Page 17 of The Laird's Unwanted Wife
“O-Oh! I’d very much like that, Gerald!” Aileen blinked, clearly surprised she’d so enthusiastically used his name. It sounded right, though. It made Gerald feelgoodto hear his name come out of her lips. Those plump, rubescent lips, somewhat flushed from the cold environment. Something she’d grow used to, he reasoned. Though, he wouldn’t be against keeping her warm.
“But we should really get going,” Aileen interrupted his thoughts before they could go any farther. “I’m sure Mollie’s been waiting this entire time for us.”
Gerald nodded curtly, crossing the room as both he and Aileen started for the door. “Do ye really think Cailleach looks too young?” he asked.
A nervous giggle escaped from Aileen. “Well, she is meant to be a wintry crone. Though an artist is entitled to their own creative interpretation. And I cannae imagine any man would like to have a wrinkled old woman’s face starin’ at them within their study.”
Gerald nodded lightly, glancing over his shoulder at the half-carved visage. Creative interpretation … yes. Perhaps that’s why, as he held the door open for Aileen, he opted to keep the true inspiration for the face to himself.
A wintry goddess that looked over his collection of knowledge … if he told Aileen whose face he’d actually based the piece on, his command of living separate lives would lose all its power.
9
That evening was filled with a flurry of clothes and colors, with Mollie at the center of it all. Gerald wasn’t sure a child could possess so many gowns, and yet, she continued to burst out from behind a makeshift curtain hung by the maids in one of the spare sitting rooms, twirling about in another new frock bought in town.
He’d manage to dismiss a few of them from the forced showcasing, gently insisting to Mollie that they had work to do around the castle, that Ms. Blair needed help to keep everything neat and tidy. Aileen looked horrified every time Mollie argued against it, but Gerald waved the concern away every time. He knew for a fact that, given the choice, each and every servant in the castle would have much rather stayed and spent more time with Mollie.
Soon, only the three of them were left in the room. Gerald had taken over one of the armchairs, while Aileen sat just on the edge of a cushioned bench. Bannock lay just underneath, her tailthumping loudly every time Mollie came bounding out to show off another dress.
Aileen offered an enthusiastic round of applause, gushing over the pretty craftsmanship as her sister’s smile spread from ear to ear. It was amusing to watch—certainly better than working alone in his study—and Gerald would offer a nod of approval every so often.
“The seamstress said these flowers are called snowdrops!” Mollie squealed, pointing to several small, delicately stitched florals that ran across the hem of a sapphire dress. “Did ye ken they grow in the snow, Aileen?”
“I did nae,” Aileen beamed, fingers brushing across the white flowers with fascinated content.
“I bet ye ken that, Gerald!” Mollie bounded over to Gerald’s armchair, holding the hem of her dress outward so he could see every snowdrop properly. “I bet ye see them all the time.”
“I do, aye,” Gerald replied lightly. “Though they only appear when winter’s just about to end and spring is on its way.”
“Is that goin’ to be soon?” Mollie asked. “I want to see a real one!”
Gerald shook his head, feeling genuine sadness as the girl’s expression fell. “We’re too far into summer, I’m afraid. They’ve long since died off.”
“Aww, really?” Mollie huffed, arms crossed tightly against her chest. Bannock slid out from beneath Aileen’s bench, trotting up to the girl as she gave her arm a gentle lick.
“I’m sure we’ll see them one day,” Aileen assured.
“But what if we’re nae here anymore when spring comes?” Mollie asked.
The question took Gerald by surprise. He turned to Aileen, who let out a nervous laugh. “Mollie, daenae be silly. Of course, we’ll still be here for spring.”
Mollie wrapped her arms around Bannock’s, clearly thinking hard about something. “Oh … aye, ye did promise, did yeh?”
Gerald’s concern only grew greater at the vagueness of it all. How often had they moved in Mollie’s lifetime? If Marcus was her brother, wouldn’t they simply stay at the castle? Then again … with how secretive he seemed about them, it made sense that Marcus would shuffle them around his territory. Keep the focus off of the ‘stain’ on his family’s bloodline. “Did ye move between keeps often, Mollie?” he asked, wanting to confirm his suspicions.
Before Mollie could reply, Aileen suddenly sprang from her seat, rushing across the room and scooping her sister up into her arms. Bannock let out a yelp of annoyance, pacing around Aileen’s legs and whining up toward Mollie. “Oh, gracious me! It’s almost time for bed. We should get yer bath started, Mollie dear.”
“But the snowdrops—!” Mollie insisted.
“Thank the Laird for spendin’ his valuable time with ye today.” Aileen’s tone was surprisingly stern, and Mollie let out a huff in reply, seemingly knowing she wouldn’t win the fight. Still, the look she shot Gerald’s way was nothing short of deadly.
Gerald had been stabbed before. Multiple times, in fact. And yet, as that little girl glared daggers his way, he could confidently say it hurt far worse than any physical assault he’d suffered in his thirty years.
“Thank ye for spendin’ time with me, me Laird,” Mollie grumbled under her breath.”
Aileen’s brow furrowed, but Gerald waved his hand. “Thank ye for allowin’ me to join ye, Mollie.”
The girl’s sour expression sweetened slightly, and she wrapped her arms around Aileen in a pseudo-hug. Aileen shifted her little sister against her hip, offering a nod of thanks to the Laird’s way before moving toward the door.
