Page 47 of The Laird's Unwanted Wife
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Night had fallen upon MacLiddel’s keep as folks settled in for sleep. Another layer of snow had begun to fall just after dinner, offering another ounce of reassurance for Aileen. Perhaps the weather would scare Carswell away, and the clash between him and her husband’s men would never come to pass. Though ambitious, it could still happen. Perhaps if she hoped hard enough for it.
Regardless of whatwasto come, Aileen found herself focused on another goal: tracking down Gerald to tend to whatever superficial wounds he’d taken that day. His impromptu duel with Laird MacDonnell had resulted in a tie, though neither laird seemed intent on having it end as such.
Their skirmish had easily caught the attention of little Mollie, and it wasn’t long before a small crowd had gathered to watch two powerful lairds fight it out. Lady MacDonnell looked thrilled to be watching her husband perform; Aileen couldn’t rightlysay the same for herself, wondering if, perhaps, their energy shouldn’t be wasted on each other.
Not that the fight wasn’t a sight to behold, of course. While Arthur took his time and tried to map out Gerald’s attack patterns, the Laird of MacLiddel was determined to keep his opponent on the back heel, changing his stance and swing pattern every few strikes.
Aileen certainly wasn’t an expert when it came to swordplay, but even she could tell that Gerald had shifted between numerous styles of combat during their fight. It was part of the reason she wanted to find him; Mollie had been terribly curious, though her bedtime prevented her from asking Gerald herself.
The other part, of course, was to see if she could aid in his recovery process.
Holding a bucket in one hand and a basket of medical supplies in the other, Aileen navigated the halls with ease, proud of how quickly she’d mapped the castle’s interior in such a short time. Eventually, she found herself in front of Gerald’s study, reminding herself to knock before simply barreling inside.
Even then, the door still managed to creak slightly open.
“Oh, gracious.” Aileen turned to leave, only to freeze in place as footsteps sounded behind the door. It swung inward gently, Gerald standing beneath the archway with what began as a somewhat perturbed frown, only to lift into a bemused grin at the sight of his wife.
Aileen, meanwhile, was quite surprised to find him entirely shirtless, a few bandages already wrapped around his hands and forearm, and a bruise beginning to form along the underside of his ribcage. She’d seen his bare arms, of course, but it was an entirely different matter to bear witness to his chest. The tightness of his abs, the sculpted definition of his pectorals—it was as if the Gods had carved him themselves.
“Evening,” Gerald said, his carving knife in hand.
“E … Evening, Gerald.” Both parties stared quietly at each other for a beat, and Aileen suddenly forgot why she sought him out in the first place. She shifted her arms awkwardly, the weight of her water bucket quickly reminding her of her purpose. “Did ye … I mean … how are ye feeling?”
A slight brow rose from Gerald, his bemused expression remaining. “In general, or …?”
Aileen shook her head, exhaling sharply as she tried to gather herself. She found herself staring at the door’s knob, suddenly sputtering out, “Ye still havenae fixed yer latch, then?”
Gerald shrugged lightly. “Suppose I’m inviting furthermishapsbetween us.”
Her face flushed profusely, and she turned to leave, only for him to gently grab her wrist. She looked over her shoulder, surprised to see such a sincere look from her husband. Gerald urged her back to him, and Aileen complied, still blushing intensely.
“Were ye worried about the damage I took after the skirmish?” he asked.
Aileen nodded. “I didnae think ye were too terribly hurt. Ye’reye, after all, but I …” she shifted the bucket once more, unable to find the words. And she had such eloquent reasoningbeforearriving; something about her husband just made her into a complete and utter fool. Even so, Gerald found a chair to sit on, offering his body fully toward his wife. The thought sent a tremor through her legs, and it took everything Aileen had not to throw herself into a kiss. As far as she knew, their previous meeting in the study had been a solitary moment.
She set her materials down and began to clean what she could find, though whoever had dressed Gerald previously had done quite the thorough job. Aileen found herself pursing her lips, her brow furrowing as she simply checked his dressings and offered a poultice for his bruised ribs.
“Ye seem disappointed, sweet wife.”
Gods, her face was so hot. “Nay! I … why would I be disappointed that me husband is well taken care of?”
Gerald offered a chuckle in reply, his knowing smile causing a rise of irritation in Aileen’s chest. She did her best to ignore it as she finished her work, disposing of the extra bits into her basket before going to grasp her water bucket.
“Was this really yer only reason for visiting me?” Gerald asked.
Aileen glanced his way, somewhat gritting her teeth. “And if it were?”
Gerald took a moment to take in her words. He almost looked disappointed, Aileen swore. But he’d been the one to first put such a distance between them, and after their moment in the study …
“It’s hard to have other motives,” Aileen admitted. “When ye havenae offered any further clarification of our relationship.” There. She had finally struck, and though she wasn’t certain if it was quite the right opportunity, she had inadvertently made it to be so. There was no going back now. Aileen could only offer her proposal and hope her husband would agree.
And—though she could have been imagining it—Gerald seemed to recognize that as well. “The last time we spoke?—”
“Aye, and that level of intimacy was unexpectedly …” Aileen patted her face, flushed and feeling suddenly quite dizzy. Gerald moved to offer his chair, but she shook her head, doing all she could to keep her eyes on his face instead of his chest. “But, it wasnae an answer. I still feel conflicted. Nae about being sent away,” she clarified. “But if I truly am to stay here … what am I meant to be? To the kin of MacLiddel, to ye?”
Gerald remained silent, allowing her to continue. Now, Aileen was certain; he must have wanted to have a similar conversation with her. She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she wouldn’t question such a blessing. For once, it felt as if she were on equal footing with him. That their thoughts were one and the same.
