Page 59 of Highlander of Steel
“I’ve never thought to wear red before,” she admitted, tentatively sipping from a cup of spiced blackberry wine. “Certainly nae to a weddin’. I daenae ken why, but it doesnae seem like a color ye’d wear as a bride. But I’ve changed me opinion.”
Paisley smiled and reached up to brush a lock of hair from Ailis’s face. “I’m sorry it’s nae the weddin’ ye’ve dreamed of since ye were a lassie. Ordinarily, there’d be dancin’ and music and such merriment that ye’d feel like ye’d wandered into a faerie realm.” She sighed. “Everyone is too nervous to celebrate properly.”
That answered at least one of Ailis’s questions: this wasnota normal celebration. Then again, she wasn’t in a particularly celebratory mood either.
“It’s befittin’,” she murmured, her gaze flitting to the window and the distant glitter of the sea. “Who could smile and laugh and make merry in a time of war anyway?”
Paisley nudged her in the arm. “That’s precisely what people shoulddo in a time of war, or else what are ye fightin’ for? Ye have to remember the good things in between the bad.”
Remember the good things in between the bad…
Ailis’s mind flashed to the journey back from the beach and Killian’s dismissive behavior.
Forcing her thoughts to see the good she might have missed, she remembered how he had wrapped his arm around her so shewouldn’t fall off the horse. She recalled how carefully the fleece had been draped around her, though he had risen first; how he hadn’t woken her, letting her sleep for as long as she needed; how he had taken her hand and helped her down from the cave, then up the cliff steps.
His words mightn’t have matched his actions, but which spoke truer?
“Ye’re mine to protect and more… I daenae think enterin’ yer chamber that night was an accident … I think I was guided to ye. I think ye were always meant to be a MacNairn. A Lennox.”
She heard his voice in her head, murmuring those sweet words.Whatcould have changed between him bringing her a world of pleasure and dawn?
Chewing her lip in thought, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had judged the events of that morning too harshly.
He must have been anxious about the day ahead. Anxious about Skye’s rescue, about his braither, about the possibility of an attack and somethin’ happenin’ to me. He said he had thought he’d lose his mind.
That roar echoed in her mind. There were certain things she believed mightbe subterfuge or trickery, but not that. No one could fake the urgency that had laced his voice.
“He’s upset ye, has he nae?” Paisley asked, perceptive as ever.
Ailis took a sip of her drink to wet her dry throat. “Nay, he did me a favor.”
“What happened?” the healer pressed. “I havenae had the chance to ask, between findin’ ye a new gown, appeasin’ the seamstresses, frettin’ over Fraser, and contendin’ with Rachel’s temper tantrums.”
Ailis shook her head. “It was nothin’.”
“It doesnae look like nothin’. If ye chew that lip any more, ye’ll gnaw it right off,” Paisley insisted, sounding more and more like Kristen by the minute.
She had been able to see straight through Ailis, too, and always with a hint of humor.
Ailis hesitated. “I got confused; that’s all.”
“About what?”
To that, Ailis had a thousand answers. Each one clamored in her skull, desperate to be chosen.
She was confused because Killian had kissed her, touched her, tasted her, and then ignored her come morning. She was confused because he had been dismissive, but then he had called out to her as she had marched away from him. She was confused because she thought she might have misunderstood, one way or the other.
She was confused about it all.
Me sister once warned me that a man will say anythin’ to get a lass into bed.
She hadn’t known what it meant back then, but maybe she had experienced it now. Although she guessed those men didn’t usually marry the lasses they took to bed, so maybe not.
Turning to Paisley, she asked outright, “Will a man say anythin’ to get a lass into bed?”
The healer looked startled for a moment… and then burst into laughter, a rich sound that brought a blush to Ailis’s cheeks.
“Some will,” she replied, still chuckling. “But if ye’re referrin’ to the Laird, then nay. He’s like his braither; they daenae say aught they daenae mean. Why? What did he say?”
