Page 85 of Winter Longing
“But there’s more,” she guessed, her voice growing sharper with worry. Her hands fluttered helplessly over his chest as though afraid to uncover the full extent of his injuries.
“There is,” he admitted, the grin strengthening slightly, “but nothing that can’t wait.”
His easy confidence eased some of her panic, but another thought struck her suddenly, making her breath catch. She raised a hand to her lips and frantically scanned the hall, her heart tightening. “Where is—” She stopped mid-sentence and turned to him, dread darkening her eyes. “Where is Tank?”
Cole’s hand closed over hers, his grip warm and comforting. “He’s fine,” he said gently. “He remained with the larger army. Dersey’s looking after him. He promised me he’d keep him alive. Tank’s fine, Ailsa. I promise that too. Hardly a scratch on him.”
Relief flooded her, overwhelming and unstoppable. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over, though this time they came from joy. She dropped her face into her hand, trying to regain control, but Cole gave her hand a squeeze.
“God, I love you,” he said, his voice soft but certain.
Ailsa froze, her hand falling from her face as she gaped at him, utterly speechless. Her cheeks flushed, tears streaked her face, and her jaw hung open as she stared at him in disbelief. “What?” she managed to whisper.
“I’m in love with you,” he repeated, his smile growing into a full, dazzling grin that made her heart skip. “I should’ve told you sooner, but I realized it too late.”
Her shoulders sagged, the tension leaving her body. “But I wanted to tell you the same thing,” she said, her tone almost petulant in its frustration.
Cole’s laugh, warm and rich, filled the air just as a familiar voice piped up behind her.
“Ye still can, ye ken. It’s nae proprietary.”
Ailsa whipped around to see Anwen standing nearby, her hands on her hips and a pointed look on her face.
Cole chuckled again, his gaze flicking to Ailsa with amusement. “She’s going to be our children’s nurse, is she?”
Ailsa, her cheeks still pink, managed a nod, her lips curling into a smile despite herself.
“God help us,” Cole muttered, the affection in his voice unmistakable.
Ailsa laughed then, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
“Ailsa I know I once hinted that this marriage wasn’t real,” he said, frowning. “I was an ass, or at least unprepared for how important and critical it is—you are—to me.” His blue eyes held her, promises glistening in their depths. “I’m so in love with you. Don’t hold that against me, what I—”
Ailsa silenced him with a kiss. “I love you, Cole Carter,” she whispered against his lips.
***
Ailsa paused outside the laird’s chamber, one hand resting lightly on the wooden doorframe. She had intended to knock but hesitated, listening to the quiet within. It was rare for her brother to be still, but then his wound had made him so in the three days since he’d been home.
She tapped lightly and pushed the door open.
Inside, the chamber was warm, the fire that crackled in the hearth casting long shadows across the room. Tavis sat in a sturdy upholstered chair, his head leaning back against the high backrest, his face lined with weariness. His injured leg was propped up on a low stool, bandaged tightly, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.
“Ye look like a soul in need of cheering,” Ailsa teased gently, her voice soft. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
Tavis grunted in response, his lips quirking into the ghost of a smile. “Then send me a buxom woman bearing a dram of guid whisky.”
She rolled her eyes as she moved to the small table nearby, pouring a goblet of wine instead. “Ye are stuck with me, brother. And I can fill your ears with tales from below or I can sit quietly in your company, so that ye ken that I care.”
He accepted the goblet but didn’t drink, staring into the fire instead. “We lost guid men, Ailsa,” he said quietly, his voice heavy. “Too many—and this was but a skirmish. Nae even the war. That’ll come again, and soon, I fear. Scotland needs us, everyone blessed one of us.”
She rested a hand on the arm of his chair, leaning closer. “And ye will heed the call, same as ye have, same as ye always do. Ye are a fine man, Tavis. A guid leader of men, of all Torr Cinnteag. Father and Mother would be proud.”
Tavis gave a small nod but said nothing, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the silence of shared grief, shared reflection. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at her, his expression thoughtful.
“He’s a guid man,” he said at last.
Ailsa blinked, caught off guard. Her heart swelled with pride, knowing he was speaking of Cole, and she smiled softly. “He is,” she agreed.
