Chapter 15

Duncan stared at Ailis,his mouth dry. For all that he'd been trying to speak to her for the past several days, now he couldn't think of anything to say.

He wanted to wish her a safe journey. He wanted to ask her not to leave the safety of the castle.

He wanted to apologize. To explain. But none of the words he wanted to say would come forth. The one time he'd managed to convince her to speak to him, the morning after the confrontation in his study, she'd turned away as soon as he failed to answer her questions.

After that, she'd avoided speaking to him, and any time she couldn't avoid his presence, she made sure to address most of her comments to others and leave as soon as possible.

When he tried to start a conversation over a meal, he'd receive a curt "If ye'll excuse me, Me Laird." Then she'd finish her food and leave.

If he approached her in the gardens, she'd smile at Lily and say something like, "It looks as if yer faither's here to speak to ye. I'll let ye play with him for now and come back later." Then she'd excuse herself before he could say anything, knowing he was too much a father to disappoint his daughter.

When he tried to join a conversation she was having with Jack, she'd slip gracefully out of it with a quiet "I'll let ye speak with each other. I ken ye have much to discuss concernin' clan affairs."

Then she'd be gone, leaving him frustrated, angry, and more than a little jealous that she could speak so easily to Jack when she refused to give him more than a sentence or two.

His mood wasn't helped at all when Jack addressed him. "I dinnae ken what ye've done to anger the lass so much, though I can guess from the questions she's asked about the guards. But, Braither, I'll warn ye, ye're bein' a fool, and ye'll regret it if ye dinnae rectify it."

Duncan's jaw clenched. "There's nay point in tellin' her stories about the past, and havin' her be wary of dangers we're nae even sure are out there. Once the situation is resolved and we can tell her it's over…"

"It may be too late by then, Braither. Ye'll be lucky if ye can win her back by then, even if ye settle matters within the next fortnight. God above help ye, but at the moment, I have more a chance of winnin' her affection than ye do."

Jealous rage threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, black and hot. "Ye wouldnae dare…"

"Nay, I wouldnae, for I can see she's good for ye, and that for all the hurt and silence between ye, the two of ye care about each other. In fact, ye'd be less at odds now if she didnae have feelings for ye, for she'd nae be half so hurt and furious."

Jack finished his food and sat back. "I ken ye're me Laird and me elder braither, and it isnae me place to tell ye what to do. But I've long paid attention to the world while ye've been nursin' yer wounds and yer temper, so I'll give ye a warnin'. If ye dinnae change yer behavior soon, ye're likely to lose Ailis. And if ye're nae careful, ye'll lose Lily too."

Duncan's head snapped up. "Lily? Ye think she'd take Lily?"

"I think she wouldnae, for she's not the sort to try and steal a child. But children are sensitive to the moods of their elders. Lily adores Ailis. She has like as nae already guessed there's somethin' amiss between ye, though she might nae understand why."

"Ye cannae think she'd take Ailis's side over mine."

"I cannae say. But this much I ken. Lily's young but smart. She kens that there's a divide between her and the servants, even if she cannae understand the concept behind it. For all their kindness and their love for her, none of them forget she's the Laird's daughter, and she kens it. But there's nay such barrier with Ailis, and Lily clings all the more fiercely to her for that. She'll nae want to lose it."

"I'm her faither."

"Aye. And she loves ye dearly. But she's old enough to start resentin' the restrictions ye have placed on her movements. And if ye drive Ailis away, she'll like as nae resent that ten times more. ‘Tis far worse to lose somethin' ye cherish than to be aggrieved over somethin' ye never had."

Duncan knew his brother was right, and the weight of that knowledge silenced any rebuttal he might have made.

After a moment, Jack rose from the table. "I'll do what I can to keep the peace, Duncan, but mending matters is up to ye. Ye'll have to decide if yer fear and concerns are worth what they may cost ye in the end."

He'd tried knocking on Ailis's door later that evening, but she'd never answered, and he wasn't enough of a fool to barge in without invitation.

It stung, and it was all the worse because he knew he'd brought it on himself with his own stubbornness. For all that his mind cried out that the only safety was in secrecy and caution, his heart knew he was wrong, and Ailis was right.

She deserved better than what he'd offered her, never mind the treatment he'd actually shown her. And yet… why couldn't she just trust him? Trust that he had his reasons for the decisions he made and that he'd tell her when the time was right?

And why should she trust ye, when ye speak of marriage alliances one moment and then have yer way with her against the wall like a heathen the next, and use the dreams she wrote in innocent fun as a chain to try and bind her? Especially after ye tell her ye cannae, and willnae, truly fulfill the dream ye ken she cherishes most?

He was a fool, and he knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to set aside his pride or his stubbornness to fix matters.

She was still watching him, her expression polite but distant, her eyes empty of any affection or warmth. He swallowed hard and forced the words past the lump in his throat. "We'll talk when ye get back."

No acknowledgement. He might as well have spoken to a suit of armor on a stand. After a moment, she started to turn away.

Desperate, he grabbed her arm. "Ailis… ye will be comin' back, will ye nae?"

No answer. She stood quietly, and when he didn't release her, she yanked her arm free and turned toward the carriage without a word.

For one brief moment, he entertained the idea of lunging forward, spinning her around to face him, and kissing her, just to see her reaction. Just to get a reaction, even if it was a slap across the face and a slew of curses.

For one moment, he wanted to ask her not to leave this way. He wanted to admit to the truth he'd been forced to see in the lonely silence of the past few days.

Against his will, he'd come to care for her, for his gentle Highland lass with a nurturing hand and a love for literature, and a core of steel. He couldn't count how often he'd lurked, just out of sight, just to listen to her read to Lily or laugh in the gardens.

Even wrestling back his temper and the hot jealousy that nearly suffocated him when she conversed with Jack had become something to be cherished, when the alternative was a silence as cold as the winter sea.

But she'd made her stance plain, that day in his study, and the one brief conversation they'd had made it clear she had no intention of backing down.

"I'll nae be comin' back unless I receive a letter from ye sayin' that ye want me back… dinnae write that letter unless ye're prepared to let me into yer life as more than just a shadow…"

He was tempted to tell her she'd long since become the sun in his life, not a shadow, but he knew that, without proof of his trust in her, she'd take the words as another ploy—empty and without meaning, no matter how sincere they were.

And if that happened, he'd lose any chance he had.

With a sigh, he stepped back and let her climb into the carriage without another word. As much as he didn't want to admit it, perhaps some time apart would do them both good. It might allow him to clear his mind, get a fresh perspective.

And perhaps he could find out what was happening with the watchers, and resolve that issue. If it wasn't the Frasers, he'd get answers and put the matter to bed. If it was… well, at least he would be on guard against the resurgence of the feud, and he might be able to tell her, directly or indirectly, that it was happening. That might be enough.

She was smart enough to guess what troubled him if she heard a feud had been declared between his clan and another. And that was the sort of thing he could write in a letter, he thought.

It would be best, of course, if the matter could be resolved quickly and he could tell her it was all over. That the need for secrecy was gone. Then none of it would matter.

As he watched the carriage roll away, he could only hope that would be the case.