Chapter 12

The airoutside the castle walls was crisp and clear with the scent of growing things and the salt of the sea. Ailis kicked off her shoes and then helped Lily do the same so they could run barefoot down the path toward the ocean.

She might not have done so, had the path been overgrown, but it was well-maintained, most likely by servants who would use it in the warmer months for relaxation and collecting fish or other delicacies from among the rocks.

Hand in hand, she and Lily raced for the siren call of the sea, though she took care never to outpace the guard jogging close behind them. It was difficult to imagine that they might be in danger, as isolated as the castle seemed, but there was a chance they might encounter animals or bandits. She had no wish to see Lily in any danger.

They reached the rocky shore without incident, and Lily immediately made straight for the water. Before Ailis could offer her more than a quick word of caution, the child had splashed into the waves.

Seconds later, she darted back, her eyes wide. "'Tis cold! And salty!"

"Aye. That's the ocean for ye." Ailis set their shoes aside and stepped forward cautiously, flinching a little as the frigid waves lapped at her toes. "It will warm in the summer months, but for now, ‘tis still chilly from winter. ‘Tis important to go slowly when ye're playin' in the waves." She guided Lily over the stones. "I ken ye like to run, little one, but ye need to be careful. Ye dinnae want to slip and fall into the water entirely."

Lily shivered. "Cold."

"Aye. Ye'd be fairly frozen, and we'd have to hang ye out like a fresh set of linen to warm ye up and dry ye out."

As she'd hoped, the child giggled at the image.

"Can we still play in the water?"

"For now, we can play in the shallow part of it." Ailis moved close enough for the waves to lap at her bare feet. Lily followed suit, giggling and dancing in place as the cold water tickled her toes. "And there's a lot to do here on the shore while we wait for the water to warm."

"Like what?"

"Well, there are shells to be hunted." Ailis showed Lily a pretty spiral shell she'd found, another with delicate stripes. "We can collect these to make jewelry with, or decorate other things."

She moved a little further along. "We can also hunt mollusks and other sea-side creatures to eat. Though we cannae gather them, as we've nay baskets. We can still see where they're hidin', so cook or the others can help us collect them later, for a sea stew."

"I like sea stew." Lily smiled.

"I dinnae ken if I like it well. Me family doesnae live near the shore, so ‘tis rare to get such treats."

"Ye dinnae get fish?"

Ailis smiled softly at the plaintive query. "We get fish, but nae from the ocean. We get ours from the loch near our home, where I learned to swim."

"What's a loch like?"

Ailis ruffled Lily's hair. "'Tis much the same as this, in places. But ‘tis surrounded by land, and the water is fresh, instead of salty. Sometimes lochs are warmer, sometimes nae. Me sisters and I used to swim in the loch on summer days."

"Can ye teach me how to swim?"

Ailis had considered it, but neither of them was wearing clothing that was appropriate for the activity, and she didn't want to try to teach Lily to swim fully dressed. That was a hard task for even an adult.

She'd also not considered how much colder the ocean would be than the loch she was used to. She'd thought it might be slightly chilly, the way the loch at home might be. The ocean, however, was frigid, just barely comfortable for wading in.

She smiled gently at the child. "I'll teach ye when the weather's warmer, and the water's had time to become warm as well, instead of bein' chilled to liquid ice."

Lily seemed content enough with that answer, for she turned away and began to hunt for more shells and signs of shore animals. Ailis followed along, alert for any sign of things that might hurt the child. She was content to play a little in the water, letting the waves brush her bare feet.

There would be time for swimming and mollusk hunting later. Assuming she remained in Castle Muir for longer than a month.

The thought that she might not stay longer was more distressing than she'd expected. Ever since she'd met Duncan, she'd been planning ways to escape from their agreement. She didn't want a loveless marriage to such a stern and forbidding man.

And yet… she could see the passion in Duncan Wallace's eyes, behind the stoic mask he wore, and there was no denying that part of her wanted to be the one to convince him to shed that mask completely. It was part of why she couldn't seem to help but provoke him.

There was also Lily. She was a sweet child, and Ailis's heart went out to her. It was quite clear why Duncan had said that it was good she cared for children so much.

From the way Duncan interacted with his child, and the way Lily clung to him in turn, it was clear the two loved each other fiercely. Which meant, in turn, that Duncan was capable of such emotions when he was willing to share them with someone.

Ailis simply wasn't sure how to convince him that she was one of the people he could trust with his heart, or how to show him that a love match could be a good one.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a splash of cold water, and a high-pitched laugh. She blinked, only to see Lily giggling. "Ye splashed me!"

The child's laughter gave it away.

Ailis smirked. "Well, in that case…" She bent to scoop up some water in her hands.

Lily squealed and darted out of reach—or to where she thought she was out of reach. Ailis, however, had played these games for far too many years with her sisters to be so easily thwarted. She swept her arm forward, and a small wave splashed up and caught the youngster in the face.

Lily yelped, then splashed at her again, and the two of them were quickly embroiled in a water war, darting back and forth and trying to see who could get the other the wettest, without getting completely drenched themselves.

"There ye are."

There was no mistaking that voice. Ailis and Lily both turned to see Duncan striding toward them.

Ailis gulped. She might not know Duncan all that well yet, but she could tell by the set of his shoulders and the way he moved that he was well and truly furious. The guard clearly sensed it as well, for the man's posture was rigid, and his eyes were dark with trepidation.

Duncan ignored the guard and Ailis both as Lily darted toward him, and he swept her up into his arms. "Ye, little miss, are in trouble for running away from where I left ye without sendin' word where ye went to. Ye ken the rules."

The words were spoken in a soft, lighthearted manner, but the look Duncan gave Ailis over his daughter's shoulder was anything but.

Lily, oblivious to the glare, giggled. "Did ye come to play with us, Faither?"

"I didnae. I came to collect me wayward young imp and the people she's convinced to let her run wild. I only trust ye've nae gotten into too much trouble. Have ye, lass?"

Lily laughed again and began to chatter happily about what they'd been doing. Ailis and the guard exchanged a look of uncertainty. It was obvious that Duncan was keeping his temper around his daughter, but Ailis was of half a mind to make a run for it and never come back until he'd had a chance to calm down some.

Connor looked as if he very much wanted to be on the other side of the castle—or at the outer edge of his laird's lands.

Then Duncan turned and gave Ailis a look so stern that she felt like she was Lily's age, getting caught playing with her father's papers and ink—or sneaking into the library when she was meant to be sleeping.

The meaning of that look was clear. Running away was not an option. Duncan expected her to follow him, and there would be consequences if she didn't, promise or no promise.

Ailis followed, shivering a little in her damp dress and bare feet, despite the relative warmth of the spring day.

Duncan didn't say anything as they went back to the castle, save for vague comments in response to his daughter's monologue and questions. Ailis was content to keep quiet as she considered what she might do.

She'd known she was testing her luck, and his patience, in taking Lily out beyond the walls. And yet she couldn't bring herself to regret it, especially not in the face of the child's joy.

She might apologize for being too bold and disregarding his words from the night before, but she wasn't truly sorry for her actions as a whole. That, she suspected, might be a problem for Duncan.

It was clear he was used to his word being law, especially where Lily was concerned.

Once they passed the castle walls, Connor hurried back to his post. Ailis didn't blame him. Like her, the warrior knew his laird was furious, and there were likely furious words to be had on the matter, as soon as Lily was safely out of earshot. She only wished she had the luxury of taking the same way out.

Inside, they traversed the halls to the private wing for the Laird and his family.

Duncan sent a guard to summon a maid and gently handed his daughter over. "Go get some dry clothes, then get to yer lessons, Lily."

The girl pouted a bit, but true to her word, she didn't say anything in protest.

Ailis turned to go to her own rooms. She was shivering, and getting a change of clothes seemed like the perfect excuse to try and avoid—or at least delay—the storm she knew was coming.

Duncan's hand settled on her shoulder like an iron clamp. "Where do ye think ye're going?"

"To get changed into dry clothes." She glanced at him. "'Tis cold in damp garments."

"There's a fire in me study, and it's there we're goin'. Ye and I need to have a talk."

His low, harsh growl made it clear he was not going to be denied, and any protest she made would only make the situation worse.

Silently, she followed him, contemplating what she would say. She was still cold, but it seemed unimportant at the moment.

Inside his study, Duncan locked the door, kindled the fire with rough, violent movements, and then spun around to face her. "What the devil did ye think ye were doin'?" His tone was so sharp that Ailis was glad of the desk between them and his self-control.

She bit her lip, then lifted her chin. "I wanted to enjoy the water. I've never been to the sea. When Lily said she'd never had a chance to play in the ocean, I invited her to come with me."

"Ye had no right!" Duncan's face twisted in a snarl. "I told ye last night, me daughter is none of yer concern! Nae yers to interfere with. And certainly, I didnae give ye permission to go off with her without tellin' me!"

"Och, aye? And who was it that decided his precious business with his braither was too important to stay? Ye left her in me care with the puppies. And I was careful. We never went more than calf-deep in the water, and there was a guard with us. Aye, and plenty, I'll wager, who kenned where we were, given that ye found us with nay trouble."

She'd been prepared to receive his anger. But not if he was once again going to try to treat her as a complete outsider. That she would not accept without offering him some sharp words of her own.

"I left ye with the puppies because I didnae think ye were foolish enough to take it as permission to do whatever ye liked! Especially after me warnings." He was all but roaring now, anger making a devil's mask of his handsome face.

"Ye gave me me freedom! Ye promised it to me!"

"Freedom for yerself, not to go wanderin' off with me daughter!"

"And what if I did?" She folded her arms. "Ye should be glad I was willin' to risk yer temper and do somethin' about the way ye've neglected her. ‘Tis shameful, the way ye keep her caged."

If she'd thought he was furious before, it was nothing compared to the dark rage that flared in his eyes now. "Ye dare…"

"I dare. She's a child, nae a beast to be trammeled. And ye've never taken her to the shore, despite the fact that it's within view of the walls. God above, me faither had three daughters, and nay idea what to do with the lot of us most times, but he permitted us that at least!"

"Ye dinnae…"

"I dinnae understand? Well, ye're right, I dinnae, but I ken that yer daughter says she's never been beyond the walls afore today. Even a toddler can splash into the water or go berry-picking, so long as they're watched properly. So, is she lyin', or have ye really been so cruel as to trap yer daughter with nay regard for her happiness?"

* * *

Duncan stared at Ailis, his rage so thick that it seemed likely to choke him. How dare she accuse him of neglecting his daughter?

He knew Lily didn't like being kept in the castle. He knew it, and he tried as well as he could to make her happy while keeping her safe and not spoiling her too much.

He did his best to be a good father, as good or better than his own had been. It wasn't fair to either Lily or himself that there were things that he always had to be aware of, dangers he was guarding her against. He still did his best to keep her content and provide for her.

And now here was Ailis, who knew nothing of his past, or his life, or the dangers he faced, who dared tell him he was doing wrongly by his daughter. The only thing that infuriated him more than her words was the small voice in the back of his head that suggested she might be right.

He suppressed the urge to grab her and shake her until she apologized. "Ye dinnae understand what the situation is. I have me reasons for what I do, and ye dinnae ken enough to question how I run me clan, nor how I raise me daughter."

He'd hoped to put her in her place, but she was made of sterner stuff than her small frame might suggest, and her temper was clearly a match for his own.

She merely lifted her chin and challenged him. "Och, in that case, tell me what it is I dinnae ken. Ye wish to claim me as yer wife, then ye'd best tell me what it is I'm dealin' with. Why are ye so set on trappin' yer daughter? And is it only yer child ye're set on trappin' like a wild thing in a cage? Or are ye plannin' to do the same to me?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I promised ye yer freedom. I dinnae break me word."

"Except when that freedom might nae agree with what ye think is necessary because of these shadows I dinnae ken aught about. I have me freedom and every comfort… but I cannae speak to yer daughter, or interact with her, or make her happy without kissin' yer arse and placatin' yer moods first."

She gave him no time to respond as she continued her verbal attack, her words slicing through his defenses like well-aimed blows.

"And what then? Will ye decide one day that I cannae go to me friends because of yer oh-so-important reasons that I'm apparently nae meant to ken, for all I'm meant to be yer wife and partner? Will ye decide that one day, I too cannae go beyond yer castle walls and cannae ever ken the reasons why because ye deem ‘tis nae me place?"

Her words stung, and not only because of the heat of her anger. There was too much truth to them.

She deserved answers, and yet he couldn't bring himself to give them. He'd kept this secret for seven years. The idea of allowing anyone outside his clan to learn the truth of what had happened in the past, or what he felt, was unacceptable.

He tried to control himself, but it was becoming steadily more difficult. "I willnae trap ye. I swore it, and ye'll have to trust me on that."

"And why should I? Ye run hot and cold, changeable as the winds in the midst of a storm." She glared at him. "Ye're fair one moment and a tyrant the next. Generous and kind, even flirtin' with me, and then in the space of a breath, ye're pushin' me away and treatin' me like an inconvenient interloper, despite yer insisting on this arrangement."

"I explained that."

"Scarcely. And certainly nae well enough to explain yer behavior." Ailis cocked her head, golden locks framing her face and her aggrieved expression.

When he made no response, a bitter look crossed her usually sweet face.

"Ye ken, I was supposed to wed Laird MacDean. I was fairly terrified because of his reputation as ‘the Beastly Laird.' I was relieved when Maisie won his heart, and nae only because she became a good friend to me and revealed that he wasnae as beastly as he seemed. It gave me hope that this might be true of others like him."

Her voice was heavy with disappointment, and it hurt like salt in wounds. "But now I ken that some men truly are beasts, nae just men with unearned reputations. Certainly, the title of ‘Beastly Laird' would suit ye far better than Keith."

The anger, disappointment, and scorn in her voice were infuriating and painful. His head ached with the force of his conflicting emotions.

He was hurt by her accusations, as well as angered by them. He was furious at himself for not being able to respond to her words. His own seemed to have failed him in the face of her anger.

He'd brought her to his study, intending to make it clear that she was not to do anything with Lily without his permission and involvement. He hadn't been prepared to receive a lecture in return. Especially not one so scathing and cutting.

He hadn't been prepared for the way she could breach his carefully erected walls with a few words and the sparks in her eyes alone.

In the end, he could only offer, "Ye dinnae understand me reasons… nor all that's happened… if ye kenned…"

"Then explain it to me. Tell me what it is I need to ken. I'm to be yer wife, and ye owe me at least that much."

She was right, but he couldn't speak. Couldn't bear to let anyone see those wounds, nor risk how much damage she might do if she truly understood his situation.

After a moment of silence, the anger in her eyes turned into disappointment, so deep and bitter that it seemed likely to drown them both. "Fine. If ye cannae even make the attempt to trust me, even a bit, then tell me this. Why should I stay?"

He started, shocked by her words. "What?"

"Tell me why I should stay." Her eyes were glittering, hard like diamonds with fires trapped within. "Give me a reason why I shouldnae go back to me faither."

"We have an agreement."

"Aye. But ye cannae even give me the proper courtesy a wife should have, let alone aught else. As it is now, I could go to me faither and tell him that it simply didnae work out."

"The letters…"

"What about them? I can say it was a game between us, but that bein' betrothed and livin' with ye has proved we're nae so well matched in real life."

He could feel something stirring within him, like the jealousy that had caught him off-guard at breakfast, only far more intense. "Ye ken he'd marry ye off to someone else."

"Aye. Like as nae someone like Laird MacMicking." She shrugged her shoulders. "And why nae? He might nae be me first choice, but he seemed agreeable enough. At least with him, I'll ken where I stand, and with a little work and some time, I could make a decent life of it."

"Ye said…"

"I ken what I said. And what about it? If I'm to be bound in a loveless marriage either way, why would I nae choose an agreeable old man who makes few demands, and makes his intentions clear, over a cold, changeable beast who cannae even give me that much?"

She started to turn away, and Duncan felt his tenuous self-control snap like a poorly tempered blade. He rounded the desk and grabbed her arm to pull her back roughly to his side. "Dinnae say such things. Nae now, and nae ever."

He'd startled her, that much was obvious, but Ailis was no wilting flower. Her eyes blazed back at him. "Give me a good reason nae to."

"Ye promised yerself to me. And I'm nae so willin' to let ye go."

"That's nae a reason." Ailis raised her chin in defiance. "What ye've offered so far is a life nae even a nun would find fulfillin'. What can ye give me that would make me want to stay?"

The challenge in her eyes, the heat of her stare, and the bright flush of passion—temper and something more—on her cheeks was too much for him to resist.

"This." And without another word, he claimed her lips with his own.