Page 26 of Sweet Home Highlander
“Lie to yourself all you want,chérie, but I have seen the way you look at that man and it makesmeblush.”
“Jules.” Mortified, Aisla bit her lips and steered the subject away from her unfortunate attraction to her husband. “I know she’s ill and you wish to make her happy, but why is she being so insistent about marriage now?”
Julien shifted in his seat and looked into his empty glass with a frown.
“She received a letter from her father, the Marquess of Riverley. The old toad’s dying. She’s taken the news hard, even though she hasn’t spoken to the old codger in decades. His illness has made her obsessed about her own mortality. It’s made her declining health all the more real to her, and I suspect she feels backed into a corner with the need to continue the family line.”
“And you don’t?”
“No. I’d much rather be here, being threatened by braw Scotsmen.”
She couldn’t help but laugh then. “Well, then, we must do whatever we can to protect the innocent.”
“I better leave before your beloved returns and makes good on his promise to riddle me with holes.” He tossed her an aggrieved look. “Are all Scots so barbaric?”
She thought of her brothers with a fond smile. “No. Some are worse.”
Aisla rose from her seat, her amusement fading as she walked Julien to the door. “He’s not my beloved,” she added. “I’ll do everything in my power to shorten the six weeks, and put this behind us so we can all move on. I’m glad you’re here, Jules.”
Julien paused to buss a kiss on each cheek. “As am I.” In an uncharacteristic display of seriousness, his expression grew somber. “Are you sure this is truly what you want, Aisla?”
“Of course it is. Why would you ask me that?”
“Because it’s clear that there is still something between the two of you, even to me and my jaded sensibilities.”
Aisla went quiet. Surely, the tension between them wasn’tthattransparent? It was on the tip of her tongue to say that the only thing there was, was lust, but she bit her lips. Lust meant nothing. And if she gave in to it, if she lost one ounce of control, Niall would claim his victory.
“No, whatever was there is long gone. I won’t change my mind, either.”
He looked at her a long time before responding, his eyes oddly unreadable. “Very well. Send a Scottish falcon if you need me.” He grinned and winked, the momentary awkwardness disappearing. “And try not to lose your temper,chérie. I shouldn’t like to risk coming back to rescue you. This body is far too precious to be decorated with bullets.”
“Some knight you are.”
“I have a feeling you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, my darling.Adieu!”
After Julien rode back to Maclaren, Aisla’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since breaking her fast that morning. The hour for sup at Maclaren had come and gone, and Niall had not returned. In truth, she didn’t expect him to, and she was too tired to go up to the Maclaren keep. Surely, she’d be able to find something edible here. She didn’t require much, perhaps some bread and cheese, or an oatcake.
She spotted the young scullery maid who’d run through the hall earlier and waved her down. “What is your name?”
“Caitlin, yer ladyship,” she said with a curtsy.
“Might you point me in the direction of the kitchen?” she asked. “I am in need of something to eat.”
“O’ course, milady. ’Tis this way.” She smiled shyly. “Yer caller was very bonny.”
Aisla shook her head and laughed. “And well he knows it, too.”
To her surprise, unlike the rest of the castle, the kitchen was large and well appointed, with shiny pots and pans hanging from various hooks near a large stone hearth. And thankfully, there was no sign of Fenella, for which Aisla was grateful. She couldn’t conceive of dealing with someone so unpleasant on an empty stomach.
“Please sit, milady,” Caitlin said, indicating a stool near a round table.
Aisla looked around at the clearly refurbished kitchen. “How long has the laird been living here?”
“Going on a year now,” Caitlin said. “It took months to repair the castle enough to live in it after so much of it was burned to the ground during the fire, but the laird was busy at the quarry, ye ken.”
“At the what?” Aisla frowned, but there was no answer. Perhaps she had misheard.
The young maid had disappeared into a nearby larder only to emerge with a roast chicken pie. Aisla promptly forgot her question or any other sensible thought in her head. Her mouth watered and she accepted the offering with gratitude. “Bless you, Caitlin.”
