Page 32 of Highlander of Steel
Ailis shook her head. “I daenae care.”
“I’ll choose theperfectshade, me Lady,” Rachel promised.
Paisley came to stand beside Ailis and gently took her arm. “What do ye say I take ye on a tour of the castle, now that ye’re goin’ to be the Lady of Clan MacNairn?” She smiled reassuringly. “A walk helps to get thoughts in order and calm a racing mind. As a healer, I must insist on a dose.”
“I think… I’d like that,” Ailis replied. “Just let me dress meself first.”
At that, Rachel chimed in, “A dress, of course! Silly me. I’ve got two for ye to wear. The Laird had them made for ye—the seamstresses have been workin’ all night, and they’ll have nay peace until the weddin’. Still, I think they’re secretly pleased to have a lady to dress at last.”
Ailis frowned at the maid. Of course, she was glad that she would finally have something fitting to wear, but she had had no idea that Killian had gone to the trouble.
“I’ll just fetch them for ye,” Rachel said, before rushing out.
Paisley lightly nudged Ailis in the ribs. “Ye’re one of us now. Yer niece will be, too.” She offered a smile. “The Laird takes care of his own.”
While the thought of being protected by Killian wasn’t at all unpleasant, another thought niggled at the back of Ailis’s mind.
If he already went to the trouble of havin’ dresses made for me, does that mean he had always planned to marry me? Is that the real reason he took me?
He claimed not, but she couldn’t quite shake her doubt that she had always been the linchpin of his grand scheme. And that his ‘kindness’ and his charm were all part of it too.
“Goodness!” Ailis gasped as she stood before a beautiful family portrait, expertly painted, so detailed that she felt as if the figures might step out of the frame at any moment.
Paisley had spent the last hour or so showing her around the castle, pointing out important rooms and places that might be of interest.
Ailis had dutifully taken it all in, making a note of the Great Hall, the library, and the cloisters, but the gallery was the first place that had sparked genuine curiosity.
They didn’t have one at Castle Ainsley. Indeed, Ailis wasn’t even sure there wereportraits of her family and their ancestors. She assumed there were, somewhere, hidden away in a location that only her father knew about.
The portrait in front of her showed three men, their dark hair, sharp jaws, pale skin, and blue eyes making their relation clear. The older man had a proud smile on his face, his eyes twinkling, his hands resting on the shoulders of his sons. Killian and Fraser were younger in the portrait, their smiles making them look more youthful, more innocent, less drawn by the grim palette of war.
“I didnae think he couldsmile,” Ailis muttered, mostly to herself.
Paisley chuckled. “Even then, he didnae smile much, but he made an exception for the portrait.”
“Nay maither?” Ailis asked, and immediately regretted such a blunt question.
“She died when Fraser was just a bairn, but Killian wasnae much older,” Paisley replied. “Fraser doesnae remember her, nae really, but I ken the Laird has fond memories of her. His faither loved her dearly. Never remarried. I doubt he even considered it. Ye’ll hear folks talkin’ about her sometimes. A fine woman, though I suppose it was a strange mercy that she didnae live to see the war.”
Ailis nodded in agreement. “Then again, if she were alive, she might have been able to stop Killian’s faither from startin’ it.”
“Pardon?” Paisley turned to stare at her, brow furrowed as if she were trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle.
“I mean, he doesnaelooklike someone who’d start a war for land, but ye cannae tell everythin’ from a portrait,” Ailis replied, not understanding the confusion on the healer’s face. “Maybe it all could have been avoided if his wife were still alive. If he loved her as much as ye say, she probably would’ve talked him out of it.”
A dry laugh escaped Paisley’s lips. “Ailis, it was the other way around.Yerclan started the war.”
“Nay,yerclan did.” Ailis shook her head emphatically. “Though I’m sure yer Laird blamed the other side to try and justify his actions. Still, I’m certain it was him who started all of this.”
Paisley studied her for a moment, her frown deepening. “I’m nae goin’ to argue with ye.” She shrugged, puffing out a breath. “In the end, it doesnae matter who started it—the result is still the same. All I ken is, and all that matters is, the new Laird will do everythin’ to stop it.”
“Aye, I willnae argue with that,” Ailis replied, moving away from the portrait before a quarrel could commence.
She wandered the cavernous hall at her leisure, every wall adorned with paintings without seeming overcrowded. High windows graciously blocked any view of the sea while offering the most heavenly light to illuminate the paintings. It was, presumably, to protect the paintings too, so that the sunlight wouldn’t fade the exquisite artwork.
Just as she was beginning to enjoy herself, she passed by the most terrible sight: a large landscape of a violent sea in the midst of a storm. A tiny fishing boat caught her eye, trapped between the frothing curl of a mighty wave and fanged rocks that protruded from the water. Somewhere on that fragile deck, a lantern glowed—the light of someone stuck aboard, who couldn’t possibly escape.
The panic was instantaneous. It rushed through her body as if shewere the one stranded aboard that tiny vessel, rocked and jostled by the furious waves, her stomach lurching, her breath coming in frantic bursts. She could almost taste the spray splashing her face, the terror weakening her knees.
