Page 66 of Highlander of Steel
Killian’s man-at-arms had caught up to her at the riverbank, where she had hopelessly been struggling to pull the rope to get the platform to move across the fast-flowing water.
She had forgotten about that particular hurdle, and though she hadn’t shown it, she had been rather glad that Peter had shown up when he did. Otherwise, she would still be on the platform, inching across until dawn, most likely.
“Have I done somethin’ to offend ye?” Peter asked.
Heaving a weary sigh, Ailis shook her head. “Nae personally, but I didnae want an escort. It’s nae safe for ye to be on this side of the river with me.”
“It’s nae me first time on this side of the river, me Lady. I was just here today, ridin’ this same path,” he replied with a sad smile. “I wish, more than ever, that I could’ve rescued the littlelassie. Ye’d still be in yer chambers with the Laird, enjoyin’ yer weddin’ night, if I had done more.”
Embarrassment flooded Ailis’s face, her gaze fixed on the woodland they were passing through so he wouldn’t see her shock at his remark. Still, at least she had had her clothes on when he had burst into the room. She couldn’t imagine how awful—moreawful—it would have been if she had been naked, tangled up with Killian, already too far into their wedding night to nullify their marriage.
It wouldnae have been awful at all,her heart whispered, yearning for something she would now never experience. Her father would make sure she never saw Killian again.
“Apologies, me Lady,” Peter said. “That was discourteous of me.”
“I forgive ye,” she murmured.
Her mind was torn in half. One half wishing she wasback in her bedchamber with Killian, the other half wishing she had never met him at all. For what would her punishments be like, now that she had experienced what it felt like to be welcome somewhere?
How would her mind cope with isolation and torment, when she knew there was a joyful alternative across the river? How was she supposed to face the lonely years, now that she had found someone she adored? And not just Killian, but Paisley too.
But at least I’ll ken that Killian is alive. If I daenae do this, Fraser will be sent to Paisley in pieces.
She couldn’t and wouldn’t be selfish; the thought of Paisley’s agony and Skye’s fear hardened her resolve as they rode on. If she had to sacrifice her chance of happiness, so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time.
All too soon, the night still dark with the hours creeping toward autumn’s late sunrise, the lights of Castle Ainsley appeared through the trees. There was no whisper of the sea here, only the rustle of the forest and the rush of blood in Ailis’s ears as she realized that this was it.
Life as she had begun to know it was over.
“Ye should return,” she said to Peter. “I can continue the rest of the way on me own.”
The man-at-arms shook his head. “I’m nae leavin’ yer side.”
“Did Killian tell ye to do that?”
“Nay, he asked me to return, but I made the decision to escort ye inside about an hour ago,” Peter replied. “I wouldnae be able to live with meself if I just abandoned ye here. Ye’re me mistress, after all, and it’s me duty to protect ye in yer husband’s absence.”
A lump formed in Ailis’s throat upon hearing that sweet word, ‘husband.’ And knowing that, despite being on the wrong side of the river, she still belonged with Clan MacNairn.
ShewasLady MacNairn, whether she ever set foot on that territory again or not.
So she allowed Peter to escort her the rest of the way, her heart thundering so hard that her ribs hurt as they finally reached the gates of that terrible place.
The guards took one look at her and raised the portcullis, the shriek of metal doing nothing for her nerves. As she waited for it to open wide enough to allow the horses through, she saw something that made her stomach sink: her father, striding out into the courtyard to greet her.
“Keep yer head up,” Peter whispered. “Ye’re nae the lass ye were when ye left here. Show him that ye’re nae afraid.”
Swallowing thickly, Ailis did just that, squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin up, ready to start making demands.
As the horses plodded through the gates, their ears twitching anxiously, she raised her hand in greeting. “I received yer gift, Faither,” she said, her voice icy cold. “And I’m here to inform ye that it wasnae necessary. I’m nay wife of Laird MacNairn. I’ve returned of me own accord.”
Her nerves spiked at the sound of the portcullis closing behind her, trapping her and Peter inside.
“Nay, daughter, ye’ve returned a disgrace,” her father replied, his hand moving in a strange gesture that she registered too late.
From the battlements, arrows flew with fatal precision and pierced through Peter’s back.
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