Page 18 of The Laird's Unwanted Wife
“Oh, but, Aileen?” Gerald asked. “Come and see me back here when ye’re finished with Mollie. I never got to see the gowns ye chose for our wedding, and I’d like that done before ye retire for the night.”
Aileen visibly paled. “Oh. Um … aye, Gerald. Of course.”
“Aww, that’s nae fair,” Mollie complained. “I wanted to see ye dress up, too.” She let out a huge yawn, her head nuzzling against Aileen’s shoulder while blinking furiously. “I’m nae even tired, yet … and y—ye promised I could sew flowers on …”
“I’ll ensure ye can do so tomorrow,” Gerald promised. “But ye cannae hold a steady needle with a poor night’s sleep.”
“Aye. The Laird’s right, love.” Once more, Aileen nodded her thanks toward Gerald, though he could tell she was clearly nervous. The woman had been through far too much to truly believe heonlywanted to go over dresses with her, but Mollie’s implications were far too disturbing to let them slide. As the pair slipped out of the room—with Bannock predictably following behind as their living shadow—Gerald let out a tired sigh and sank further into his chair.
“What sort of mess did I attach meself to?”
Oh, but she was insomuch trouble.
Aileen swore internally as she washed her sister’s hair in the tub, wishing they’d walked past that silly dress in the first place. She had no idea what she was supposed to say to Gerald, what explanation wouldn’t sound like some sort of pathetic excuse.
And as the maids helped get her nightdress on, and Aileen tucked both Mollie and Bannock in for the evening, she foundherself shaking with each step she took back toward the room. She knocked gently against the door’s frame, partially hoping the Laird had been called away for some urgent business.
“Come in, Aileen.”
Laird help me.
Aileen slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. Gerald remained in his armchair, though he seemed to have pulled another one for her to sit directly across from him. With a nervous grimace, Aileen took her place in said chair, folding her hands stiffly in her lap.
The pair stared at each other in silence, the Laird stroking his beard and leaning against the arm of his seat. She furrowed her brow slightly. Was she supposed to start the conversation? She didn’t even want to bring it up in the first place. It had no bearing on Gerald, and it just made her sound … undesirable as a bride.
She sat for another beat, squirming uncomfortably in her chair. Finally, she sighed, opening her mouth to speak, to try to explain away Mollie’s outburst.
“Did Laird Carswell treat the pair of ye well, Aileen?”
That wasn’t where she’d expected their conversation to start. “Treat us … well, he wasnae physical with me, if that’s what yemean. We hadnae been properly married when we were expelled from his castle, so?—”
“I daenae care about yer virginity being intact or nae,” Gerald interrupted coldly. “I asked if ye were welcome amidst his clan.”
Again, Aileen squirmed under the Laird’s gaze. Those eyes really were like the forest—beautiful and alluring one moment, then terrifying and vast the next. She never quite knew what to expect from him. At least with Marcus or Laird Carswell, she knew her place. But Gerald made it consistently … difficult to pin. “His kin welcomed us fine enough.”
“Yet Mollie implied ye were moved around.”
Aileen wrung her hands tightly. “It was for security purposes. With the wars ragin’ unpredictably across the Highlands, Laird Carswell thought it best nae to keep us in the same place for long. Until the wedding, we didnae stay in the same keep for more than a few weeks.”
“And ye were all right with that?”
No. Of course, she wasn’t. Watching Mollie burst into tears as she was torn away from the friends she had managed to make killed Aileen every time. The maids who showed kindness to her, the routine she’d started to build for herself and her sister, it was thrown to the wayside, without her having an ounce of say.
But Aileen said none of this. Instead, her shoulders stiffened as she sat upright, nodding a bit too furiously. “Of course. I trusted me betrothed to do what was right by us.” Lies. All lies.
Gerald shifted in his chair, staring Aileen down as if she were a child who had been caught in the sweets pantry. She gritted her teeth, praying they didn’t delve too deeply into the subject. She didn’t need his sympathy, didn’t need him seeing her as weak or unable to take simple directions. Whatever was asked of her, she would do.
“If ye’re reconsiderin’ yer offer about me visiting yer study, ye daenae need to spare me feelings?—”
“Daenae assume what I want,” Gerald interrupted sharply. “And daenae assume someone kens what’s best for ye. If Laird Carswell sold yer sister’s hand to one of his family members, would ye let him?”
Aileen’s cheeks burned, hands squeezing tightly together. “If … if the family were kind to her?—”
“What if they werenae?” Gerald persisted. “What if they were ken to beat their staff and lord their position over others?”
Something sour welled up in the back of Aileen’s throat. “Why do ye ask this? It didnae happen, so why must I answer?”
“Because I need to ken where yer loyalties lie,” Gerald said. “And how much ye’d break yer own rules for the sake of another.”
