Chapter 2

Maisie grimaced."I thought it was a familiar story. Caelan told me about Laird Muir and his disappearance nae long after it happened. But from the way Caelan spoke of him, he was a harsh, cold man, and there were few who cared enough that they tried to find him or thought to look close enough to see if he or any of his kin survived the fire that burned his castle to the ground."

Ailis looked at her hands. On the one hand, the idea of encountering a man like that scared her, let alone living with him. On the other hand, the story Keith had regaled them with sounded a bit like it might be right out of some of the old legends, or the romances she adored.

There was something intriguing about the image of a lonely man haunting the ruins of his home, mourning all he had lost. Maybe waiting for the right woman to come and take his sadness away…

A knock on the door broke her daydream, and made all of them look up. One of the servants stood in the doorway, a nervous expression on her face. "Beggin' yer pardon, Me Laird, Me Lady, but there's a laird here wantin' to speak to ye and one of yer guests."

For a brief moment, Ailis had a wild thought that perhaps Laird Muir really was some sort of Fae apparition or a ghost, summoned by their discussion. But before her imagination could run wild, Keith rose from his seat, adopting a watchful stance.

"And did he give his name, this laird who's come callin'?"

"He said he's Laird MacMicking. And he wants to speak to Lady Ailis in particular. Said her faither sent him on a matter of some import and delicacy."

Ailis suppressed an unladylike exclamation.

I can well guess what "important and delicate" matter me faither sent him to discuss with me.

MacMicking was the name of a small clan, one that shared a border with her father's lands. She couldn't recall that she'd ever met their Laird. Still, Ailis nodded when Keith looked at her. It wouldn't hurt to at least be courteous enough to meet with this Laird, since he'd made the effort to seek her out. And if he was ill-tempered or otherwise unpleasant, she knew her friends would provide a shield and an excuse for her if needed.

Minutes later, the door opened, and Laird MacMicking stepped into the room.

Ailis felt her heart sink. The Laird was older, nearly her father's age, with grey hair that turned white in places, and fine lines around his mouth and eyes. He was slender—reedy rather than slim—and his belly showed signs of softening with age and perhaps indulgence.

He looked kindly enough, but there was an air of confidence and assurance that reminded her far too much of the man who'd raised her. Like her father, his smile was warm, and his demeanor was polite, but there was a faint hint of condescension when he met her gaze.

She loved her father dearly, but she had no interest in being wed to a man like him for the rest of her life. Particularly not one who looked at her like she was a scatter-brained child playing at adulthood before he'd even spoken a word to her.

Laird MacMicking greeted Keith and Maisie politely, before focusing on her and ignoring the rest of the ladies in the room. The action wasn't overtly discourteous, as he might not recognize them. He wouldn't have seen them save at Highland gatherings, which tended to be loud and chaotic affairs in which the men and women were often split for various tasks. None of their clans were especially large or influential, so unless he was the sort to pay attention to everyone equally, he likely hadn't made more than passing note of the marriages and had no idea who they were.

He was even less likely to recognize they were all Ladies of their respective clans. It was a small and understandable error in judgment, but it served to reinforce her feelings about him.

I dinnae want to even consider marryin' him. The way he's actin' now, being married to him would be like spendin' the rest of me life as a pretty paintin' on a wall. I'd sometimes be admired and showed off, and the rest of the time I'd be forgotten, never heard, never truly seen as a person with feelings of me own.

Even so, she forced a pleasant smile on her face as he approached her and bowed.

"Laird MacMicking. I didnae ken ye were seeking me."

"I understand, and I apologize for disruptin' yer visit with yer friends. But when I arrived at yer faither's keep, he said ye were here, and I didnae want to wait to meet ye, and to see if we might come to ken more about each other. Ye see, I'm lookin' for a wife, and yer faither mentioned he had a lovely daughter of marriageable age." Laird MacMicking chuckled. "I can see he wasnae exaggeratin' about how comely ye are, and I must confess, I'm fairly pleased on that front."

He didn't really care that he'd disrupted her time with her friends, only that it might have inconvenienced Keith. She could see that in his eyes, hear it in the way he spoke. Not once did he look at the other ladies, nor show any interest in what they were doing, though any man could have seen the books and sheaves of paper in her hands, as opposed to the expected sewing or weaving, or other project.

Not once did he seem to make note of anything other than the fact that she was "comely." As if that was all that mattered to him.

He might be a good man, but her mind shied away from the idea of entertaining his suit. She blushed and lowered her eyes.

"Ye're very kind to compliment me so, Me Laird, and I thank ye for the honor ye do me, in seeking me hand. Alas, I fear it wouldnae be kind to lead ye on. Me faither is mistaken, ye see, about me availability. I've nae spoken much about it, save to me friends, but I'm afraid I've already given me heart to another, and I cannae break faith with him unless he decides he'd rather nae have me."

Some of the warmth faded from Laird MacMicking's eyes. "Well, I cannae deny I'm disappointed. Still, ‘tis the way of things." He shrugged. "Might I at least ask the name of the lucky laird who's won yer affections?"

Ailis froze. She hadn't actually thought that far. In her panic, she spoke the first name that came to mind. "'Tis Laird Muir."

Laird MacMicking blinked. Then he laughed, deep and long. "Dear Lady Ailis, I didnae hear ye had such an imagination, nor that ye were the sort to tell foolish tales and lies."

"She's nae tellin' ye anythin' of the sort," Maisie interjected, her eyes flashing. "'Tis true she's not spoken much about it, nae even to me or her kin, but that was a matter of courtesy to Laird Muir. He's been hard at work these past years, rebuildin' his clan after the attack that burned down his castle. Ailis didnae want to place more strain on him by makin' their courtship public, until he is ready to step forward."

Laird MacMicking blinked slowly. He looked very much as if he wanted to respond but was afraid of insulting the Lady of the castle. Finally, he glanced back at Ailis. "And if yer courtship has been as quiet as ye say, then how has it progressed?"

"Through letters, of course. His lands are quite close to Laird MacDean's, and we happened to start exchangin' correspondence some time ago." Ailis fought to keep from blushing, which surely would have given her away. "I send the letters with messages from Laird and Lady MacDean, and they give me his replies when I come to visit."

Laird MacMicking looked as if he were about to demand proof, so she jutted her chin like she used to when she wanted something. "In fact, I was just goin' to pen a reply to his latest missive. I had nearly forgotten, but of course, it's best to nae delay."

She turned to Keith and curtsied. "Beg yer pardon, Laird MacDean, but can I have use of yer study? I'm afraid I didnae seal me letter, for I hoped I'd have another to reply to when I arrived."

"Of course." Keith moved smoothly to the door and held it open for her. "I'll unlock the door for ye. If ye'll excuse us, Laird MacMicking."

Ailis heard the man murmur an answer, but she was already walking in the direction of Keith's study. She wanted to put some distance between herself and Laird MacMicking before she said or did something she might truly regret later.

Keith caught up with her a few seconds later. "I hope ye ken what ye're doin', Ailis."

Ailis forced a soft laugh. "All I'm doin' is givin' meself some time to breathe and think." She shrugged. "And really, where's the harm in it? I'll write a letter or two, to make it look like I spoke the truth, and when I dinnae get any letters back, I'll tell me faither and everyone else that he decided to break off the courtship, or that I've received word that he died. I'll play the heartbroken lass for a time, and by then, hopefully, I'll have found a man I'd be more happy to wed."

The next laugh was sad. "If that doesnae work, mayhap I can at least resign meself to choosin' a laird who I can live with, and who will let me pursue me reading."

"I hope ye dinnae have to settle for that." Keith's voice was soft as he opened the door to his study. "Here. I'll give ye privacy to write yer letter. When ye're done, seal it and leave it on the desk, and I'll have a messenger deliver it."

Ailis nodded, then breathed a sigh of relief as the door clicked shut behind her. Hopefully, by the time she was done, Laird MacMicking would be long gone.

Slowly, she approached the desk and grabbed a piece of paper, a pen, and an inkwell. She made herself comfortable in the well-worn chair as she contemplated the parchment in front of her.

After a few moments of contemplation, she dipped the pen into the inkwell and began to write.

My Dear Laird Imaginary Muir,

I don't know if you are a ghost, a dream, or one of the Fae Folk come to the Highlands for reasons of your own. Regardless, it does not matter, for phantom, man, or Fae princeling, you should know I have claimed you as mine…