Page 61 of Winter Longing
Ailsa fisted her hands. “I am nae ruined!”
“What do you mean?” Father Gilbert interjected, the only calm one in the chamber.
Tavis pulled a folded missive from his belt, tossing it onto the priest’s desk. “A message from the MacLaes. They’ve declined to proceed with the betrothal. Ruined or nae, sister,” he said darkly, “ye are perceived as such.”
Ailsa’s breath caught, and a flush crept up her neck. “That’s nae—”
“Enough,” Tavis snapped, silencing her. “What’s done is done.”
Father Gilbert picked up the letter, scanning its contents with a frown. After a long moment, he set it down and met Tavis’s glare with steady resolve. “This is unfortunate, but it is... not insurmountable.”
“How is it nae?” Tavis demanded angrily. “Nae marriage, nae peace! And now, her reputation is in tatters. Nae man will take her now.”
“Perhaps,” the priest conceded, his tone thoughtful. “But it also presents an opportunity.”
Ailsa and Tavis both turned to him, Ailsa’s expression confused while Tavis only scowled more grimly.
“Speak plainly, man!” He commanded.
Father Gilbert clasped his hands, addressing them both. “Yes, it might be true, that Ailsa may find it difficult to secure another match, given the rumors and conjecture that will surely follow... the lad’s demonstration near the mountain. But there he is, a man who has already proven his regard for her—and his commitment to her well-being.”
Tavis’s eyes narrowed. “Ye canna be serious.”
“I am,” the priest said calmly. “Untimely, ill-advised kiss aside, I believe Cole Carterisan honorable man—one you, yourself, laird, spoke in positive terms about only a few days before your sister’s return,” Father Gilbert reminded the laird, lifting a knowing brow.
Tavis growled, “I said he finally showed some improvement with the blade—something we kent we’d never see.”
“No,” Father Gilbert replied, shaking his head, “"you said, and I quote, ‘He’s a man who keeps to his duties, even when they appear to be fruitless.’ Aye, laird, you recognized that his persistence and willingness to learn are marks of a man of some character."
Ailsa’s mouth had fallen open with Father Gilbert’s suggestion and still, moments later, her mind was reeling. “Ye want me to marry Cole?” Her heart stumbled over itself, caught somewhere between shock and a startling flutter of excitement. Marry Cole? Of all the things she’d expected as a result of her efforts to free Cole, that suggestion was nowhere among them. The shock of it thrilled her in a way she wasn’t entirely prepared to admit, but the thrill was followed swiftly by worry. What would Cole think? Would he agree solely to be released from the dungeon and spared whatever Tavis’s punishment would be? She’d never once worried about what Alastair MacLae thought of wedding her, if he would abhor his circumstance, same as she, forced to wed to promote peace, but Cole... she wasn’t sure she could stomach the idea that Cole might not want to wed her, mayhap not even to save himself. And yet, the idea of it, bound to him for life, standing beside him, sharing the weight of her world with someone so steadfast, was not at all unappealing to Ailsa.
“It dinna solve our problem with the MacLaes, Father,” Tavis declared in a low growl.
“There are ways to mend relations beyond the union of a marriage,” the priest offered sagely. “Surely, a laird as wise as yourself can see that compromise need not mean surrender, and that strength comes not only from force but from unity within your own walls. Consider it well, laird.” When neither Tavis nor Ailsa had a ready response available, Father Gilbert continued, “You have two problems, laird—the MacLaes and now Ailsa’s reputation and future prospects. With the MacLaes bowing out, these are now separate issues. One can be addressed simply by wedding Ailsa to the lad.” He tilted his head and offered a thin smile. “Cole Carter may not bring a banner or a title, but his devotion—and his resilience—are gifts no contract can guarantee.”
Tavis looked equally stunned but far angrier. “Ye propose I hand my sister over to the very man who’s caused this mess?”
“Neither of them caused this,” Father Gilbert countered emphatically, his voice firm. “The embrace was innocent—a moment of relief after great peril. Surely you see that. You risk further scandal—and greater harm to Ailsa’s future—if this is not handled smartly and, dare I say, speedily.” The priest’s gaze softened as he turned to her. “You may not have chosen this path, my child, but perhaps it is God’s will...after all.”
Ailsa swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She assumed Father Gilbert was trying to impress upon her some meaning in reference to their earlier discussion about Cole, and the possibility of him having traveled through time. She glanced at Tavis, but he refused to meet her eyes.
Instead, he addressed the priest with a scowl. “'Tis madness.”
“Is it?” Father Gilbert asked. “Or is it the best solution for all involved?”
Silence fell, the weight of the proposed idea settling over them. Ailsa’s mind raced with questions and doubts, trying to comprehend the magnitude of her relief that she wouldn’t be compelled to marry Alastair MacLae, and of greater consequence, the wild and stunning proposal that she wed Cole Carter instead.
But only if Tavis allowed it.
Ailsa looked again at her brother, saw that he wore a pained expression as he considered the idea, his scowl dark and his lips curved downward. He turned a ferocious glare onto her, wordlessly pinning her with what looked to be an accusation, either for her part in the collapse of betrothal talks with the MacLaes or for having to now consider this, marriage to a man he might yet consider a stranger.
She held her breath.
Tavis turned to the priest once more. “See it done.”
Ailsa’s breath burst from her in a small whoosh of disbelief. She hadn’t really believed Tavis would accept the idea.
“Bring him to me—”
