Page 63 of Winter Longing
Her brows drew together, confusion and hurt blooming in her expression.
“I might be pulled back at any moment,” he continued. “I don’t know how this works. What happens if I marry you and then...disappear?”
Tank groaned at his side. “Dude, you’re overthinkin’ it. Say yes and worry about the rest later.”
If only if were that easy!
But then, what choice did he have? It wasn’t just about him but about Tank as well. Apparently, he’d endangered not only his own life, but Tank’s, with his heartfelt but ill-advised reaction to finding Ailsa alive two days ago.
Into the awkward silence, Ailsa announced in a stilted voice, “Ye should ken that Tavis was nae set to...execute ye. Father Gilbert had impressed upon the laird that banishment from Torr Cinnteag was a more appropriate...punishment. Thus, I presume banishment would be yer fate if ye choose nae to wed.”
Tank scoffed at this. “Send us out into the wilds of the Highlands? In the middle of winter? That’s not a death sentence?”
Neither Cole nor Ailsa responded to this. For a long moment, silence fell between him and Ailsa. She didn’t press him further, but her eyes stayed locked on his, filled with sorrow, determination—and maybe a cautious, indistinct hope?
Finally, Cole exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Ailsa, I can’t... promise you anything. Not anything lasting—I just don’t know what might happen.”
Her chin lifted, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. “I understand,” she said, though her tone betrayed her pain. She gave him a small, brave smile, but the hurt lingered in her eyes. Still, she seemed resolved, willing even, to bind herself to him in order to save him, and that made his chest ache.
“But yeah,” he said, “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”
Chapter Seventeen
It was still several hours after Ailsa had left the underground dungeon with his agreement before anyone had come to release them. That had been Colin, who’d seemed surprised by the turn of events though he’d asked no questions, had merely unlocked the door to their cell and had delivered them to the hall. There, they were met by two women—Margaret and Mary, who had been the first to tend Cole inside the rectory when he’d first come to Torr Cinnteag—who directed them to a room upstairs. This, Margaret explained in her broken and thick English, was the keep’s garderobe, a large open room that appeared to serve as both bathroom and washroom.
Cole found himself marveling at the room; it was his first time inside any chamber beyond the hall and dungeon. Tall walls of cold stone loomed over him, though their surface was smooth and gleaming with dampness from rising steam. The space was stark, with minimal furnishings, but the deep wooden tubs, already filled with steaming water, were inviting enough to distract from the otherwise austere setting.
The tubs themselves seemed almost comically small to Cole at first glance—round and shallow, looking more like oversized barrels than proper baths. He and Tank exchanged a quick, uncertain glance when the maids lingered expectantly, one near each tub, clearly prepared to assist with the bathing.
Cole cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Tank, who stepped back defensively. “We can manage, thanks,” Cole said, trying to sound polite but firm.
The maids exchanged a confused look, until Tank said—speaking slowly, enunciating each word, as if they were deaf and not only struggled with the language—“We’re fine. You can go.”Possibly, waving his hand toward the door was what actually sent them scurrying from the room.
Cole shed his filthy clothing with no small amount of relief, grimacing at the stiff, dirt-encrusted fabric. The moment he lowered himself into the hot water, his skepticism about the size of the tub vanished. The heat soaked into his aching muscles, dissolving the tension he hadn’t realized he carried. Even if he had to sit with his knees drawn up, the cramped position was a minor inconvenience. “Man, this beats those cold baths in the lake,” he muttered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as steam curled around him.
“Holy shit, that feels good,” Tank groaned as he sat.
By the time the maids returned with fresh clothes—where they’d come from or who they belonged to, Cole couldn’t begin to guess—he finally felt somewhat human again. The pale brown tunic was snug across his shoulders, just shy of restrictive. Tank’s shirt, on the other hand, looked as though he’d been poured into it as liquid and then somehow expanded after the fabric had settled. Cole’s pants, while clean, were laughably short, but tucking their hems into the oversized leather boots that had also arrived—a half-size too large—helped him feel at least moderately presentable.
Tank, standing there crammed into a tunic that pulled tight across his chest and arms, with sleeves so short they barely reached halfway to his wrists and wearing pants that stopped well above the boots that had been supplied to him, making him look like a child who’d outgrown his clothes overnight, had no business laughing at Cole.
But he did, swiping his hand down his beard while a grin overtook him. “Dude, that might be your wedding tux.”
He had fully expected to be summoned to meet with Tavis beforehand, bracing himself for a stern lecture on how he’d single-handedly shattered the possibility of peace withthe MacLaes. That would have undoubtedly been followed by another sermon on how he was expected to treat Ailsa, likely laced with thinly veiled threats about the consequences of stepping out of line—banishment, or worse. But to his surprise, there was no such meeting. Instead, the maid, Margaret, awaited them just outside the bathroom, and they were led directly from the soothing bath to the chapel, which, upon arrival, was empty and eerily silent.
The heavy smell of incense hung in the air, wafting up from a brazier near the altar. It was sharp, earthy, and strangely comforting—though Cole couldn’t say why, unless because it reminded him of those Sunday masses he’d attended as a child or more recently, on holy days with Aunt Rosie. He suspected that going forward, the scent would forever be tied to this day, this moment.
Of course a shotgun wedding would not be celebrated with any great fanfare, but he kind of expected there would at least be some witnesses aside from Tank.
There would be, he realized a moment later as the door opened and Anwen strode inside. Like Ailsa, the maid seemed none the worse for wear despite having barely escaped an avalanche. Cole never could tell if she was actually smiling or not; it always looked as if she was, though her mood never quite matched her expression. Today, however, the quick glance she cast toward Cole as she walked toward the altar seemed genuinely pleased, the smile seeming to reach her eyes as she nodded a wordless greeting.
Cole flexed his fingers, his palms damp despite the cool air. He wasn’t nervous though, or at least he didn’t think he was. He wasn’t already regretting his decision to marry Ailsa. He knew that he was attracted to her, not only her body and her kiss. But let’s be real: this wasn’t the wedding he’d imagined back in the twenty-first century. If someone could step up right now andgive him a guarantee—some kind of cosmic confirmation that he was stuck here for good—maybe he’d embrace this moment with less resistance. Maybe he’d dive into this marriage with both feet.
But without that assurance, he kind of felt that it was wise to tread lightly. Even as he stood here, wrestling with caution and hope, he knew one thing for certain: his feelings for Ailsa were no joke. Being married to her might have him falling harder and faster than he had already. And that was the part that made him nervous, because there was no guarantee that they had any chance at a future together.
Tavis arrived then, accompanied unsurprisingly by Dersey. While the captain’s expression seemed at worst annoyed to have this thrown into his schedule for the day, the laird’s face was a mask of stony displeasure. Tavis’s lips were pressed together so tightly, it appeared he snarled. Cole thought a baring of his teeth was soon to come as he walked forward.
He stopped directly in front of Cole.
