Page 38 of The Laird's Unwanted Wife
Sarah seemed especially thrilled, somehow knowing full well what Aileen was working up toward. Even Ms. Blair, typically tight-lipped and stone-faced, offered a soft expression at Mollie as she excitedly showcased her haul.
As they filled the castle with their collection, Aileen forced their path toward Gerald’s study, knowing that her husband would have to pass by it eventually. The pair of them crossed his door, and she couldn’t help but grimace as it stood wide open, allowing anyone and everyone to peer inside. “Seems the latch is still broken,” Aileen noted awkwardly.
“He should fix it,” Mollie added matter-of-factly, with Bannock growling in agreement.
“Well, I’m certain he’s been quite busy as of late,” Aileen said. “He’s had to make his home pleasant to live in for us, and now with Carswell on his way?—”
“Oh, me gosh, Leelee! Look at that!” Mollie nearly dropped her armful of flowers as she stumbled into the study, Bannock tumbling after as she tripped over several books and papers.
“Mollie!” Aileen followed after in a panic, though she noted the unusually messy exterior in the back of her mind. Gerald truly had to be under immense pressure if he allowed his inner sanctum to be left in such a state. “Mollie, ye cannae simply barge into someone’s private space!”
“But look, look!” Mollie shifted her grasp on her flowers, freeing her hand to point at the woman’s face carved along the bookshelf. “It’s ye, Leelee! Gerald’s carved ye into the shelf!”
Aileen smiled awkwardly. “Oh, nay, love. That’s meant to be the divine hag of winter.”
“Nay, look!” Mollie pointed beneath the carving’s cheek, indicating what looked to be a small mole beneath her eye. Aileen’s hand covered the same mark on her face, her heart practically skipping a beat.
It had been days since she’d last seen the carving—Gerald insisted it was meant to be Cailleach—but the longer she stared at the wooden visage, the more certain she became. The spacing of her eyes, the curl of her hair, the mark under her eye. There were simply too many specific details for it to be anything else but …
“What are ye two doin’ in here?”
20
Gerald knew he should have fixed that latch sooner rather than later. Once more, strangers had barged their way into his study. And once more, he found himself face-to-face with Aileen, her expression akin to a child whose hand was caught in the sweets drawer.
She opened her mouth to speak, to try to weave a plausible explanation as to why she inserted herself into his inner sanctum, only for little Mollie to completely take control of the conversation.
“Gerald, look!” She immediately approached, holding up an armful of what looked to be wildflowers and weeds from outside. “We got ye flowers for yer study!”
Any attempt at remaining stoic faded from Gerald’s mind. He knelt to Mollie’s level, accepting the fistful of flowers with a gracious nod. “Aye…thank ye for the thought, lamb. But, ye shouldnae have entered me study without permission.”
Mollie’s expression faltered slightly. “But, yer door was wide open. And …” She glanced around, suddenly noticing the mess with a gasp. “Oh! This wasnae Bannock’s doing this time! Promise!”
“I ken, love,” Gerald assured. “It’s me own doing.” He stood, finding a nearby empty whisky bottle before slipping the flowers in. “But did ye hear what I said earlier? It’s important to me that ye respect me privacy.”
Mollie’s shoe scuffed against the floor, her arms folding behind her back as she sheepishly replied, “Aye, Gerald. I’m sorry.”
“Good. Now, make sure ye show me yer sorry by nae doing it again.” His eyes found Aileen’s, who looked as equally bashful as her little sister did. “Do I make meself clear?”
He barely perceived a nod from Aileen, though Mollie was furious and frantic.
“I do appreciate the flowers, though,” Gerald added. “Thank ye for them, Mollie, dear.”
“Ye’re welcome!” Mollie said, immediately back to her bright, chipper attitude. “I ken ye have to fight mean old Carswell soon, so Aileen thought flowers would help keep, uh …” She turned to her sister, struggling to find the right word.
“Morale, love.” Aileen’s face paled, avoiding Gerald’s look completely. And rightly so. Irritation was quickly working itsway throughout the Laird’s body, and it took everything he had not to blow up there and then. After all, it wasn’t Mollie he was angry at.
“Mollie, could ye take yer sister’s flowers and go find Ms. Blair?” Gerald fought to keep his tone even, giving Mollie a reassuring pat on the back and a somewhat forceful push toward her sister. “I … need to speak to Leelee about somethin’ a bit boring.”
“Oh. All right!” Mollie quickly skipped to Aileen’s side, accepting her flowers and immediately scurrying out the door. Bannock followed after, though she lingered around the door with a nervous look in her eyes. It was the first time Gerald saw the dog concerned for anyone other than Mollie.
“Go, Bannock,” Gerald commanded.
With a whine, Bannock obeyed, vanishing behind the door’s archway as she followed after her mistress. Gerald waited a beat or two before closing the door after, shifting a chair across to prop before the knob to ensure no one interrupted them.
He was clearly upset. Aileen certainly didn’t need that explained to her, and as Mollie and Bannock cleared the room—as her husband beckoned her toward him—Aileen found herself alone with the beast once more. “Ye’re cross with me.”
Gerald scoffed loudly, throwing his hands into the air. “Aye? What gave ye that idea, lass? Was it the clear anger written across me face, or how it’s taking near all I have nae to raise me voice any further?”
