Page 58 of The Laird's Unwanted Wife
“He …” Aileen bit her lip, pulling Mollie closer to her side. “He has a lot of thoughts in his mind, love. Daenae fret. He still cares a great deal for ye.” The reassurance felt like ash against her tongue, and as she moved to head back into the castle, Aileen wondered if this was to become the new normal. Outcast once more by those she thought of as her family, trapped in a stranger’s keep, where love was entirely absent.
He shouldn’t have done that. Gerald knew that well, had screamed in his mind not to move away from Mollie’s outstretched hand. Yet he did it all the same, and now, as he sat alone in his study, the weight of his past actions finally began to crush him.
Regret skittered across his thoughts like insects, biting and stinging with a venom poisoned by bitter hindsight. He had it all: a loving wife, a little girl who idolized him entirely—and Gerald had finally pushed too hard against them.
His attention lingered against the bookshelf, eyeing the details of the woman’s carved face. It was undoubtedly Aileen now, from the slight crinkle of her brow to the dimples that formedwhenever she smiled. It felt as if he’d started the project a lifetime ago, brought on by a destructive anger for the last person he’d been as open and honest with. At least, until he’d met Aileen.
Someone knocked on his door, and, as expected now, it swung open. Rory grimaced as he stared at the knob. “Still havenae fixed the latch, I see?”
Gerald gave him a withering glare.
“Right … sorry.” Rory did his best to close the door behind him, slipping what looked to be a missive out from within his robe. “A letter came from Marcus’ … MacGunn’s main keep.”
Gerald couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He extended his arm, grasping the letter as he noticed the seal had already been broken.
“Ah, it was nae me,” Rory insisted. “I passed her ladyship in the hall. She wished to ken what was going on in her old territory, and I didnae have a reason to deny her request.”
Gerald nodded, unfolding the message as he gave it a brief skim. His arm twinged slightly from the action, and as he continued to read, a headache began to bloom alongside it. “Seems Carswell had a touch more sense than I thought. He had a small section of his men strike against MacGunn’s keep as well.”
“And?” Rory asked, clearly intrigued.
Gerald crumpled the note in his hands, tossing the paper to the ground. “They handled it well enough. A bit of a mess to clean up after, and they’re requesting I come and offer a hand.”
A snort escaped from Rory’s throat. “Awful bold of them, ye think?”
“Suppose I am in charge of their safekeeping,” Gerald grumbled, audibly annoyed. As if he needed any further problems to deal with.
“Oh.”
Gerald glanced up, brow raising as his man-at-arms’ expression shifted to one of realization. “What?”
Rory suddenly grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “That … did they specifically request ye by name?”
It took a beat before Gerald reached the same conclusion. His chair nearly crashed to the ground with how quickly he stood, storming across the study and nearly taking Rory to the ground.
Gerald whipped through his door and took off down the hall, his pace increasing alongside the tight panic in his chest. “Nay, she couldn’t possibly try something like that, could she?”
He reached Mollie’s room in record time, not bothering to knock before throwing the door open. It banged loudly against the stony wall, causing Aileen to jump and nearly drop a partiallyfolded gown in her hands. Various clothes had been laid out across the bed and chairs, with a smaller packed bag set beside an empty closet. “Ye areleaving,” he growled, unable to hold back his dark scowl.
Aileen stood stiffly in place, and for a moment, Gerald wondered if his wife was considering lying to his face. But her expression shifted as she exhaled, curtly turning back to another open bag set on top of a chair. “I didnae wish to disturb yer work.”
“Is that yer best excuse?” Gerald spat.
Aileen’s face hardened, those usually warm eyes as cold as the ground in wintertime. “It’s nay an excuse. Ye have this keep to put back in workin’ order. Ye hardly have the time to offer aid to me traitorous brother’s keep.” She stuffed the gown into the bag, undoing her folding work before tightening the drawstring. “I am the Lady of MacLiddel and a MacGunn by blood. It’s a job clearly meant for me.”
She tried to move across the room, only for Gerald to step across and block her path. An irritated huff escaped her, and she attempted to move around him. “Daenae be so childish,” Aileen said.
“Takes one to ken one,” Gerald snapped.
A spark of rage flashed across Aileen’s eyes, and she darted to escape him. In return, Gerald’s hand snapped out, grasping around her waist before forcefully pulling her in. Panic slipped out from Aileen’s throat, and she shoved violently againstGerald’s chest, her breath hitching in her chest. The moment he felt his wife begin to tremble, Gerald immediately released his hold, taking a handful of steps away.
“I’m sorry,” Gerald apologized. He allowed Aileen to step around him, watched as she collected the scarce number of mementos she had brought with her to his keep. Her shoulders hunched terribly, her body still visibly trembling; he could feel his soul tighten terribly in his chest. “Aileen.”
“I will always be grateful to ye, husband.” She fought to keep her tone even, fought to keep the obvious sob out of her voice. Aileen’s back remained turned, cradling a small, patchwork doll in her hands. Gerald had never noticed it before; could it have been something from her own childhood? He realized, there and then, how little he really knew about Aileen, how much of a distance he’d truly kept from her.
“I will always be grateful … but I cannae do this anymore.”
Gerald’s heart sank; he didn’t want to hear the rest of her words, but Aileen continued.
