Page 8 of The Laird's Unwanted Wife
Aileen nodded her thanks, taking a tentative sip of her soup. Warmth immediately seeped through her as the tang of salt and herbs coated her tongue. She nearly teared up at the reminder of howgoodfood could taste.
“Slowly, lass,” Gerald instructed.
She hadn’t even realized how far back she’d tipped the bowl. “Sorry.” Aileen forced herself to set the bowl against her lap, her thumb brushing against the design found along its rim. She briefly glanced downward, catching the outline of fish jumping up a carved river stream.
It became her focus point, something to ground her, and she looked back up to finally speak toward whom she hoped would be her savior. “Ye… ye called me yer bride, me Laird.”
The laird nodded curtly. “I did.”
“Did …” Aileen hesitated, then shook her head. “Did ye actually mean that?”
Laird MacLiddel raised a brow slightly. “Do ye take me for a man who speaks in jest?”
“Nay, of course nae!” Aileen winced slightly as Mollie stirred from her voice’s jump in pitch. She watched nervously as Laird MacLiddel moved a hand in her way, receiving a threatening growl from Bannock in return.
“Hold,” he commanded.
Much to Aileen’s amazement, Bannock did just that. Though her head remained upright, and a growl softly lodged in her throat, she made no move toward the Laird as he grasped Mollie’s fur cloak. Pulling it up to her chin, she let out a deep sigh, a softsmile playing across her lips while she buried her face further into Bannock’s side.
“I cannae believe ye did that,” Aileen marveled. “There are days Bannock doesnae let melookin Mollie’s direction.”
“Another laird taught me the ways of these beasts,” Laird MacLiddel explained. “Had a few of me best hounds bred from his keep.”
“I see.”
The pair fell silent, allowing the crackling of firewood to fill the gap between conversations. Aileen raised the rim of her bowl slowly to her lips, taking a steady sip before, once more, working up the nerve to speak to the Beast of Braeriach. “Me Laird …”
“Gerald will do,” he said. “Ye’re me betrothed, after all. It’d be strange if the lady of MacLiddel spoke to her husband so formally.”
Aileen nodded slowly. “G—Gerald, then. I … I suppose I’m…confused?” Again, she shook her head, her thumb brushing against the bowl’s carvings to keep her focused on the conversation. “Ye … ye didnae ken me sister and I—and Marcus—betrayed all the lairds of the Highlands? Why, then, would ye willingly help his own kin?”
Gerald leaned forward, the green in his eyes far more menacing when tinged by the campfire’s flame. Aileen couldn’t help butpull away, her chest knotting tightly in anticipation. Suddenly, hiding in that wardrobe back in her brother’s study didn’t seem so bad.
“The political answer is I daenae have a wife,” he began. “And I shouldnae delay taking one for much longer. Ye happened to cross me path, and ye already have experience with children. Good traits for a laird’s wife, would ye nae agree?”
Aileen swallowed nervously at his implication. “But, Mollie?—”
“Willnae become me heir,” Gerald interrupted. “Being a lady herself already disqualifies her, but even if I were that desperate, she has ties to the biggest traitor amidst the Highlands. She may become a midwife, a farmer, a seamstress, or cook—she may even grow to become MacLiddel’s own hound master, one that rivals that of clan MacDonnell’s.” Gerald shook his head, arms crossing loosely against his chest. “Nay, whatever that child wishes to pursue in life, I am willin’ to provide for. Given ye do yer part,” he added almost matter-of-factly.
Aileen couldn’t help but dream of the possibilities presented for her sister. Any one of those jobs would certainly provide her pertinent skills for the rest of her life, and finding a future husband would be all but guaranteed, especially with the Laird of MacLiddel’s support.
She never even considered a future for Mollie. It had been enough just to get her sister through one day. She grasped the bowl between her fingers, her heart racing in her chest.
“Then … me part would be to give ye an heir?”
Gerald’s laughter set Aileen’s hair on edge. It felt just like a frigid breeze, devoid of actual, genuine humor or mirth. “I’d like an heir from ye, if ye’d let me. But I willnae demand it. It’s enough for ye to enter this …contract, let’s call it. With ye by me side, taking Marcus’ territory will be far less challenging. Besides …” He chuckled darkly. “It’s a fitting revenge. Marcus took me brither away from me, and now, I willnae only be takin’ his last of kin, but his lands as well.”
“Then, me marital duties …” Aileen began to ask.
“We shall live our own lives,” Gerald interrupted. “Ye only need to stand by me side and play the part. That’s all.”
That was all? Then, she was expected to live the rest of her life in a loveless marriage, watching her clan be completely taken over by this beast of a man. Beast or not, his terms were certainly better than what the MacGunns would have made her do. And there was no telling what they’d have done with Mollie.
At least this way, she has a chance at a normal life,Aileen reassured herself.
Thus, she set her bowl aside and shifted around the campfire, stretching her hand outward toward Laird MacLiddel with a determined expression. “Will ye shake on it, then? That ye’ll do all ye can for me sister’s future?”
Gerald’s brow rose slightly. “No caveat for yer own safety?”
