Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

W hen he heard a knock on the door to his study, Hannah was the last person he expected to see pushing the door slightly ajar. Her eyes were wide and cheerful. Hopeful, even. He had often seen her like that with her dogs, rarely with him.

"Am I interruptin' ye?" she inquired politely, her voice melodious and sweet.

"Nay, nay." He shook his head, still fighting through the confusion as to why she was here. "Come in."

After hesitating for a bit, she did as he bid her. She walked over to his writing table and stood opposite him. She looked a bit apprehensive, as she patted her fingers against her gown.

"Is somethin' the matter?" he asked.

He immediately remembered that during breakfast with everyone, she kept glancing at him somewhat expectantly. Alistair never considered himself an expert when it came to reading women's behavior, but he could tell when someone had something important on their mind. Better yet, a burden that would not let them be. That was the same gaze that Hannah was sending him all morning, throughout the duration of breakfast. Now, she was in his study. That could mean only one thing.

"Aye," she nodded. He instantly got up, forgetting all about the piles of papers he was trying to focus on. "I mean, nay," she then quickly corrected herself. "Well… honestly, I daenae ken."

He had the urge to smile, but he didn't want to discourage her from revealing what she had on her mind. Obviously, having come to him was the result of a long thought-out process, and she finally decided to come. He didn't want to frighten her away by making it seem that he wasn't taking her predicament seriously. Their agreement was that there could not be love, but respect and mutual understanding was necessary. This would be a good step in that direction, which he was determined to take.

"Why daenae ye sit down?" he offered, leading her tenderly to the sofa by the window. She sat down, and he took a seat next to her. He was tempted to take her hand in his, but he refrained from doing so. This was not about him, obviously. He had to show her that she was safe here, with him, that she could tell him anything.

She inhaled deeply, taking another few moments. He waited patiently, not taking his eyes off of her. He tried not to think about how lovely she looked this morning, in this pale blue gown, with her hair wrapped up loosely in a bun at her nape. A few loose strands of hair fell around her face. She looked like a lost, little fairy who couldn't find her way back to the forest.

"It is Olivia," she finally said, although this revelation did little to shed any light on the mystery at hand. He remembered that she wished her sister would go home, so he figured they must have had a row.

"What about Olivia?" he inquired politely, urging her to keep on going.

"Mr. Johnstone has been comin' here for the past four days, every single day," she notified him, although he already knew this.

It was not a common practice to do so, but taking into account that neither of them were in their own home and might be separated very soon, he simply attributed this dire need to spend as much time together as possible with knowledge of the separation that was to come.

"While he seems like a good man," Hannah continued, sounding pensive, "there is just somethin' that I daenae like about all this."

His ears immediately perked up. He believed that Hannah was very good at telling other people's character. If she said she didn't like something, there had to be a good reason for it.

"Has he done or said anythin'?" he wondered.

"Nay." Hannah shook her head. "That is exactly that. He's… well, perfect."

"Perfect?" He laughed.

"Well, ye ken what I mean." She was smiling now. "He always says the right thing. He always does the right thing. It's like he knows nay wrong, and Olivia is absolutely smitten."

"I've noticed," he confirmed.

"He just seems too… enthusiastic about this courtship with Olivia," she admitted.

"Could it be that the man is as smitten with Olivia as she is with him?" Alistair wondered.

She frowned. "Men daenae get that smitten."

He had to laugh again. "Maybe ye are right. But what is yer concern?"

She inhaled again, but it did little to ease her emotional distress. "I simply feel like it is all overwhelmin', that is all. I feel that he shouldnae be visitin' every day and spendin' so many hours here. Why, I've barely been able to spend time with Olivia meself. And when I do, all she does is talk about him."

"She is a lass in love," Alistair reminded her.

"Not every woman who is in love talks only about her beloved," Hannah revealed.

"That is a rare woman indeed," he nodded. "But… back to the matter at hand. Ye think that this man might be… hidin' somethin'?"

"I daenae ken," Hannah admitted. "Maybe not hidin' somethin', but he is definitely not goin' about this courtin' business in the usual manner."

"That I can agree with," Alistair replied. "Now, what would put yer mind at ease?"

She thought about it for a moment, then she seemed to remember the perfect thing. "He tells us all these things, which we cannae see whether they're true or not. I suppose I would like to ken more about him, more about his family."

"I could do that for ye," he offered.

"Ye could?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

"Of course," he smiled. "If that will put yer mind at rest, I would be glad to help."

"Oh, Alistair!"

Without thinking, she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, like a little child who had just received the best gift for her birthday that she could ever imagine. A moment later, she seemed to realize what she did, and she pulled away, looking slightly embarrassed, although she was still smiling and that sparkle in her eyes was still there.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" she said, biting her lower lip.

"Sorry for what?" he wondered. "I like yer manner of… expressing gratitude."

"Well, I ken we… uhm… we arenae supposed to cross those boundaries," she said a little awkwardly.

"I would say some boundaries are already crossed," he reminded her.

She blushed fervently, knowing exactly what he was referring to. However, she wasn't upset or offended in any manner. She was amused. That was just one of the things he loved about her. She wasn't afraid to joke at her own expense, and she knew how to poke him back. He had never met a woman who was daring enough to be so open and liberated.

"In that case, embracin' is safe?" she teased.

"Most certainly," he nodded. "In fact, it is highly encouraged. Unless Haggis is somewhere around, and he sees me huggin' ye. I doubt he'd like that."

This comment made her burst into boisterous laughter. He loved that sound more than anything. He smiled, waiting for her to catch her breath.

"Haggis just needs to warm up to ye," she assured him.

"I somehow doubt that," Alistair confessed. "He is like an old warrior, and I can respect that. He doesnae like whom he doesnae like. And that's that."

"Ye mean, an old warrior doesnae change his mind?" she wondered, gazing at him.

"Rarely," he revealed. "It isnae impossible, but… rarely."

She smiled a little nervously, as if he just said the wrong thing, ruining the moment. She got up, straightening her gown.

"Whenever ye can ask about Mr. Johnstone, I would be grateful to hear what ye've found," she reminded him.

"I shall send word immediately," he promised.

"Thank ye," she smiled, seemed to want to say something else, but changed her mind and headed towards the door, which she closed silently.

He was left alone. He kept thinking about what she said. She liked him. And dammit, he liked her as well. There was no denying it. He wondered how he would feel when all this was cleared, and he was no longer being blackmailed by her brother. What would happen then?

He dared not think about it. He would cross that bridge when he got to it.

It was silly. Hannah was certain that it was. He would probably think it was downright ridiculous.

However, Hannah had always been taught that one should express one's gratitude when someone offered their help, like Alistair did that morning. Truth be told, she had come to him with that very same purpose in mind, but it felt somehow wrong asking him for help. She didn't want him to think that she was just using him and his connections to help her sister. Then, when he offered to do it himself, her heart leaped with joy.

She squeezed the small bouquet of wildflowers she was holding in her hands, as she rushed up the stairs, towards Alistair's study. She would interrupt him only as much as to give him the flowers as a thank you gift, then she would leave him be.

Just as she climbed the last stair, she saw Alistair's mother coming down the corridor.

"Ah, Hannah," she smiled. Her eyes immediately noticed the bouquet in her hands. "Why, that is a lovely bouquet ye have there. Is it for yer chamber or for yer sister's?"

"Actually, it is for Alistair," Hannah said with as much pride as she had. Some days, she didn't care if the whole world knew that she had deep feelings for her husband. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops if she could. This was one of those days.

"Flowers for Alistair?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"Aye," Hannah nodded. Then, doubt set in. Her heart pulled away deeply into the recesses of her chest. "Do ye think he wouldnae like them?"

Alistair's mother looked at her with such tenderness that Hannah felt as if the sun itself descended down from the skies to caress her with its rays.

"I think that is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for him," she told Hannah. "I cannae imagine him not liking them."

"Thank ye," Hannah gushed, immediately perking up at the thought. "He has agreed to help me with somethin', and I just wanted to show him how much I appreciate his help."

Alistair's mother didn't say anything at first. She simply looked at Hannah with that same tenderness in her eyes, allowing it to enshroud Hannah from her forehead all the way down to her toes. That gaze felt like an invisible embrace.

"I hope that son of mine realizes how lucky he is to have ye," she said, much to Hannah's surprise. "Ye are such a breath of fresh air, just what we all needed in this old and forgotten castle."

"Yer words mean the world to me, me lady," Hannah admitted, feeling as if something has gripped at her throat and she couldn't pronounce her words properly. Her emotions were taking control of her. "I am so fortunate to have ye all."

"It is us who are fortunate," Alistair's mother corrected her. "Run along now and give those flowers to me son. Ah, I forgot the last time someone brought me flowers. What a lovely, lovely sensation…"

Hannah was about to say something else, but Alistair's mother was already lost in her own thoughts, probably remembering the last time her late husband brought her such a bouquet, as she continued walking down the stairs, leaving Hannah alone.

A moment later, Hannah found herself knocking on Alistair's door. That treacherous little voice inside her head was telling her that this was a stupid idea, that she should just turn around and leave him be. But suddenly, the doors opened, and he was standing there, before her.

"Hannah?" he inquired, looking at her, then at the flowers.

She swallowed heavily, trying to drown out all the doubts. She wanted to do this, and she would.

"These are for ye," she said hastily, afraid that the fear of being ridiculed might change her mind.

"For me?" He frowned, accepting the flowers. "Arenae I supposed to get ye flowers?" He didn't sound offended or shocked, just amused. That was a good sign.

"Well, ye helped me," she smiled. "When I help ye with somethin', ye may go to the woods and get me flowers, too. But nay the ones from the garden. We daenae pick those."

He grinned. "I like that rule." He looked down at the flowers. "And I like the flowers, too. Thank ye."

He leaned over to her and gave her a peck on the cheek. It was an innocent kiss, with nothing passionate or illicit about it, but it made her instantly yearn for his touch. Being this close to him was dangerous. She didn't know if she could control herself around him.

"Well, I'd best leave ye to yer work," she said, taking a step back, to increase the distance between their bodies. "And the flowers… I'm glad ye like them. I'll just… go now." She pointed at the door with her fingers, lingered like that for a moment, blushed instantly, then turned around and rushed down the corridor, until she heard him close the door.

Her heart was beating like mad. She had no idea why he had such an effect on her. Actually, she did. She simply didn't wish to accept it or even admit it. It was clear as daylight.

Hannah loved her husband. Hannah loved Alistair.

Only, did Alistair love her?

It didn't seem that way. While it was true that he was tender and affectionate on occasion, the truth was she could feel that he was still building a wall between them. The initial agreement was still standing. Hannah wanted a real marriage, for the simple reason that her feelings for him were real. But he didn't feel the same way.

And there was no force on earth that could make a man love a woman if he did not choose to do so himself.