Page 49 of Winter Longing
Anwen—who prior to this had rarely said anything unless directly spoken to in Orla’s house, as she was more readilycowed by Orla’s changeable temperament and sometimes curt manner—continued to betray Ailsa.
“Stranger he is, and there’s something nae right about him.”
Stunned, blindsided by the depth of Anwen’s betrayal, Ailsa could muster no immediate response, not even the harsh rebuke Anwen so richly deserved right now. Having known Anwen all her life, having trusted her so implicitly for so long, she would never have anticipated such blatant disloyalty. Was it intentional malice? Jealousy? A misguided attempt to help?
Anwen simply raised an eyebrow and shrugged, the perpetual smile she wore seeming to mock Ailsa now. She said no more but what she had revealed hung in the air, and Orla seized upon it.
“What is nae right?” Orla demanded to know. “Who is this man?”
Directing her icy gaze to her maid, Ailsa instructed coolly, “Leave us.”
Though Anwen blanched a bit at Ailsa’s frosty tone, she dared to challenge the edict. “I said only what—”
“I said leave us!” Ailsa said, raising her voice as she so rarely had cause to do. Her lips quivered with her effort to refrain from sending Anwen on her way, on her own, away, forever, from Ailsa.
“She speaks of that which she dinna ken,” she told her sister after a shocked Anwen had stood and huffed and stormed out the door.
But now it was out there—Cole’s existence, his name, a suggestion that something existed between them. Ailsa knew her sister well enough to know she’d have not an iota of peace until her sister was satisfied she knew every last detail.
After releasing a bitter sigh of resignation, Ailsa explained as much as she knew—as much as she dared—about Cole Carter, without confiding in Orla about Cole’s asserted origins, sevenhundred years in the future. She described him as a lost traveler, not precisely a lie, and focused more on what he wasto herrather than simply who or what he truly was.
“He’s... nae like any other I’ve ever met,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s different. Strange in some ways, aye, but—” she faltered, struggling to find the words. A faint smile curved her lips. “Sister, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever encountered. Nae matter how I try, I canna stop thinking about him. I ken it’s foolish, but...”
Orla’s dry, humorless laugh interrupted her. “Foolish? Foolish? It’s madness, Ailsa. Do ye forget the MacLae is coming? You’re to be betrothed—announced, nae less—in a matter of days! And you’re here dreaming on a stranger? God’s bluid, has he ruined ye? Tell me you’re nae so weak, so simple to have been—"
“It’s nae like that,” Ailsa protested weakly, though she could feel her cheeks flush even deeper, the memory of his kiss returning. “I ken my duty,” she assured her sister. “But when I’m with him, I feel... alive in a way I never have before. Like I can breathe.”
Orla’s voice rose higher, her incredulity stark. “Alive? Breathe? Ailsa, marriage isna about that. It’s about loyalty to the clan and securing alliances. When I married Iain, do ye ken I felt ‘alive’ or like I could ‘breathe’? Nae! I did it because it was required, because it strengthened the Sinclairs. And ye dinna get to shirk your duty just because ye’ve stumbled across some handsome distraction.”
Ailsa recoiled as though struck, her fingers tightening into fists in her lap. The bluntness of Orla’s words stung, but she couldn’t deny their truth. “I dinna say I meant to shirk anything,” she muttered, trying to steady her voice.
“Ye dinna have to say it. Your face says it for ye,” Orla retorted. Then, softer, she reached out and took Ailsa’s hand, hergrip strong, more forceful than reassuring. Her following words were quiet but still carried the weight of experience and the starch of authority. “I ken it’s difficult. I ken what it is to dream of something else, something more or better. But dreams dinna protect the people we love. Duty does.”
Ailsa swallowed hard, her throat tight. The truth of her sister’s words was inescapable, pulling her back to the grim reality she couldn’t escape. She looked down at their clasped hands, her own trembling slightly. “But how can I wed the MacLae if my heart is elsewhere?”
“What’s in yer heart has nae bearing, sister.” Orla’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t release Ailsa’s hand. She squeezed it. “I’m sorry, luv, but life dinna always give us what we want.”
Ailsa nodded, tears threatening behind her eyes. She understood the truth in her sister’s words, but it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.
***
Ailsa did not speak to Anwen for the next three days, her first words coming as they departed Orla’s house and climbed into the carriage. And then it was only to tersely instruct her maid to not speak to her for the entirety of the journey home.
Anwen, chastised to some degree by Ailsa’s chilling silence of the last few days, dared to open her mouth to object.
Ailsa held up her gloved hand. “Nae a word from ye,” she repeated with greater force.
Anwen didn’t speak for the first hour of their journey, until, apparently, she could hold back no more. “What I did and said was done with only yer best interests at heart. He’s nae guid and ye’re nae meant for him but another. Begging trouble, is all yer doing, and I canna sit by nae more and only watch.”
Having closed her eyes some time ago, but hardly able to sleep, knowing that unless Cole Carter had disappeared while she’d been gone from home, she would see him this day, Ailsa did not bother to open her eyes now, even as she responded coolly. “Unless ye mean to make the trek to Torr Cinnteag on foot, I suggest ye say nae one more word,” Ailsa said, unmoved by her maid’s stated justification. “'Tis your final warning.”
Chapter Fourteen
The frigid air bit at Cole’s face as he adjusted his grip on the reins. The horse beneath him, a large bay gelding named Dùghall, he’d been told, snorted and shifted as if impatient to move. Cole leaned forward, patting its neck.
“All right, big guy. Let’s try this again,” he muttered, more to himself than the horse.
Cole was aware that across the training field, Tavis watched with crossed arms, a faint smirk playing at his lips.
