Page 62 of Winter Longing
“No,” she argued suddenly, a bit frantically. More calmly, she continued. “No, Tavis. Let me be the one to present the...option to him.” She needed to see his reaction, needed to know if he would wed her as she would him, with a quiet, hopeful thrill, or if he would do so only to escape his imprisonment. And if he refused, she needed to hear it from him. Clearing her throat, she said, “I need to know what his fate will be if he rejects the...proposal, as that option should be known and available to him.”
“I’ve made nae decision yet about his fate,” Tavis replied. He shifted a bit on his feet. “However, I dinna ken I was set to hang him,” he admitted.
“Likely you were considering banishment as a wiser course,” Father Gilbert said, quietly asserting his suggestion.
“Hm,” was all Tavis said.
“I will go to him,” Ailsa declared. “It should come from me.”
***
Somewhere beyond his view, the door to the cellar groaned as it was opened, as it did every few hours when either guards came or prisoner food arrived. Cole froze as the sound of a soft, feminine voice could be heard exchanging words with whoever was currently on shift as guard.
Ailsa.
He was on his feet in an instant, a flood of relief and something sharper—joy—surging through him.
A moment later, the flicker of torchlight illuminated a familiar silhouette walking toward the cell.
“Ailsa,” he breathed, equally as happy to see her up and about as he was sure this was a good sign regarding his fate and Tank’s.
She approached carefully, the ground beneath her feet uneven earth with puddles of dampness. Briefly, she put her fingers beneath her nose as if to ward off the onslaught of unpleasant odors. Her soft features were lit in golden light, her presence banishing every shadow.
God help him, but he knew at the first sight of her that he’d been wrong. It wasn’t just relief at seeing her safe. It was something far deeper. If she’d perished in that avalanche...well, he didn’t want to finish the thought. Though he didn’t quite understand the depth of it or even the why of it, he knew that he wouldn’t have survived losing her.
But her expression as she neared gave him pause. Her smile was forced, tight. She might be happy to see him, but she wasn’t bringing good news, he guessed.
Directly in front of him, she raised one small hand and curled her fingers around the bars between them. There was an unmistakable tension in her posture and Cole’s jaw clenched.
“I cannot begin to express to ye,” she began, her gaze on his neck, not meeting his eyes, “and ye, Tank,” she added as he’d come to stand beside Cole, “how deeply sorry I am for my brother’s treatment of ye.”
“Shit,” Tank responded, “but you’re here to tell us there’s nothing you can do about it.”
She shook her head immediately, but it was a wobbly motion. “There is something...a resolution has been worked out.”
It was everything she wasn’t saying—or couldn’t bring herself to announce directly—that worried Cole. “But...?” he prompted, tightening his own hands around the bars.
Finally, Ailsa lifted her eyes to his. He wasn’t sure exactly what he saw but he decided she was trying to appear braver andmore optimistic than she felt. She cleared her throat. “Mayhap a...kiss in your time is less...damaging. Here, however, well...it is nae. A missive arrived today—Alastair MacLae has decided nae to wed me.”
“Having met the guy, I feel like that should be cause for celebration,” Cole said, “but I’m guessing that’s not the case.”
“Tavis desperately wanted the peace,” she reminded him quietly.
“And now we’re to pay for it?” Tank speculated.
Ailsa kept her gaze on Cole. “Mayhap nae. Tavis has agreed to release ye. Tank as well.”
Hope conflicted with caution inside him. There was a catch, he presumed, based on her hesitant demeanor.
“To tamp down any...scandal that will undoubtedly attach itself to me,” she continued, lowering her gaze again, her lashes sweeping down over her cheeks, “and ultimately...inhibit any possibility of a respectable match, Tavis has decided that we—ye and I—should wed.”
The words staggered him.
Marry her! His mind spun wildly, bombarded by the possibilities. Ailsa as his wife. Legally, undeniably his. The thought sent a rush of exhilaration through him, though it came as a vivid, yet complicated hope. To hold her, kiss her, make love to her without hesitation or fear. Her laughter, her fierce spirit, her everything—belonging to him. He realized in an instant he didn’tdislikethe idea. Not at all.
And yet... his gut twisted.
“Ailsa,” he began, forcing the words through the chaos in his mind, “I... can’t. I don’t belong here. In this time.”
