Page 15 of Winter Longing
Ailsa rarely felt compelled to see her brother off when he left Torr Cinnteag, but this morning she made a point of being present. The courtyard was crowded with men preparing to leave, as Tavis was to be accompanied by several units of the Sinclair army. Busy barking out orders to his men, Ailsa hoped he didn’t leave her with any commands, specifically that she not visit the weary traveler she’d brought home and who presently kept a chamber in the back of the chapel. If Tavis expressly forbade her, she would have no choice but to obey. But if he neglected to do so, she might just have an excuse to pay Cole Carter another visit.
Though she appreciated her brother's intentions, his overprotectiveness was an ever-present burden, one that often frustrated her. Today, with him leaving to meet the MacLaes—likely to negotiate her marriage, she was painfully aware—Ailsa couldn’t help but wonder: if Tavis succeeded in seeing her wed, what would he do with all the time he now spent worrying over her? How would he bear not having complete control over her actions, her choices, her daily life?
She sighed softly as she made her way through the throng of men and horses toward her brother, her thoughts straying toward and staying with Cole Carter. Recently, her brother’s plans to secure a match for her had filled her with growing apprehension but she found that her concern over this matter had paled considerably in the last twenty-four hours, being overshadowed by thoughts of Cole Carter.
She sidestepped the swish of a horse’s tail as she passed and supposed one—any living, breathing female—would be hard-pressed to prevent her thoughts from straying toward Cole Carter. Repeatedly.
The man was unlike nay she had ever met. Foreignness aside, he was the most incredible man—person, mayhap—she’d ever encountered. She found it impossible to tear her gaze from him. Fancifully, she’d equated his voice to be similar to the feel of velvet skimming over naked flesh. The brilliant blue of his eyes was beyond striking. And though in all her twenty-one years she’d never had her head turned by a man’s figure—and living in proximity of an army of several hundred, she’d seen many—she’d been rendered frozen and speechless at the sight of Cole Carter’s bare chest yesterday.
In a moment of lingering awe, she’d said to Anwen that the man was decadent. She’d used that word.Decadent.
Her statement, which she’d instantly regretted, had sent Anwen into a near apoplectic shock. The maid’s eyes had widened dramatically, her mouth had hung open to the count of ten, and she’d stammered a string of unintelligible words before chastising Ailsa soundly and coherently, threatening to tell Father Gilbert of her sin of lust.
Ailsa had hardly been chastised but had insisted firmly that it was simply a matter of appreciation of natural beauty.
After that, she’d taken hasty leave of Anwen, leaving the maid alone with her visible skepticism.
Tavis had his back to her as she approached, checking his horse’s gear and fastening the flap of his saddlebag.
“Tav,” she called softly. Her use of the familiar nickname earned her his attention immediately. He turned, his expression softening as his gaze settled on her.
“Ye dinna usually see me off,” he remarked, his tone warm but slightly suspicious.
“I wanted to this time,” she replied, stepping closer. “Please be careful.”
Tavis's brow furrowed slightly, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll nae face any danger with the MacLaes,” he assuredher. “Their mormaer passed last summer, and the son who’s taken his place is a reasonable man.”
“That may be so, but danger is everywhere and are ye nae the one who proclaims that to me?” Ailsa countered. “The safest place for ye is here, at home.”
“I’m nae much use to ye or anyone else if I stay here all my life,” he said with a wry smile, but his tone turned serious as he continued. He narrowed his gaze at her, studying her. “Ye ken I might well return with the promise of a betrothal—ye to Alastair MacLae?”
“I ken,” she acknowledged, aiming for indifference. “I understand my role, brother.” She abhorred it, but she knew she had little choice in the matter.
“I’ll nae betroth ye, nae wed ye to a monster of any kind, nae to a man unworthy of ye.”
Ailsa hesitated, his words settling uncomfortably in her chest. The problem with Tavis’s vow was that she wasn’t sure he truly understood her—not as a person, not as his sister, not as someone with hopes and fears of her own. How could he possibly decide what she was worthy of, when he seemed to view her more as a chess piece than a flesh-and-blood woman?
Another, separate concern was that Tavis’s idea of what constituteda monsterwas far different from Ailsa’s.
The fact that he was intent on engaging her to Alastair MacLae said either that Tavis didn’t know her at all, or worse, that he simply didn’t care, and that he valued an alliance with the MacLaes more than her safety or her dignity. Alastair MacLae, it was no secret, was a man with predatory eyes, a man whispered about even in the kitchens and halls of the Sinclair keep. Ailsa had heard the hair-raising stories: of women cornered in dark hallways and kitchens, forced into silence through threats or worse. There was talk of one young maid who had vanished from his household altogether, her absencechalked up to family matters no one could seem to verify. And there were others—maids who’d been summoned to his chambers and returned pale and hollow-eyed, unwilling to speak of what had happened but clearly changed by it.
Presently, Ailsa forced a smile and reached for his forearm, patting it gently. “Just come back safely,” she said, her voice steady.
He nodded, his expression softening further. “Aye, and so I will.”
As Tavis mounted his horse, Ailsa stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself.
The Sinclair banners fluttered in the cold morning breeze as the party began to move.
She didn’t wait long after her brother and the dozens of soldiers had cleared the gate before she turned and went toward the chapel, undeniably, childishly giddy with eagerness to see Cole Carter again.
***
The floorboards were cold beneath his bare feet as Cole paced the small room, one hand holding the fur blanket around his shoulders, the other raking through his hair. Morning light spilled through the narrow window, its brightness doing nothing to banish the chill in the air or the confusion gripping him.
His thoughts chased each other in circles, none offering answers. He still had no idea what kind of place this was, where he’d wound up, and his worry over Tank was growing by the minute.
He stopped, pausing near the window to listen to the unfamiliar sounds. Outside, he could hear faint voices carried on the wind and the occasional clatter of hooves, the latter seeming to grow distant.
