soon etched its way into view, the warmth of firelight calling out its comfort to the chilled travelers. Aileen seemed especially relieved, an audible sigh escaping her lips as she pressed herself closer to Gerald’s chest.
They passed beneath the creaking main gate, Gerald immediately dismounting and taking Aileen into his arms. She let out a slight squeak of protest, but didn’t seem keen on fighting against his hold.
Though she’d managed to regain a bit of her balance during their travels, she certainly wasn’t back to full health just yet. Mollie, meanwhile, wasted no time darting up the stairs to the castle proper, Bannock close behind as Rory greeted his laird halfway across.
“Take care of the horses and men,” Gerald ordered. “Then find me in me study.”
His man-at-arms gave a curt nod, immediately attending to his duties as Gerald entered his castle. Several maids had already found their way to the main hall, having heard Mollie’s delighted squeals.
“It’s so big!” She marveled, spinning around on her heel in an attempt to take everything in at once.
A sweet crooning came from the maids, each eagerly approaching the child to offer their aid. Bannock let out a brief growl of warning, but a sharp grunt from Gerald settled the deerhound immediately.
“Please do yer best to find our wee guest something to wear,” Gerald ordered. “And have a bath drawn for her and for me new bride.”
Once more, the maids let out delighted gasps and squeals, having already removed Mollie’s coat and partially begun a messy braid to contain her mess of platinum hair.
A loud clearing of someone’s throat immediately caused the maids to step away, lining up in order and sheepishly clasping their hands in respect, heads bowed low to the ground. An older woman approached Gerald next, her salt-and-pepper hair tightly tied back as a prominent burn scar covered the upper left side of her forehead.
“Forgive the women for their childish antics, me Laird.” She spoke with an unusual gravel to her tone, a perfectly harsh voice for the harsher landscape her home encompassed. “It has been some time since they’ve seen a wee one traverse these halls.”
The maids all seemed to collectively squirm in place, obviously ashamed of their actions.
