Chapter 4

Her first thought,after the words escaped her, was mortification. No matter the circumstances, that was hardly a polite way to greet someone who'd clearly traveled a good distance to meet her.

Her second thought was that she might have offended him, which she had mixed feelings about. It wasn't in her nature to be insulting or offensive. On the other hand, if he was offended, then he might give up the idea of whisking her off to his castle.

And where is he supposed to be livin', in any case? Keith was sure Castle Muir burned! And ye cannae rebuild such a place without aid and tools and craftsmen… not even the wealthiest clans in the Highlands can!

The look Laird Muir gave her appeared to be more amused than anything. "In fact, ye addressed me as ‘imaginary,' nae dead." He tilted his head. "Speakin' of which, ye might as well ken me given name. ‘Tis Duncan."

Knowing his given name didn't help her current predicament. "That's nae the issue."

"Then tell me what is." He gestured politely for her to speak her mind.

Maybe if she told the truth, he'd leave her alone. He couldn't have expected much, no matter how he'd come to be here.

"Ye werenae supposed to be real! The letters were supposed to be a ruse, to keep me faither from marryin' me off to someone I cannae stand! I dinnae understand how ye could have gotten them!"

She started pacing, too restless and caught off-guard to stay still and demure the way a young lady was supposed to. "I only wanted some time to breathe and escape me faither's demands. I wasnae after finding a husband, and I'm nae ready to get married, much less to a man I thought was a ghost!"

This time, she was sure she caught him laughing at her briefly, before his face returned to its usual stoic expression. Even then, there was a softness in the lines around his eyes that she thought hadn't been there before.

"Happens, lass, but I feel the same." A brief smirk. "I'll admit, I always kenned ye were a flesh-and-blood woman, but I wasnae plannin' to answer ye, nae at first."

That brought her up short. "What do ye mean? What changed?"

Laird Muir—Duncan—stepped closer. "Ye're nae the only one under pressure to marry. I've had little to do with any woman these past years. ‘Twas gettin' ridiculous, the way me braither and the council were throwin' every village lass and fourth cousin to a laird at me. I was almost resigned to leavin' me lands to find a lass to marry. And then I discovered a lass was sendin' love letters to me castle."

"Yer ruined castle. I heard it burned and was abandoned." She saw a spark of anger and melancholy in his eyes for a moment, but it had already faded behind his mask when he replied.

"Doesnae matter. I have a home, suitable for a laird and lady to dwell in." He stepped closer, and the heat and looming bulk of him made her stomach flutter in a strange manner. "And I have an arrangement in mind I think will suit us both."

She nodded to show she was listening, and he continued. "Ye will travel with me to me home, and we will be wed to seal an alliance and satisfy both our clans. Once we're wed, ye can do whatever ye like with yer life, and I'll do the same. Once the weddin' ceremony is over and everyone is satisfied, I'll ask naught else of ye."

"What about an heir?" The question escaped her before she could stop to think, and she found herself blushing again.

"Ye need nae worry about it. I said I'll ask naught else of ye, and I mean it. And I certainly have nay interest in asking ye for an heir." He paused. "I'll nae forbid ye from bein' with another, though I would appreciate discretion and request that ye inform me if there's a bairn, so I am nae taken by surprise."

The words felt like a slap to the face. Ailis swallowed.

He was offering her almost everything she'd ever wanted. He offered her the freedom to read her books, enjoy her little projects, and visit her friends whenever she wanted. He offered her all the benefits of being a married lady, and none of the obligations. Had she been asked even a month ago, she would have said that was exactly the type of husband she wanted.

And yet… it wasn't. The freedom to live her life was being offered with the explicit understanding that she and her husband would be near strangers. At best, they might be friendly, but not more than that.

She wanted a husband who loved her, and who she could love in return. Even the idea of producing an heir wasn't so terrifying if it was with a man she loved. It was certainly better than the loneliness of a marriage that was little better than living in a convent.

And there was the truth of it. What he was offering was only better than the marriages other lairds had offered—he offered her more freedom. And he happened to be much better looking than the older lairds who'd tried to claim her, like Laird MacMicking.

She swallowed hard, then looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Laird Muir, but I dinnae think I can agree to yer terms."

* * *

Duncan stared at the lass. He thought he'd offered her good terms for a marriage—it was certainly more than his father had offered his mother. The freedom to live her life and no obligations. What more could the lass want?

The letters had been fantasies to a lover she thought was a ghost, if not a Highland legend, like a moorland specter, or mayhap a man from Underhill. Surely she hadn't been serious about the things she'd written.

Granted, I needed a dip in the sea after readin' some of them, and I cannae say I'd be overly averse to actin' on a few of those suggestions… But still, she cannae really want that!

Her blush when she'd asked about an heir suggested she was a maiden still. He had thought she would find it a relief to know she wasn't required to serve as his wife in the most literal sense.

He found his voice after a moment, at least enough to ask a question as his astonishment turned into irritation. "And why nae?"

She flushed but met his eyes with a courage he admired. "Neither of us wants to be wed, and we're both bein' forced to do it. But ye… ye dinnae care who ye wed, so long as it satisfies yer clan and secures ye an alliance. As for me…"

Her blush deepened. "I want a husband I love, and who loves me in return. I just havenae found him yet. And that's a very different thing than the kind of marriage ye want, or what ye're suggestin'. I appreciate the freedom ye offer, but I dinnae want the sort of distant, loveless relationship that ye're suggestin'."

Duncan snorted before he could stop himself. "Love's a fool's dream. It's more likely to hurt ye than fulfill those dreams ye cherish. Ye're better off with a kindly husband and a comfortable marriage than pinin' after somethin' so pointless."

She flinched at the sharpness of his tone but kept her head held high. "Even so… I ken what I want."

Duncan scowled. He'd traveled a fair distance to meet the lass who'd written to him, in hopes of finding a suitable bride. And she was suitable, in terms of looks and the alliance and potential resources she could bring to his clan. Especially since she was the eldest daughter, meaning her husband or her son could claim the Lairdship when her father passed.

She was also pretty enough, and she appeared to be intelligent and well-read, as well as articulate if her letters were anything to go by. In almost every way, she was ideal.

And yet now the lass was refusing him because of some petty, little sentiment that could only be attributed to folly and daydreams. He'd seen with Daisy how harmful love could be, and it was exasperating how every intelligent woman he'd ever met seemed to be stuck in the same trap.

He stepped closer and took her chin in his hand firmly but carefully. Exasperated though he might be, he didn't want to hurt her. "Dinnae think I'll walk away just because ye say so."

Her eyes flashed with anger as she stepped away from him. "And why nae? Ye dinnae care about me, nae more than any other man. There are plenty of pretty, pliant, reasonably nice lasses among the clanfolk, and I'll wager ye ken a fair few. If all ye want is a loveless marriage alliance, go find one of those shallow, shy ladies. They're better suited for it."

He wasn't going to tell her that he knew her better than any other woman he'd ever spoken with, save his mother and Daisy. He wasn't going to tell her that her letters made him smile more than anyone did, save Lily.

He certainly wasn't going to tell her that she was the bonniest lass he'd seen in many years and that watching her move, let alone being so close to her, made parts of him that he'd largely ignored for several years stir.

It was difficult enough, standing so close and trying to keep from embarrassing himself and frightening her with an ill-timed sign of his interest.

Instead, he bent close to speak softly to her. "Ye're right about me interest, but I've still come a long way to meet ye, and it's more than what I've done for any other lass. I dinnae intend to return empty-handed. So, if ye want me to rescind this marriage offer…"

He smirked at her. "… then march out there, and tell yer faither and the rest of yer clan the truth—that ye wrote letters to a ghost. That ye never expected me to come for ye, and the whole thing was a lie. And nae just a lie to them, but a lie to me, because ye never intended to honor the courtship ye offered in yer letters."

Her face flushed crimson, even as her emerald eyes flashed with mortification and rage. "Ye wouldnae dare try to convince me to say such things!"

"I would. Ye claimed me as yers in yer first letter. The claim goes both ways, little Ailis. I want what I was promised. I came to claim the bride I was offered, and I'll either claim the marriage that this ‘letter courtship' of ours was supposed to be leadin' to, or claim the amusement of watchin' ye explain, before suggestin' that yer faither marry ye off to the oldest, most crotchety laird he can find for ye."

He was pleased to see she had some spirit under that meek-looking demeanor and enough decency to blush when being called to account for her deception. That meant she likely had honor as well, and he could respect such traits.

He was even more pleased when she looked away and folded her arms. "All right. But I insist on a formal betrothal of a decent length. Nae less than one month."

He suspected she was planning something, for she'd yielded too easily. To his surprise, he wasn't all that worried about it. In his own territory, he could handle anything she chose to do and meet it with equanimity.

And even if she could come up with something unexpected, he wasn't worried. In fact, he felt slightly amused. With the difference in their heights and builds, her attempts to stand her ground against him reminded him of a kitten trying to challenge a full-grown hound.

One month. He could live with one month of being betrothed rather than married. It wasn't as if conceiving babies was an issue. And it would give him time to see if she was really everything she seemed to be—a woman and a potential partner.

To say nothing of the fact that after being lonely for so long, having a month to get used to a woman in his house before entering wedlock could only be beneficial. And it gave him time to get the rest of his household, such as it was, accustomed to her presence.

"As ye like." He took her hand and bowed over it. "We'll announce the betrothal to yer clan tonight, then travel to me home. And in one month—and one month precisely—we'll be wed."